A HISTORY OF ENGLISH PROSE FICTION BY BAYARD TUCKERMAN NEW YORK & LONDONG. P. PUTNAM'S SONSThe Knickerbocker Press1894 COPYRIGHT BYG. P. PUTNAM'S SONS1882 TOMY FATHER, THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED PREFACE. It is attempted in this volume to trace the gradual progress of EnglishProse Fiction from the early romance to the novel of the present day, in such connection with the social characteristics of the epochs towhich these works respectively belong, as may conduce to a bettercomprehension of their nature and significance. As many of the earlier specimens of English fiction are of a characteror a rarity which makes any acquaintance with them difficult to thegeneral public, I have endeavored so to describe their style andcontents that the reader may obtain, to some degree, a personalknowledge of them. The novels of the nineteenth century are so numerous and so generallyfamiliar, that, in the chapter devoted to this period, I have soughtrather to point out the great importance which fiction has assumed, andthe variety of forms which it has taken, than to attempt any exhaustivecriticism of individual authors--a task already sufficiently performedby writers far more able to do it justice. THE AUTHOR. B. T. "_The Benedick. _"NEW YORK, Aug. 22, 1882. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. THE ROMANCE OF CHIVALRY . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . 1 CHAPTER II CHAUCER, TALES OF THE YEOMANRY, SIR T. MORE'S "UTOPIA". .. .. .. .. . 42 CHAPTER III THE AGE OF ELIZABETH. LYLY, GREENE, LODGE, SIDNEY . .. .. .. .. .. .. 60 CHAPTER IV. THE PURITANS, "THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS" . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 102 CHAPTER V. THE RESTORATION. ROGER BOYLE, MRS. MANLEY, MRS. BEHN . .. .. .. .. .. 112 CHAPTER VI. THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. SWIFT, ADDISON, DEFOE, RICHARDSON, FIELDING, SMOLLETT . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 134 CHAPTER VII. THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY CONTINUED. STERNE, JOHNSON, GOLDSMITH, AND OTHERS. MISS BURNEY AND THE FEMALE NOVELISTS. THE ROMANTIC REVIVAL . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 220 CHAPTER VIII. THE NOVEL IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. THE NOVEL OFLIFE AND MANNERS. OF SCOTCH LIFE. OF IRISH LIFE. OF ENGLISH LIFE. OF AMERICAN LIFE. THE HISTORICALNOVEL. THE NOVEL OF PURPOSE. THE NOVEL OF FANCY. USE AND ABUSE OF FICTION . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . 274 CHAPTER I. THE ROMANCE OF CHIVALRY. I In the midst of an age of gloom and anarchy, when Feudalism was slowlybuilding up a new social organization on the ruins of the Roman Empire, arose that spirit of chivalry, which, in its connection with theChristian religion, forms so sharp a division between the sentiments ofancient and modern times. Following closely on the growth of chivalryas an institution, there came into being a remarkable species offiction, which reflected with great faithfulness the character of theage, and having formed for three centuries the principal literaryentertainment of the knighthood of Europe, left on the newcivilization, and the new literature which had outgrown and discardedit, lasting traces of its natural beauty. Into the general fund ofchivalric romance were absorbed the learning and legend of every land. From the gloomy forests and bleak mountains of the North came dark andterrible fancies, malignant enchanters, and death-dealing spirits, supposed to haunt the earth and sea; from Arabia and the East camegorgeous pictures of palaces built of gold and precious stones, magicrings which transport the bearer from place to place, love-inspiringdraughts, dragons and fairies; from ancient Greece and Rome camememories of the heroes and mysteries of mythology, like old coins wornand disfigured by passing, through ages, from hand to hand, but stillbearing a faint outline of their original character. All this mass offiction was floating idly in the imaginations of men, or worked as anembellishment into the rude numbers of the minstrels, when the mediævalromancers gathered it up, and interweaving it with the traditions ofArthur and Charlemagne, produced those strange compositions which areso entirely the product and repository of the habits, superstitions, and sympathies of the Middle Ages that they serve to "Hold the mirror up to Nature, To show Vice its own image, Virtue its own likeness, And the very age and body of the times, His form and pressure. " The men who wrote, and the men who read these romances, the firstsprings of our modern fiction, were influenced by two dominant ideas:"One religious, which had fashioned the gigantic cathedrals, and sweptthe masses from their native soil to hurl them upon the Holy Land; theother secular, which had built feudal fortresses, and set the man ofcourage erect and armed within his own domain. "[1] These two ideas wereoutwardly expressed in the Roman Church and the Feudal System. During the anarchy of the Middle Ages, every man was compelled to lookupon war as his natural occupation, if he hoped to preserve life orproperty. His land was held as a condition of military service. As longas there was no effective administration of justice, redress for theaggrieved lay in the sword alone. A military career had no rival in theeyes of the ambitious and the noble. There was no learning, no art, toshare with skill in arms, the honors to which a youth aspired. Religionand love, the most powerful inspirations of his moral life, made forceof arms the merit most worthy of their rewards. The growth of thepeople in the mechanical arts took the direction of improving theinstruments of warfare; the increase of refinement and humanity tendedless to diminish war than to make it more civilized, showy, andglorious. The armies of the Romans seem prosaic when we turn to thebrilliant array of chivalry, to the ranks of steel-clad knightscouching the lance to win fame, the smile of woman, or the reward ofreligious devotion;--men to whom war seemed a grand tournament, inwhich each combatant, from the king to the poorest knight, was to seekdistinction by his strength and valor. It was through the senses, andespecially through the eye, that the feudal imagination was moved. Every heart was kindled at the sight of shining armor, horses withbrilliant trappings, gorgeous dress, and martial show. The magnificentNorman cathedrals struck the mind with devotional awe; the donjons andtowers of the great baronial castles were suggestive of power andglory. To the impressibility of the senses was added the romanticspirit of adventure, which kept the knighthood of Europe in a constantferment, and for lack of war, burst forth in tournaments, in privatefeuds, or in the extravagances of knight-errantry. The feudal system, growing up to meet the necessities of conquerors living on conqueredterritory, and founded on the principle of military service as acondition of land tenure, made of Europe a vast army. The militaryprofession was exalted to an importance which crushed all effort of amore useful or progressive nature; the military class, including allwho possessed land, and did not labor upon it, became an aristocracydespising peaceful occupations, whose most powerful prejudice was prideof birth, whose ruling passion was love of war. Under the influence ofthis military spirit, intellectual was subordinated to active life; acondition of ignorance and danger was sustained; an overwhelmingreverence for the supernatural was produced, and there resulted thatpredominance of the imagination over the reason of man which forms thedistinctive feature of Romantic Fiction. While the feudal system formed the framework of society, and, as muchby inspiration as by law, governed the outward actions of men, thehuman mind was in complete, and almost universally willing, subjectionto theological influence. The state of war, or of readiness for war, which was the inevitable accompaniment of feudal tenure, did much tosustain the state of profound ignorance and consequent superstition inwhich the people of mediæval times were plunged, both by preventing thepursuit of peaceful occupations and the growth of knowledge, and byincreasing the element of danger in life, which always inclines thehuman mind to a belief in the supernatural. The same results werebrought about by the character and aims of the Roman Church. Theunswerving purpose of that church was to govern, temporally as well asspiritually. She sought to supply to men from her own store all theknowledge which was necessary for their welfare, and that knowledge waslimited to dogmas and beliefs which would strengthen the power of thepriesthood. A strict and absolute acceptance of the truths ofChristianity as she defined them, and a humble obedience to the clergywere made the sole and necessary conditions of salvation. A questioningof those truths or a violation of that obedience was a crime beforewhich murder and license faded into insignificance. The spirit of doubtand of inquiry which alone leads to knowledge, and through knowledge tocivilization, was repressed by excommunication or in blood. As long asmen continued in a state of helpless ignorance and willing credulity, the church was a fitting, even a beneficent, mistress and guide. Forcenturies she was the sole teacher and the sole external source ofmoral elevation. For centuries she alone pointed out the distinctionbetween right and wrong, the beauty of virtue, and the ugliness of sin. Whatever there was in life to raise men above their earthly struggles, their evil passions, and the despair of a hard and dangerous existence, was supplied by her. The consolations of religion, the ennoblingacquaintance with the character of Christ, and the hope of salvationthrough Him were incalculable blessings. Her aid in suppressingdisorder and in establishing a respect for law and government is not tobe overlooked. She presented in her own organization an example ofauthority, of system, and of obedience, which, despite many failingsand abuses, was of great value to the world. But there is in humannature an irrepressible tendency toward growth and progress, and whenthis tendency began to show itself in the Middle Ages, it found in thetheological spirit, then personated by the Roman Church, its mostbitter and most powerful enemy. The church, which had hitherto been ateacher and guide, became the champion of barbarism and the genius ofretrogression. Instead of adapting herself to the growing wants ofmankind, instead of preserving her influence and power by inwardprogress proportionate to that which she saw advancing without, shesought, stationary herself, to keep the world stationary, and to stampout in blood the progressive spirit of man. Hence it is that theblessings of our modern life have been achieved in spite of the RomanChurch, which should have promoted them, and the history of moderncivilization and modern knowledge is in so large a part the history ofemancipation from the tyranny of the theological spirit, --that is, theclerical opposition to mental and material advancement, both of whichare as necessary to moral advancement as they are to the happiness ofmen. This spirit has been the same in every country and in every age, when the spiritual has exceeded the secular power, and its lamentableeffects may be traced as well in the gloomy Protestant theocracy ofScotland as in the Catholic Inquisition of Spain. During the period, however, when the romances of chivalry were principally written andenjoyed, the convulsions arising from attempts to burst the bonds bywhich the minds of men were restrained, had not yet been sensibly felt. The church was still the controlling intellectual influence. A darkcloud of ignorance and superstition hung over Europe, to be dispelledat last by the new growth of learning, and the consequences followingupon it. The best intelligence of the time was confined to the clergy, who used it skilfully to maintain their authority. By every device theysought to usurp to themselves the sole power of ministering to popularwants. Nothing which could strike the mind through the senses wasneglected. They offset tournaments by religious shows and pageantry, rivalled the attractions of the harp by sacred music, and to wean theirflocks from the half dramatic entertainments of the minstrels, theyinvented the Miracle Play and the Mystery. The church forced herself onthe attention of every man without doors or within, by the friarsblack or gray who met him at every turn, by the imposing monasterieswhich formed a central figure in every landscape, and by the festivalsand processions of priests which made the common occasions for theassemblage of the people. The constant recurrence of holy days andfasts called the mind to the consideration of spiritual things, and therough superstition of the time was deeply excited when the approach ofdeath in a household brought the priestly train with lighted tapers, and the awe-inspiring ceremonies with which the lingering soul was senton its way. The military nature of feudalism explains the predominance of warlikeincidents in romantic fiction, and the character of the Roman Churchgives us an insight into the causes which, in addition to the ignoranceof the time, induced men to refer all remarkable events to supernaturalinfluence, and prepared their minds for the unquestioning belief in thefictions which are so important a characteristic of the romances ofchivalry. The low standard of morality also, which is reflected in thesame pages, is due quite as much to the predominance of the dogmaticover the moral element of Christianity, as to the unrefined and rudeconditions of life. There is much that is picturesque and brilliant in the times, but muchmore that is terrible. The nobles and knights, who lived sword in handbehind their battlements and massive walls, were the rulers of thecountry. Their ungoverned passions and their love of fighting for itsown sake or for that of revenge, were perpetual dangers to internalpeace. There was no power sufficient to keep them in check. Thelawlessness and anarchy caused by the ceaseless quarrels between baronand baron, found but a feeble remedy in the laws of King or Church. Ofthe darkness of the earlier Middle Ages Von Sybel[2] gives a graphicpicture: "Monarchies sank into impotence; petty lawless tyrantstrampled all social order under foot, and all attempts after scientificinstruction and artistic pleasures were as effectually crushed by thisstate of general insecurity as the external well-being and materiallife of the people. This was a dark and stormy period for Europe, merciless, arbitrary, and violent. It was a sign of the prevailingfeeling of misery and hopelessness that, when the first thousand yearsof our era were drawing to their close, the people in every country inEurope looked with certainty for the destruction of the world. Somesquandered their wealth in riotous living, others bestowed it, for thegood of their souls, on churches and convents; weeping multitudes layday and night about the altars; some looked forward with dread, butmost with secret hope, toward the burning of the earth and the fallingin of heaven. " Gradually some order and security succeeded this chaos. The church exerted all her strength in subduing violence, and thecharacter of her remedies are illustrative of the evils they wereintended to abate. The truce of God set apart the days between Thursdayand Monday of each week as a time of peace, when private quarrelsshould be suspended. The peace of the king forbade the avenging of analleged injury until forty days after its commission. The Council ofClermont ordered that every noble youth on attaining the age of twelveyears should take an oath to defend the oppressed, the widows, and theorphans. [3] Much superfluous energy was exhausted in the crusades. InEngland the growth of the universities and the study and development oflaw aided the establishment of social order, while the spread ofcommerce and the improvements in husbandry brought with wealth somerefinement and luxury. The baronage wrested from the crown thoseliberties which finally became the common property of all. Trade pushedthe inhabitants of the towns into prominence as an important classwhose influence was thrown entirely into the scale of peace and quiet, on which its prosperity depended. No element of change was moreessential, and none was greater in its civilizing effects than thedevelopment of the chivalric spirit into an institution of which thelaws and customs were observed from England to Sicily. Its influenceworked directly upon the disturbing classes of society. Only time andthe slow march of civilization could calm the restlessness and themartial spirit of the powerful, but chivalry introduced into warfareknightly honor and generosity, and into social life a courtesy andgallantry which formed a strong ally to religion in bringing out thebetter sentiments of humanity. At a time when force was greater thanlaw, when the weak and defenceless were at the mercy of the powerful, when women were never safe from the attacks of the brutal, a body ofmen who were sworn to redress wrongs, to succor the oppressed, and toprotect women and children, could not fail to be highly beneficial andto win the reverence of mankind. To be a good knight was to be the saltof the earth. The church gave easy absolution to the champion of theweak, --the soldier of God. Women smiled upon the cavalier whoseprofession was her service, and whose deeds, as well as the glitter ofhis arms and the fascination of his martial appearance, flattered herpride and gratified her imagination. Yet, in considering the period of chivalry, we must not yield too muchto the attraction of its brilliant show, its high flown sentiments, andknightly valor. Beneath religion there ever lurked a bigotedsuperstition; beneath valor, cruelty; beneath love, mere brutalpassion. The sympathies of the order were much confined to the higherclasses, and there was little feeling for the sufferings of the commonpeople. The reign of Edward the Third embraces the most brilliant daysof chivalry. About that period is spread a mist of manly gallantry andfeminine charms which conceals the darkness beneath. The Black Prince, after winning his spurs at Cressy, carried fire and sword among thepeaceful and defenceless inhabitants of Garonne, gratifying a greed ofgain by blood and rapine. The gallant deeds of Sir Walter de Manny, ofSir John Chandos, the fame of Edward himself, only make darker bycontrast the desolation and suffering by which their glory waspurchased. The poetic illusion inspired by Froissart's chronicles ofknightly deeds and manners is rudely torn when we read Petrarch'sdescription of France after the battle of Poitiers; "I could notbelieve that this was the same France which I had seen so rich andflourishing. Nothing presented itself to my eyes but a fearfulsolitude, land uncultivated, houses in ruins. Even the neighborhood ofParis showed everywhere the marks of desolation and conflagration. Thestreets are deserted, the roads overgrown with weeds, the whole is avast solitude. "[4] It is among the Northern conquerors that we must look for the origin ofthe spirit of chivalry, which consisted first and chiefly in manlyvalor exerted to obtain the favor of woman. Of this there is no tracein any ancient civilization. Among the barbarous tribes of the North, physical strength and military prowess were the qualities mostessential in a man, and woman naturally looked upon them as the meritshe most loved, especially as they were needed for her own protection. But this condition is natural to all barbarous and warlike peoples, andcannot by itself account for that sentiment which we call chivalric. Tothe valor of the Goths were joined an extraordinary reverence andrespect for their women, due, as these feelings always must be, tofeminine chastity. The virtue for which the Northern women weredistinguished elevated them to a position to which the females of otheruncivilized nations never approached. It gave them a large influence inboth public and private affairs, and made them something to be won, notbought. To obtain his wife the Northern warrior must have deserved her, he must have given proofs that he was worthy of the woman who hadpreserved her chastity inviolate, and for whom love must be mingledwith respect. [5] It is curious to observe how exactly these sentiments, which existed at so early a period among the Gothic nations, werecontinued into feudal times. Take, as one instance, the exclamation ofRegner Lodbrog, the famous Scandinavian chieftain, who about the year860 rescued a princess from a fortress in which she was unjustlyconfined, and received her hand as his reward: "I made to struggle inthe twilight that yellow haired chief, who passed his mornings amongthe young maidens and loved to converse with widows. He who aspires tothe love of young virgins ought always to be foremost in the din ofarms!"[6] Compare to this a scene at Calais about the middle of thefourteenth century. Edward III had just accomplished an adventure ofchivalry. Serving under the banner of Sir Walter de Manny as a commonknight, he had overcome in single combat the redoubted Sir Eustace deRibeaumont, who had brought the king twice on his knees during thecourse of the battle. Edward that evening entertained all his Frenchprisoners as well as his own knights at supper, and at the conclusionof the feast he adjudged the prize of valor for that day's fighting toSir Eustace de Ribeaumont, and removing a chaplet of pearls from hisown head, he placed it on that of the French knight, with thesignificant words[7]: "Sir Eustace, I present you with this chaplet asbeing the best combatant this day, either within or without doors; andI beg of you to wear it this year for love of me. I know that you arelively and amorous, and love the company of ladies and damsels;therefore say wherever you go that I gave it to you. " But the chivalryof the Goths was only the seed of the plant which flourished soluxuriantly under better conditions in later times. The feudal systemfostered the growth of the sentiment into the institution, as apalliative to anarchy and as an ornament to life, while the Church, always eager to absorb enthusiasm and power into her own ranks, adoptedthe institution as the Holy Order, and adding religious devotion to theinspiration of love, directed the energies of chivalry into the work ofcivilization, and made the knight the champion of the weak, in additionto his character as a valiant soldier. It is difficult in considering a period so remote and so peculiar asthat of chivalry, to fix the limit between the actual and theimaginary, between the character of the ideals which men placed beforethemselves, and the extent to which these ideals were realized. Thatthe writings of the romancers were exaggerations of actual mannersrather than inventions, is shown by the descriptions of the habits andinmates of mediæval castles, which form so interesting a portion ofFroissart's chronicles, and give such striking and life likeillustrations of the society which at once inspired and enjoyed theromances of chivalry. The castle of the Earl of Foix and the Earlhimself would have seemed quite natural in the pages of a romance:"Ther was none more rejoysed in dedes of armes than the erle dyde: therwas sene in his hall, chambre, and court, knightes and squyers ofhonour going up and downe, and talking of armes and amours; all honourther was found, all maner of tidyngs of every realme and countre thermight be herde, for out of every countree ther was resort, for thevalyantness of this erle. " Of "armes and amours" the knights and ladiesloved to talk, and arms and amours formed the burden of the ponderoustomes which the Earl of Foix caused to be read before him. Theadventures of knights-errant, and their obligation to render aid andcomfort to "all distressed ladies and damsels, " have a charmingillustration in the championship of the cause of Isabel, Queen ofEdward the Second of England, by Sir John of Hainault, and the wordsused by the latter in undertaking the enterprise were the echo of thechivalric feeling of the time. As soon as the arrival of Queen Isabelin Hainault was known, "this Sir John, being at that time very youngand panting for glory, like a knight-errant mounted his horse, and, accompanied by a few persons, set out from Valenciennes forAmbreticourt, where he arrived in the evening and paid the Queen everyrespect and honour. " Notwithstanding the remonstrances and objectionswhich were raised against his undertaking so perilous an adventure asthe invasion of England, "the gallant knight would not change hispurpose, saying, 'that he could die but once; that the time was in thewill of God; and that all true knights were bound to aid, to the utmostof their power, all ladies and damsels driven from their kingdomscomfortless and forlorn. '" To suppose that the romances formed anaccurate reflection of actual life would show an entire ignorance oftheir nature; but there can be no doubt that these fictions were thenatural outcome of existing thought and manners; that they weresufficiently life-like to interest; and that they increased andintensified the habits and ideas in which they had their origin. The combination of qualities and motives which we are accustomed toexpress in the general term of chivalry was the mediæval ideal ofvirtue, and as such was in practice inevitably subject to imperfectionand inconsistency. The Roman _virtus_ was simply courage. Chivalrymeant courage and skill in arms, united to gentle birth, to courtesy, to gallantry, and to a faithful observance of the laws of combat; thewhole inspired by military glory, religious enthusiasm, or devotion towomen. We should admire the greatness and nobility of this ideal, standing out as it does against a background of lawlessness andignorance, rather than complain that in practice its valor oftendegenerated into ferocity, its Christianity into narrow bigotry, itsworship of women into license and brutality. Chivalry, supplying astandard of excellence adapted by its nature to excite the admirationof men, did much to refine and civilize the rude age in which it arose;and this result is not belittled by the fact that that standard waspitched above the possibility of human attainment. Chivalry was thespontaneous expression of what was best in the time, and gave sentimentand charm to lives otherwise hard and barren. Its very exaggerationsand grotesqueness illustrate the eagerness with which it was received, and the greatness of the want which it supplied. This was an ideal, too, separate and distinct from any that had been known before, possessing enduring characteristics of greatness and beauty which havenever ceased to command sympathy and admiration. Though changed inoutward form, and appearing under different manifestations, thechivalry of the Middle Ages is essentially the chivalry of to-day, butit now exerts a moral and intellectual, instead of a physical force. The new dignity which woman assumed in connection with the growth ofchivalry was owing considerably to a cause separate from the Northernsentiment concerning them, and as the position of women is an importantpart of the social condition we are now examining, a glance at thisother cause will not be without value or interest. It is indeedremarkable that in the Middle Ages woman should for the first time haveattained her true rank, and that the highest conception of the femalecharacter which the world had yet known should have been developed inso rude and ferocious a time. The estimation in which women were heldamong Eastern nations was little lower than their position among theJews. Where polygamy exists, and where purchase-money is paid to thefather of the bride, women never attain to high appreciation orrespect. Beauty rather than virtue was the ideal of Greece. The womenof that country, living in continual seclusion, deprived alike ofopportunities for attaining culture or exerting influence, becamenarrowed in thought and intelligence, and passed their lives inobscurity under the control of their husbands or sons. [8] Roman historygives us examples of female excellence and distinction, and representswomen during some periods in a better position than had previously beenknown. But the female sex was never accorded among the Romans thegeneral respect for its peculiar virtues, and the consideration for itsweakness which forms one of the brightest pages of modern civilization. With the spread of Christianity, there was for centuries noimprovement. The low standard by which the Jews had judged the sexexerted a strong and an evil influence. The spirit of asceticism, rapidly gaining ground in the Roman Church, pointed out absolutechastity in both sexes as the only praiseworthy condition of life, mademarriage only an excusable sin, and recognized in that relationship, merely its use for the propagation of the species. Views so absurd andunnatural could not fail in producing the most evil results. Woman cameto be regarded by the church as the origin of all sin, the favoritemedium of the temptations of the Devil, the sanctity and happiness ofmarriage were interfered with, and the priesthood, debarred from thatcondition, showed themselves not insensible to the charms they sofiercely denounced, and presented to their flocks demoralizing examplesof profligacy. The Northern invaders brought with them their own ideasconcerning women, rough and crude, but containing the germ of muchgood. Being met by Christianity, they embraced it in large numbers, unreflectingly, at the command of their leaders. But in embracing itthey changed it to suit themselves. Their minds were unfit for thereception of the dogmas of the church, or for the realization andworship of an invisible being. They seized on the ideas of Christ, theVirgin Mary, and the Saints, and worshipped in a great degree their oldgods under the new names. But of the new objects of worship, Mary moststruck their imaginations and won their affection. The meek andforgiving Christ was unsuited to their fierce and warlike dispositions. But Mary, the beautiful, the tender, the merciful mother of God becamethe object of an enthusiastic adoration, and with the worship of Marythe position of the whole sex was elevated. The brutish and unnaturalteachings of the Fathers were overridden by the new and noble ideaswhich were springing up. Doctrines such as that of the ImmaculateConception rapidly won ground, and Catholic Mariolatry, taking root inthe fertile soil of Northern chivalry, worked benefits which havelasted down to our own time, and conferred great blessings upon it. The purely military character of feudalism impressed itself on thehabits of the time, and moulded domestic life, amusements and educationin strict accordance with it. The castles of the great lords andknights were "academies of honour" for the children of their dependentsand less wealthy neighbors; the court yards became the scene of martialexercises, and the presence of noble women within the walls afforded anopportunity for the cultivation of gentle manners, and for the growthof that feeling of reverence for the fair sex which was to form soimportant an element in the boys' later life. The "gentle damoiseau, "confided at the age of seven or eight to the care of a knight whosereputation for prowess and courtesy ensured a good example, learnedmodesty and obedience in the performance of menial services, thenconsidered honorable; in the court-yard of the castle he wasinstructed in horsemanship, and in the use of the lance, the bow, andthe sword. In the dangers and hardships of the chase the principaloccupation in time of peace, --he was inured to fatigue, hunger, andpain; he learned to sound the horn at the different stages of the hunt, to dress the game when killed, and to carve it on the table. [9] Hewaited upon the ladies in their apartments as upon superior beings, whose service, even the most menial, was an honor. While yet adamoiseau, and before he had attained the rank of squire, the youth wasexpected to choose one girl who should receive his special admirationand service, in whose name his future knightly deeds should beperformed, who should be his inspiration in battle, the reward of hisvalor, and the object of his gallantry. In the loves of Amadis andOriana, so famous in romance, we have a simple and charming descriptionof the first budding of the chivalric sentiment. "Oriana was about tenyears old, the fairest creature that ever was seen; wherefore she wascalled the one 'without a peer. ' * * * The Child of the Sea (Amadis)was now twelve years old, but in stature and size he seemed fifteen, and he served the queen; but now that Oriana was there, the queen gaveher the Child of the Sea, that he should serve her, and Oriana saidthat 'it pleased her'; and that word which she said the child kept inhis heart, so that he never lost it from his memory, and in all hislife he was never weary of serving her, and his heart was surrenderedto her; and this love lasted as long as they lasted, for as well as heloved her did she also love him. But the Child of the Sea, who knewnothing of her love, thought himself presumptuous to have placed histhoughts on her, and dared not speak to her; and she, who loved him inher heart, was careful not to speak more with him than with another;but their eyes delighted to reveal to the heart what was the thing onearth that they loved best. And now the time came that he thought hecould take arms if he were knighted; and this he greatly desired, thinking that he would do such things that, if he lived, his mistressshould esteem him. "[10] Life in a Norman castle was at best hard and comfortless. In summer itwas enlivened by hunting and hawking, by tournaments and pageantry. Thegardens which usually surrounded a castle formed a resource for thefemale portion of the inhabitants, who are often represented in theilluminations of the time as occupied in tending the flowers or inmaking garlands. But in winter there were few comforts to lessen thesuffering, and few resources to vary the monotony of life. The passagesin the romances which hail the return of spring, are full ofthankfulness and delight. Chess, dice, and cards, as well as manyfrolicsome games, served, with the aid of the minstrels, to affordamusement. The women had their occupations of spinning, sewing, andembroidery, while some of the accomplishments they cultivated may beinferred from the following passage in the folio of old Sir JoshuaBarnes: "And now the ladies themselves, with many noble virgins, weremeditating the various measures their skilful feet were to make, thepleasant aires their sweet voices should warble, and those softdivisions their tender fingers should strike on the yieldingstrings. "[11] Life was lacking in physical comforts, and still more inrefinement. The dining-hall became at night the sleeping place of apromiscuous crowd of retainers. There was a very imperfect separationof the sexes at any time. Men and women ate with their fingers, andthrew the refuse of their meal on the table, or amidst the straw on thefloor, to be devoured by the cats and dogs which swarmed about. Readthe directions for ladies' table manners given by Robert de Blois: "Ifyou eat with another (_i. E. _, in the same plate), turn the nicest bitsto him, and do not go picking out the finest and largest for yourself, which is not courteous. Moreover, no one should eat greedily a choicebit which is too large or too hot, for fear of choking or burningherself. * * * Each time you drink wipe your mouth well, that no greasemay go into the wine, which is very unpleasant to the person who drinksafter you. But when you wipe your mouth for drinking, do not wipe youreyes or nose with the table-cloth, and avoid spilling from your mouthor greasing your hands too much. "[12] The same authority on manners andetiquette warns ladies against scolding and disputing, against swearingand getting drunk, and against some other objectionable actions whichbetray a great lack of feminine modesty. The "Moral Instructions" ofthe Chevalier de la Tour Landry present a picture of coarseness andimmorality among both men and women, which shows how incompatible wasthe barrack-like existence of feudal times with the practice of anysort of self-restraint or purity of life. Of such a character, then, was the audience which the mediævalromancers had to please. A class essentially military, ferocious, andaccustomed to shedding blood, yet preserving in their violence acertain observance of laws of honor and courtesy; setting beforethemselves more often an ideal of glory and nobility, than an object ofplunder or conquest; cultivating a consideration and gallantry towardwomen, remarkable in view of the necessarily rough and unrefinedcircumstances of their life; highly imaginative and adventurous;rejoicing in brilliancy of dress and show; filling the monotony ofpeace by tournaments, martial games, and the entertainments of theminstrels. [Footnote 1: Taine: History of Eng. Lit. , Van Laun's trans. Chap. 3, pt. Ii. ] [Footnote 2: "Hist. Of Crusades, " p. 11; Sir E. Strachey, Introd. To"Morte d'Arthur. "] [Footnote 3: Mill's "Chivalry. "] [Footnote 4: Quoted in Green's "Short History of the English People. "p. 224. ] [Footnote 5: Warton's "Hist. Of English Poetry, " Dissert. I. ] [Footnote 6: Quoted by Warton, "Hist. Of Poetry, " Dis. I. ] [Footnote 7: Froissart's "Chronicles, " v. Ii, p. 248, Johnes' Trans. ] [Footnote 8: Lecky's "History of Morals, " chap. 5, vol. 2. ] [Footnote 9: Scott's "Essay on Chivalry. "] [Footnote 10: "Amadis of Gaul, " Southey's ed. Vol. 1, p. 40. Thisromance belongs to a late period of romantic fiction, but the passagecited is a good illustration of mediæval sentiment. ] [Footnote 11: Sir J. Barnes' "History of Edward III. "] [Footnote 12: Wright's "Manners and Sentiments in the Middle Ages, "p. 276. ] II. The romances of chivalry sprang to life a logical production of thetimes. Their authors seized on the character of a king and awarrior--their highest conception of greatness, in the persons ofCharlemagne and Arthur. Regardless of anachronism, they representedtheir heroes as the centre of a chivalric court, accoutred in the arms, and practising the customs of later centuries; they created in fact anew Arthur and a new Charlemagne, adapted to the new times. Theybrought to light the almost forgotten characters of antiquity. Theyrepresented Jason and Alexander invested with chivalric attributes andaffected by mediæval superstitions. Hercules, according to them, performed his labors, not because of the wrath of Juno or the commandof Jove, but, like a true knight-errant, to gain the favor of aBoeotian princess. Virgil the poet was transformed into Virgil theenchanter. The chief heroes were surrounded with restless knights, whose romantic adventures afforded unlimited range to the imagination, and delighted the chivalric mind. The romancers mingled with theirendless tales of "arms and amours, " the superstitions and myths whichoccupied the minds of men to the exclusion of all real knowledge andinquiry. The gloomy and terrible fictions which had adorned the songsof Northern scalds, the bright and fanciful imagery contained in thetales of Arabia and the East which the crusaders brought back with theminto Europe, the superstitions of Christianity itself, were given onlya greater influence in the lives of fictitious heroes than they weresupposed to have in those of living men. Perfectly suited to the times, and in fact born of them, the romances took at once a powerful hold onthe popular imagination. The characters of Arthur, of Launcelot and ofTristram became the objects of an ardent admiration, and the standardsof excellence to which many strove to attain. The most exaggeratedideas of chivalry contained in the romances were adopted in actuallife. Knights and ladies took upon themselves adventures and cultivatedmanners, which vied in extravagance with those of imaginary beings. Thepersonality of King Arthur was so intensely realized, that forcenturies it was believed that he would one day return from beyond thegrave to resume his glorious rule. On his tomb were supposed to beinscribed the words: Hic jacet Arthurus rex, quondam rexque futurus. Henry II visited his legendary grave at Glastonbury, and named hisgrandson Arthur. Edward I held a Round Table at Kenilworth. Remarkablefeatures of nature--rocks, caves, and mounds were associated in thepopular mind with the achievements of Arthur, and many are connectedwith them by name at the present day. But the romances relating to Arthur were far more than the reflectionof passing thoughts and customs destined to perish with thegenerations who read them. They embodied the ideals of the English racesix centuries ago, and although appearing in a different form, thoseideals are still our own. The examples presented in romantic fiction ofmanly courage, of self-sacrificing devotion, of simplicity ofcharacter, and of chivalric consideration for the weakness of thefemale sex, may excite our admiration and sympathy, as well as that ofa fierce and untutored knighthood. These tales were the product of theEnglish mind in its boyhood, and it is to the youth of our day thatthey are best adapted and most attractive; but the rationalism of thenineteenth century may find in their spirit of simple faith, ofunquestioning belief and trust, much that is beautiful in human lifewhich modern thought and science have swept away. It is on account ofthe enduring character of the ideals, of which the Arthurian legendswere the spontaneous expression, that these works, although containedin a rude form, without artistic plan or literary merit to give thempermanence, have never wholly passed from the acquaintance of men. Therude force and beauty of mediæval fiction has been deeply felt by manyof the greatest minds which have contributed to modern literature. Tothe perusal of the story of Launcelot and Guenever Dante ascribes thecoming of Paolo and Francesca _al doloroso passo_. While the otherworks of Ariosto have fallen into obscurity, his "Orlando Furioso" hasachieved a lasting fame. One of the greatest poems in the Germanlanguage, the "Oberon" of Wieland, is almost a reproduction of achivalric romance. The reader of Milton is often reminded of Uther's son, Begirt with British and Armoric knights. Spenser transferred romantic fiction into the region of allegory, andgave to English literature the immortal "Faery Queen. " In our own daythe "Idyls" of Tennyson have made the legends of Arthur a part of ourcommon thought, and the Knights of the Round Table familiar in almostevery household. The romances of chivalry fall naturally into threegeneral classes: those relating to Charlemagne and his peers; thoserelating to classical and mythological heroes; and, finally, the talesconnected with King Arthur. The strong similarity which exists in thecharacter and incidents of these three classes makes an acquaintancewith one of them sufficient for the purpose of this work. The "Morted'Arthur" and the romances of which it forms a compendium will thereforebe chiefly considered, as being the most interesting in their bearingon English fiction. In the early part of the twelfth century, Walter Mapes, Archdeacon ofOxford, while travelling in France, became possessed of a book writtenin the British or Armoric language, which treated of the history ofkings of Britain, and was undoubtedly even at that time of considerableantiquity. Little is known concerning this curious work. It related thefabulous martial deeds of British kings, of whose existence there is noprevious record, their victories over giants and dragons, and thevarious supernatural influences to which they were subject. Hence comesthe story of King Lear and of Jack the Giant-Killer, and here are firstmet the characters of King Arthur and the enchanter Merlin. This bookhaving been translated into Latin by Geoffrey of Monmouth, aBenedictine monk, at once attained a great popularity and reputation;and for several centuries was universally accepted as true history. Anumber of metrical romances soon appeared to gratify the taste whichGeoffrey's chronicle had excited, and in the first half of thethirteenth century the same stories began to be written in prose. Fromthis time until the middle of the fifteenth century most of what we nowcall romantic fiction was produced, although many imitations andtranslations appeared in England for more than a century afterward. Theexact dates of the different romances and the names of their authorscannot be positively established, as the early copies were undated, andthe names prefixed to them are believed to be fictitious. During thisperiod were given to the world, among many others, the romances ofMerlin the Enchanter, of Launcelot du Lac, of Meliadus, of his sonTristram, of Gyron le Courtoys, of Perceval le Gallois, and, finally, that of the Saint Gréal, in which the whole body of knights-errant arerepresented, probably by some monkish writer, in the search for theHoly Cup which had held the blood of Christ. At last Sir Thomas Malory, a London knight, well read in chivalric literature, combined thesetales in the volume he called the "Morte d'Arthur, " an excellentspecimen of a chivalric romance, which was printed by Caxton in 1485, and has since appeared in many editions down to the present day. The influence of the supernatural appears in the very beginning of the"Morte d'Arthur, " and throughout we trace its controlling effect uponthe incidents of the story. It is by the help of Merlin's magic thatKing Uther Pendragon slays the Duke of Cornwall, and assuming thelikeness of his rival, obtains possession of his wife Igraine, "a faireladye, and a passing wyse, " from which union Arthur is born. On thedeath of Uther, when the chief nobles and knights are summoned toLondon by the Archbishop of Canterbury to choose a new king, it isMerlin's art which discovers to them a sword imbedded in a great rockin the churchyard of St. Paul's bearing the inscription: "Whoso pulleththis sword out of this stone and anvil, is rightwise king born of allEngland"; and it is by the same supernatural aid that the striplingArthur, whose birth is unknown, fulfils the task which all had essayedin vain. By the friendly influence of Merlin, Arthur receives hisfamous sword Excalibur from the hands of the Lady of the Lake, with thescabbard whose wearer can lose no blood; he defeats with greatslaughter the hosts of the eleven kings who dispute his throne; andobtains in marriage the celebrated Guenever, who brings him in dowrythe Table Round. But Merlin, who could do so much for others, had thepower only to foresee, and not to avert, his own impending fate. Enamoured of a fickle damsel, who soon tires of his love, the greatenchanter discloses his secrets to her, and with a sad farewell andfinal advice to Arthur, he suffers himself to be imprisoned forever inthe rock which his own magic had wrought, by the spell which he hadintrusted to his treacherous mistress. The friendly arts of Merlin aresucceeded by the machinations of the malicious fairy Morgana, and thewatchful care of the the Lady of the Lake. To excite the childlikewonder of his readers, the romancer turns knights to stone, or makesthem invisible; he introduces enchanted castles, vessels that steerthemselves, and the miraculous properties of the Saint Gréal, Arthurand Tristram fight with dragons and giants. The loves of Tristram andIsoud arise from the drinking of an amorous potion. The chastity ofknight and damsel is determined by the magic horn, whose liquor theinnocent drink, but the guilty spill; and by the enchanted garland, which blooms on the brow of the chaste, but withers on that of thefaithless. Inventions such as these were regarded as facts, or at leastas possible occurrences, by the readers of romantic fiction. Menbelieved what they were told, and to doubt, to inquire wereintellectual efforts which they knew not how to make, and which all theinfluences of their life opposed their making. There were no fictionsin the romances more improbable than the accounts of foreign partsbrought back by travellers. Sir John of Mandeville was not doubted whenhe wrote that he had met with a race of men who had only one eye, andthat in the middle of the forehead, or a people with only one foot andthat one large enough to be used as a parasol. The knight who hadmastered the art of reading looked upon such stories as curious facts. His religion was a religion of miracles, and, ignorant of natural laws, he was accustomed to refer any unusual occurrence to the influence ofsupernatural beings, a habit of thought which presented an ever-readysolution to mysteries and problems otherwise inexplicable. The entire credence accorded to the supernatural features of theromance gave to it a power and an interest which has now, of course, disappeared; but the influence of the supernatural upon the work is sostrong, that even the modern reader, wandering with Launcelot andTristram in a world of wonders, meets a giant without surprise, andfeels at home in an enchanted castle. When Arthur is finally established on his throne, the knights of theRound Table begin their wonderful career of adventure and gallantry. With them the reader roams over a vague and unreal land called Britainor Cornwall, in full armor, the ever ready lance in rest. At almostevery turn a knight is met who offers combat, and each detail of theconflict--the rush of the horses, the breaking of lances, the finalhand-to-hand with swords--is described with a minuteness which only themilitary enthusiasm of the Middle Ages could thoroughly appreciate. Sometimes our hero meets a damsel who tells a tale of wrong, and leadsthe knight to champion her cause; again, he encounters some oldcompanion in arms, breaks a lance upon him by way of friendlysalutation, and wanders with him in search of adventures, inquiring ofa chance peasant or dwarf, of a wrong to be avenged, or a danger to beincurred. The reader attends tournaments, of which every blow and everyfall are chronicled. He becomes familiar with the respective merits andprowess of a hundred different champions. He learns the laws ofjudicial combat, and the intricate rules of the chivalric code. Withimagination aroused and sympathies excited he enters a life ofalternate combat and love, almost real in the consistency of itsimprobability. Three gallant knights, Sir Gawaine, Sir Marhaus, and SirUwaine set out together in search of adventures. At the last they cam in to a grete forest that was named the countreye and foreste of Arroy and the countrey of straunge auentures. In this countrey, said syr Marhaus cam neuer knyghte syn it was crystened, but he fonde straunge auentures, and soo they rode, and cam in to a depe valey ful of stones, and ther by they sawe a fayr streme of water, aboue ther by was the hede of the streme, a fayr fontayne, & thre damoysels syttynge therby. And thenne they rode to them, and eyther salewed other, and the eldest had a garland of gold aboute her hede, and she was thre score wynter of age, or more, and her here[13] was whyte under the garland. The second damoysel was of thirty wynter of age, with a serkelet of gold aboute her hede. The thyrd damoysel was but xv year of age, and a garland of floures aboute her hede. When these knyghtes had soo beholde them, they asked hem the cause why they sat at that fontayne; we be here, sayd the damoysels for thys cause, yf we may see ony erraunt knyghtes to teche hem unto straunge auentures, and ye be thre knyghtes that seken auentures, and we be thre damoysels, and therfore eche one of yow must chose one of us. And whan ye haue done soo, we wylle lede yow vnto thre hyhe wayes, and there eche of yow shall chese a wey and his damoysel wyth hym. And this day twelue monethe ye must mete here ageyn and god sende yow your lyues, and ther to ye must plyzte your trouthe. This is wel said, sayd Syr Marhaus. * * * Thenne euery damoysel took her knyght by the raynes of his brydel, and broughte him to the thre wayes, and there was their othe made to mete at the fontayne that day twelue moneth and they were lyvynge, and soo they kyst and departed, and eueryche knyghte sette his lady behynde him. [14] Sir Alysandre le Orphelin holds a piece of ground against all comers. Adamsel called La Belle Alice proclaims at Arthur's court that whoeveroverthrows him, shall have herself and all her lands. Many knightsundertake the adventure, but all are defeated by Sir Alysandre. And whanne La Beale Alys sawe hym juste soo wel, she thought hym a passynge goodly knyght on horsbak. And thenne she lepte out of her pauelione, and toke Syr Alisandre by the brydel, and thus she sayd; Fayre knyght, I require the of thy knyghthode, shewe me thy vysage. I dar wel, sayd Sir Alysander shewe my vysage. And then he put of his helme, and she sawe his vysage, she said; O swete Jhesu! the I must loue and neuer other. Thenne shewe me your vysage, said he. Thenne she unwympeled her vysage. And whanne he saw her, he sayde, here haue I fond my loue and my lady. Truly fayre lady, said he, I promise yow to be your knyghte, and none other that bereth the lyf. Now, gentil knyghte, said she, telle me your name. My name is, said he, Alysander le Orphelyn. Now damoysel, telle me your name, said he. My name is, said she, Alys la Beale Pilggrym. And whan we be more at oure hertes ease both ye and I shalle telle other of what blood we be come. Soo there was grete loue betwyxe them. And as they thus talked, ther came a knyghte that hyght Harsouse le Berbuse, and axed parte of sir Alysanders speres. Thenne Sir Alysander encountred with hym, and at the fyrst Sir Alysander smote hym ouer his hors croupe. [15] Sir Tristram is thus welcomed at Arthur's court: Thenne Kynge Arthur took Sir Tristram by the hand, and wente to the table round. Thenne came Quene Guenever and many ladyes with her, and alle the ladyes sayden at one voyce, welcome Sir Tristram, welcome, said the damoysels, welcome said knightes, welcome said Arthur, for one of the best knyghts and the gentylst of the world, and the man of moost worship, for all manner of hunting thou berest the pryce, and of all mesures of blowynge thou art the begynninge, and of alle the termes of huntynge and haukinge ye are the begynner, of all Instrumentes of musyke ye are the best, therefor gentyl knyght, said Arthur, ye are welcome to this courte. [16] The description of the combat between King Arthur and Accolon isperhaps the most interesting of the kind which the "Morte d'Arthur"contains. Accolon of Gaul had by the aid of Morgan le Fay obtainedpossession of Arthur's enchanted sword and scabbard. [17] And thenne they dressyd hem on bothe partyes of the felde, & lete their horses renne so fast that eyther smote other in the myddes of the shelde, with their speres hede, that bothe hors and man wente to the erthe. And thenne they sterte up bothe, and pulled oute their swerdys, * * * And so they went egrely to the battaille, and gaf many grete strokes, but alweyes Arthurs swerd bote[18] not like Accolon's swerd. But for the most party euery stroke that Accolon gaf he wounded sore Arthur, that it was merucylle he stode. And alweyes his blood fylle from him fast. When Arthur behelde the ground so sore bebledde he was desmayed, and thenne he demed treason that his swerd was chaunged, for his swerd boote not styl[19] as it was wont to do, therefore he dredde hym sore to be dede, for euer hym seemed that the swerd in Accolons hand was Excalibur, for at euery stroke that Accolon stroke he drewe blood on Arthur. Now knyghte, said Accolon unto Arthur, kepe the wel from me, but Arthur ansuered not ageyne, and gat hym suche a buffet on the helme that he made hym to stoupe nygh fallynge doune to the earthe. Thenne Sir Accolon with drewe hym a lytel, and cam on with Excalibur on hyghe, and smote Syr Arthur suche a buffet that he felle nyhe to the erthe. Thenne were they wroth bothe, and gaf eche other many sore strokes, but alweyes Syr Arthur lost so muche blood that it was merucille he stode on his feet, but he was so ful of knighthode, that knyghtly he endured the payne. And Syr Accolon lost not a dele of blood, therefore he waxed passynge lyghte, and Syr Arthur was passynge feble, and wende veryly to have dyed, but for al that he made countenaunce as though he myghte endure, and helde Accolon as shorte as he myght. But Accolon was bolde by cause of Excalibur that he waxed passynge hardy. * * * And therewith he cam fyersly upon Arthur, and syre Arthur was wrothe for the blood that he had lost, and smote Accolon on hyhe upon the helme soo myztely that he made hym nyhe to falle to the erthe. And therewith Arthurs swerd brast at the crosse and felle in the grasse amonge the blood, and the pommel and the sure handels he helde in his handes. When syr Arthur sawe that, he was in grete fere to dye, but alweyes he helde vp his shelde and lost no ground nor bated no chere. Thenne syre Accolon beganne with wordes of treason, and sayd knyghte thow arte overcome, and mayste not endure, and also thow arte wepenles, and thow hast loste moche of thy blood, and I am ful lothe to slee the, therfor yelde the to me as recreaunt. Nay, saide syre Arthur I maye not so, for I haue promysed to doo the bataille to the vttermost by the feythe of my body whyle me lasteth the lyf, and therfor I had leuer to dye with honour than to lyve with shame. And yf it were possyble for me to dye an C tymes, I had leuer to dye so ofte, than yelde me to the, for though I lacke wepen, I shalle lacke no worship. And yf thou slee me wepenles that shalle be thy shame. Wel, sayd Accolon, as for the shame I wyl not spare. Now kepe the from me, for thow arte but a dede ma. And therwith Accolon gaf hym suche a stroke that he felle nyghe to the erthe, and wolde haue had Arthur to haue cryed hym mercy. But syre Arthur pressed unto Accolon with his sheld and gaf hym with the pomel in his hand suche a buffet that he wente thre strydes abak. * * * And at the next stroke Syr Accolon stroke hym suche a stroke that by the damoysels enchauntement the swerd Excalibur felle oute of Accolons hande to the erthe. And therwith alle syre Arthur lyghtely lepte to hit, and gate hit in his hand, and forwith al he knewe that it was his suerd Excalibur, & sayd thow hast ben from me al to long, & moche dommage hast thow done me. * * * And therwith syr Arthur russhed on hym with hys myghte, and pulled hym to the erthe, and thenne russhed of his helme, and gaf hym suche a buffet on the hede that the blood cam oute at his eres, his nose & his mouthe. Now wyll I slee the said Arthur. Slee me ye may wel, said Accolon, and it please yow, for ye ar the best knyghte that euer I fonde, and I see wel that god is with yow. The knights of the Round Table had much more difficulty in dealing withone another than in overcoming the most redoubtable giants. SirLauncelot arrived at a giant's castle, [20] and "he looked aboute, andsawe moche peple in dores and wyndowes that sayd fayre knyghte thow artunhappy. Anone with al cam there vpon hym two grete gyaunts wel armedal sauf the hedes, with two horryble clubbes in theyr handes. SyreLauncelot put his sheld afore hym and put the stroke aweye of the onegyaunt, and with his swerd he clafe his hede a sondre. Whan his felawsawe that, he ran awey as he were wood, for fere of the horryblestrokes, & laucelot after hym with al his myzt & smote hym on thesholder, and clafe hym to the nauel. Thenne Syre Launcelot went in tothe halle, and there came afore hym thre score ladyes and damoysels, and all kneled unto hym, and thanked God and hym of theirdelyveraunce. " The horrors of battle as recounted by the romancers losemuch of their painfulness by the enjoyment which the combatants take inthem, and by the facility with which the most terrible wounds arehealed. The mediæval passion for conflict and violence could hardly bemore strikingly illustrated than by the words of the mother ofTristram, who had just given birth to her son in the midst of a forest, and being far from human aid, sees that her end is near. "Now lete mesee my lytel child for whome I haue had alle this sorowe. And whan shesawe hym she said thus, A my lytel sone, thou hast murthered thy moder, and therfore I suppose, thou that art a murtherer soo yong, thou arteful lykely to be a manly man in thyn age. "[21] From the recital of combats we turn to tales of love. The mostinteresting of these relate to Launcelot and Guenever, and to Tristramand Isould. They differ in many respects, and yet share the noteworthyfeature that both the women are already married, and their lovers areconnected by ties of relationship or of great intimacy with thehusbands whom they wrong. Arthur, however, is made to preserve, throughout the story of his deception, the same dignity and the samerespect which he had always possessed, and in the loyalty of hischaracter never admits a doubt of his wife's virtue; while King Mark, the husband of Isould, loses the sympathy of the reader by histreachery and cowardice, and is always conscious of Isould'sinfidelity. Guenever and Launcelot feel the deeper and the noblerpassion, as theirs is inspired solely by each other's merit, while thatof Isould and Tristram is inflamed by an amorous potion. The immoralityof these love stories was not in the Middle Ages the same immoralitywhich it would be considered at present. The conditions of life wereall opposed to self restraint. The standard of morals was set by thechurch, and according to her interpretation of Christianity, continencewas so subsidiary to orthodoxy, that what would now be considered acrime, was in the Middle Ages an irregularity which need not weigh onthe conscience. Evidence of this is amply supplied by the socialhistory of the time, and the fact is fully illustrated by theromances. The authors of these compositions, from their tendency toidealization, held up to their readers a higher view of virtue in everyrespect than was practised in actual life, and in their writings, conjugal infidelity is of constant occurrence. The fictitiouspersonages who indulge in licence are but dimly conscious ofwrong-doing, and almost the only evidence of a realization of theirfault is in the Quest of the Saint Gréal, when Launcelot and othernoble knights acknowledge that the attainment of the sacred prize isnot for them as being "sinful men, " and the quest is achieved by thespotless Sir Galahad, who, impersonating the purifying influence ofChristianity, forms the most striking character conceived by thefertile imagination of the Middle Ages. The virtue of constancy was farmore admired than that of chastity, and it is said of Guenever, whosesin had brought such calamity upon the Round Table, that "as she was atrue lover, so she had a good end. " Launcelot and Tristram vie with one another in the deeds of chivalrywhich they accomplish in honor of their ladies, and the intimacy whichexists between the two knights and their mistresses adds much to theinterest of the story. A fine touch in the loves of Tristram and Isouldis the introduction of Sir Palomides, a valiant knight, almost theequal of Tristram in prowess, who loves Isould as passionately as hissuccessful rival, but finds no favor to reward a long career ofdevotion. The passions of jealousy and hatred on the one hand, andknightly courtesy and honor on the other, which alternately sway thetwo warriors, and struggle for the mastery in their relations with eachother, form a touching picture, and show that the romancers couldoccasionally rise above the description of conflicts to a study of theheart and character of men. That our lovers felt a deep and absorbing passion, there can be nodoubt. Sir Dynas, the Seneschal, tells the Queen la Belle Isould thatSir Tristram is near: "Thenne for very pure joye la Beale Isouldswouned, & whan she myghte speke, she said, gentyl knyghte Seneschallhelp that I myghte speke with him, outher my herte will braste. " Theymeet, and then "to telle the joyes that were between la Beale Isoud andsire Tristram, there is no tongue can telle it, nor herte thinke it, nor pen wryte it. " When Tristram thought Isoud unfaithful, he "madegrete sorowe in so much that he fell downe of his hors in a swoune, andin suche sorowe he was in thre dayes and thre nyghtes. " When he lefther, Isoud was found "seke in here bedde, makynge the grettest dolethat ever ony erthly woman made. " "Sire Alysander beheld his lady Alyson horsbak as he stood in her pauelione. And thenne was he sooenamoured upon her that he wyst not whether he were on horsbak or onfoote. " Sir Gareth falls in love at first sight: "and euer the more syrGareth behelde that lady, the more he loued her, and soo he burned inloue that he was past himself in his reason, and forth toward nyghtethey wente unto supper, and sire Gareth myghte not ete for his loue wassoo hot that he wyst not wher he was. " The Roman war introduced into the "Morte d'Arthur" is a curiousillustration of the vagueness of the historical groundwork of theromances of chivalry. The memory of Roman power was still too great topermit a warrior to achieve greatness without having matched hisstrength against that of Rome, and thus we have the singular spectacleof King Arthur with his adventurous knights, clad in mail, passingeasily through "Almayne" into Italy, conquering giants by the way, andreducing the Emperor Lucius to dependence. The story of the Saint Gréal originally formed a distinct romance, butit was the dull production of some ascetic monk, who thought that theknights of the Round Table were too much occupied with secularpursuits, and who found no greater encomium to pass upon Sir Galahad, than to call him a "maid. " But the idea of the Christian knighthoodsetting out to seek the Holy Cup was "marvellous and adventurous, " andso well suited to please the mediæval mind that we find this questintroduced into several of the romances of chivalry, and it appears, though in an incomplete form, in the "Morte d'Arthur. " The adventuresmet with by the knighthood are much the same as when they were pursuinga less lofty object. Sir Galahad occupies the intervals between hisserious occupations with rolling his father Sir Launcelot and othernoble knights into the dust in the usual unsaintly fashion. Thesupernatural element is stronger perhaps in the story of the SaintGréal than in any other romance, and the monkish inspiration of thework is everywhere manifest. When Sir Galahad rescues the inmates ofthe Castle of Maidens by overthrowing their oppressors, the romancerpoints out that the Castle of Maidens "betokeneth the good souls thatwere in prison before the incarnation of Jesu Christ. " It is here alsothat we learn that "Sir Launcelot is come but of the eighth degree fromour Lord Jesu Christ, and Sir Galahad is of the ninth degree from ourLord Jesu Christ; therefore I dare say that they may be the greatestgentlemen of the world. " When we have read of the "byrth, lyf and actes of Kyng Arthur, of hisnoble knyghtes of the rounde table, theyr mervayllous enquests andaduentures, th' achyeuyng of the sangréal, " we come to the "dolorousdeth and departyng out of this world of them. " It is indeed a "pytoushystory. " Long drawn out as the romance is, serious tax though itsometimes be on the reader's patience, the author succeeds in making usso familiar with all his heroes, in inspiring us with so deep andactive a sympathy with them, that it is with a real sadness that weread of the dissensions brought about by the loves of Launcelot andGuenever, the deserted Round Table, the separation of life-longcompanions, and the fraternal war between Sir Launcelot, Sir Gawaine, and King Arthur. Their love for each other was so strong that it is notwholly quenched even in the sanguinary struggles which follow, and itbursts forth in full vigor when death comes upon them in the midst oftheir fury. Sir Gawaine is the first to go, using his last strength towrite to Sir Launcelot begging his forgiveness: "I byseche the, SirLauncelot, to retorne ageyne vnto this realme, and see my tombe, &praye some prayer more or lesse for my soule. " Whan syr Arthur wyst that syre Gawayne was layd so lowe he went vnto hym, and there the kyng made sorowe oute of mesure, and took sire Gawayne in his armes, and thryes[22] he there swouned. And thenne whan he awaked, he sayd, allas Sir Gawayne my sisters sone, here now thou lyggest[23], the man in the world that I loued moost, and now is my joye gone, for now my neuewe syre Gawayne I will discouer me vnto your persone, in syr Launcelot & you I had moost my joye and myn affyaunce, & now haue I lost my joye of you bothe, wherefor all myn erthely joye is gone from me. [24] We turn from the death of Sir Gawaine only to witness the mortal blowdealt to King Arthur; to see his famous sword Excalibur, which he hadborne so nobly and so long, returned to the Lady of the Lake; and thealmost lifeless body of the great king carried away over the water bythe fairy queens, disappearing at last beneath the horizon. Gueneverwould seen to have deserved a harder fate than simply to retire to anunnery of which she is made the abbess. Sir Launcelot dies a holy manand a monk, saying masses for the souls of his old companions in arms. With his death the old glory of the Round Table passes away forever. And whan syr Ector herd suche noyse & lyghte in the quyre of joyous Garde, he alyghted and put his hors from hym, and came in to the quyre, & there he sawe men synge the seruyse full lamentably. And alle they knewe syre Ector, but he knewe not them. Thenne went syr Bors to syr Ector, & tolde him how there laye hys broder syr Launcelot dede, and then syr Ector threwe his shelde, hys swerde & helme from hym. And whan he behelde syr Launcelot's vysage, he felle donne in a sowne. And when he awakyd it were harde for any tonge to telle the doleful complayntes that he made for his broder. A, syr Launcelot, he sayd, thou were head of all Crysten knyztes, and now I dare saye, sayd syr Ector, thou syr Launcelot, ther thou lyest, that thou were neuer matched of none erthely knyghtes handes. And thou were the curtoyste knyghte that ever bare shelde. And thou were the truest frend to thy louer that euer bestradde hors, & thou were the truest louer of a synfull man that euer loued woman. And thou were the kyndest man that euer stroke wyth swerde. And thou were the goodelyest persone that euer came among prees of knyghtes. And thou were the mekest man & the gentylest that euer ete in halle amonge ladyes. And thou were the sternest knyghte to thy mortall foo that euer put spere in the reyst. Thenne there was wepyng & dolour oute of mesure. [25] The literary form of the "Morte d'Arthur" admits of description ratherthan of criticism. A noble and forcible simplicity of expressionpervades the old Norman French in which the romances of chivalry werefirst written, which is well reflected in the English of Sir ThomasMalory. Of plot there is none. The same vagueness pervades the courseof the narrative, which is characteristic of the historical groundwork, the geography, and the time of action. Most of the incidents depend onchance. Life in the Middle Ages was a very serious affair, and in theromances there was almost no attempt at wit or humor. In the "Morted'Arthur, " perhaps the only passage which might have raised a laugh amongthe early readers of the romance, is that in which King Arthur's foolDagonet is clad in Sir Mordred's armor, and in that disguise is made tochase before him the coward King Mark. The authors of the romances ofchivalry never attempted delineation of character. Their heroes aregood knights or bad knights, and in either case possess only theparticular qualities which would place them in one of these categories. The female characters are still more slightly drawn, and show nodistinct attributes except beauty and a capacity to love. In laying down the "Morte d'Arthur, " and bidding farewell to theMiddle Ages with their heroes of chivalry, we come to the end of a mostpicturesque period of English history, --a period marked by lights andshadows, rather than by distinct forms. There was ferocity, and therewas courtesy; there was brilliant show and rude coarseness; there werescenes of blood and scenes of noble chivalry. In the next chapter weshall notice the tendencies which were at work to replace this state ofsociety by a better. But to the Middle Ages will always be traced muchthat is distinctive of English character, and in the history of fictionwe may fairly allow to the knights of romance the legendary charm andfascination which hang about their bright helmets in the long vista ofdeparted years. [Footnote 13: Hair. ] [Footnote 14: "Morte d'Arthur. " Southey's reprint from Caxton's ed. , 1485, chaps. Xix and xx. Book 4. ] [Footnote 15: "Morte d'Arthur, " book 10, chap. Xxxix. ] [Footnote 16: Southey's "Morte d'Arthur, " vol. 2, p. 11. ] [Footnote 17: "Morte d'Arthur, " book 4, chap. Ix. ] [Footnote 18: Hit, cut. ] [Footnote 19: Cut not steel. ] [Footnote 20: "Morte d'Arthur, " book 6, ch. X. ] [Footnote 21: "Morte d'Arthur, " book 8, ch. I. ] [Footnote 22: Thrice. ] [Footnote 23: Liest. ] [Footnote 24: "Morte d'Arthur, " book 22, chap. Ii. ] [Footnote 25: "Morte d'Arthur, " book 22, chap. Xiii. ] CHAPTER II. CHAUCER. POPULAR TALES. MORE'S "UTOPIA. " In the history of English intellectual development between the vagueignorance of the Middle Ages and the new growth of learning in thesixteenth century, stands the great figure of Chaucer. The firstEnglish writer possessing dramatic power, he is the first also to unitewith the art of story-telling, the delineation and study of humancharacter. In his translation of the "Romaunt of the Rose" he belongsto the Middle Ages, --a period of uncontrolled imagination, ofunsubstantial creations, of external appearances copied withoutreflection. In his "Canterbury Tales" he belongs to the present, --whenReason asserts her authority, gives the stamp of individual reality tothe characters of fiction, and studies the man himself behind hisoutward and visible form. The creations of romantic fiction were unreal beings distinguished bydifferent names, by the different insignia on their shields, and by thedegree in which they possessed the special qualities which formed theideal of mediæval times. The story of their lives was but a series ofadventures, strung together without plan, the overflow of an active butungoverned imagination. The pilgrims to the shrine of Canterbury aremen and women, genuine flesh and blood, as thoroughly individual anddistinct as the creations of Shakespeare and of Fielding. They dress, they talk, each one after his own manner and according to his positionin life, telling a story appropriate to his disposition and suitable tohis experience. The knight, with armor battered in "mortal battailles"with the Infidel, describes the adventures of Palamon and Arcite, atale of chivalry. The lusty young squire, bearing himself well, "inhope to stonden in his lady grace, " tells an Eastern tale of love andromance. The prioress, "all conscience and tendre herte, " relates thelegend of "litel flew of Lincoln, " murdered by the Jews for singing hishymn to the Virgin. The clerk of Oxford, who prefers to wealth andluxury his "twenty bookes clad in blak or reede, " contributes the storyof the patient Griselda. The "Canterbury Tales" are so familiar that an extended notice of themhere would be superfluous, especially as we are dealing with narrativesin prose form. But in seeking to trace the origin and progress of theEnglish novel as it is now written, we must record the first appearanceof its special characteristics in the works of Chaucer. Here are firstto be seen real human beings, endowed with human virtues and subject tohuman frailties; here fictitious characters are first represented amidthe homely scenes of daily life; here they first become livingrealities whose nature and dispositions every one may understand, andwith whose thoughts every one may sympathize. We must notice, also, thesignificant fact that of the thirty-two pilgrims who jogged alongtogether that April day, four were of a military character, elevenbelonged to the clergy, and seventeen were of the common people. Acentury before Chaucer's time, when the feudal spirit was stillall-powerful, there were but two classes of men thought worthy ofconsideration, the knighthood and the clergy; and in the romances ofchivalry knights and priests exclusively composed the _dramatispersonæ_. But the slow progress of the masses, in whom lies the chiefstrength of a nation, becomes visible in Chaucer's time. In the townsthe tradesmen were rising to wealth and consideration. In the countrythe yeomanry--the laborers and farmers--were throwing off theirserfdom, and emerging from the chrysalis of obscurity in which they hadlong been hidden. At Cressy and Poitiers the English archers disputedwith the knighthood the honors of victory. While Chaucer was planningthe "Canterbury Tales, " introducing into his gallery of contemporaryportraits more figures of tradesmen than of knights or priests, thePeasant Revolt took place; the common people, long trodden in the dust, rose in defence of their rights as men, and John Ball, the "mad priestof Kent, " asked questions of the yeomen about him which showed howsurely the Middle Ages were becoming a part of the past. "By what rightare they whom we call lords greater folk than we? * * * If we all cameof the same father and mother, of Adam and Eve, how can they say orprove that they are better than we, if it be not that they make us gainfor them by our toil what they spend in their pride?" * * * "When Adamdelved and Eve span, who was then the gentleman?"[26] As in the historyof Chaucer's time, so in his "Canterbury Tales" we perceive the declineof feudal and priestly tyranny which had gone hand in hand: the onekeeping up a perpetual state of war and violence; the other limitingand enfeebling the human intellect, the activity of which could aloneraise mankind out of barbarism. The passion for war and for a military life which had kept Europe in astate of constant disturbance during the Middle Ages, which had broughtabout the Hundred Years' struggle between England and France, and whichhad found its worst issue in the Wars of the Roses in the fifteenthcentury, had, in the sixteenth century largely spent its force. Thepomp and luxury of chivalry had lessened the activity of militaryfeelings. The expense entailed by chivalric pageantry had diminishedthe power of the nobles over their dependents. Many feudal barons wereobliged to sell liberty and privileges to part of their bondsmen toobtain the wherewithal to maintain the remainder. The gradual growth ofthe towns and of trade produced a class which, having all to lose andnothing to gain by war, threw its influence against disorder. Theadvance in the study and practice of law diminished habits of violenceby furnishing legal redress. But the most powerful agent in destroyingthe old warlike taste was the invention of gunpowder. In the MiddleAges the whole male population had been soldiers in spirit and in fact. But the application of gunpowder to the art of war made it necessarythat men should be especially trained for the military profession. Alimited number were therefore separated from the main body of thepeople, who occupied themselves exclusively with military affairs, while the remainder were left to pursue the hitherto neglected arts ofpeace. The love of war and the indifference to human suffering so longnourished by feudalism could only be thoroughly extinguished bycenturies of gradual progress. The heads of queens and ministers ofstate falling from the block attest the strength of these feelings inHenry the Eighth's time. They were, however, fast losing ground beforethe new growth of learning. Their decline is illustrated by the fictionof the sixteenth century, as their full power was depicted in the earlyromances of chivalry. In the sixteenth century, chivalry as an institution, and even as aninfluential ideal had entirely passed away. The specimens of romanticfiction which were read during the reigns of Henry the Eighth and ofElizabeth could no longer appeal to an entirely warlike andsuperstitious class. They were modified to meet new tastes, and in theprocess became superior in literary merit, but inferior in force andinterest. This is especially true of the romances translated from theSpanish. Amadis of Gaul and Palmerin of England show merits ofnarrative sequence and elegance of expression which did not belong tothe earlier romances, of which the "Morte d'Arthur" formed acompendium. But the chivalry of Amadis and Palmerin was polished, refined and exaggerated till it became entirely fanciful and lost theold fire and spirit. In the so-called tales of chivalry produced oradapted by English writers during this century there is no trace of thepoetry and interest of chivalric sentiments. In "Tom-a-Lincoln, " theRed Rose Knight, the noble King Arthur is represented as an old dotard, surrounded by knights who bear no resemblance in person or in thenature of their adventures to their prototypes of romantic fiction. [27] The ideal character of the yeomanry succeeded to the ideal characterof the knighthood; Robin Hood and his merry companions took the placein the popular mind which belonged to King Arthur and his knights ofthe Table Round. The yeomen of England were imbued with a spirit ofcourage and liberty unknown to the same class on the continent ofEurope, and their love of freedom and restless activity of dispositionfound a reflection in the person of their hero. Supposed to have livedin the thirteenth century, his name and achievements have been sung incountless rhymes and ballads, and have remained dear to the commonpeople down to the present day. The patron of archery, the embodimentof the qualities most loved by the people--courage, generosity, faithfulness, hardihood, --the places he frequented, the well he drankfrom, have always retained his name, and his bow, with one of hisarrows, was preserved with veneration as late as the presentcentury. [28] The ideal of the yeomanry was similar to that of chivalryin the love of blows fairly given and cheerfully taken, in the love offighting for fighting's sake. It was similar in the courtesy which wasalways a characteristic of Robin Hood; in the religious devotion whichcaused the outlaw to hear three masses every morning before setting outon his depredations; in the gallantry which restrained him frommolesting any party which contained a woman. [29] But the tales relatingto Robin Hood differ from those of the Round Table in their entirefreedom from affectation and from supernatural machinery. Theybreathe, too, an open-air spirit of liberty and enjoyment which waspleasing and comprehensible to the dullest intellect, and which madethem, in the broadest sense, popular. The good-humored combativeness ofthe yeoman sympathized with every beating which Robin Hood received, and with every beating which he gave. In Robin's enmity to the clergy, in his injunction to his followers, "Thyse byshopppes and thyse archebyshoppes, Ye shall them bete and bynde, " the people applauded resistance to the extortion of the church. InRobin's defiance of the law and its officers, they applauded resistanceto the tyranny of the higher classes. Waylaying sheriffs and priests, or shooting the king's deer in Sherwood Forest, the famous outlaw andhis merry men, clad all in green, were the popular heroes. On RobinHood's day the whole population turned gaily out to celebrate hisfestival, never weary of singing or hearing the ballads whichcommemorated his exploits. Robin was a robber, but in times of disorderhighway robbery has always been an honorable occupation, and theoutlaws of Sherwood Forest were reputed to give to the poor what theytook from the rich. Diligent enquiries have been made to ascertainwhether the personage known as Robin Hood had a real existence, butwithout positive results. The story of his life is purely legendary, and the theories in regard to him have never advanced beyondhypothesis. It is exceedingly probable that such a man lived in thetwelfth or thirteenth century, and that the exploits of other lessprominent popular heroes were connected with his name and absorbed inhis reputation. The noble descent which has often been ascribed to himis in all likelihood the result of the mediæval idea, that the greatvirtues existed only in persons of gentle birth. This very prevalentopinion is often apparent in the romances of chivalry, where knights ofexceptional valor, who had supposed themselves to be basely descended, almost invariably turn out to be the long-lost offspring of a famousand noble person. Like the tales of chivalry, the narratives of RobinHood's adventures were sung and recited in metrical form long beforethey found their way into prose. The following extract forms a part ofthe first chapter of the story called the "Merry Exploits of RobinHood, " which had a considerable circulation in the sixteenth century. "Robin Hood's Delights; or, a gallant combate fought between Robin Hood, Little John, and William Scarlock, and three of the keepers of the King's deer, in the forest of Sherwood, in Nottinghamshire. " "On a midsummer's day, in the morning, Robin Hood, being accompanied with Little John and William Scarlock, did walk forth betimes, and wished that in the way they might meet with some adventures that might be worthy of their valour; they had not walked long by the forrest side, but behold three of the keepers of the king's game appeared, with their forrest-bills in their hands, and well appointed with faucheons and bucklers to defend themselves. Loe here (saith Robin Hood) according to our wish we have met with our mates, and before we part from them we will try what mettle they are made off. What, Robin Hood, said one of the keepers; I the same, reply'd Robin. Then have at you, said the keepers; here are three of us and three of you, we will single out ourselves one to one; and bold Robin, I for my part am resolved to have a bout with thee. Content, with all my heart, said Robin Hood, and Fortune shall determine who shall have the best, the outlaws or the keepers; with that they did lay down their coats, which were all of Lincoln Green, and fell to it for the space of two hours with their brown bills, in which hot exercise Robin Hood, Little John and Scarlock had the better, and giving the rangers leave to breathe, demanded of them how they liked them; Why! good stout blades i'faith, saith the keeper that fought with Robin, we commend you. * * * I see that you are stout men, said Robin Hood, we will fight no more in this place, but come and go with me to Nottingham, (I have silver and gold enough about me) and there we will fight it out at the King's Head tavern with good sack and claret; and after we are weary we will lay down our arms, and become sworn brothers to one another, for I love those men that will stand to it, and scorn to turn their backs for the proudest Tarmagant of them all. With all our hearts, jolly Robin, said the keepers to him; so putting up their swords and on their doublets, they went to Nottingham, where for three days space they followed the pipes of sack, and butts of claret without intermission, and drank themselves good friends. " The story of "George-a-Green, " the brave Pindar of Wakefield is verysimilar to that of Robin Hood. George was as fond as his more notedfriend of giving and taking hard knocks, and it is his skilful andjudicious use of the quarter-staff in fulfilling the duties of hisoffice, which gives rise to the incidents of the story. A curious relicof chivalry appears in the passage where Robin Hood the outlaw, andGeorge a-Green the pound-keeper, meet to decide with theirquarter-staves the relative merit of their sweethearts. [30] Of the stories relating to the yeomanry the most important was the"Pleasant Historic of Thomas of Reading; or, The Sixe Worthie Yeomen ofthe West, " by Thomas Deloney, a famous ballad-maker of the 16thcentury. It is the narrative of the life and fortunes of a worthyclothier of Henry the First's time, telling how he rose to wealth andprosperity, and was finally murdered by an innkeeper. There isinterwoven a relation of the unhappy loves of the "faire Margaret, "daughter of the exiled Earl of Shrewsbury, and of Duke Robert, theKing's brother, which ends in the Duke losing his eyes, and the fairMargaret being immured in a convent. The story illustrates some curiousold customs, and is written in an unaffected and easy style, whichmakes it still very readable. A passage describing the churching feastof the wife of one of the "Sixe worthie yeomen, " makes a natural andhumorous picture of contemporary manners. Sutton's wife of Salisbury, which had lately bin deliuered of a sonne, against her going to church, prepared great cheare; at what time Simon's wife of Southhampton came thither, and so did diuers others of the clothiers' wiues, onely to make merry at this churching feast: and whilest these dames sate at the table, Crab, Weasell and Wren waited on the board, and as the old Prouerbe speaketh, Many women, many words, so tell it out at that time; for there was such prattling that it passed: some talkt of their husbands' frowardnes, some shewed their maids' sluttishnes, othersome deciphered the costlines of their garments, some told many tales of their neighbours: and to be briefe there was none of them but would have talke for a whole day. But when Crab, Weazell and Wren saw this, they concluded betwixt themselves, that as oft as any of the women had a good bit of meate on their trenchers, they offering a cleane one should catch that commodity, and so they did; but the women being busie in talke, marked it not, till at the last one found leisure to misse her meate * * * The women seeing their men so merry, said it was a sign there was good ale in the house. [31] As the decline of disorder and of martial tastes had given men theopportunity to lead other than military lives, so the decline of thetheological spirit enabled them to attain that diffusion of knowledgewithout which there could be no civilization. The Roman clergy, duringmany centuries, partly from conscientious motives, and partly tomaintain their own power, had suppressed intellectual and materialadvancement, and had kept men in a state of gross ignorance andsuperstition. In England the church gradually lost her old influence byher internal rottenness: she was unable to resist the new growth oflearning which sprung up in the first half of the sixteenth century;and her power for evil was destroyed by the Reformation. Thesuperstitions, however, which she had nourished, lingered long afterher power had passed away, and these have given birth to some curiousspecimens of fiction. The natural tendency of an ignorant andsuperstitious people was to ascribe superior mental ability tointercourse with Satan, and to imagine that any unusual learning mustbe connected with the occult sciences. These ideas are illustrated bythe stories relating to Friar Bacon and to Virgil which were printedduring the sixteenth century, and which embodied the legends regardingthese great men which had passed current for two hundred years. Thesame ignorant indifference to useful learning which made Roger Bacon, the great philosopher of the thirteenth century, "unheard, forgotten, buried, " represented him after his death as a conjurer doing tricks forthe amusement of a king. "The Famous Historie of Frier Bacon, " iswritten in a clear and simple style, very similar to that of "Thomas ofReading, " and recounts: "How Fryer Bacon made a Brazen Head to speake, by the which hee would have walled England about with Brasse"; "howFryer Bacon by his arte took a towne, when the king had lyen before itthree months, without doing to it any hurt"; with much more of the samesort. This story would be without interest, were it not for theintroduction of the Friar's servant, one Miles, whose futile attemptsat seconding his master's efforts, and sometimes at imitating them, occasion some very amusing scenes. Friar Bungay, the famous conjurer ofEdward the Fourth's time, appears as Bacon's assistant. Virgil was treated in the same way. The age which turned Hercules intoa knight-errant, very consistently represented the poet and philosopheras a magician. All through the Middle Ages the name of Virgil had beenconnected with necromancy. "The authors, " says Naudeus, [32] "who havemade mention of the magic of Virgil are so many that they cannot beexamined one after another, without loss of much time. " On the titlepage of the "Lyfe of Virgilius, " we learn that: "This boke treateth ofthe lyfe of Virgilius, and of his deth, and many mervayles that he dydin hys lyfe tyme by whychcrafte and nygramancye thorowgh the helpe ofthe devyls of Hell. " Some of the "mervayles" being: "Howe Virgiliusmade a lampe that at all tymes brenned"; "howe Virgilius put out allthe fyer of Rome"; "howe Virgilius made in Rome a metall serpente. " Inthis story of Virgil occurs a curious instance of the appearance of thesame incident in very different works of fiction. The poet beingenamoured of a certain Roman lady, persuaded her to lower a basket fromher window, in which he should enter and be drawn up to her chamber. The lady assented, but when the basket had ascended half way, she lefther lover to hang there, exposed the next morning to the ridicule ofthe populace, for which treachery Virgil takes terrible revenge. Thisstory of the basket became very popular; it was introduced into a wellknown French fabliau[33]; and Bulwer worked it, with slight changes, into his novel of "Pelham, " where Monsieur Margot experiences the samesad reflections concerning the deceitfulness of woman, which had longbefore passed through the mind of Virgil. The devil himself, or more properly, one of the many devils whoabounded in the sixteenth century, is the hero of the "Historie ofFrier Rush. " The imagination of the peasantry had peopled the woods and dells withgay and harmless spirits, fairies and imps. These were sometimesmischievous, but might always be propitiated, and excited in the ruralmind curiosity and amusement rather than fear. But the clergy, whoshared in the popular superstitions, and gave as ready a belief as thepeasantry to the existence of these supernatural beings, were unablefrom the nature of their creed to admit the possibility that thesespirits were harmless. To the monks all supernatural creatures wereeither angels or devils, and under their influence the imps and fairieswhom the peasants believed to be dancing and playing pranks about themwere turned into demons bent on the destruction of human souls. [34]Friar Rush was probably at one time a good natured imp like Robin GoodFellow, but under the influence, of Christian superstition he becamethe typical emissary from Satan, who played tricks among men calculatedto set them by the ears, and who sought by various devices, alwaysamusing, to fit them for residence in his master's dominions. In the history before us, which is probably only one of many whichcirculated concerning the mischievous friar, he obtains admission intoa convent for the purpose of debauching its inmates. Having receivedemployment as under-cook, he soon finds means to throw his master intoa cauldron of boiling water, and pretending that the cook's deathresulted from an accident, he obtains the chief position in the kitchenhimself. He then provides the convent with such delicious food that themonks give themselves up entirely to material enjoyment, and finallyreach a condition of degeneracy from which recovery is almostimpossible. Rush, however, is exposed in time to prevent absolute ruin, and sets out to make up for this failure by good service elsewhere. Thestory is described on the title-page as "being full of pleasant mirthand delight for young people. " The tales of the yeomanry were very popular during the sixteenthcentury, and were sold as penny chapbooks for many years. They form aninteresting link in the history of English prose fiction, representingas they do the first appearance of a popular demand for prose stories, and the first appearance, except in Chaucer, of other than military orclerical heroes. They possess an element of reality which separates thechivalric ideal of the Middle Ages from the pastoral-chivalric ideal ofElizabeth's time, the latter typified by Sidney's "Arcadia. " The talesrelating to the conjurers are quite mediæval in character. They are ofinterest only so far as they serve to illustrate the effect of popularsuperstition upon the literature of the time. The New Learning, growing up in the place of war and theology, meantthe dawn of material prosperity, of the rule of law, and of a newintelligence diffused through the opinions and industries of men. Ofthis there is no better exposition than Sir Thomas More's "Utopia. "More was a devout Catholic. He wore a hair shirt next his skin; heflogged himself; he gave his life for a theological principle. But hewas also a Christian in a wider sense. He appreciated the importance tomen of peace and happiness, as well as of orthodoxy. He sought topromote, what the clergy sought to destroy, the benefits ofintellectual and material advancement. More was a lawyer, seeingclearly into the temper of his time, and discerning the new tendencieswhich were forming the opinions and influencing the actions of hiscountrymen. It was as a lawyer, too, that he was able to do this. As asoldier, or as the inmate of that Carthusian cell his youth had longedfor, he would have shared the prevailing blindness. For many centuriesall intellectual activity had been occupied with theologicaldisputes, --how barren it is needless to say; all physical activity hadbeen occupied in destroying or in protecting life. "There were indeed, "says Buckle, [35] "many priests and many warriors, many sermons and manybattles. But, on the other hand, there was neither trade, nor commerce, nor manufactures; there was no science, no literature; the useful artswere entirely unknown; and even the highest ranks of society wereunacquainted, not only with the most ordinary comforts, but with thecommonest decencies of civilized life. " But the New Learning dealtwith secular subjects, and aimed at material welfare. At Antwerp, saysMore: "Vpon a certayne daye, when I hadde herde the diuine seruice in our Ladies Churche, which is the fayrest, the most gorgeous and curious churche of buyldyng in all the Citie, and also the most frequented of people, and the seruice beynge doone, was readye to go home to my lodgynge, I chaunced to espye this foresayde Peter talkynge with a certayne Straunger, a man well stricken in age, with a blacke sonneburned face, a longe bearde, and a cloke cast homly about his shoulders, whome, by his fauoure and apparell furthwith I iudged to bee a mariner. "[36] This was the fictitious personage whose travels had led him to thedistant island of Utopia, and who described to Sir Thomas the nature ofits government. Europe for fifteen centuries had been under the controlof the clergy, and what had been the result? Where was the progress?How much had the barbarism of one century differed from that of thelast? But in Utopia there was no priesthood. Men had a simple faith. They "were persuaded that it is not in a man's power to believe what helist, " and when they met in public worship it was to hold such servicesthat all might freely join in them. Religion in Utopia was left to theindividual conscience. War was considered an unmitigated evil, andnever undertaken except in the extremest necessity. The people ofUtopia, therefore, not being exclusively occupied, on the one hand, with discussing their religion and enforcing it on others, or, on theother hand, with violating all its teachings, were able to think ofother things. How to make the best laws for the government of thecommonwealth; how to deal with crime, with labor; how to promote thehighest condition of general well-being, as regarded the public health, public education, the comfort and cleanliness of dwellings;--these werethe questions which the Utopians considered most important, and thesewere solved by the exercise of human reason. These were questions, too, with which the English people found themselves confronted in thebeginning of the sixteenth century, and before that century had passedaway, the results even of a very imperfect solution regarding them wereapparent in every department and in every class of life. The great mind, the noble character of Sir Thomas More stand out thebest production of his time. The strong religious bias of the man madeit inevitable that he should remain considerably under the influence ofthe old theological teachings, but in the intelligent man of the world, in the large-hearted philanthropist, in the honest patriot, appear thenew and beneficent tendencies which were at work. Like all men who havebeen in advance of their time, More was looked upon as a dreamer. Adreamer he might naturally seem, who, in the beginning of the sixteenthcentury, looked for peace, for religious toleration, for justice to thelower classes. But these dreams were destined to be realized long afterMore's headless body had crumbled to dust, by that learning which hehimself so seduously cultivated, and by the decay, too, of some ofthose ideas for which he died a martyr's death. The growth of theuniversities, the establishment of grammar schools, the impetus givento all useful occupations during the reign of Henry VIII, weregradually aiding the advance of that new era in the history of Englandwhich developed so brilliantly under Elizabeth. In her reign the oldwarlike spirit had decayed, theology had lost its obstructive power, and human reason began to bear its legitimate fruits--prosperity andcivilization. [Footnote 26: Green's "Short History of the English People, " p. 203. ] [Footnote 27: "Tom-a-Lincoln" has been reprinted in W. J. Thorn'svaluable collection of "Early English Prose Romances, " where may alsobe found a story similar in nature, called "Helyas, Knight of theSwanne. " I do not consider these productions worthy of more extendednotice here, as they possess no interest in themselves, and serve onlyto illustrate the degeneracy of the fictions relating to the knighthoodduring the 16th century. The compilation called "The Seven Champions ofChristendom", by Richard Johnson, the author of "Tom-a-Lincoln", saidto contain "all the lyes of Christendom in one lye, " obtainedconsiderable popularity and circulation during this period. Dunlopmentions ("Hist. Of Fiction, " chap. Xiv) the "Ornatus and Artesia", and"Parismus, Prince of Bohemia, " by Emmanuel Ford, and the "Pheander, orMaiden Knight, " by Henry Roberts, belonging in the same class ofcomposition. An English version of the old tale of Robert the Devilbelongs to this period, and may be found in W. J. Thom's collection. ] [Footnote 28: Ritson's "Robin Hood. "] [Footnote 29: Hunter's "Robin Hood", p. 13. ] [Footnote 30: "George-a-Green, " chap. X, Thom's "Early Eng. ProseRomances. "] [Footnote 31: "Thomas of Reading, " chap. 12. ] [Footnote 32: Thom's preface to "Vigilius, " "Early Eng. ProseRomances. "] [Footnote 33: "Lai d'Hippocrate, " Le Grand. Thom's Prelude to"Virgilius. "] [Footnote 34: Wright's "Essays on the Middle Ages, " _Essay x_. ] [Footnote 35: Buckle's "Hist. Of Civilization, " vol. I, p. 147. Appleton's ed. ] [Footnote 36: "_A fruteful and plesaunt worke of the beste state of apublyque weale, and of the newe yle called UTOPIA: written in Latin bySYR THOMAS MORE KNYGHT, and translated into Englysshe by RAPHE ROBYNSONCitisein and Goldsmythe of London at the procurement and earnestrequest of George Tadlowe Citisein and Haberdassher of the same Citie. Imprinted at London by Abraham Wele, dwelling in Paul's Churcheyarde atthe Sygne of the Lambe, Anno, 1551. " Arber's reprint. _] CHAPTER III. THE AGE OF ELIZABETH: LYLY, GREENE, LODGE, SIDNEY. I. In the rapidity and scope of intellectual and material progress, theage of Elizabeth is unequaled in English history. The nation seemed topass from the darkness of night into a sunshine which would never end. Freed from the trammels which had hitherto impeded their way, allclasses put on a new vigor, a new enterprise, and a new intelligence, which brought advancement into every walk of life. The spread of theCopernican doctrine of the revolutions of the earth, and the relationsof our planet to the solar system gradually drove before it the oldanthropocentric ideas. Men looked into the heavens and saw a newuniverse. In the grand scheme of creation there unfolded before them, they read in spite of themselves the comparative insignificance oftheir own world, and an overwhelming blow was dealt at the narrownessand superstition which had hitherto characterized their thoughts. A newworld, too, was fast becoming known. The circumnavigation of the earthby Drake, the visits of other Englishmen to the shores of Africa andAmerica, even to the Arctic seas, awakened a deep and healthfulcuriosity. There arose a passion for travelling, for seeing andstudying foreign lands. Those who were forced to remain at homedevoured with eagerness the books of those who wandered abroad. Theeffects of this widening of the mental and physical horizon areobservable in the new occupations which absorbed the energies of men, and in the new social life which all classes were beginning to lead. Improvements in husbandry doubled the productiveness of the soil, andgreatly enhanced its value. The development of manufactures madeEnglish woolens in demand throughout Europe. In commerce the new spiritof enterprise was strikingly apparent. Tradesmen and nobles, ministersof state, Elizabeth herself--all who could, ventured something in theships which sailed for America or Africa in the hope of golden cargoes. The Russia company brought home furs and flax, steel, iron, ropes, andmasts. The Turkey merchants imported the productions of the Levant, silks and satins, carpets, velvets, and cloth of gold. By the side ofthese were laid in London markets, the rice, cotton, spices, andprecious stones of India, and the sugar, rare woods, gold, silver, andpearls of the New World. [37] Under the influence of this new enterprise and prosperity, the pictureof social life becomes more pleasing. The English noble succeeded tothe feudal baron, the manor to the fortress. With the coat of mail andhuge two-handed sword passed away the portcullis and the moat. The newhomes of the nobility, erected during Elizabeth's reign, were marked bya beauty and luxury in keeping with the new ideas of their owners. Theeye still rests with admiration on the numberless gables, the quaintchimneys, the oriel windows, the fretted parapets of the Tudorbuilding. Within, the magnificent staircases, the great carvedchimney-pieces, the massive oaken furniture, the costly cabinets, andelaborate tapestries all attested the new wealth and the new taste ofthe occupants. A large chamber of Hardwicke Hall was decorated with afrieze representing a stag hunt, and beneath that the story of Ulysseswrought in tapestry. [38] Harrington rejoiced in the number of "goodlychambers, large gardens and sweet walks" of Elizabeth's palaces. The"goodly chambers" were filled with cloths of gold and silver, withsatin-covered furniture, and silk coverlids lined with ermine. In thehouses of knights and gentlemen were to be seen a great profusion of"Turkic worke, pewter, brasse, fine linen, and thereto costlie cupbordsof plate worth five or six hundred or a thousand pounds. "[39] The lordof the manor no longer took his meals with all his retainers in thegreat hall, throwing the bones and scraps from his wooden trencher tohis dogs. He withdrew into a separate apartment, and dined with a newrefinement. A hitherto unknown variety of food covered the table, served on pewter, china, or silver, instead of the primitive trencher. The bands of retainers who had hung round the castle, living at theexpense of its lord, and ready to follow him in his career of violence, were gradually being absorbed in useful and industrial pursuits. Amongthe yeomanry the general progress was exceedingly noticeable. Thecharacter and worth of this important class were commented upon byHolinshed. [40] "This sort of people * * * commonlie live wealthilie, keepe good houses, and travell to get riches. They are also for themost part farmers to gentlemen, or at the leastwise artificers, andwith grazing, frequenting of markets, and keeping of servants (notidle servants as the gentlemen doo, but suche as get bothe their owneand part of their master's living), do come to great welth, in so muchthat manie of them are able and doo buie the lands of unthriftiegentlemen, and often setting their sonnes to the schooles, to theuniversities, and to the Ins of the Court, or otherwise leaving themsufficient lands whereupon they may live without labour, do make themby those meanes to become gentlemen: these were they that in times pastmade all France afraid, and albeit they be not called Master, asgentlemen are, or Sir, as to knights apperteineth, but only John, andThomas, etc. , yet have they beene found to have doone verie goodservice; and the kings of England in foughten battels, were woont toremain among them (who were their footmen), as the French kings didamong their horsemen; the prince thereby showing where his chiefstrength did consist. " This middle class were enjoying a luxury andcomfort undreamt of by their fathers, or indeed by the nobility offeudal times. Thatched cottages smeared with mud were fast beingsucceeded by brick or stone houses, finely plastered, with glasswindows, chairs in place of stools, and tables in place of rough boardslying loosely on tressles. "Farmers learned also to garnish theircupboards with plate, their joined beds with tapestrie and silkenhangings, and their tables with carpets and fine naperie, whereby thewealth of our countrie * * * doth infinitelie appeare. "[41] The newcomforts, enumerated by Harrison, presented a striking contrast to thecondition the "old men" had been satisfied with in their "yoong daies, ""Our fathers (yea, and we ourselves also) have lien full oft uponstraw pallets, on rough mats * * * and a good round log under theirheads instead of a bolster or pillow. If it were so that our fathers, or the good man of the house, had within eleven years after hismarriage purchased a matteras or flockebed, and thereto a sacke ofchaffe to rest his head upon, he thought himself to be as well lodgedas the lord of the towne. " The new comforts were the result, not ofextravagance, but of prosperity. Notwithstanding the rigid economy ofthe old times, men "were scearce able to live and paie their rents attheir daies without selling of a cow, or an horse or more, althoughthey paid but four pounds at the uttermost by the yeare, * * * whereasin my time, " says Harrison, "although peradventure foure pounds of oldrent be improved to fourtie, fiftie, or an hundred poundes, yet willthe farmer as another palme or date tree, thinke his gaines verie smalltoward the end of his terme, if he had not six or seven yeares rentlieing by him, therewith to purchase a new lease, beside a fairegarnish of pewter on his cupboard, with so much in od vessell goingaboute the house, three or four feather beds, so manie coverlids andcarpets of tapestrie, a silver salt, a bowle for wine * * * and adozzen of spoones to furnish up the sute. "[42] The country gentlemansitting in his hall, hawk on hand, with his hounds about him, made aprofuse hospitality his chief pride, and out-door sports the resourceof his leisure and conversation. Greek and Latin were gradually makingtheir way into his store of knowledge, hitherto limited to the romancesand chronicles. But as Ascham complained, there was little sweetness toflavor his cup of learning. "Masters for the most part so behavethemselves, " said Peacham, "that their very name is hatefull to thescholler, who trembleth at their coming in, rejoyceth at their absence, and looketh his master (returned) in the face, as his deadlyenemy. "[43] The amusements of the rural population partook of the character ofmaterial prosperity and material enjoyment which were so prominent inElizabeth's reign. There is no sign of the prevailing improvement inthe condition of men more suggestive than the effervescence of spiritswhich broke loose on every holiday and at every festival. On the firstday of May "the juvenile part of both sexes are wont to rise a littleafter midnight, and walk to some neighboring wood, accompany'd withmusic and the blowing of horns, where they break down branches from thetrees and adorn them with nosegays and crowns of flowers. When thisdone, they return with their booty homewards about the rising of thesun, and make their doors and windows to triumph in the floweryspoil. "[44] "But their cheefest jewell they bring from thence is theirMaie poole whiche they bringe home with great veneration, as thus: Theyhave twentie or fourtie yoke of oxen, every oxe havyng a sweetenosegaie of flowers, tyed on the tippe of his hornes, and these oxendrawe home this Maie poole. "[45] Games, dances, rude dramaticperformances succeeded each other for hours, interspersed with feastingand drinking. An extravagant fancy sought expression in the excitement, of grotesque actions and brilliant costumes. The Morris dancersexecuted their curious movements, clad in "gilt leather and silverpaper, and sometimes in coats of white spangled fustian, "[46] or in"greene, yellow, or some other light wanton collour, " bedecked with"scarfs, ribbons and laces hanged all over with golde ringes, preciousstones and other jewells, " and "aboute either legge twentie or fourtiebelles. "[47] Robin Hood's Day, Christmas, Twelfth Night, Harvest Home, Sheepshearing, were all celebrated in turn with a liveliness of spirit, a vigor of imagination, and a noisy enjoyment of the good things oflife which showed that Merry England had at last succeeded to the gloomof the Middle Ages. The prevailing prosperity and activity were naturally even moreapparent in London than in the rural districts. The city was growingrapidly, filling up with warehouses and shops, with palaces anddwellings. The people in general were attracted to it by the growingtrade and industry, and by the theatres, taverns, bear-gardens, andother places of amusement, the number of which was constantlyincreasing. The nobility and gentry sought the splendor of Elizabeth'scourt to spend their leisure and their wealth. The middle or commercialclasses of the city, like the corresponding agricultural classes in thecountry, were enjoying the fruits of their industry and attaining arespectable position of their own. The houses and furniture belongingto them struck a foreigner with astonishment and pleasure[48]; "Theneate cleanlinesse, the exquisite finenesse, the plesaunte anddelightfull furniture in every point for household wonderfully rejoycedmee; their chambers and parlours, strawed over with sweet herbes, refreshed mee; their nosegayes finelye intermingled wyth sondry sortesof fragraunte floures in their bed-chambers and privie roomes, withcomfortable smell cheered me up and entierlye delighted all my senses. "The profusion of expenditure, and the love of show resulting from thesudden increase of wealth, affected even the apprentices of the city. The Lord Mayor and Common Council, in 1582, found it necessary todirect apprentices; "to wear no hat with any silk in or about thesame. To wear no ruffles, cuffs, loose collar, nor other thing thana ruff at the collar, and that only a yard and a half long. To wearno doublets * * * enriched with any manner of silver or silke. * * * Towear no sword, dagger, nor other weapon but a knife; nor a ring, jewelof gold, nor silver, nor silke in any part of his apparel. "[49] It was, however, at Elizabeth's court, and among the nobility, that thetendencies of the time were most marked. The literature of thisera--never surpassed in brilliancy and power--was the work of poets anddramatists. It was the outcome of a poetical and dramatic life. Eventhe fiction which belongs to the period was colored by the samefondness for dramatic incident and poetic treatment. The enthusiasmwhich had animated the nobility in their martial life went with them tothe court of Elizabeth. There it showed itself in gallantry, in love ofshow, and in a devotion to amusement and to self-cultivation whichinternal peace had at length made possible. Men of whom any age mightbe proud crowded the scene. Cecil and Walsingham among statesmen, Drakeamong discoverers, Bacon and Hooker among thinkers, Raleigh and Sidneyat once among courtiers, soldiers, and scholars. The prevailingextravagance and variety of dress was simply the outward sign of a loveof whatever was brilliant and new. The fashions of France, of Spain, ofTurkey, even of the Moors contributed to the wardrobe of the Englishgallant. "And, as these fashions are diverse, so likewise it is aworld to see the costlinesse and the curiositie: the excesse and thevanitie: the pomp and the braverie; the change and the varietie: andfinallie the ficklenesse and the follie that is in all degrees:insomuch that nothing is more constant in England than inconstancie ofattire. "[50] Each one aimed at making the best appearance. The longseams of men's hose were set by a plumb line, and beards were cut tosuit the face, "If a man have a leane and streight face, a MarquessOttons cut will make it broad and large; if it be platter-like, a long, slender beard will make it seeme the narrower. " "Some lustie courtiersalso, and gentlemen of courage doo weare either rings of golde, stones, or pearle in their eares, whereby they imagine the workmanship of Godnot to be a little amended. "[51] All are familiar with the brilliantfemale dress of the time. The enormous starched ruffs of variouscolors, the long stomachers stiffened with wire and studded withjewels, the costly stuffs enriched with gold and silver, made up acostume which has never been surpassed in extravagance and fancifulexaggeration. The queen herself set the example of brilliancy of costume, and tookcare to be outshone by none. Sir John Harrington relates that "Ladie M. Howarde was possessede of a rich border, powdered wyth golde and pearleand a velvet suite belonginge thereto, which moved manie to envye; nordid it please the queene, who thought it exceeded her owne. One dayethe queene did sende privately, and got the ladie's rich vesture, whichshe put on herself, and came forthe the chamber amonge the ladies; thekirtle and border was far too shorte for her majestie's heigth; andshe asked everyone, 'How they likede her new fancied suit?' At lengthshe askede the owner herself, 'If it was not made too shorte and illbecoming?'--which the poor ladie did presentlie consente to. 'Why, then, if it become not me, as being too shorte, I am minded it shallnever become thee, as being too fine; so it fitteth neither well. ' Thissharp rebuke abashed the ladie, and she never adorned her herewith anymore. "[52] It was the fashion to walk in the aisles of St. Paul's Church, whichbecame a general rendezvous for business or pleasure. A facetiouswriter of the time, instructing a young gallant how to procure hisclothes, and to show them off to the best advantage, gives an amusingpicture of the prevailing vanity and foppery. "Bend your coursedirectly in the middle line, that the whole body of the church mayappear to be yours; where, in view of all you may publish your suit inwhat manner you affect most * * * and then you must, as 'twere in anger, suddenly snatch at the middle of the inside, if it be taffeta at theleast; and so, by that means, your costly lining is betrayed. * * * Butone note, by the way, do I especially woo you to, the neglect ofwhich makes many of our gallants cheap and ordinary, that by no meansyou be seen above four times; but in the fifth make yourself away, either in some of the semsters' shops, the new tobacco office, or amongthe booksellers, where, if you cannot read, exercise your smoke, andenquire who has writ against this divine weed. * * * After dinner youmay appear again, having translated yourself out of you English clothinto a light Turkey grogram, if you have that happiness of shifting;and then be seen for a turn or two to correct your teeth with somequill or silver instrument, and to cleanse your gums with a wroughthandkerchief; it skills not whether you dined or no; that is best knownto your stomach; or in what place you dined; though it were with cheeseof your own mother's making, in your chamber or study. * * * If, bychance, you either encounter, or aloof off throw your inquisitive eyeupon any knight or squire, being your familiar, salute him, not by hisname, Sir such a one, or so; but call him Ned, or Jack, etc. This willset off your estimation with great men; and if, though there be a dozencompanies between you, 'tis the better, he call aloud to you, for thatis most genteel, to know where he shall find you at two o'clock; tellhim at such an ordinary, or such; and be sure to name those that aredearest, and whither none but your gallants resort. "[53] With all the luxury of furniture and dress, with all the new eleganceand ceremony of court life, there naturally remained much disorder, violence, and coarseness throughout the social system. Although thelaws concerning the maintenance of order in the streets were strict, forbidding any one even to "blowe any horne in the night, or whistleafter the hour of nyne of the clock in the night, " yet they were noteffectively enforced. A member of the House of Commons described aJustice of the Peace as an animal, who for half a dozen of chickenswould dispense with a dozen penal laws[54]; and Gilbert Talbot spoke oftwo serious street affrays, which he described in a letter to the Earlof Shrewsbury as "trifling matters. "[55] The gallows were kept busy intown and country. The habits of violence, and the old fondness of thenobility for fighting out their own quarrels, lingered in the prevalentcustom of duelling. Ladies, and even the queen herself, chastised theirservants with their own hands. On one occasion Elizabeth showed herdislike of a courtier's coat by spitting upon it, and her habit ofadministering physical correction to those who displeased her calledforth the witty remark of Sir John Harrington: "I will not adventureher Highnesse choller, leste she should collar me also. " The firstcoach appeared in the streets of London in Elizabeth's time and thesight of it "put both horse and man into amazement; some said it was agreat crab-shell brought out of China; and some imagined it to be oneof the Pagan temples, in which the Cannibals adored the divell. " Theextravagance and luxury of the feasts which were given on greatoccasions by the nobility were not attended by a corresponding advancein the refinement of manners at table. In a banquet given by LordHertford to Elizabeth in the garden of his castle, there were athousand dishes carried out by two hundred gentlemen lighted by ahundred torch-bearers and every dish was of china or silver. But forkshad not yet come into general use, and their place was supplied byfingers. Elizabeth had two or three forks, very small, and studded withjewels, but they were intended only for ornament. A divine inveighedagainst the impiety of those who objected to touching their meat withtheir fingers, and it was only in the seventeenth century that thecustom of eating with forks obtained general acceptance, and ceased tobe considered a mark of foppery. The co-existence of coarseness and brilliant luxury, so characteristicof the time, is curiously apparent in the amusements of the city andthe court. The whole people, from Elizabeth to the country boor, delighted in the savage sports of bull and bear-baiting. In thegratification received by these exhibitions, appear the remains of theold bloodthirstiness which had once been only satisfied with the sightof human suffering. The contrast is striking when we turn to themasques, the triumphs, and the pageants which were exhibited on greatoccasions by the court or by the citizens of London. The awakening oflearning and the new interest in life were expressed in the dramaticentertainments which mingled the romantic elements of chivalry with themythology of ancient Greece, in the rejoicings of men over presentprosperity and welfare. The accounts of the festivities during theprogresses of Elizabeth, so ably collected by Nichol, read like a taleof fairyland. When the queen visited Kenelworth she was met outside thegates by sybils reciting a poem of welcome. At the gates the giantporter feigned anger at the intrusion, but, overcome by the sight ofElizabeth, laid his club and his keys humbly at her feet. On postsalong the route were placed the offerings of Sylvanus, of Pomona, ofCeres, of Bacchus, of Neptune, of Mars, and of Phoebus. From Arthur'scourt tame the Lady of the Lake, begging the queen to deliver her fromthe Knight without Pity. Fawns, satyrs, and nymphs brought theirgreetings, while an Echo replied to the addresses of welcome. Amusements of every variety occupied the succeeding days. Hunting, bearbaiting, fireworks, tilting, Morris dances, a rustic marriage, a fightbetween Danes and English, curious aquatic sports, --all succeeded eachother, interspersed with brilliant feasts. Poems founded on the legendsof Arthur, or drawn from the inexhaustible sources of mythology, wererecited in the pauses of festivity, or sung beneath the windows of thequeen. The same readiness of invention and luxuriance of fancycharacterized all the celebrations of the time. The love of thedramatic which applauded Pyramus and Thisbe in the rural districts, made actors of the courtiers. When the French commissioners came tonegotiate the marriage of Elizabeth with the Duke of Anjou, they wereentertained with a triumph, in which the Earl of Arundel, Lord Windsor, Master Philip Sidney, and Master Fulk Grevil, impersonating the four"foster children of Desire, " carried by force of arms the "Fortress ofBeauty, " which represented Elizabeth herself. The age of Elizabeth, although it had worked itself free from theintellectual sloth of the Middle Ages, although it was familiarizingitself with an almost unknown world abroad, and creating a new world athome, yet had inherited with little qualification the violence, thecruelty, and the unbridled passions of the centuries which had gonebefore. All this variety of life was expressed in the drama, which, asa reflection of contemporary thought and manners, was to Elizabeth'stime what the novel is to our own. Before the end of this reign therewere eighteen theatres in London, all crowded with audiences whichembraced every class of the people, --from the noble and court gallantwho played cards on the stage, to the workmen and apprentices whofought and bandied coarse jests in the pit. The names of Marlowe, ofShakespeare, of Johnson, are sufficient to remind us of the grandeur towhich the Elizabethan drama attained, under the influence of prosperityat home, victory abroad, and the quickening of the nationalintelligence which followed the revival of learning. But while thestage reflected all that was most noble, it reflected also all thatwas most base in human nature. Ecclesiastical discipline had been laidaside, and the unrestrained passions of men, which in actual life foundvent in violence and debauchery, were gratified by the dramaticrepresentation of the worst crimes and most vitiated tastes. ThePuritans brought about reformation and self-restraint, by enforcing anew code of morals all the more rigid from the looseness which on everyside they found to combat. In closing the theatres, they were actuated, in Mr. Green's words, by the hatred "of God-fearing men against thefoulest depravity presented in a poetic and attractive form. "[56] While the drama reflected alike the good and the bad, all the fineraspirations of the time found expression in poetry. Spenser, Sackville, Drayton, Donne, Hall, the two Fletchers, are but leaders in a band ofmore than two hundred, who made this period unrivalled in the annals ofEnglish poetry. It was a time of unexampled prosperity, of an enlargedfreedom, of an active intelligence, when men were eagerly seeking forwhatever was novel and brilliant; when translations without number ofthe classical writers and contemporary foreign works were welcomedalike with the "costly attire of the new cut, the Dutch hat, the Frenchhose, the Spanish rapier, the Italian hilt. " "It is a world to see howEnglishmen desire to hear finer speech than the language will allow, toeat finer bread than is made of wheat, or wear finer cloth than is madeof wool. " Such are the words in which John Lyly, the Euphuist, characterized his own time, and they were the words of one whoexpressed in his own writings the tendency to fanciful exaggeration, which was so strong among the men about him. [Footnote 37: Froude's "History of England, " vol. 8, p. 429. ] [Footnote 38: Stone, "Chronicles of Fashion. "] [Footnote 39: Holinshed, vol. I, p. 315; Drake's "Shakespeare and hisTimes", vol. 1, p. 72. ] [Footnote 40: Holinshed, vol. I, p. 275; Drake's "Shakespeare", vol. 1, p. 99. ] [Footnote 41: Harrison's "Description"; Drake's "Shakespeare, " vol. 1, p. 101. ] [Footnote 42: Drake's "Shakespeare and his Times, " vol. 1, p. 101. ] [Footnote 43: Henry Peacham, "Compleat Gentleman, " 1624. ] [Footnote 44: Bourne; Drake's "Shakespeare, " vol. 1, p. 153. ] [Footnote 45: Stubbes, "Anatomie of Abuses, " p. 168. ] [Footnote 46: Douce, "Illustrations of Shakespeare. "] [Footnote 47: Stubbes; Drake's "Shakespeare, " vol. 1, ch. Vi. ] [Footnote 48: Laevinius Lemnius; Drake, vol. 2, p. 113. ] [Footnote 49: Nichol's "Progresses of Elizabeth, " vol. 2, p. 391. ] [Footnote 50: Harrison: Drake's "Shakespeare and his Times, " vol. 2, p. 87. ] [Footnote 51: Harrison's "Description of England"; Holinshed, vol. I, pp. 289-90; Drake's "Shakespeare and his Times" vol. 2, pp. 88, 89. ] [Footnote 52: "Nugæ Antique", Drake's "Shakespeare and his Times, " vol. 2, p. 90. ] [Footnote 53: "The Gull's Horn Book"; Drake's "Shakespeare and hisTimes", vol. 2, p. 184. ] [Footnote 54: Lodge's "Illustrations. "] [Footnote 55: _Idem. _] [Footnote 56: Green, "Short History of the English People, " p. 429. ] II. It is to the drama that we must look for the most complete literaryexpression of the social condition of the period. The student ofhistory must regret, indeed, that the realistic novel, with its studyof human thoughts and motives, with its illustration of manners andcustoms, so valuable in a reconstruction of the past, should have beendelayed till the end of the seventeenth century. But though there beregret, there cannot be surprise. The reigns of Elizabeth and theStuarts cover the period of court life; when men lived in public, andsought their intellectual entertainment in crowds at a theatre, as now, in a time of citizen-life, they seek it in private, by thestudy-lamp. [57] In a dramatic age the creations of the imagination willbe placed behind the footlights, and in a period of quiet andreflection they will be placed between the covers of a book. In the ageof Elizabeth the writers of fiction neither studied the characters andmanners of the men about them, nor aimed at any reflection of actuallife. But their tales and romances were the natural fruit of theirintellectual condition, and form an interesting if not a valuableportion of English fiction. In them are reflected the happiness, thepoetry, the love of novelty, and the ideality of the time. The stirringincidents of chivalric romance were no longer in vogue, and the subjectbecame an idealized love. But the most striking feature of Elizabethanfiction is the great importance attached to style. The writer caredmore to excite admiration by the turn of his phrases and the ornamentsof his language, than to interest his reader by plot or incident. In 1579 John Lyly published his curious romance, "Euphues, the Anatomyof Wit, " a work which attained a great popularity, and made the wordEuphuism an abstract term in the language to express the ornate andantithetical style of which this book is the most marked example. InLyly's own day it was said by Edward Blount that the nation was "in hisdebt for a new English which hee taught them. " Since then, the verdictof posterity has been that Lyly corrupted the public taste, andintroduced an affected and overloaded manner of writing which had amischievous influence upon literature. A careful examination of Lyly'swork, and of the condition of the English language in the last quarterof the sixteenth century, will not sustain either of these views. TheEuphuistic style was not of Lyly's invention. He acquired it from themen about him, and merely gave it, through his writings, a distinctcharacter and individuality. In a letter of Elizabeth to her brotherEdward VI, long-before "Euphues" was written, occurs the followingpassage: "Like as a shipman in stormy wether plukes down the sailstarrying for bettar winde, so did I, most noble kinge, in myunfortunate chanche a Thursday pluk downe the hie sailes of my joy andcomforte, and do trust one day that as troublesome waves have repulsedme backwarde, so a gentil winde will bringe me forwarde to myhaven. "[58] This is a moderate specimen of the ornate and exaggeratedlanguage which was following the new acquisitions of learning andintelligence, just as extravagance in dress and food was following thenew prosperity and wealth. Men wished to crowd their learning andcultivation into every thing they said or wrote. As the language wasnot yet settled by good prose writers, the more affected a style, themore numerous its similes, and far-fetched its allusions, the moreingenious and admirable it was considered to be. There resulted asacrifice of clearness and simplicity to a strained elegance. Still, inthe Euphuistic style, tedious and grotesque as it often is, appear thefirst serious efforts, among English prose writers, to attain a bettermode of expression. The results which followed the absence of astandard written language at home were strengthened by the generalacquaintance with foreign literature. Italy in the sixteenth centurywas the leading intellectual nation, and the example of the refined andover-polished manner of writing there prevalent had much to do with thegrowth in England of a fondness for affected mannerisms and fanciedornaments of language. The new ideas in regard to poetry andversification which Wyat and Surrey had brought from Italy, were butthe beginning of an extensive Italian influence. It was not withoutreason that Ascham inveighed against "the enchantments of Circe broughtout of Italy to mar men's manners in England. " Italian works weretranslated and circulated in great numbers in England, and among thesethe most popular were the gay and amorous productions of the storytellers. [59] Born in Kent in 1554, John Lyly studied at Magdalen College, Oxford, and received the degree of Master of Arts. Not a very diligentscholar, he disliked the "crabbed studies" of logic and philosophy, "his genie being naturally bent to the pleasant paths of poetry, " buthe was reputed at the University as afterward at Elizabeth's court, "arare poet, witty, comical, and facetious. " During his life in London heproduced a number of plays and poems which have given his name a notinconsiderable place in the list of Elizabethan poets and dramatists. He is now best known, where known at all, by his prose work "Euphues, "which was so much admired at Elizabeth's court, that all the ladiesknew his phrases by heart, and to "parley Euphuism" was a sign ofbreeding. For many years Lyly lingered about the court waiting for apromised position to reward his labors and support his declining years. But in vain. "A thousand hopes, " he complained, "but all nothing; ahundred promises, but yet nothing. " Lyly died in 1606, leaving, as hesaid, but three legacies; "Patience to my creditors, Melancholiewithout measure to my friends, and Beggarie without shame to myfamily. " The deeper meaning of Lyly's work, which lies beneath the surface ofhis similes and antitheses, has escaped almost all his critics. [60] Itis suggested by the title, "Euphues, The Anatomy of Wit. " In the"Schoolmaster, " Ascham explained how Socrates had described the anatomyof wit in a child, and the first essential quality mentioned bySocrates, and that most fully discussed by Ascham was Euphuês whichmay be translated of good natural parts, as well of the body as themind. Euphues, then, as well in the story in which he figures, asafterward in the essays or which he is the supposed author, is themodel of a young man at once attractive in appearance, and possessingthe mental qualities most calculated to please. While the story ismeant to attract readers, the essays and digressions introduced intothe work are intended to inculcate the methods of education which Lylytaught in common with Ascham. It was, however, the manner rather thanthe matter which gave to "Euphues" its prominence and popularity. Thestory is but a slender thread. Euphues and Philautus are two younggentlemen of Naples, bound together by the closest ties of friendship. Philautus is deeply enamored of a lady named Lucilla, to whom in anunfortunate moment he presents Euphues. The meeting is at supper, andthe conversation turns on the question "often disputed, but neverdetermined, whether the qualities of the minde, or the composition ofthe man, cause women most to lyke, or whether beautie or wit move menmost to love. " Euphues shows so much ingenuity in the discussion ofthis interesting subject that Lucilla transfers her affections to him. Upon this the two friends quarrel and exchange letters of mutualrecrimination couched in the most elaborate language. Philautus writes: Although hereto Euphues, I have shrined thee in my heart for a trustie friende, I will shunne thee hereafter as a trothless foe. * * * Dost thou not know yat a perfect friend should be lyke the Glazeworme, which shineth most bright in the darke? or lyke the pure Frankencense which smelleth most sweet when it is in the fire? or at the leaste not unlike to the damaske Rose which is sweeter in the still than on the stalke? But thou, Euphues, dost rather resemble the Swallow, which in the summer creepeth under the eues of euery house, and in the winter leaveth nothing but durt behinde hir; or the humble Bee, which hauing sucked hunny out of the fayre flower, doth leaue it and loath it; or the Spider which in the finest web doth hang the fayrest Fly. To these bitter reproaches Euphues replies that "Love knoweth noLawes, " and in support of the proposition cites as many cases frommythology as he can remember. The faithless Lucilla, however, soontreats Euphues as she had before treated Philautus, and marries a thirdlover whom they both despise. The friends are then once more united, and lament in each other's arms the folly of Lucilla. A second part ofthe work appeared in the following year, in which Euphues and Philautusare represented on a visit to England. Philautus marries, and Euphues, after eulogizing the English government, Elizabeth, and all her court, retires forever "to the bottom of the mountain Silexedra. " The educational essays dispersed throughout the book display a goodsense which even Lyly's style cannot conceal. Ascham and Lyly werealone in deprecating the excessive use of the rod, and in so doing werefar in advance of the age. Cruelty seems to have been a commoncharacteristic of the school-teacher. "I knew one, " said Peacham, "whoin winter would ordinarily in a cold morning whip his boyes over for noother purpose than to get himself a heat; another beat them forswearing, and all the time he swears himself with horrible oathes thathe would forgive any fault save that. * * * Yet these are they thatoftentimes have our hopefull gentry under their charge and tuition, tobring them (up) in science and civility. "[61] The style which proved so attractive to Elizabeth's courtiers hadthree principal characteristics, which the reader will perceive in theextracts hereafter to be given--a pedantic exhibition of learning, anexcess of similes drawn from natural history, usually untrue to nature, and a habit of antithesis, which, by constant repetition becomesexceedingly wearisome. Euphues, wishing to convince his listeners ofthe inferiority of outward to inward perfection, pursues the followingargument: The foule Toade hath a fayre stone in his head, the fine golde is found in the filthy earth; the sweet kernell lyeth in the hard shell; vertue is harboured in the heart of him that most men esteeme misshappen. Contrarywise, if we respect more the outward shape, then the inward habit, good God, into how many mischiefs do wee fall? into what blindnesse are we ledde? Due we not commonly see that in painted pottes is hidden the deadlyest poyson? that in the greenest grasse is ye greatest serpent? in the cleerest water the vgliest Toade? Doth not experience teach vs, that in the most curious sepulcher are enclosed rotten bones? That the Cypresse tree beareth a faire leafe, but no fruite? That the Estridge carrieth faire feathers, but ranke flesh? How frantick are those louers which are carried away with the gaye glistering of the fine face? "In the coldest flint, " says Lucilla, "there is hot fire, the Bee that hath hunny in hir mouth, hath a sting in hir tayle; the tree that beareth the sweetest fruite, hath a sower sap; yea, the wordes of men though they seeme smooth as oyle: yet their heartes are as crooked as the stalke of luie. " Lyly's antithetical style is well illustrated by the following passage, in which he means to be particularly serious and impressive: If I should talke in words of those things which I haue to conferre with thee in writings, certes thou would blush for shame, and I weepe for sorrowe: neither could my tongue vtter yat with patience, which my hand can scarse write with modesty, neither could thy ears heare that without glowing, which thine eyes can hardly vewe without griefe. Ah, Alcius, I cannot tell whether I should most lament in thee thy want of learning, or thy wanton lyvinge, in the on thou art inferiour to all men, in the other superiour to al beasts. Insomuch as who seeth thy dul wit, and marketh thy froward will, may well say that he neuer saw smacke of learning in thy dooings, nor sparke of relygion in thy life. Thou onely vauntest of thy gentry: truely thou wast made a gentleman before thou knewest what honesty meant, and no more hast thou to boast of thy stocke, than he, who being left rich by his father, dyeth a beggar by his folly. Nobilitie began in thine auncestors and endeth in thee, and the generositie that they gayned by vertue, thou hast blotted with vice. [62] The popularity of "Euphues" excited much imitation, and its influenceis strongly marked in the works of Robert Greene. Born in Norfolk in1560, Greene studied at Cambridge and received the degree of Master ofArts. After wasting his property in Italy and Spain, he returned toLondon to earn his bread by the pen. As a pamphleteer, as a poet, andespecially as a dramatist, Greene achieved a considerable reputation. But his improvident habits and a life of constant debauchery broughthis career to a close, amidst poverty and remorse, at the early age ofthirty-two. He died in a drunken brawl, leaving in his works theevidence of talents and qualities which the degradation of his life hadfailed to destroy. Greene's "Arcadia" was published in 1587, and bears in its fancifultitle of "Camilla's Alarum to Slumber Euphues, " the evidence of itsinspiration. Even among pastorals the improbability of this story issurpassing. Damocles, king of Arcadia, banished his daughter with herhusband and son. Sephestia, the daughter, arrived in a part of Arcadiaentirely inhabited by shepherds. There she becomes a shepherdess underthe name of Samela, and meets her husband, Maximus, who is alreadytending sheep in the same neighborhood with the name of Melicertus. Strange to say, Sephestia fails to recognize her husband, and receiveshis addresses as a favored lover. Soon after, Pleusidippus, Sephestia'sson, is stolen by pirates, and adopted by the king of Thessaly, inwhose court he grows up. The fame of Sephestia's beauty reaches herfather and her son, who, ignorant of the relationship in consequence ofSephestia's change of name, both set out to woo the celebratedshepherdess. The repulsive scene of the same woman being the object atonce of the passion of her father and her son is ended by Damoclescarrying off Sephestia to his own court, where he proposes to executeMaximus as his successful rival, and Sephestia for her obstinaterefusal of his addresses. The Delphian oracle, however, interposes intime by declaring the identity of Sephestia, and the story terminatesas usual in weddings and reconciliations. The conventional shepherd's life is well described in the "Arcadia, "and the pastoral tone is skilfully maintained. The language, however, is confessedly euphuistic, as may be seen by the author's comment on aspeech of Samela: Samela made this reply, because she had heard him so superfine, as if Ephebus had learned him to refine his mother's tongue; wherefore though he had done it of an ink horn desire to be eloquent, and Melicertus thinking Samela had learned with Lucilla in Athens to anatomize wit, and speak none but similes, imagined she smoothed her talk to be thought like Sappho, Phaon's paramour. The following passage could hardly be distinguished from the writingsof Lyly: I had thought, Menaphon, that he which weareth the bay leaf had been free from lightning, and the eagle's pen a preservative against thunder; that labour had been enemy to love, and the eschewing of idleness an antidote against fancy; but I see by proof, there is no adamant so hard, but the blood of a goat will make soft, no fort so well defended, but strong battery will entry, nor any heart so pliant to restless labours, but enchantments of love will overcome. Melicertus addresses Samela, whom he finds feeding her flocks, in thefollowing terms: Mistress of all eyes that glance but at the excellence of your perfection, sovereign of all such as Venus hath allowed for lovers, Oenone's over-match, Arcadia's comet, Beauty's second comfort, all hail! Seeing you sit like Juno when she first watched her white heifer on the Lincen downs, as bright as silver Phoebe mounted on the high top of the ruddy element, I was, by a strange attractive force, drawn, as the adamant draws this iron, or the jet the straw, to visit your sweet self in the shade, and afford you such company as a poor swain may yield without offense; which, if you shall vouch to deign of, I shall be as glad of such accepted service, as Paris was first of his best beloved paramour. Another of Samela's lovers, despairing of success, "became sick foranger, and spent whole ecologues in anguish. " Greene's story of "Pandosto, " of "Dorastus and Fawnia, " which attaineda great popularity, and went through at least fourteen editions, iswell known as the foundation of Shakespeare's "Winter's Tale. "Shakespeare has followed Greene in the material points of the story, even so far as to make Bohemia a maritime country. But the genius ofthe dramatist is manifest in the miraculous and happy ending which hesubstitutes for the unlawful love and inconsistent suicide of Pandostoin the work of Greene. Shakespeare borrowed from the text, as well asfrom the plot of the novelist. The lines, The gods themselves, Humbling their deities to love, have taken The shapes of beasts upon them: Jupiter Became a bull, and bellowed: the green Neptune A ram, and bleated; and the fire robed god, Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain, As I seem now, are evidently a reproduction of the soliloquy of Dorastus: And yet Dorastus, shame not at thy shepheard's weede: The heavenly Godes have sometime earthly thoughts: Neptune became a ram, Jupiter a bull, Apollo a shepheard; they Gods, and yet in love; and thou a man appointed to love. [63] The story of "Philomela, " "penned to approve women's chastity, " is thebest of Greene's tales, and approaches more closely the modern novelthan any work of the time. It is related with much less than the usualprolixity, and contains two characters of distinct individuality. Thescene is placed in Venice, partly in consequence of the Italian originof the story, and partly, it would seem, because writers of fictionimagined that the further distant they could represent their incidentsto have occurred, the more interest and probability would attach tothem. Philippo Medici possessed a wife Philomela, renowned, "not forher beauty, though Italy afforded none so fair--not for her dowry, though she were the only daughter of the Duke of Milan--but for theadmirable honours of her mind, which were so many and matchless, thatvirtue seemed to have planted there the paradise of her perfection. "Philippo was so prone to jealousy, that he suspected even this paragon, and worked himself into a belief in her infidelity by such euphuisms asthese: "The greener the Alisander leaves be, the more bitter is thesap, and the salamander is the most warm when he lieth furthest fromthe fire, " therefore "women are most heart-hollow, when they are mostlip-holy. " Inflamed by this reasoning, he induced a friend, oneLutesio, to attempt his wife's virtue, enjoining him to bring immediateinformation in case of any evidence of success. Lutesio, after somemisgivings, undertook the task, and under the influence of Philomela'sbeauty, found it a very agreeable one. His most elaborate discourses onlove in the abstract were met by Philomela with replies fully as longand fully as lofty, but when he made the conversation personal, anddeclared his attitude to be that of a lover, he was met with a virtuousindignation which fully bore out the reputation of Philomela. Even thisconclusive test did not satisfy the jealous mind of the wretchedPhilippo. Having hired two slaves to swear in court to his wife'sinfidelity, he procured her banishment to Palermo. By the efforts ofthe Duke of Milan, this infamous proceeding was finally exposed, andPhilippo, overcome by remorse, set out in search of Philomela. AtPalermo, he accused himself, in a fit of despair, of a murder which hadbeen committed in that city. But while the trial was in progress, Philomela, in order to shield her husband, appeared in court andproclaimed herself guilty of the crime. The innocence of both wasdiscovered. Philippo, as he deserved, died immediately in an "ecstacy, "and Philomela "returned home to Venice, and there lived the desolatewidow of Philippo Medici all her life; which constant chastity made herso famous, that in her life she was honoured as the paragon of virtue, and after her death, solemnly, and with wonderful honour, entombed inSt. Mark's Church, and her fame holden canonized until this day inVenice. " The character of Philomela possesses strong traits of feminine virtueand wifely fidelity. Philippo has little distinctiveness except in hisextreme susceptibility to jealousy--a fault which was exaggerated bythe author to set off the opposite qualities of Philomela. The storyhas no little merit in regard to the construction and sequence of thenarrative, and holds up to admiration a high moral excellence. But itsinterest is seriously impaired by the same defect which marks all thefiction of the time. Philomela is almost the only tale which makes anypretence to being a description of actual life, or which deals withpossible incidents. Yet the language, although it has some elegance, isso affectedly formal, that all sense of reality is destroyed. WhenPhilippo's treachery to his wife is discovered, and he himself isplunged in remorse, it is in such words as these that he speaks of hisexposure: "There is nothing so secret but the date of days will reveal;that as oil, though it moist, quencheth not fire, so time, though everso long, is no sure covert for sin; but as a spark raked up in cinderswill at last begin to glow and manifest a flame, so treachery hidden insilence will burst forth and cry for revenge. "[64] A prose idyl is the term which best describes the courtly and pastoralcharacter of Lodge's "Rosalynde, " the last work of fiction of anyimportance which distinctly bears the impress of euphuism. Published in1590, the ten editions through which it passed during the next fiftyyears are sufficient evidence of its popularity. It is probably theonly work of fiction of Elizabeth's time which could be read through atthe present day without impatience, and its story and personages arewell known to all through their reproduction in Shakespeare's "As YouLike it. " The author of "Rosalynde" was a man of very varied talentsand experience. The son, it is believed, of a Lord Mayor of London, hegraduated at Trinity College, Oxford, and followed successively theprofessions of an actor, soldier, lawyer, and physician. In theintervals of these occupations, he found time to join in twoprivateering expeditions to the Pacific, and to publish a number ofliterary productions, of which the most successful were dramas andpoems. He is thought to have died of the plague in 1625. "ROSALYNDE. EUPHUES' GOLDEN LEGACIE: _Found after his death in hiscell at Silexedra, Bequeathed to Philantus' sonnes nursed up with theirFather in England. Fetched from the Canaries by T. L. , Gent. _" Such isthe fanciful title of the story which Shakespeare transformed into "AsYou Like it. " In the comedy, the characters of Touchstone, Audrey, andJacques are added, but otherwise the dramatist has followed hisoriginal quite closely. He made use, not infrequently, of the languageas well as the incidents of Lodge, which in itself is sufficientpraise. "Rosalynde, " is, indeed, a charming tale, containing agreeableand well drawn characters, dramatic incidents, and written in anelevated strain of dignity and purity. Occasionally, the influence of"Euphues" is manifest:--"Unhappy Saladyne, whom folly hath led to thesemisfortunes, and wanton desires wrapt within the laborinth of thesecalamities. Are not the heavens doomers of men's deedes? And holdes notGod a ballance in his fist, to reward with favour and revenge withjustice? Oh, Saladyne, the faults of thy youth, as they were fond, sowere they foule; and not onely discovering little nourture, butblemishing the excellence of nature. " A more natural and attractive passage is the discussion betweenRosalynde and Alinda, [65] regarding their escape from court. Rosalynde began to comfort her, and after shee had wept a fewe kind teares in the bosome of her Alinda, she gave her heartie thankes, and then they sat them downe to consult how they should travel. Alinda grieved at nothing but they might have no man in their company; saying it would be their greatest prejudice in that two women went wandering without either guide or attendant. "Tush (quoth Rosalynde), art thou a woman and hast not a sodeine shift to prevent a misfortune? I, thou seest, am of a tall stature, and would very wel become the person and apparel of a Page: thou shalt bee my mistresse, and I wil play the man so properly, that (trust me) in what company so ever I come I will not be discovered: I wil buy me a suite, and have my Rapier very handsomely at my side, and if any knave offer wrong, your Page wil shew him the poynt of his weapon. " Shakespeare has followed this scene very closely in "As You Like It. " _Ros. _ Alas, what danger will it be to us, Maids as we are, to travel forth so far! Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. _Cel. _ I'll put myself in poor and mean attire, And with a kind of umber smirch my face; The like do you; so shall we pass along And never stir assailants _Ros. _ Were it not better, Because that I am more than common tall, That I did suit me all points like a man? A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh. A boar spear in my hand; and in my heart, Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will, -- We'll have a swashing and a martial outside. As many other mannish cowards have That do outface it with their semblances. [66] The most brilliant and characteristic work of fiction belonging to theElizabethan era composed by a man who was himself regarded by hiscontemporaries as the embodiment of all the qualities they most lovedand admired. During the three hundred years which have elapsed sincethe death of Sir Philip Sidney, the same enthusiastic praise hasaccompanied the mention of his name. Sir William Temple, writing in acritical time, and when the effect of Sidney's personal character needno longer have biassed a literary judgment, pronounced Sir Philip to be"the greatest poet and the noblest genius of any that have leftwritings behind them. "[67] Such were the words of a man of genius, whowas acquainted with the works of Chaucer, Shakespeare, and Spenser. While all admirers of Sidney must regret a praise of his literaryabilities so exaggerated and mistaken, the eulogies which have beenlavished upon his personal character have never been thought to surpassthe worth of their object. Sir Philip Sidney, in the short lifeallotted to him, had added to his personal beauty and amiabledisposition all that was most fitted to win the admiration of his time. His rare accomplishments, his chivalrous manners and unusual powers ofconversation made him so great a favorite at court, that it was thepride of Elizabeth to call him "her Philip. " A considerable knowledgeof military affairs, and a fearless gallantry in battle, combined, withSidney's genial disposition, to win for him the universal affection ofthe army. The violence of the Middle Ages lingers in Sir Philip's angrywords to his father's secretary: "Mr. Molyneux, if ever I know you todo so much as read any letter I write to my father, without hiscommandment or my consent, I will thrust my dagger into you. And trustto it, for I speak it in earnest. " But the spirit of generosity andself-sacrifice, which we are also accustomed to associate with mediævalknighthood, was realized in the famous scene on the battle-field beforeZutphen. With good natural talents and an untiring industry, SirPhilip acquired a knowledge of science, of languages, and ofliterature, which gave him a reputation abroad as well as at home. Thelearned Languet relinquished his regular duties without prospect ofpecuniary reward "to be a nurse of knowledge to this hopeful younggentleman. "[68] The regrets of the universities at Sidney's deathfilled three volumes with academic eulogies. But a better testimonythan these volumes to the general admiration for Sidney's talents, andto his position as a patron of literature, is to be found in thebeautiful lines in which Spenser lamented his benefactor, and in twosentences by poor Tom Nash[69], who knew but too well the value of whathe and his fellow-laborers had lost: "Gentle Sir Philip Sidney, thouknewest what belonged to a scholar; thou knewest what pains, what toil, what travel conduct to perfection; well could'st thou give every virtuehis encouragement, every art his due, every writer his desert, causenone more virtuous, witty, or learned than thyself. But thou art deadin thy grave, and has left too few successors of thy glory, too few tocherish the sons of the Muses, or water those budding hopes with theirplenty, which thy bounty erst planted. " The public manifestations ofgrief at Sidney's death, and the rivalry of two nations for thepossession of his remains, seem to have proceeded rather from the fameof his personal virtues than from the accomplishment of greatachievements. It was recorded on the tomb of the learned Dr. Thorntonthat he had been "the tutor of Sir Philip Sidney, " and Lord Brookecaused the inscription to be placed over his own grave: "FulkeGreville, servant to Queen Elizabeth, counsellor to King James, andfriend to Sir Philip Sidney. " The work of a man who belonged so thoroughly to his own time, and whounited in himself talents and virtues so remarkable could hardly failto be of historical interest. Such is the value now belonging to the"Arcadia"--a work unrivalled in its own day, and deserving theadmiration of the present, but which has been left behind in the greatadvance of English prose fiction. In the courtly pages of the "Arcadia"are brilliantly reflected the lofty strain of sentiment characteristicof Elizabeth's time, and the chivalry, the refinement, and theimpetuosity of if its noble author. "Heere have you now, " wrote SirPhilip to his sister, the Countess of Pembroke, "most deare, and mostworthy to be most deare Ladie, this idle worke of mine. * * * Youredeare self can best witnesse the manner, being done in loose sheetes ofpaper, most of it in your presence, the rest by sheetes sent unto you, as fast as they were done. " It would be tedious to the reader toreceive a detailed description of the story which extends through thefour hundred and eighty pages of Sidney's folio. The plot turns on thefulfilment of a Delphian prophecy, in fear of which Basilius, king ofArcadia, retires to a forest with his wife and two daughters. Onedaughter, Philoclea, lives with her father Basilius, and the other, Pamela, is confided to the care of Dametas, a country fellow, in theservice of Basilius, who lives close by with his wife. Pyrocles, princeof Macedon, and Musidorus, prince of Thessaly, are wrecked on the coastof Arcadia, where they soon become enamored of the two daughters ofBasilius. To the better attainment of their ends, Pyrocles obtainsadmittance to the house of Basilius in the disguise of an Amazon, andMusidorus enters the service of Dametas in the character of a shepherd. The story which is unrolled in the remainder of the work relates theextraordinary occurrences which are necessary to the fulfilment of theDelphian prophecy, together with the intrigues and adventures of theyoung lovers. Shipwrecks, attacks by pirates, rescues, journeys throughArcadia among poetic shepherds, a war with the Helots, through forestsand carving sonnets on trees, --such are the scenes which succeed eachother with unending variety. On the arrival of Pyrocles and Musidorusin Arcadia, the reader is introduced to that ideal land, never morehappily described than by Sidney's pen[70]: The third day after, in the time that the Morning did strow roses and violets in the heavenly floore against the comming of the sunne, the Nightingales, (striving one with the other which could in most daintie varietie recount their wrong caused sorrow, ) made them put off their sleepe, and rising from under a tree, (which that night had bin their pavillion, ) they went on their journey, which by and by welcomed Musidorus eies (wearied with the wasted soile of Laconia) with delightfull prospects. There were hills which garnished their proud heights with stately trees: humble vallies, whose base estate seemed comforted with the refreshing of silver rivers: medowes, enameled with all sorts of eie pleasing flowers; thickets, which being lined with most pleasant shade, were witnessed so too, by the cheerfull disposition of manie well tuned birds: each pasture stored with sheep feeding with sober securitie, while the prettie lambes with bleating oratorie craved the dammes comfort: here a shepheards boy piping, as though he should never be old: there a young shepheardesse knitting, and withall singing, and it seemed that her voice comforted her hands to worke, and her hands kept time to her voice's musick. As for the houses of the country, (for manie houses came under their eye, ) they were all scattered, no two being one by th' other, and yet not so farre off as that it barred mutuall succour: a shew, as it were, of an accompanable solitarinesse, and of a civill wildeness. Amid such scenes dwell Basilius and his wife, whose two daughters aredescribed by Sidney in language unsurpassed for delicacy and charm. Of these two are brought to the world two daughters, so beyond measure excellent in all the gifts allotted to reasonable creatures, that we may thinke they were borne to shew, that nature is no stepmother to that sexe, how much so ever some men (sharp witted onely in evill speaking) have sought to disgrace them. The elder is named Pamela, by many men not deemed inferiour to her sister: for my part, when I marked them both, me thought there was, (if at least such perfections may receive the word of more, ) more sweetness in Philoclea, but more majestie in Pamela: mee thought love plaied in Philoclea's eies, & threatened in Pamela's; me thought Philoclea's beautie only perswaded, but so perswaded that all hearts must yield; Pamela's beautie used violence, and such violence as no heart could resist. And it seems that such proportion is betweene their mindes; Philoclea so bashfull, as though her excellencies had stolne into her before she was aware, so humble, that she will put all pride out of countenance; in summe, such proceeding as will stirre hope, but teach hope good maners. Pamela of high thoughts, who avoids not pride with not knowing her excellencies, but by my making that one of her excellencies to be void of pride: her mother's wisdome, greatnesse, nobilitie, but (if I can guesse aright) knit with a more constant temper. [71] The description of an envious man in the second book, [72] whichsuggested to Sir Richard Steele his essay in the nineteenth number ofthe _Spectator_, is another good example of Sidney's ability indelineating character. The passage in which Musidorus is representedshowing off the paces of his horse, [73] a subject especially adapted toexcite the best effort of the author, is a very remarkable effort ofdescriptive power, for the insertion of which, unfortunately, space iswanting here. Sidney might have quoted his description of Pamelasewing, to justify his belief that "It is not rhyming and versing thatmaketh poesy": Pamela, who that day having wearied her selfe with reading, * * * was working upon a purse certaine roses and lillies. * * * The flowers shee had wrought caried such life in them, that the cunningest painter might have learned of her needle: which, with so pretty a manner, made his careers to & fro through the cloth, as if the needle it selfe would haue been loth to haue gone fromward such a mistresse, but that it hoped to returne thitherward very quickly againe; the cloth looking with many eyes vpon her, and louingly embracing the wounds she gaue it: the sheares also were at hand to behead the silke that was growne too short. And if at any time shee put her mouth to bite it off, it seemed, that where she had beene long in making of a rose with her hands, she would in an instant make roses with her lips; as the lillies seemed to haue their whitenesse rather of the hand that made them, than of the matter whereof they were made; & that they grew there by the suns of her eyes, and were refreshed by the most * * * comfortable ayre, which an unawares sigh might bestow upon them. [74] Charles I. Passed many hours of his prison life in reading the"Arcadia, " and Milton[75] accused him of stealing a prayer of Pamelato insert in the "Eikon Basilike": "And that in no serious book, butthe vain amatorious poem of Sir Philip Sidney's 'Arcadia'; a book inthat kind, full of worth and wit, but among religious thoughts andduties not worthy to be named: nor to be read at any time without goodcaution, much less in time of trouble and affliction to be aChristian's prayerbook. " This prayer is in itself so beautiful, comingfrom the lips of Pamela, and the greater part of it suits so perfectlythe unhappy circumstances of King Charles, that at the risk of undulymultiplying our extracts from the "Arcadia, " it will be insertedhere:-- And therewith kneeling downe, euen where shee stood, she thus said: O All-seeing Light, and eternall Life of all things, to whom nothing is either so great, that it may resist; or so small, that it is condemned: looke vpon my misery with thine eye of mercie, and let thine infinite power vouchsafe to limite out some proportion of deliuerance vnto me, as to thee shall seeme most conuenient. Let not injurie, O Lord, triumph ouer me, and let my faults by thy hand bee corrected, and make not mine vnjust enemy the minister of thy justice. But yet, my God, if in thy wisdome this be the aptest chastisement for my vnexcusable folly: if this low bondage be fittest to my ouerhigh desires: if the pride of my not inough humble heart be thus to be broken, O Lord I yeeld vnto thy will, and joyfully embrace what sorrow thou will haue mee suffer. Onely thus much let me craue of thee, (let my crauing, O Lord, be accepted of thee, since euen that proceeds from thee, ) let me craue, euen by the noblest title, which in my greatest affliction I may give myself, that I am thy creature, and by thy goodness (which is thyselfe) that thou wilt suffer some beame of thy Majestie so to shine into my minde, that it may still depend confidently on thee. Let calamitie be the exercise, but not the ouerthrow or my vertue; let their power preuaile, but preuaile not to destruction; let my greatnesse be their pray; let my paine bee the sweetnesse of there reuenge: let them, (if so it seeme good vnto thee) vexe me with more and more punishment. But, O Lord, let neuer their wickednesse haue such a hand, but that I may cary a pure minde in a pure body. (And pausing a while. ) And O most gracious Lord, (said she) what euer become of me, preserve the vertuous Musidorus. [76] The "Arcadia" combines the elements of both the chivalric and thepastoral romance. Sidney's familiarity with the legends of Arthur, together with his own gallantry and love of adventure, peculiarlyadapted him to describe martial scenes. But the chivalry of Sir Philipis not more apparent where he describes the shock of arms than where, with such exquisite delicacy, he writes of women. The student ofEnglish fiction would fain linger long over the pages which describethe loves of Pamela and Philoclea. For when these pages are laid aside, it is long before he may again meet with the poetry, the manly andwomanly sentiment, and the pure yet stirring passion which adorn theromance of Elizabeth's Philip. Three centuries have passed away sincethe "Arcadia" was written, and we who live at the end of this periodnot unjustly congratulate ourselves on our superior civilization andrefinement. And yet in all this time we have arrived of no higherconception of feminine virtue or chivalrous manhood than is to be foundin this sixteenth-century romance, and during one half of these threehundred years there was to be seen so little trace of such aconception, whether in life or in literature, that the word love seemedto have lost its nobler meaning and to stand for no more than animaldesire. There is not in English fiction a more charming picture offeminine modesty than that of Pamela hiding her love for Musidorus. How delightfull soeuer it was, my delight might well bee in my soule, but it neuer wente to looke out of the window to doe him any comforte. But how much more I found reason to like him, the more I set all the strength of my minde to conceale it. * * * Full often hath my breast swollen with keeping my sighes imprisoned: full often have the teares I draue back from mine eyes turned back to drowne my heart. But, alas, what did that helpe poore Dorus?[77] Hardly less beautiful is the gradual yielding, through pity, ofPamela's maidenly heart. This last dayes danger having made Pamela's loue discerne what a losse it should haue suffered if Dorus had beene destroyed, bred such tendernesse of kindnesse in her toward him, that she could no longer keepe loue from looking out through her eyes, and going forth in her words; whom before as a close prisoner, shee had to her heart onely committed: so as finding not onely by his speeches and letters, but by the pitifull oration of a languishing behaviour, and the easily deciphered character of a sorrowfull face, that despaire began now to threaten him destruction, she grew content both to pitie him, and let him see shee pitied him. * * * by making her owne beautifull beames to thaw away the former ycinesse of her behaviour. [78] That portion of the "Arcadia" which relates to pastoral life owes itsorigin to Spanish and Portuguese works. But there were not wanting toSidney's experience actual examples of that peaceful existence towhich, in troubled times, men have so often turned as a pleasingcontrast to their own cares, and dangers. The shepherds of the SussexDowns, pursuing through centuries their simple vocation, unheeded bythe world, untouched by revolution or civil war, tended their sheepwith little thought or knowledge of the world beyond the downs, andpresented to the poet a picture of calm content, in pleasing contrastto the active or terrible incidents which more frequently made up thesum both of romance and of actual life. The shepherds of the "Arcadia"make even less pretence to reality than the martial heroes. They areusually poets and musicians; speaking in courtly phrases, and occupiedwith amorous adventures, they serve sometimes to relieve, and sometimesto heighten, the more stirring scenes. A third element in the "Arcadia" is the comic, and with this, as mightbe expected from the rather crude ideas of humor prevalent in thesixteenth century, Sidney met with indifferent success. The wit dependson the ugliness, the perversity, and the clownish character of Dametas, his wife, and their daughter Mopsa. It partakes of the nature of thepractical joke, and though it no doubt amused the courtiers ofElizabeth, is too clumsy for a more cultivated taste. But althoughSidney's comic scenes may no longer amuse, it must be said that theyare free from the low coarseness and ribaldry which have furnishedmerriment to times which pretended to a much higher standard of wit andeducation than his own. An interesting contrast may be made between acomic passage of the "Arcadia, "[79] representing a fight between twocowards, and perhaps the only scene in the "Morte d'Arthur" ofhumorous intent, [80]--that in which King Mark is ignominiously put toflight by Arthur's court fool disguised in the armor of a knight. In the history of English literature, Sir Philip Sidney's romance willalways have a prominent place as the first specimen of a fine prosestyle. The affectations and mannerisms which are its chief defect weredue to the unsettled condition of the language, and to the influence offoreign works, which the general love of learning had made familiar tocultivated Englishmen. The position of the "Arcadia" in fiction isestablished by the exquisite descriptions of nature and the life-likesketches of character which will often reward the patient reader. Thatprolixity, which more than any other cause has made the work obsolete, and, as a whole, unreadable, was a recommendation rather than anobjection at the time of publication. The "Arcadia, " standing almostalone in the department of fiction, and far superior to its fewcompetitors, took the place of a small circulating library. A spirit oflofty ideality pervades the work of Sir Philip Sidney, which isexpressive of the aspirations of his time. In the fictions of that ageis to be seen a constant attempt, not always successful, to dignifylife, to exalt the beautiful, and to conceal or condemn the base. Everyday life was not tempting to the writer, because it contained toomuch that was repulsive. The story teller and the poet painted amidunreal scenes that happiness and virtue which they thought more easilyto be conceived in an ideal land of knights and shepherds, than amidstthe cares and dangers of their own existence. [81] [Footnote 57: Paine's "History of English Literature, " book iii, ch. 1. ] [Footnote 58: Nichol's "Progresses, " vol. I, p. 3. ] [Footnote 59: The Italian tales were issued in various collections, such as Painter's "Palace of Pleasure, " Whetstone's "Heptameron, " the"Histories" of Goulard and Grimstone. One of the best of thesecollections is "Westward for Smelts, " by Kinde Kit of Kingstone, circa1603, reprinted by the Percy Society. It is on the same plan asBoccaccio's "Decamerone, " except that the story-tellers are fish-wivesgoing up the Thames in a boat. Imitations of the Italian tales may befound in Hazlitt's "Shakespeare's Library, " notably "Romeo andJulietta. " Most of these are modernized versions of old tales. I mayhere add, as undeserving further mention, such stories as "Jacke ofDover's Quest of Inquirie, " 1601, Percy Soc. ; "A Search for Money, " byWilliam Rowley, dramatist, 1609, Percy Soc. ; and "The Man in the Moone, or the English Fortune-Teller, " 1609, Percy Soc. ] [Footnote 60: The most comprehensive remarks on Lyly and "Euphues" areto be found in the _London Quarterly Review_ for April, 1801, and aredue to Mr. Henry Morley. ] [Footnote 61: Henry Peacham, "Compleat Gentleman. " See Drake's"Shakespeare and his Times. "] [Footnote 62: Shakespeare ridiculed the affectations of contemporarylanguage in "Love's Labour Lost. " Among the characters of Ben Jonsonare some good Euphuists. In "Every Man out of his Humour, " Fallace says(act v, sc. X), "O, Master Brisk, as 'tis said in Euphues, Hard is thechoice, when one is compelled, either by silence to die with grief, orby speaking to live with shame. " In "The Monastery, " a novel which theauthor himself considered a failure, Sir Walter Scott represented aEuphuist. But the language of Sir Piercie Shafton is entirely devoid ofthe characteristics of Euphuism, and gives a very false impressionconcerning it. (See introduction to "The Monastery. ") Compare passagesquoted in the text with one in chap. Xiv ("Monastery") beginning: "Ah, that I had with me my Anatomy of Wit. " Also _passim_. ] [Footnote 63: The lines quoted from the "Winter's Tale" are in act iv, sc. 3. For Greene's words see "Dorastus and Fawnia, " in Hazlitt's"Shakespeare's Library, " part I, vol. 4, p. 62. The resemblance betweenthe two passages is pointed out by Dunlop ("History of Fiction, " p. 404). Collier in his introduction to "Dorastus and Fawnia" denied thisobligation of Shakespeare to Greene. But he was evidently led into thiserror by liking the following passage, instead of the one quoted in thetext, for the foundation of Shakespeare's lines: "The gods abovedisdaine not to love women beneathe. Phoebus liked Sibilla: Jupiter Io;and why not I, then Fawnia?"] [Footnote 64: Another of Greene's tales, possessing much the samemerits and the same defects as those already mentioned is "Never tooLate. "] [Footnote 65: Shakespeare's Celia. ] [Footnote 66: Act I, sc. 3. ] [Footnote 67: "Miscellanea, " part ii, essay iv. ] [Footnote 68: Gray's "Life of Sidney, " p. 8. ] [Footnote 69: "Pierce Penniless. "] [Footnote 70: Folio, 1622. P. 6. ] [Footnote 71: Folio, 1622, p. 10. ] [Footnote 72: Folio, p. 130. ] [Footnote 73: Folio, p. 115. ] [Footnote 74: Folio, p. 260. ] [Footnote 75: See an "Answer in 'Eikon Basilike, '" Milton's Works, Symmons' ed. , v. 2, p. 408. ] [Footnote 76: Folio, p. 248. ] [Footnote 77: Folio, p. 116. ] [Footnote 78: Folio, p. 231. ] [Footnote 79: Book iii. ] [Footnote 80: "Morte d'Arthur, " book x, chap. 12. ] [Footnote 81: A Scotchman named Barclay published a partly politicaland partly heroic volume called "Argenis" in 1621. It was muchcommended by Cowper the poet, but being written in Latin, is hardly tobe included in English fiction. See Dunlop, chap. X. Francis Godwinwrote a curious story about 1602, called "The Man in the Moon, " inwhich is described the journey of one Domingo Gonzales to that planet. Dunlop ("Hist. Of Fiction") thought Domingo to be the real author. Seechapter xiii. This romance is chiefly remarkable for its scientificspeculations, and the adoption by the author of the Copernican theory. It was translated into French, and imitated by Cyrano de Bergerac, whoin his turn was imitated by Swift in Brobdignag. See Hallam, "Lit. OfEurope, " vol 3, p. 393. ] CHAPTER IV. THE PURITANS. BUNYAN'S "PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. " I. The renaissance of learning, with its delight in a sense of existence, its enjoyment of a new life, a newly acquired knowledge, and aquickened intelligence, was gradually supplanted by that renaissance ofreligion which followed the general introduction of the Bible among theEnglish people. Weary of the oppression of the clergy, weary of givingan often ruinous obedience to the tyranny of men whose lives gave themno claim to control the conduct of others, the early Puritan found inthe Bible the knowledge of God and the means of grace which hedespaired of obtaining from the priest. The Bible became in reality_The Book_. It was the one volume possessed and read by the people atlarge. The classical authors, the volumes of translations issued inElizabeth's time, the productions, even, of English genius had beenfamiliar only to the upper and best-educated classes. The great body ofthe people were without books, and the Bible became their one literaryresource, and the sole teacher of the conditions by which salvationcould be attained. It was seized upon with extraordinary avidity andenthusiasm. Old men learned to read, that they might study it forthemselves. Crowds gathered in churches and private houses to hear itread aloud. A good reader became a public benefactor. Alike in manorand in cottage, the family gathered at night to listen with awe-struckinterest to the solemn words whose grandeur was not yet lessened byfamiliarity. As we quote, often unconsciously, from a hundred differentauthors, the Puritans quoted from their one book. [82] Some, likeBunyan, at first preferred the historical chapters. But the Bible sooncame to have a far more powerful and absorbing interest than any of aliterary nature. There men looked for their sentence of eternal life oreternal torment. There they sought the solution of the question: "Whatshall I do to be saved?" And they sought it with all the fervor ofconscientious men who realized, as we cannot realize, the doctrine ofeternal damnation. To understand the influence of the Bible, we mustremember how completely men believed in a personal God, ruling Englandthen, as He had ruled Israel of old; and in a devil who stalked throughthe world luring men to their perdition. The Bible was studied with afearful eagerness for the way to please the one and to escape theother. Looked upon as the word of God, pointing out the only means ofsalvation, men placed themselves, through the Bible, in directcommunication with the Deity, and, casting aside the authority of achurch, acknowledged responsibility to Him alone. The difficulty ofinterpreting obscure portions of the Scriptures drove many to frenzyand despair. A hopeful or consoling passage was hailed with joy. "Happyare the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy. " "Lo, " wrote Tyndale, "here God hath made a covenant wyth us, to mercy full unto us, yf wewyll be mercy full one to another. " Thus two ideas became paramount: the idea of God, and the idea ofconscience. God was thought of as a judge who will reward His chosenservants by eternal happiness, but who will deliver those who do notknow Him, or those who sin against His laws, to Satan and everlastingfire; a God to please whom is the first object of this life, as nopleasure and no pain here can compare with the pleasure or pain tocome. This conception of the Deity still survives among us, but it isnot realized with the intensity of men who feel the hand of God inevery incident of their lives, who fancy that the Devil in person isamong them, and who distinctly hear his tempting words. Conscience, theguide who pointed out the path of rectitude, became strict andself-searching, ever looking inwardly, and judging harshly, magnifying, through the greatness of its ideal of virtue, every failing into acrime. The natural result of these ideas seething in a brain which hadlittle other food was Puritanism: the subordination of all otherinterests of life to the attainment of a spiritual condition acceptablein the sight of God. Following this aim with feverish intentness, andtortured by a conscience of extreme tenderness, the Puritans naturallycast aside the pleasures of this life as likely to interfere with theattainment of future happiness, and as worthless compared to it. It wasno time for gaiety and trifling when the horrors of hell were staringthem in the face. There is extant a life-like picture of a London housewife, which canteach us much regarding the spirit of Puritanism. [83] "She was veryloving and obedient to her parents, loving and kind to her husband, very tender-hearted to her children, loving all that were godly, muchmisliking the wicked and profane. She was a pattern of sobriety untomany, very seldom was seen abroad, except at church. When othersrecreated themselves, at holidays and other times, she would take herneedlework, and say, 'here is my recreation. '" The self-denial of this virtuous housewife developed into thatausterity which, when Puritanism had become the ruling power inEngland, closed the theatre and the bear-garden, stopped the dancing onthe village green, and assumed a dress and manner, the sombreness ofwhich was meant to signify a scorn of this world. While we can noweasily perceive the mistakes of the Puritans, and condemn the folly ofprohibiting innocent amusements which form a natural outlet forexuberant spirits, it will be well if we can do justice to the nobilityof aim, and the greatness of self-sacrifice, to which their austeritywas due. We must remember that the aim of the Puritans was a godlinessfar more exacting than that which we seek, and requiring aproportionate sacrifice of immediate pleasure. We must remember, too, that the amusements of that time were in large part brutal, like thebear-gardens; and licentious, like most of the theatres. Puritanismcould only exist among men filled to an uncommon degree with a love ofvirtue, who were ready to undergo every hardship, and to sacrificeevery personal inclination to attain it. Growing up among the people atlarge, Puritanism showed a strong national love of religion andmorality. The resolution with which its devotees pursued their aims, the serene content with which the martyrs welcomed the flames whichwere to open the gates of Heaven, were backed by a strength of faithnot exceeded by that of the early Christians. The self-control andself-sacrifice of the Puritans moulded the armies of the Commonwealth, and overthrew the tyranny of Charles. But their finer qualities wereclouded by the fanaticism which a long persecution had engendered. Aphrase in our description of the London housewife unconsciously tellsthe story: "Loving all that were godly, much misliking the wicked andprofane. " The godly were the sharers of her own faith, the "wicked andprofane" were all those without its pale. Here lay the weakness ofPuritanism: its narrowness, its lack of sympathy with the world atlarge, its indifference to the sufferings of those who had no place inthe ranks of the elect. Among such men we must look in vain for literary productions having theaim of entertainment. The literature of the time was chiefly polemical, and commentaries crowded on the book-shelves the volumes of classicaland Italian writers. To Puritanism, fiction was the invention of theEvil One, but still to Puritanism we owe, what is now, and seemsdestined ever to remain, the finest allegory in the English language. [Footnote 82: See Green's "Short History of the English People, " chap. Viii, sec. 1. ] [Footnote 83: John Wallington's description of his mother. Green's"Short History of the English People, " p. 451. ] II. That John Bunyan, a poor, illiterate tinker, was able to take the firstplace among writers of allegory, and to accomplish the extraordinaryintellectual feat of producing a work which charmed alike the ignorant, who could not perceive its literary merits, and cultivated critics, whoviewed it only from a literary standpoint, depended partly on his ownnatural gifts, and partly on the character of Puritan thought. To writea good allegory requires an imagination of unusual power. It requires, in addition, a realization of the subject sufficiently strong to giveto immaterial and shadowy forms a living personality. These conditionswere combined in Bunyan's case to an unexampled degree. He possessed animagination the activity of which would have unsettled the reason ofany less powerfully constituted man. His subject, the doctrine ofsalvation by grace, was, by the absorbing interest then attached to it, impressed upon his mind with a vividness difficult to conceive. In"Grace Abounding in the Chief of Sinners, " Bunyan left a description ofhis life, and the workings of his mind on religious subjects, which iswithout a parallel in autobiography. The veil which hides the thoughtsof one man from another is withdrawn, and the reader is placed in theclosest communion with the mind of the writer. In "Grace Abounding" iseasily detected the secret of Bunyan's success in allegory. "My sinsdid so offend the Lord, that even in my childhood He did scare andaffright me with fearful dreams, and did terrify me with dreadfulvisions. I have been in my bed greatly afflicted, while asleep, withapprehensions of devils and wicked spirits, who still, as I thenthought, labored to draw me away with them, of which I could never berid. I was afflicted with thoughts of the Day of Judgment, night andday, trembling at the thoughts of the fearful torments of hell fire. "One Sunday, "as I was in the midst of a game at cat, and having struckit one blow from the hole, just as I was about to strike it the secondtime, a voice did suddenly dart from heaven into my soul, which said, 'Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to Heaven, or have thy sins and go toHell?' At this I was put to an exceeding maze; wherefore leaving my caton the ground, and looking up to Heaven, saw, as with the eyes of myunderstanding, Jesus Christ looking down upon me very hotly displeasedwith me, and severely threatening me with some grievous punishment formy ungodly practices. * * * I cannot express with what longing I criedto Christ to call me. I saw such glory in a converted state that Icould not be contented without a share therein. Had I had a whole worldit had all gone ten thousand times over for this, that my soul mighthave been in a converted state. " After Bunyan's conversion he says ofhis conscience: "As to the act of sinning, I was never more tender thannow. I durst not take up a pin or a stick, though but so big as astraw, for my conscience now was sore, and would smart at every touch. I could not tell how to speak my words for fear I should misplacethem. " A man so sensitive to supernatural impressions could realize them ascompletely as the actual experiences of his daily life. Such, in fact, they were. With a conscience so tender, and a longing so intense forwhat he considered a condition of grace, Bunyan described the journeyof Christian with the minuteness and fidelity of one who had trod thesame path. The sketch of the pilgrim, which opens the work, stampsChristian at once an individual. As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place where was a den; and I laid me down in that place to sleep; and as I slept, I dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man clothed with rags, standing in a certain place, with his face from his own house, a Book in his hand, and a great burden upon his back. I looked, and saw him open the Book, and read therein; and, as he read, he wept and trembled; and not being able longer to contain, he broke out with a lamentable cry, saying "what shall I do?" The same impression of reality pervades the whole work. Christian'ssins take an actual form in the burden on his back. Every personagewhom he meets on his journey, and every place through which he passesappears to the mind of the reader with the vividness of actualexperience. The child or the laborer reads the "Pilgrim's Progress" asa record of adventures undergone by a living man; the scholar forgetsthe art which has raised the picture before his mind, in a sense ofcontact with the subject portrayed. This is the triumph of a greatgenius, and it is a triumph to which no other writer has attained tothe same degree. Other allegorists have pleased the fancy or gratifiedthe understanding, but Bunyan occupies at once the imagination, thereason and the heart of his reader. Defoe's power of giving life tofictitious scenes and personages has not been surpassed by that of anyother novelist. But Defoe's scenes and characters were of a naturefamiliar to his readers, and therefore easily realized. In the"Pilgrim's Progress, " strange and unreal regions become well-knownplaces, and moral qualities distinct human beings. Evangelist, who putsChristian on the way to the Wicked Gate; Pliable, who deserts him atthe first difficulty; Help, who pulls him out of the Slough of Despond;Mr. Worldly Wiseman, who shows him an easy way to be rid of his burden, are all life-like individuals. Timorous, Talkative, Vain Confidence, Giant Despair, are not mere personifications, but distinct human beingswith whom every reader of the "Pilgrim's Progress" feels an intimateacquaintance. Not less real is the impression produced by the variousscenes through which the journey of Christian conducts him. The Sloughof Despond, the Wicket Gate, the House of the Interpreter, the HillDifficulty, have been familiar localities to many generations of men, who have watched Christian's struggle with Apollyon in the Valley ofHumiliation, and followed his footsteps as they trod the Valley of theShadow of Death, as they passed through the dangers of Vanity Fair, and brought him at last to the Celestial City, and the welcome of theShining Ones. The "Pilgrim's Progress" and the "Holy War" are not as allegoriesentirely perfect, but they probably gain in religious effect, as muchas they lose from a literary point of view, in those passages where theallegorical disguise is not sustained. The simplicity and power oftheir language are alone sufficient to give them an important place inEnglish literature. Throughout the "Pilgrim's Progress" are evidencesof a strong human sympathy, and a kindly indulgence on the part of theauthor for the weak and erring among his fellow-men. Ignorance, to besure, is cast into the bottomless pit; but as the work taught aspiritual perfection, it could not afford to encourage the willinglyignorant by bestowing a pardon on their representative. Bunyan himselfwas distinguished for a general sympathy with his fellow-men which thenarrowness of Puritanism had failed to impair. The sad words in whichhe mourned, while in prison, his long separation from his wife andchildren, show the natural tenderness of his disposition, as well asthe greatness of the sacrifice which he was making for hisreligion:--"The parting with my wife and poor children hath often beento me in this place as the pulling the flesh from my bones; and thatnot only because I am somewhat too fond of these great mercies, butalso because I often brought to mind the many hardships, miseries, andwants that my poor family was like to meet with; especially my poorblind child, who lay nearer to my heart than all I had beside. " With the allegories of Bunyan, we leave ideality behind us as acharacteristic feature of English fiction. The knights of the RoundTable, Robin Hood and his merry men, the princes and princesses of the"Arcadia, " the pilgrim Christian, were the ideal heroes of theparticular periods to which they belong. They were placed amid thescenes which seemed most attractive, and were endowed with thequalities which seemed most admirable to the men whose imaginationscreated them. But, with the exception perhaps of Robin Hood, they werepurely ideal, without prototypes in nature. The writer of fiction hadnot yet turned his attention to the delineation of character, to thestudy of complex social questions, to the portrayal of actual life. With the fall of Puritan power, begins a great intellectual change. History shows, since the Restoration, a tendency which has continuouslygrown stronger and wider, to subordinate the imagination to the reasonof man, to withdraw political and social questions from the influenceof mere tradition, to subject them instead, to the test of practicalexperience, and to encourage the patient physical investigations whichhave resulted in the triumphs of modern science. This tendency haspervaded all the channels of human industry. Its effect upon works offiction has been to introduce into that department of literature, aspirit of realism, and a love of investigating the problems of life andcharacter, which have resulted in the modern novel. Henceforth we shallmeet no more ideal beings, but men or women, more or less true tonature. In the fiction of the Restoration are first observable the newtendencies, which, although but slightly marked at first, have finallygiven to the English novel its present importance. An attempt to tracethe gradual perfection of this form of literature, its development intoa work of art, into a natural history of men, into a truthfulreflection of very varied social conditions, will occupy the remainderof this volume. CHAPTER V. THE RESTORATION. ROGER BOYLE. MRS. MANLEY. MRS. BEHN. I. The Puritans had overthrown the political tyranny of Charles, but inattempting to build up by force a kingdom of the saints on earth, theyhad established a spiritual tyranny, quite as irksome and quite asperishable, of their own. Meanwhile they had failed to preserve thereputation for sanctity which formed the chief basis of theirauthority. As soon as they had attained power, they were joined by menwho professed their principles merely for selfish purposes; who viedwith each other in presenting to the world the outward signs ofPuritanism, and remained notoriously profligate in life and character. The kingdom of the saints, objectionable as a tyranny, and finallyidentified in the popular mind with a hated hypocrisy, came to itsinevitable end in the reaction of the Restoration. But when the firstfury of this reaction had passed away, it was evident that Puritanismsurvived it: no longer a political power, but a moral influence whichcontrolled the great body of the people, and gave to English habits andliterature their distinctive tone of serious morality. But for the time, all sight of this was lost. The entry of Charles IIinto Whitehall was the sign for unlimited indulgence in all that hadlately been forbidden. "Chassez le naturel, il revient au galop. "[84]The Puritans had pent up for so long the natural cravings for pleasureand gaiety, that, when the barriers were withdrawn, license anddebauchery were necessary to satisfy appetites which a long-enforcedabstinence had made abnormal. In Vanburgh's "Provoked Wife, " a comedy, like so many others of the time, at once very immoral and veryentertaining, Sir John Brute thus excuses the virtues of his earlylife: "I was afraid of being damned in those days; for I kept sneaking, cowardly company, fellows that went to church, said grace to theirmeat, and had not the least tincture of quality about them. "_Heartfree_: "But I think you have got into a better gang now. " _SirJohn_: "Zoons, sir, my Lord Rake and I are hand in glove. "[85] In thecountry, people were generally satisfied with getting back theirMay-poles and Sunday games. But in London, where the rule of Puritanismhad been the strictest, and above all among the courtiers, the newliberty resulted in a license and shamelessness unequalled in Englishhistory. In the general proscription of Puritan ideas, the good were involved inthe same destruction as the bad. Religion was mocked at as a cloak forhypocrisy, self-restraint was thrown aside as an obstacle to enjoyment. It was thought that emancipation from Puritan tyranny could not beattained more effectually than by a life of open licentiousness; bygambling and drunkenness. Such, under the Restoration, were theoccupations most attractive to the gentlemen of fashion. Buckingham, Rochester, and the troop of courtiers who looked to them for anexample, spent their lives in sinking into an ever deeper depravity. Their thoughts and mouths were never clean. The verses they wrote aretoo foul to transcribe as an illustration of the taste of theircomposers. The orgies in which they indulged were not scenes of gaiety, in which buoyant spirits and lively wit might excuse excess, but wereserious, bestial, and premeditated. The dealings of these men with thefemale sex were but a succession of low intrigues, which destroyed allsentiment and left nothing but disgust behind them. We hear a greatdeal about "love" in the literature of the time, but it is the samekind of love that might be found among a herd of cattle. It would bedifficult to mention any man about the court of Charles II who couldhave appreciated the pure and enduring passion which in the centurybefore had breathed through the noble lines of Spenser's"Epithalamion, " and in the century that followed inspired "JohnAnderson, my jo' John. " Charles himself, "the old goat, " set an examplewhich hardly needed the authority of the Lord's anointed to becomeattractive. Without honor or virtue himself, and denying theirexistence in others, he made a fitting leader of the society about him. His mistresses insulted the queen by their splendor and arrogance, andinsulted him by amours with servants and mountebanks. So destitute ofdignity or principle as to share the Duchess of Cleveland with theworld, he coolly asked a courtier who was reputed to be on too intimateterms with the queen, how his "mistress" did. While the gaming-tablesat court were nightly covered with gold, and Lady Castlemaine gambledaway thousands of pounds at a sitting, the exchequer was closed amid awidespread ruin, and the menial servants about the court were in wantof bread. So openly was the king's coarse licentiousness pursued, that"the very sentrys speak of it, " that the queen rarely entered herdressing-rooms without first being assured that the king was not therewith one of his women. Such an example had a powerful influence uponall the rank and fashion of the time, already predisposed to a similarcourse. The extent of the prevailing reverence for royalty is admirablyillustrated by the scene in which the Earl of Arlington advised MissStewart concerning her conduct as mistress of the king, to whichposition "it had pleased God and her virtue to raise her. " Thus fromthe popular dislike of Puritanism, and the example of a profligatecourt, began that reign of social and political corruption which for ahundred years demoralized the manners and sullied the literature of theEnglish people. The vice which became so engrafted on the habits ofprivate life as to make decency seem an affectation, invaded religionand politics. To religion it brought about a general indifference, which in the higher ranks of the clergy took effect in disregard oftheir duties and in a shameless scramble for lucrative posts, and inthe lower ranks produced poverty and social degradation. In politicsare to be dated from this reign the gross corruption which enabledevery public officer, however high or however low, to use his positionfor the purpose of private plunder, and the habit of bribing members ofParliament which soon converted them into tools of the crown'sministers. While the men found their greatest enjoyment and most congenialoccupation in drunkenness, duelling, and seduction, it is not to beexpected that women should have retained an unappreciated refinement. Half-naked and ornamented with a profusion of jewels, they look outfrom the portraits of the time with a sleepy, voluptuous expression, which suggests a lack of intelligence and too great a susceptibility tophysical impressions. Women as we find them in contemporary memoirs, and these most often deal with such as are about the court, are notunfit companions for the men. We see not a few the willing victims ofcoarse intrigues, and some even assisting in the degradation of othersof their sex. Many of them swore "good mouth filling oaths, " and thescandal they talked would have shocked the taste as well as theprinciples of Elizabeth's time. In the eighteenth century muchcoarseness is to be seen in literature and society, but we areconstantly meeting with the words "delicacy" and "indelicacy" in theirapplication to social refinement, and it is evident that the ideas ofthat time on this subject differ from ours only in degree. Under theRestoration, these words, or the thoughts they represent, had a veryinsignificant existence. Public taste inclined to the gross and thesensual, and welcomed as enjoyable, what the present discards asdisgusting. Ladies of the highest rank sat through plays of which thepurpose and effect was to degrade their own womanhood, to remove fromthe minds of the men who sat about and watched their countenances ateach new obscenity, whatever respect for the sex might have lingeredthere. Some wore masks to hide the blushes which might have been lookedfor as a drama proceeded, which represented every female character onthe stage as little better than an animal, using such reason as shepossessed only to further the gratification of her appetites. Undersuch conditions there could be no encouragement for maiden modesty, andfor old age no crown. It is usually unfair to judge a community by its theatre, to which anexceptional liberty must always be allowed. But the drama of theRestoration may be said to reflect with much truth the popular taste. For the noblest efforts of dramatic genius the student turns bypreference to the age of Elizabeth. There he finds art, beauty, andpoetry; there he finds human nature, with its nobility and itslittleness, with its virtues and its vices. The time of Charles II wasas narrow in its way as the Puritans had been in theirs, and was aslittle capable of forming broad and just views of mankind. ThePuritans, if they had had a stage, would have represented man as anembodiment of moral qualities. The dramatists of the Restoration madehim merely a creature subject to animal desires and brutish instincts, which he made no effort to regulate. "It might, not be easy perhaps, "says Hallam, "to find a scene in any comedy of Charles II's reign, where one character has the behavior of a gentleman, in the sense weattach to the word. "[86] The stage was in perfect accord with itsaudience. Morality was outraged by a constant association of virtuewith all that is contemptible and of vice with all that is attractive. Taste was outraged by a perpetual choice of degraded subjects anddisgusting scenes. Nature was outraged by the representation of man, not as a complex being, worthy of deep and skilful investigation, butas a creature influenced by two or three passions always apparent onthe surface. Thus the dramatists, notwithstanding their veryexceptional abilities, produced little of enduring value, and nothingwhich could outlive a change in the popular taste. They did, however, produce what was greatly admired by their contemporaries: and the factthat the men and the women of the time enjoyed the plays provided forthem, shows that they preferred to noble and elevating subjects, theliterary reproduction of their own corrupt lives. The theatre no doubtrepresented men as worse than they were. But the friends of Buckinghamand Rochester, both male and female, found in its long list ofunprincipled men, of married women debauched, and of young girlsanxious to be debauched, the reflection and justification of their owncareers. Posterity remembers little of the reign or the theatre of Charles IIbeyond their corruption. Yet there is much that is worthy ofremembrance, without which any remarks on the social condition of thetime would be one-sided. There are to be referred to that period manylegislative enactments in the highest degree conducive to civil andreligious liberty. The foundation of the Royal Society marked theinauguration of a new interest in speculative enquiry, of a greatactivity in scientific research, and of a broader and more liberalhabit of thought on questions connected with government and education. These advantages were attained in spite of a worthless king, of corruptministers, and a licentious court, and they are due to the earnestnessand vigor of the great body of the English people, qualities which haveremained unchanged through every national vicissitude or success. WhilePepys and Grammont supply full details of the moral degeneration whichweakened and debased the highest ranks of society, the sound morality, steady industry, and progressive nature of the nation are to be seen inthe journal of the good Evelyn. His character and occupations, as wellas those of his friends, offset the coarse tastes and worthless liveswhich brought the time into discredit. To the prevailing disregard ofthe marriage tie may well be contrasted the happiness of Evelyn'sdomestic life. His daughter, of whom he has left a beautifuldescription, was endowed with an elevation of character, a charm ofdisposition, and a purity of thought admirable in any age, and itcannot be doubted that she had many contemporary parallels. [Footnote 84: Destouches, "Glorieux, " v. 3. ] [Footnote 85: Act ii, sc. 1. ] [Footnote 86: "Literature of Europe, " vol. 4, chap. 6, sec. 2-47. ] II With the pensions and fashions which were sent across the Channel fromthe court of Louis XIV, came a curious species of fiction which had atemporary vogue in England. Gomberville, Scudéri, and Calprenède hadcreated the school of Heroic Romance by the publication of thosemonumental works which the French not inaptly termed "les romans delongue haleine. " This was the bulky but enervated descendant ofchivalric and pastoral romance. The tales of chivalry and of pastorallife had their _raison d'être_. The feudal knighthood found in thetournaments, in the adventures of knight-errantry, and in thesupernatural agencies which filled their volumes of romance, thereflection of their own aspirations and beliefs. They admired in theideal characters of Charlemagne and Arthur the qualities most valuedamong themselves. Martial glory was to them the chief object of life;love was simply the reward of valor. The pastoral romance followed inless warlike times. Its subject was love; and that passion was usuallydescribed amidst humble and peaceful shepherds, where its strength andcharm could develop more fully than amidst scenes of war and tumult. Both the chivalric and the pastoral romance were the embodiment ofideals which in turn represented contemporary tastes. But heroicromance, although it shared some of the characteristics of itspredecessors, had not the same claim to interest. It was unnatural andartificial, rather than ideal. It imitated the martial character of thetales of chivalry, but subordinated that character to love. It imitatedthe devoted strain of adoration which ran through the fanciful phrasesof pastoral fiction; but that artificial passion which seemedappropriate to ideal shepherds tuning their pipes under a perpetualsunshine, became absurd when applied to Greek or Carthaginian soldiers. Gomberville's "Polexander, " complete-in six thousand pages, andCalprenède's "Cassandra, " "the fam'd romance, " are now before me. Greeks, Romans, Turks, Parthians, Scythians, Babylonians are mingledtogether in a truly heroic structure of absurdity and anachronism. Artaxerxes appears on one page, the queen of the Amazons on the next, then the king of Lacedæmon, Alexander the Great, even a prince ofMexico, and comparatively private persons beyond computation. Thiscrowd of names represent personages who imitate the deeds of chivalry, and converse in the affected style of the French court, while theirancient bosoms are distracted by a pure, all-absorbing, and never-dyinglove as foreign to their nature as to that of the readers of heroicromance. That this species of fiction should have met with any success, is largely due to the circumstance, that under the disguise of Greekwarriors or Parthian princesses, there were really describedcontemporary beauties and courtiers, who fondly believed that they hadattained, through the genius of Calprenède and Scudéri, an enviableimmortality. Unhappily for them, the characters of heroic romance havefound in that endless desert of phraseology at once their birthplaceand their tomb. The works of Gomberville, Calprenède, and Scudéri, although littleadapted to the English taste, shared the favor which was extended toevery thing French, and were both translated and imitated. The"Eliana, " published in 1661; although a _bona-fide_ imitation, wouldhave served much better as a caricature. To the absurdity of incidentis added an absurdity of language which gives the book almost a comicaspect. The beauty of flowers growing in the fields is disguised underthe statement that Flora "spreads her fragrant mantle on thesuperficies of the earth, and bespangles the verdant grass with herbeauteous adornments. " A lover "enters a grove free from thefrequentations of any besides the ranging beasts and pleasing birds, whose dulcet notes exulsecrate him out of his melancholycontemplations. "[87] Dunlop considered the best work of this description to be the"Parthenissa, " published in 1664, by Roger Boyle, afterward Earl ofOrrery. This romance, although marked by the faults of prolixity andincongruity characteristic of the heroic style, is not withoutnarrative interest or literary merit. The hero is Artabanes, a Medianprince, as usual "richly attired, and proportionately blessed with allthe gifts of nature and education. " At the Parthian court he becomesenamored of the beautiful Parthenissa, and in her honor performs manydistinguished deeds of arms. Distracted, however, at the suspicion ofParthenissa's preference for a rival, he leaves the Parthian court withthe determination to spend the remainder of his life on the summit ofthe Alps. This intention is frustrated by pirates, who take himprisoner and bestow him as a slave upon their chief. Artabanes soonescapes from bondage, suddenly turns out to be the historic Spartacus, and returns to Asia. There he finds that Parthenissa, to avoid theimportunities of an objectionable lover, has swallowed a potion whichgives her the appearance of death. In this dilemma he journeys to "theTemple of Hieropolis in Syria, where the Queen of Love had settled anoracle as famous as the Deity to whom it was consecrated. " The priestof this temple, after listening patiently to the long account ofArtabanes' misfortunes, tells the story of his own remarkable career, by which it appears that he is Nicomedes, king of Bythinia, the fatherof Julius Cæsar's Nicomedes. While Artabanes is listening to thisnarrative, he sees two persons land upon the shore, and enter aneighboring wood. One is a young knight, and the other the exactcounterpart of Parthenissa. At this apparition Artabanes is thrown intothe greatest confusion. The lady he has seen presents every outwardappearance of his mistress, and yet he believes her dead, and is unableto conceive that if living, she should so far forget her duty to himand the rules of propriety, as to place herself in so suspicions aposition. Here the romance comes to an abrupt end, leaving Artabanes inthe condition of painful uncertainty in which he has ever sinceremained. Heroic romance proved as ephemeral in England as the cloaks andfeathers with which it had crossed the Channel, and we may pass oversuch trivial literary attempts as those of the Duchess of Newcastle tothe writings of Mrs. Manley and Mrs. Behn. These two novelists, if suchthey may still be called, represent, in narrative fiction, the periodwhich extends from the Restoration to the opening of the eighteenthcentury. They have left us little, and that of very indifferent merit. But their stories have a certain importance, inasmuch as with thembegins the tendency, in English fiction, to deal with the actual, instead of the imaginary, to describe characters and scenes meant torepresent real life. The daughter of Sir Roger Manley, at one time Governor of Guernsey, Mrs. Manley was seduced, when quite a young woman, and passed theremainder of her life in a licentiousness which has evidently inspiredher literary productions. Having picked up a few stories from currentreport, she worked them into what she called "The Power of Love, inSeven Novels. "[88] The "love" here described is an unregulated animalpassion, and its "power" is the natural effect of such a passion uponmen and women who have no idea of self-restraint or refinement. Theresult is a series of licentious scenes, unredeemed by any literarymerit. Mrs. Manley's most prominent work was the "Secret Memoirs andManners of Several Persons of Quality of Both Sexes. From the NewAtalantis, an Island in the Mediterranean. " This book is a scandalouschronicle of crimes reputed to have been committed by persons of highrank, and the names are so thinly disguised as to be easily identified. Mrs. Manley was arrested and prosecuted for the publication, butescaped without serious punishment. The work itself had a widecirculation, and Pope adopted the endurance of its fame as a measure oftime in his shortsighted line, "As long as Atalantis shall be read. " In the beginning of this book a female personage named Astræa resolvesto revisit the earth, which she had long before abandoned in disgust. She alights upon an island in the Mediterranean, named Atalantis, whichis meant to signify England, and a female form immediately rises upbefore her. Her habit _obsolete_ and _torn_, almost degenerated into tatters; But her Native Charms, that needed not the Help of Art, gave to Astræa's returning Remembrance that it could be no other than her beautiful Mother Vertue. But oh! how despicable her Garments! how neglected her flowing Hair! How languid her formally animated Eyes! How pale, how withered the Roses of her lovely Cheeks and Lips! How useless her snowy arms and polished Fingers! they hung in a melancholy Decline, and seemed out of other Employment, but sometimes to support the Head of the dejected Fair One! Her limbs enervated and supine, wanting of that Energy which should bear her from a Solitude so affrighting! From this very accurate description of the condition of virtue at theend of the seventeenth century, it might be supposed that Mrs. Manleydeplored her neglected state. But such is far from being the case. Astræa and Virtue meet with a personage called Intelligence, whofurnishes them with a detailed account of current scandal calculated tostill further depress the dejected Virtue. The trio are soon joined byMrs. Nightwork, a midwife, who never breaks an oath of secrecy unlessit be to her interest, and the character of whose contributions to thegeneral fund of gossip may be easily imagined. This semi-allegoricalmethod of narration is kept up during the first two volumes; in thethird and fourth Mrs. Manley tells her story in her own way. In thecourse of these four volumes is unrolled an extraordinary series ofcrimes, some unnatural, and all gross in highest degree. The detailswhich Mrs. Manley could not obtain from authentic sources are suppliedby her vivid and heated imagination. She gloats over each incident witha horrible relish, and adds, with no unsparing brush, a heightenedcolor to each picture. Only a society whose conduct could affordmaterial for this composition could possibly have read it. Mrs. Manleyno doubt invented and exaggerated without scruple, but the fact thather work was widely read and even popular is a sufficient commentary onthe taste of the time. The reader of to-day is sickened by themultiplication of repulsive scenes, and the absence from the book ofany good qualities or actions whatever. The style in which the"Atalantis" is written is so mean, that no person could have derivedany pleasure from its pages other than the gratification of a depravedtaste. A writer of fiction of much greater importance appeared in the personof Aphra Johnson, more generally known as Mrs. Behn, or "the divineAstræa"; "a gentlewoman by birth, of a good family in the city ofCanterbury. " Her father was appointed to a colonial office in the WestIndies, where he took his family while Mrs. Behn was yet a young girl. There the future authoress began a chequered life by living on aplantation among rough and lawless colonists, and there she made theacquaintance of the slave Oroonoko, whose sad story she afterward madeknown to the world. On her return to England, she married Behn, amerchant of Dutch extraction, and went to live in the Netherlands, where she acted as a British spy. By working upon the feelings of herlovers, she was able to convey information to the English government ofthe intention of the Dutch to enter the Thames to destroy the Englishfleet. Her warnings were disregarded, and giving up her patrioticoccupation, she returned to London, and devoted herself to literature. She died in 1689, and was buried in the cloisters of WestminsterAbbey:--"Covered only with a marble stone, with two wretched verses onit. " Although Mrs. Behn is now almost forgotten, her position in herown time was not inconsiderable. Besides a number of letters and poems, her literary productions include a translation of Fontenelle's"Plurality of Worlds, " and a paraphrase on Van Dale's "De OraculisEthnicorum. " Her plays met with some success, but were characterized bya licentiousness which won for her the title of "the female Wycherley, "a fact, which, on account of her sex, called down upon her a generaland well-deserved condemnation. Two other productions, of which thenature is sufficiently indicated by their titles, were "The Lover'sWatch; or the Art of making Love: being Rules for Courtship for everyHour of the Day and Night"; and "The Ladies Looking Glass to dressthemselves by; or the whole Art of charming all Mankind. " It was on Mrs. Behn's return from the West Indies that, beingintroduced at court, she related to Charles the Second the terriblefate of the noble slave Oroonoko. At the solicitation of the king, sheput her narrative into the form of a novel, which obtained a largecirculation, and was dramatized by Southern in his tragedy of the samename. "Oroonoko" is worthy of notice as one of the earliest attempts onthe part of an English novelist to deal with characters which had comeunder the writer's observation in actual life. It is still moreimportant on account of the presence within it of a didactic purpose; acharacteristic which for good or for evil has been a prominent featureof the English novel. Sir Thomas More had made use of fiction in thesixteenth century to urge his ideas of political and social reforms. Bunyan, more than a century later, used the same means to promulgatehis conception of Christian life. While English narrative fiction wasstill in its first youth, Mrs. Behn protested against the evils of theslave trade through the medium of a story which may be considered aforerunner of "Uncle Tom's Cabin. " To interest the public in a distant country or an abstract principle, the novel is the most effective literary means. A treatise on the slavetrade by Mrs. Behn, however strong and truthful, would have met withthe little attention which is accorded to the sufferings of a distantand unknown people. But the novel has the advantage over the treatise, that it deals with the particular and not the general, with theindividual and not the nation. It can place before the reader a limitednumber of persons; it can interest his mind and heart in theircharacters, lives, and fate; and by subjecting them to the horrors ofthe evil to be depicted, excite through commiseration for theirsufferings a hatred of the cause which inflicted them. To such a usethe novel has often been put, at too frequent a sacrifice of itsartistic merit. To excite indignation against the results of the slavetrade, Mrs. Behn took the special instance of Oroonoko. She endowed theAfrican slave with beauty of person and nobility of character. She gavehim tastes and qualities of a kind to attract the interest of aEuropean reader. She added a description of his wife Imoinda, dwellingon the details of her beauty and charms. By a passionate relation ofthe amatory scenes which occurred between Oroonoko and his wife, shetouched a key particularly calculated to excite contemporary Englishsympathy. Finally, by telling the story of the cruel wrongs inflictedon the slaves, she aroused a natural indignation against the systemwhich could entail such evil results. The story itself is briefly as follows. Oroonoko was a brave youngchief, the grandson of a king whose dominions lay on the coast ofAfrica. He had distinguished himself in war, and already commanded allthe forces of his grandfather's kingdom. Hitherto rather unsusceptibleto female charms, he became deeply enamored of Imoinda, on returningvictorious from a great war. Unfortunately the king noticed Imoinda atthe same time, and had her brought to his palace as his concubine. According to the rules of the court, this would separate the loversforever. Oroonoko in desperation made his way to Imoinda's chamber inthe palace at night, where he was discovered by the king's servants. Imoinda was immediately sold as a slave. Oroonoko made his way down tothe seashore, and was there allured, under false pretenses ofhospitality, on board an English ship. He was carried to the WestIndies, and sold to a planter of Surinam, the colony in which Mrs. Behnwas living, and where by a remarkable chance Imoinda had already beensold. The beauty of Imoinda had brought about her a large number ofsuitors, all of whom met with a cold repulse. The tenderness of themeeting between Oroonoko and Imoinda prevailed upon their master toallow them to live together. But Oroonoko longed for liberty. Heplotted a revolt among his fellow-slaves, and on its suppression wasbrutally flogged. Enraged by this, he escaped into the woods withImoinda, who was then pregnant. Fearing that she might fall into thehands of the whites, and unwilling to be the father of a slave, hekilled her, and remained by her dead body several days, half insensiblewith grief and without food. Again taken by the colonists, he was tiedto a post, hacked to pieces and burned. The story, simple in itself, becomes striking in the hands of Mrs. Behn. The hut of the old negroking is given the brilliancy of an Eastern court, and his harem iscopied after that of a Turkish potentate. When Oroonoko is induced toboard the English slaver, it is in no common style, but "the Captain inhis Boat richly adorned with Carpets and velvet Cushions went to theShore to receive the Prince, with another Long Boat where was placedall his Music and Trumpets. " Mrs. Behn's methods of adorning her taleare best shown by her description of Oroonoko himself, which is a goodexample of the tone in which the story is written. I have often seen and conversed with this Great Man, and been a Witness to many of his mighty Actions: and do assure my Reader, the most illustrious Courts could not have produced a braver Man, both for Greatness of Courage and Mind, a Judgment more solid, a Wit more quick, and a Conversation more sweet and diverting. He knew almost as much as if he had read much; he had heard of and admired the Romans; he had heard of the late Civil Wars in England, and the deplorable Death of our great Monarch; and would discourse of it with all the Sense and abhorrence of the Injustice imaginable. He had an extremely good and graceful Mien, and all the civility of a well bred Great Man. He had nothing of Barbarity in his Nature, but in all Points addressed himself as if his Education had been in some European Court. This great and just character of Oroonoko gave me an extreme Curiosity to see him, especially when I knew he spoke French and English, and that I could talk with him. But though I had heard so much of him, I was as greatly surprised when I saw him, as if I had heard nothing of him; so beyond all Report I found him. He came into the Room, and addressed himself to me and some other Women with the best Grace in the World. He was pretty tall, but of a Shape the most exact that can be fancyed: The most famous Statuary could not form the figure of a Man more admirably turned from Head to Foot. His face was not of that brown lusty Black which most of that Nation are, but a perfect Ebony or polished Jet. His Eyes were the most aweful that could be seen, and very piercing; the White of 'em being like Snow, as were his teeth. His Nose was rising and Roman, instead of African and flat. His Mouth the finest Shape that could be seen; far from those great turn'd Lips which are so natural to the rest of the Negroes. The whole Proportion and Air of his Face was nobly and exactly form'd, that bating his Colour, there would be nothing in Nature more beautiful, agreeable and handsome. There was no one Grace wanting that bears the Standard of true Beauty. His Hair came down to his Shoulders, by the aids of Art, which was by pulling it out with a quill, and keeping it comb'd; of which he took particular care. Nor did the perfections of his Mind come short of those of his Person; for his Discourse was admirable upon almost any Subject; and whoever had heard him speak, would have been convinced of their Errors, that all fine Wit is confined to the white Men, especially to those of Christendom; and would have confessed that Oroonoko was as capable even of reigning well, and of governing as wisely, had as great a Soul, as politick Maxims, and was as sensible of Power, as any Prince civilized in the most refined Schools of Humanity and Learning, or the most illustrious Courts. [89] "Oroonoko" is the only one of Mrs Behn's stories which has a didacticaim or a special interest of any kind. Her other works of fiction areshort tales, usually founded on fact, which describe in unrestrainedlanguage the passion and adventures of a pair of very ardent lovers. They show the prevailing inclination in narrative fiction towardcharacters and scenes taken from actual life. But they have no interestapart from the slender thread of the story itself. They contain nostudies of character, and no information of importance concerningcontemporary manners. Their heroes and heroines differ from each otheronly in the intensity or the circumstances of their love. The best innarrative interest, and the most attractive in tone, is the "LuckyMistake. " It is without the grossness characteristic of Mrs. Behn'sworks, and gives quite a pretty account of the loves of a young Frenchnobleman and an unusually modest young woman named Atlante. Mrs. Behn'snotion of love is contained in the opening lines of the "Fair Jilt, "the most licentious of her tales. "As Love is the most noble and divinePassion of the Soul, so it is that to which we may justly attribute allthe real Satisfactions of Life; and without it Man is Unfinished andunhappy. There are a thousand Things to be said of the Advantages thisgenerous Passion brings to those whose Hearts are capable of receivingits soft Impressions; for 'tis not Every one that can be sensible ofits tender Touches. How many Examples from History and Observationcould I give of its wondrous Power; nay, even to a degree ofTransmigration! How many Idiots has it made wise! How many Foolseloquent! How many home-bred Squires accomplished! How many cowardsbrave!" There is no doubt that Mrs. Behn was fully alive to thestrength of the passion she describes, but as Sir Richard Steele said, she "understood the practic part of love better than the speculative. "In accordance with the views general amidst the society of her owntime, she represented love merely as a physical passion, and made theinterest of her stories depend on its gratification, and not on theennobling effects or subtle manifestations of which it is capable. There is a great deal in that well-known anecdote of Sir WalterScott's, in which he relates that he "was acquainted with an old ladyof family, who assured him that, in her younger days, Mrs. Behn'snovels were as currently upon the toilette as the works of MissEdgeworth at present; and described with some humor her own surprise, when the book falling into her hands after a long interval of years, and when its contents were quite forgotten, she found it impossible toendure, at the age of fourscore, what at fifteen, she, like all thefashionable world of the time, had perused without an idea ofimpropriety. " This is a striking illustration of the mere relativenessof such words as "morality, " "refinement, " and their opposites. If thisold lady could have lived over her early youth embued with therefinement of taste which surrounded her declining years, she wouldhave been still more shocked at the coarseness of language, and thelooseness of conduct and morals which prevailed among the highestranks. At the same time she would have observed, that the society whichappeared to her coarse and corrupt was far from so considering itself. What is gross to one age may have been the refinement of the last. Ayoung girl considered modest and discreet at the end of the seventeenthcentury, if transferred unchanged to the end of the eighteenth, wouldhave shocked the women she met with by talking of subjects unmentionedin society with a freedom and broadness unusual among the men. Injudging a literary work from the point of view of morality orrefinement, we must compare it with the standard of the age to which itbelongs, and not with our own. Pope's graphic lines, in which hedescribes Mrs. Behn's position as a dramatist, "The stage how loosely doth Astræa tread, Who fairly puts all characters to bed. " apply almost equally well to her novels. But still the contemporaryreader found nothing in their pages to offend his sense of propriety. And Mrs. Behn, who simply put into a literary form ideas and scenes whichwere common in the society about her, cannot with justice be accused ofan intention to pander to the lowest tastes of her readers. She saidherself, when reproved for the tone of her plays, which was much inferiorto that of her novels: "I make challenge to any person of common senseand reason, that is not wilfully bent on ill nature, and will, in spiteof sense, wrest a _double entendre_ from everything * * * but anyunprejudiced person that knows not the author--to read one of my comediesand compare it with others of this age, and if they can find one wordwhich can offend the chastest ear, I will submit to all their pevishcavills. " All this is worthy of note, if we are to follow the course ofEnglish fiction without prejudice. For it will be shown that thenineteenth century, with all its well-deserved pride in an advancedrefinement and morality, has produced a large number of novelists, bothmale and female, whose works are as immoral as those of Mrs. Behn, without her excuse. Who, with all the advantages accruing from lifein a refined age, with every encouragement to pursue a better course, have deliberately chosen to court an infamous notoriety by making vicefamiliar and attractive. And this too, at a time when a generalconfidence in the purity of contemporary literary works has practicallydone away with parental censorship; when books of evil tendency are aslikely to fall into the hands of the young and susceptible as those ofelevating tendency--a circumstance which adds a new responsibility tothe duties of the conscientious writer. [Footnote 87: Dunlop's "History of Fiction, " chap. Iv. ] [Footnote 88: "The Fair Hypocrite, " "The Physician's Stratagem, " "TheWife's Resentment, " "The Husband's Resentment, " in two parts; "TheHappy Fugitive, " "The Perjured Beauty. "] [Footnote 89: "History of Oroonoko, " Mrs. Behn's "Collected plays andnovels. "] CHAPTER VI. THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. I. --ENGLAND UNDER ANNE AND THE FIRST TWO GEORGES. II. --SWIFT, ADDISON, DEFOE. III. --RICHARDSON, FIELDING, SMOLLETT. I. The advance of a nation in numbers and civilization is accompanied byso great a complexity of social conditions that in this volume it ispossible only to attempt to seize such salient characteristics of theeighteenth century as may serve to throw light on the course of Englishfiction. No age presents a more prosaic aspect. If we consider thecondition of England at the beginning of the eighteenth century, theprevalence of abuses and corruption left by the ignorance or vice ofpreceding years, and reflect at the same time upon the progressivenature of the people, the practical habit of their minds, and the moralearnestness which they never wholly lost, it is not surprising to findthat the century is one of reforms. Population and wealth had outgrownthe laws and customs which had hitherto served for their control, andthough in the earlier part of the period we find corruption in publicand private life, indifference in religion, inadequate provision forthe education of the young, gross abuses in jurisprudence, andcoarseness of action and taste throughout the social system, there isalso perceptible a solid foundation of good-sense and an earnestdesire for improvement, which gradually, as the century wore on, introduced one reform after another, until many of those benefits wereattained or made possible which the present century almostunconsciously enjoys. We should lose one of the most instructivelessons which history can afford, if, with Carlyle, we should allow theeighteenth century to lie "massed up in our minds as a disastrous, wrecked inanity, not useful to dwell upon, "[90] The England of thatcentury was modern England, but modern England, burdened with aheritage of corruption and ignorance which it is the glory of the timeto have in large part discarded. It was a time of social and materialprogress, and it was also the period of the growth and perfection ofEnglish fiction. To thoroughly understand the one, we must beacquainted with the other, and it will be the object of the twofollowing chapters to trace the development of the English novel inconnection with that national development of which it will be shown tobe in great measure the exponent. That subordination of the imagination to reason, which, after theRestoration, became so marked in English thought on intellectual, political, and religious subjects, was continued in the eighteenthcentury with results which affected the whole current of national life. Before the light of physical science, silent but irresistible in itsadvances, faded away the remains of dogmatism and superstition. Astrology was forgotten in astronomy; belief in modern miracles andwitchcraft ceased to take root in minds conscious of a universe toovast for realization, and governed by laws so regular, that probabilitycould not attach to arbitrary interference by God or the devil. Fromthe broadening of the intellectual horizon finally resultedinestimable benefits; but these benefits were purchased at the price ofmuch temporary evil. If in religion, the rational tendencies preparedthe way for the liberal and undogmatic Christianity to come, theireffect for many years was to be seen only in scepticism, in a mockingindifference to religion itself, in a contempt of high moralaspirations and sentiments. If in politics, the final effect of thesetendencies was to introduce new wisdom into government, they showed forlong no other result than the suppression of all the higher qualitiesof a statesman, the disappearance of every sign of patriotism otherthan an ignorant hatred of foreign countries, the complete subversionof public spirit by private rapacity. The prevailing intellectual characteristics are marked, in literature, by the great predominance of prose over poetry. It will be nodisparagement to Pope, Prior, Gray, Collins, Akenside, Goldsmith, orYoung, to say that they did not attain in poetry what in prose wasattained by Swift, Defoe, Steele, Addison, Bolingbroke, Richardson, Fielding, Smollet, Hume, Gibbon, Junius, and Burke; while Goldsmith isas much valued for his prose as for his verse, Addison, Swift, andJohnson more so. It is to these men, and to contemporaries of lessernote, that English literature is indebted for the invention orperfection of prose forms of the highest importance and beauty. Defoestands pre-eminent among the founders of the newspaper, destined toattain so high a degree of power and utility. Addison, Steele, andJohnson made the essay one of the most attractive and popular forms ofliterature. Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, Horace Walpole, Chesterfield, and Junius brought letter-writing to perfection. Defoe, Addison, Richardson, and Fielding developed the realistic novel. A prosaic andconventional tone pervaded even the poetry of the period. Appreciationof poetry was almost extinguished, Addison, writing of the poets of thepast, made no mention of Shakespeare, and found it possible to say ofChaucer: In vain he jests in his unpolish'd strain, And tries to make his readers laugh, in vain. And of Spenser: Old Spenser next, warm'd with poetick rage, In ancient tales amus'd a barb'rous age. But now the mystick tale that pleas'd of yore Can charm an understanding age no more. [91] "If you did amuse yourself with writing any thing in poetry, " wroteHorace Walpole to Sir H. Mann, in 1742, "you know how pleased I shouldbe to see it; but for encouraging you to it, d'ye see, 'tis an age mostunpoetical! 'Tis even a test of wit to dislike poetry; and though Popehas half a dozen old friends that he has preserved from the taste oflast century, yet, I assure you the generality of readers are morediverted with any paltry prose answer to old Marlborough's secrethistory of Queen Mary's robes. I do not think an author would beuniversally commended for any production in verse, unless it were anode to the Secret Committee, with rhymes of liberty and property, nation and administration. " During the brilliant era of literary activity, known by the name ofQueen Anne, men of letters were encouraged by the government by meansof employment or rewards. They were supported also by the publicthrough the high social consideration which was freely accorded to menof talent. Literary success was a passport to the houses and theintimacy of the great. But under the first two Georges and theadministration of Walpole the government was seconded by the public inits neglect of authors and their works. In those days the circle ofreaders was too small to afford remuneration to authorship. Employmentor help from the government was almost a _sine qua non_ for theproduction of works which required time and research. While under Anne, Swift received a deanery, Addison was Secretary of State, Steele aprominent member of Parliament, and Newton, Locke, Prior, Gay, Rowe, Congreve, Tickell, Parnell, and Pope all received direct or indirectaid from the government, in the reigns of George I and George II, Steele died in poverty, Savage walked the streets for want of alodging, Johnson lived in penury and drudgery. Thomson was deprived ofa small office which formed his sole dependence. [92] This neglect ofauthors and of literature was only partially due to an unappreciativegovernment. It was supported by the indifference of a public in a highdegree material and unintellectual. Conversation in France, saidChesterfield, "turns at least upon some subject, something of taste, some point of history, criticism, and even philosophy; which, thoughprobably not quite so solid as Mr. Locke's, is, however, better andmore becoming rational beings than our frivolous dissertations upon theweather or upon whist. " In keeping with the unimpassioned and prosaic tone of the time, was thelow state of religious feeling, and the degeneration of the church, both in its own organization and in public esteem. The upper classes ofsociety, as a rule, were lukewarm and insincere in any form of belief. Statesman and nobles in the most prominent positions combined professedirreligion with open profligacy, while the lower classes were left, through the indolence and selfishness of the clergy, almost withoutreligious teaching. Montesquieu found that people laughed when religionwas mentioned in London drawing-rooms. Sir Robert Walpole put thegeneral feeling in his own coarse way. "Pray, madam, " said he to thePrincess Emily, when it was suggested that the archbishop should becalled to the death-bed of Queen Caroline, "let this farce be played;the archbishop will act it very well. You may bid him be as short asyou will. It will do the queen no hurt, no more than any good; and itwill satisfy all the wise and good fools, who will call us all atheistsif we don't pretend to be as great fools as they are. "[93] This lowstate of religious sentiment was brought about by much the same causeswhich, at a later time, substituted a moral and liberal for the olddogmatic Christianity. The dislike of theological controversy left bythe civil wars was aided by the Act of Toleration in giving the nationa religious peace, and in diverting human energy from religiousspeculations or emotions. The rational character of the nationalintellect was inclined to what was material and tangible, to physicalstudy or industry. The general desire to submit all questions to thetest of a critical reason, induced the clergy to apply the same test totheology. But while these tendencies, in their final result, were onthe whole beneficial to religion, their temporary effect was injuriousto it in a high degree. With a few exceptions, such as Butler, Berkeley, and Wilson, the clergy shared the indifference of theirflocks. The upper ranks were indolent, selfish, often immoral; thelower, poor, ignorant, and degraded in social position. Bishops andprominent clergymen, under the system of pluralities, left theircongregations to the care of hungry curates, and sought promotion byassiduous attendance at ministers' levees, or by paying court to theking's mistresses. It is not surprising that public respect for themand for their calling almost died away. Pope wrote sneeringly:[94] EVEN _in a_ BISHOP _I can spy desert_; _Seeker is decent, Rundle has a heart_. A naked Venus hung in the room where prayers were read while QueenCaroline dressed, which Dr. Madox sarcastically termed "a very properaltar-piece. "[95] Of the High Churchmen Defoe declared that "the spiritof Christianity is fled from among them. " When the Prince of Walesdied, George the Second appointed governors and preceptors for theprince's children. Horace Walpole's description[96] of one of these issignificant. "The other Preceptor was Hayter, Bishop of Norwich, asensible well-bred man, natural son of Blackbourn, the jolly oldArchbishop of York, who had all the manners of a man of quality, thoughhe had been a Buccaneer and was a Clergyman; but he retained nothing ofhis first profession except his seraglio. " While the attention of the upper clergy was largely absorbed bythoughts of private profit and by the pursuit of worldly advancement, the lower ranks were left in a position degrading alike to themselvesand to religion. In the country a clergyman was little above a peasantin social consideration, and seldom equal to him in the comforts oflife. To eke out the sustenance of himself and family, hard labor inhis own garden was by no means the most menial of the services he wasobliged to perform. His wife was usually a servant-maid taken from aneighboring country house, and the kitchen was his most common resortwhen he visited the home of a squire. A private chaplain was littleabove a servant. In London, many clergymen fell into the prisonsthrough debt or crime. From the ranks of the lower clergy wererecruited the "buck-parsons, " so long a scandal to the church and topublic morality; and the large body of "Fleet parsons, " of infamouscharacter, in the pay of gin shops and taverns, who, for a triflingsum, performed what were legal marriages between boys and girls, drunkards and runaways. The corruption in political life, begun under the Restoration andincreased during the Revolution, was amplified and reduced to a systemunder Walpole until government seemed to be based on bribery. Ridiculing public spirit and disinterested motives in others, he bribedGeorge the Second with the promise of a large civil list, bribed QueenCaroline with a large allowance, bribed members of Parliament withsinecures, pensions, or with direct payment of money, and paid himselfwith wealth and a peerage. Corruption was so firmly rooted as an engineof power, that no serious discredit attached to it. So low had fallenthe standard of political honor, so widespread had become the spirit ofself-seeking and corruption among the ministers and in Parliament, that"Love of our country, " wrote Browne, "is no longer felt; and except ina few minds of uncommon greatness, the principle of public spiritexists not. "[97] The dominating idea of political life was well put inthe words of the Marquis of Halifax: "Parties in a state, generally, like freebooters, hang out false colors; the pretence is public good, the real business is to catch prizes. " Lord Hervey divided the Whigparty in 1727 into "Patriots and Courtiers, which was in plain English, 'Whigs in place, ' and 'Whigs out of place. '"[98] The assertion ofdisinterestedness met only with ridicule. In an interview with QueenCaroline, "when Lord Stair talked of his conscience with greatsolemnity, the queen (the whole conversation being in French) criedout: Ah, my Lord, ne me parlez point de conscience, vous me faîtesévanouir. "[99] As personal advancement, and not the public service, wasthe ruling aim of statesmen, it is not surprising that for thisadvancement no means were regarded as too low. The king's mistresseswere the object of ceaseless attentions from aspirants for office, andsometimes were the recipients of their bribes. Treachery was the orderof the day. Bolingbroke said to Sir Robert Walpole, "that the very airhe breathed was the gift of his bounty, " and then left Sir Robert totell the king that Walpole "was the weakest minister any prince everemployed abroad, and the wickedest that ever had the direction ofaffairs at home. "[100] The Duke of Newcastle, that "living, moving, talking caricature, " stands out an exaggerated type of the commonstatesmen of the time; "hereditary possessors of ennobled folly, "[101]maintained in offices which they had no capacity to fill by corruption, the abuse of patronage, and the control of rotten boroughs. Speaking ofthe Dukes of Devonshire, Grafton, and Newcastle, Lord Hervey says[102]:"The two first were mutes, and the last often wished so by those hespoke for, and always by those he spoke to. " George the Secondappreciated the character and objects of his advisers. He had, also, afrank and pointed way of describing them. In his opinion Sir RobertWalpole was "a great rogue"; Mr. Horace Walpole, ambassador to France, was a "dirty buffoon"; Newcastle, an "impertinent fool"; LordTownshend, a "choleric blockhead";[103] while Lord Chesterfield wasdisposed of as a "tea-table scoundrel. "[104] He complained that he was"obliged to enrich people for being rascals, and buy them not to cuthis throat. "[105] "The king and queen, " wrote Hervey, "looked uponhuman kind as so many commodities in a market, which, without favor oraffection, they considered only in the degree they were useful, andpaid for them in that proportion--Sir Robert Walpole being swornappraiser to their Majesties at all these sales. "[106] The cringing subserviency of political men was equal to theircorruption. When George I died, and it was believed that Sir SpencerCompton would succeed to the power of Sir Robert Walpole, at the king'sreception "Sir Robert walked through these rooms as if they had beenstill empty; his presence, that used to make a crowd wherever heappeared, now emptied every corner he turned to, and the same peoplewho were officiously a week ago clearing the way to flatter hisprosperity, were now getting out of it to avoid sharing his disgrace. Everybody looked upon it as sure, and whatever profession of adherenceand gratitude for former favors were made him in private, there werenone among the many his power had obliged (excepting General Churchilland Lord Hervey) who did not in public as notoriously decline and fearhis notice, as they used industriously to seek and covet it. "[107] Onthe same occasion, Horace Walpole tells us, "my mother * * * could notmake her way (to pay her respects to the king and queen) between thescornful backs and elbows of her late devotees, nor could approachnearer to the queen than the third or fourth row; but no sooner was shedescried by her Majesty, than the queen cried aloud, '_There I am sureI see a friend!_' The torrent divided and shrunk to either side: 'andas I came away, ' said my mother, 'I might have walked over their headsif I had pleased. '"[108] The general corruption and wickedness produceda remarkable misanthropy in the minds of men, which is reflected in thesavage satire of Swift, in the bitter invective of Junius, in thecynicism of Lord Hervey. Sir Robert Walpole, said the latter, "had morewarmth of affection and friendship for some particular people than onecould have believed it possible for any one who had been so long rakingin the dirt of mankind to be capable of feeling for so worthless aspecies of animals. One should naturally have imagined that thecontempt and distrust he must have had for the species in gross, wouldhave given him at least an indifference and distrust toward everyparticular. "[109] The mercenary character of Parliament allowed the first two Georges tohave much their own way as long as the money held out. Liberty of thesubject, if not in great danger, had certainly lost its naturalguardian. Few seats depended on a direct and popular vote. Most of themwere in the gift of noblemen or rich commoners, "rotten boroughs, "having only "the bare name of a town, of which there remains not somuch as the ruins. "[110] Defoe tells us that the market price of a seatwas a thousand guineas. The object of the purchaser was less often theservice of his country, or even an honorable ambition, than the profitto be made from the sale of his vote. Members not infrequently hadregular salaries from the government. "Sir Robert Walpole and the queenboth told me separately, " wrote Lord Hervey, "that it (the victory ofthe court) cost the king but 900_l_. --500_l_. To one man, and 400_l_. To another; and that even those two sums were advanced to two men whowere to have received them at the end of the session had this questionnever been moved, and who only took this opportunity to solicit promptpayment. "[111] Lord Chesterfield, in the same letter in which he spokeof the corrupt influencing of elections as a high crime andmisdemeanor, recommends the Earl of Marchmont to _bribe_ "some of yourvenal peers" to confess that they took money to vote for thecourt. [112] "Ever since Lord Granville went out, " wrote Horace Walpolein 1744, "all has been in suspense. The leaders of the Oppositionimmediately imposed silence upon their party; everything passed withoutthe least debate, in short, _all were making their bargains_. One hasheard of the corruption of courtiers, but, believe me the impudentprostitution of patriots, going to market with their honesty, beats itto nothing. Do but think of two hundred men _of the most consummatevirtue_, setting themselves to sale for three weeks!"[113] Thecorruption of Parliament and the indifference, of members to anyinterests other than their own, were pointedly expressed by QueenCaroline in her reply to an address by Lord Stair[114]:--"I must, therefore, once more ask you, my Lord, how you can have the assuranceto talk to me of your thinking the sense of constituents, theirinterests, or their instructions any measure or rule for the conduct oftheir representatives in Parliament. * * * To talk, therefore, in thepatriot strain you have done to me on this occasion, can move me, myLord, to nothing but laughter. " In the words of Mr. Lecky, [115] the government was "corrupt, inefficient, and unheroic, but it was free from the gross vices ofcontinental administrations; it was moderate tolerant, and economical;it was, with all its faults, a free government, and it contained initself the elements of reformation. " The national industry andresolution, particularly in the middle classes, brought about a greatincrease of wealth, a remarkable development of manufactures andcommerce, which gave the country the extraordinary prosperity which ithas since, almost without a check, enjoyed. The external appearance ofEngland presented a new aspect. A fourth part of the whole land wasredeemed from waste and put under cultivation. [116] The advance inagriculture and manufactures, making necessary better means ofcommunication, introduced canals and substituted fine highways for theold muddy, robber-infested roads. The condition of these as late as1736 may be inferred from that of the road between Kensington andLondon: "The road between this place and London is grown so infamouslybad, that we live here in the same solitude as we should do if cast ona rock in the middle of the ocean, and all the Londoners tell us thereis between them and us a great, impassable gulf of mud. There are tworoads through the Park, but the new one is so convex and the old one soconcave, that by this extreme of faults they agree in the common one ofbeing, like the high-road, impassable. "[117] Social life was marked by the same corruption, by the same absence ofhigh aspirations and standards which we have seen in politics. Thenation, especially the higher ranks, had not recovered from the licenseof the Restoration, while the agencies which can preserve virtue andrefinement in a society were almost inactive. Religion, partly inconsequence of the reaction which followed the civil wars, and partlyin consequence of the spread of rational tendencies, had lost its holdon society, and no longer sufficed to keep it in check. Theologicalcontroversy, although it issue in narrowness and persecution, yet hasthe merit of keeping alive an appreciation of high moral qualities andaims. In the absence of strong religious feeling, there is yet in thehuman mind a natural preference for what is beautiful and honorable, usually taking the form of ideals, which may keep up a social tone. This may be seen in the age of Elizabeth, not a very religious period, but one in which poetry and elevation of thought overshadow coarsenessand immorality. The nineteenth century, again, is neither marked bystrong religious feelings nor by any great tendency to idealization. And yet the nineteenth century has its standard, firmly based on publicopinion, made up of a respect for decency and justice, a love ofrefinement, and an appreciation of the expediency as well as theattractiveness of virtue; a standard which influences many minds overwhich religion has little control. But in the earlier part of theeighteenth century, religion had ceased to govern, and had not yetattained that moral influence which, even in the absence of strongfaith, establishes rectitude of conduct, philanthropy, and purity ofthought in the minds of men. The ideals and aspirations of precedingcenturies had no meaning for what Addison called an "understandingage, " and the standard of order, refinement and taste of the presenthad yet to come. The low state of society was realized and revoltedagainst by the best minds of the time. Gay lampooned it in the"Beggars' Opera, " Swift satirized it in "Gulliver's Travels, " Defoebecame by force of circumstances a moral teacher; Addison, Steele, allthe essayists preached lay sermons; the novelists set out with theobject, less to amuse than to instruct, to improve their readers. Thistendency, so marked in the literature of the time, is the evidence ofthe reforming influences at work. But many years passed before theireffect was perceptible. There is nothing attractive about George the First and his two ugly oldmistresses, the "Elephant" and the "Maypole"; nor about his court ofGermans, utilizing their time in England by accumulating money to carryback to Hanover when the harvest time had passed. George the Second, brave, but narrow and ill-tempered, embodied in himself the coarsenessof the time. He loved his wife, who was faithful to him through everyoutrage and every neglect. He caused one side to be taken out of hercoffin, so that when he should be laid beside her his dust might minglewith hers. He esteemed her so highly, that in his grief at losing her, he went so far as to say that if she had not been his wife, he wouldhave wished her for a mistress. To this wife, whom, in his own way, hesincerely loved and sincerely mourned, he confided all the details ofhis amours with other women. From Hanover, where he was acquiringMadame Walmoden as his mistress, "he acquainted the queen by letter ofevery step he took--of the growth of his passion, the progress of hisapplications, and their success, of every word as well as every actionthat passed--so minute a description of her person that, had the queenbeen a painter, she might have drawn her rival's picture at six hundredmiles' distance. He added, too, the account of his buying her, and whathe gave her, which, considering the rank of the purchaser, and themerits of the purchase as he set them forth, I think he had no greatreason to brag of, when the first price, according to his report, wasonly one thousand ducats--a much greater proof of his economy than hispassion. "[118] Among many extraordinary relations and expressions hisletters contained, "there was one in which he desired the queen tocontrive, if she could, that the Prince of Modena, who was to come thelatter end of the year to England, might bring his wife with him; andthe reason he gave for it was, that he heard her Highness was prettyfree of her person, and that he had the greatest inclination imaginableto pay his addresses to a daughter of the late Regent of France, theDuke of Orleans--'un plaisir' (for he always wrote in French), 'que jesuis sur, ma chère Caroline, vous serez bien aise de me procurer, quandje vous dis combien je le souhaite. ' Such a request to his wiferespecting a woman he never saw, and during his connection with MadameWalmoden, speaks much stronger in a bare narrative of the fact, than byany comment or reflections; and is as incapable of being heightened asdifficult to be credited. "[119] Queen Caroline bore all this without a murmur in order to retain herpolitical influence with the king. To the power of the queen shesacrificed the feelings of the woman. With many good qualities andconsiderable ability, she shared in the prevailing coarseness. Her son, the Prince of Wales, was a very disagreeable person. Neither the queennor the Princess Caroline "made much ceremony of wishing a hundredtimes a day that the prince might drop down dead of an apoplexy--thequeen cursing the hour of his birth, and the Princess Carolinedeclaring she grudged him every hour he continued to breathe; andreproaching Lord Hervey" for ever having believed "the nauseous beast(those were her words) cared for anybody but his own nauseousself. "[120] The morning after the prince had been ordered to leave thepalace, "the queen, at breakfast, every now and then repeated, 'I hope, in God, I shall never see him again'; and the king, among many otherpaternal _douceurs_ in his valediction to his son, said, 'Thank-God, to-morrow night the puppy will be out of my house. '"[121] "My dearLord" said the queen to Hervey, "I will give it to you under my ownhand, if you are in any fear of my relapsing, that my dear first-bornis the greatest ass and the greatest liar and the greatest _canaille_, and the greatest beast in the whole world, and that I most heartilywish he was out of it. "[122] After the royal family, Sir Robert Walpolewas the most prominent person in the country. He went about publiclywith his mistress, and entertained his friends at his country-seat withorgies which disturbed the whole neighborhood. When the queen died heurged the princesses to get their father some new mistress to distracthim. Lord Hervey says that Lady Sundon "had sense enough to perceivewhat black and dirty company, by living in a court, she was forced tokeep. "[123] Lady Deloraine, who was suspected of being the king'smistress, "when she spoke seriously to Sir Robert Walpole, pretendednot to have yet yielded; and said 'she was not of an age like a vain ora loving fool, but that if she did consent, that she would be wellpaid. '"[124] "She told Lady Sundon, with whom she was very littleacquainted, that the king had been very importunate these two years;and had often told her how unkind she was to refuse him; that it wasmere crossness, for that he was sure her husband would not take it atall ill. "[125] The looseness of the marriage tie had been a prevailingevil ever since the Restoration. Steele wrote in the _Tatler_ in 1710:"The wits of this island for above fifty years past, instead ofcorrecting the vices of the age, have done all they could to inflamethem. Marriage has been one of the common topics of ridicule that everystage scribbler hath found his account in; for whenever there is anoccasion for a clap, an impertinent jest upon matrimony is sure toraise it. This hath been attended with very pernicious consequences. Many a country squire, upon his setting up for a man of the town, hasgone home in the gaiety of his heart and beat his wife. A kind husbandhath been looked upon as a clown, and a good wife as a domestic annualunfit for the company or conversation of the _beau monde_. In short, separate beds, silent tables, and solitary homes have been introducedby your men of wit and pleasure of the age. "[126] The prevailing immorality and coarseness were in keeping with theabsence of sympathy with all elevation of thought and sentiment. "If aman of any delicacy were to attend the discourses of the young fellowsof this age, " wrote Steele, "he would believe that there were none butprostitutes to make the objects of passion. "[127] "Every woman is atheart a rake, " thought Pope. Women were generally treated withdisrespect, and distinctively female virtues were almost withoutappreciation. It is instructive to contrast the deeds of arms done inhonor of a mistress in the Middle Ages, and the elevated sentimentsheld regarding women in what Addison called a "barbarous age, " with theactions by which young men sometimes showed their devotion in theearlier part of the eighteenth century. The latter were as extravagantas the former, but extravagant after how different a manner. One youngfellow, distinguished himself by drinking wine strained through hismistress' chemise; another, by drinking out of her shoe; another, byhaving her slipper torn to shreds, cooked, and served up as a dish. Coarseness of thought naturally brought on coarseness of action. HoraceWalpole wrote in 1737, "'Tis no little inducement, to make me wishmyself in France, that I hear gallantry is not left off there; that youmay be polite, and not be thought awkward for it. You know the prettymen of the age in England use the women with no more deference thanthey do their coach horses, and have not half the regard for them thatthey have for themselves. "[128] Against the grosser faults of immorality and indecency Steele andAddison preached. But even they were insensible to an elevated view ofthe relations between men and women. Such a view was, however, taken byDefoe; a man whom Steele and Addison, as well as the polite world ingeneral, looked upon as an adventurer, and one whose opinions on socialsubjects they disdained. "We reproach the sex every day, " wrote Defoe, "with folly and impertinence, while I am confident, had they theadvantages of education equal to us, they would be guilty of less thanourselves. * * * I cannot think that God ever made them so delicate, soglorious creatures, and furnished them with such charms, so agreeableand so delightful to mankind, with souls capable of the same enjoymentsas men, and all to be only stewards of our houses, cooks, andslaves. "[129] Defoe stands almost alone in his remonstrance against theneglect of female education. But he stands more isolated still in hisappreciation of womanly virtues, and in the enthusiasm with which hecould speak of them. "A woman well-bred and well-taught, furnished withthe additional accomplishments of knowledge and behavior, is a creaturewithout comparison. Her society is the emblem of sublimer enjoyments;she is all softness and sweetness, love, wit, and delight; she is everyway suitable to the sublimest wish; and the man that has such a one tohis portion, has nothing to do but to rejoice in her and bethankful. "[130] Love was hardly distinguished from mere animal desire. The poets wroteof it coldly and conventionally, as of a thing which existed only inname. The lover could only beg his mistress "to ease his pain. " But theconventionality which extended through all thoughts and expressionsrelating to the higher emotions of the human soul, had no effect indiminishing the coarseness of thought and conversation. Men wereconventional as regards the nobler sentiments of life, but they werenot conventional in the spirit which excludes from conversation andliterature the gross and the immoral. Chesterfield wrote to his son ofhonor, justice, and so forth, as qualities of which he should know thenames, but of no consequence compared to "manners, good-breeding, andthe graces. " If a man blushed, it was not at his own indecency, nor athis own vice, but at the supposition that he could be so weak as to beinfluenced by sentiments of delicacy. Coarseness is, of course, quiteseparate from immorality, although the two are usually found together. In the earlier part of the eighteenth century there was a markeddistinction between them. Swift's Stella, a woman of refinement, washighly indignant at remarks being made before her of a licentiouscharacter, but she herself used expressions of the grossest descriptionwithout a thought of impropriety. The same distinction is seen in theessays and novels of the time. Swift, Defoe, Fielding, Richardson, allhad a moral object in their fictions--the exposure and condemnation ofvice, the encouragement of virtue. And yet most of these novels, especially intended to exert a good influence, are of so coarse anature, and describe scenes so licentious that no parent would nowallow them in their children's hands. The essayists wrote principallywhat we should now look upon as sermons, or moral teachings, and yetvery many of their papers are unfit to be read in a mixed society. Menand women were made then of coarser stuff than we. Their eyes and earswere less sensitive. They were, at best, accustomed to think and speakof things which to us seem disgusting, and of which, therefore, wethink and speak as little as possible. In view of the circumstanceswhich influenced society in the last century, this condition was aperfectly natural one. We must bear it in mind in reading contemporaryliterature, that we may not mistake an author's intention. But we mustbe careful in censuring what was, after all, only one necessary stagein the development of our own civilization. It must be said, also, thatthe coarseness of the eighteenth century was a healthy coarseness, bredof energetic natures and animal spirits. In our time, and in the midstof our advanced refinement there lurks a sickly sentimentality, a falsemodesty, and an unhealthy delicacy which are in a degree inimical tomorality. We have novels in great numbers, not broadly coarse, as thoseof Fielding or Smollett, but insidiously immoral, painting vice andunbridled passions in an attractive light. The same rude and physical coarseness controlled the standard of taste, and introduced boisterousness and violence even into amusements. "Thepresent grandeur of the British nation might make us expect, " wroteSteele, "that we should rise in our public diversions and manner ofenjoying life, in proportion to our advancement in glory and power. Instead of that, survey this town, and you will find rakes anddebauchees are your men of pleasure; thoughtless atheists andilliterate drunkards call themselves free-thinkers; and gamesters, banterers, biters, swearers, and twenty new-born insects more, are, intheir several species, the modern men of wit. "[131] Walpole[132] wrotein 1744: "The town has been trying all this winter to drive pantomimesoff the stage, very boisterously; for it is the way here to make evenan affair of taste and sense a matter of riot and arms. Fleetwood, themaster of Drury Lane, has omitted nothing to support them, as theysupported his house. About ten days ago he let into the pit greatnumbers of bear-garden _bruisers_ (that is the term), to knock downeverybody that hissed. The pit rallied their forces and drove them out. I was sitting very quietly in the boxes contemplating all this. On asudden the curtain flew up, and discovered the whole stage filled withblackguards armed with bludgeons and clubs, to menace the audience. This raised the greatest uproar. " Mrs. Delany, whose character has excited so much admiration in her ownand in succeeding generations, left, in her autobiography and letters, a picture of the society about her as seen by one of the most refinedand cultivated women of the time. Like many others, she was struck withdisgust at the coarseness and immorality which surrounded her. "It isenough to make one a cynic, to shun the world, and shut oneself up in atub as Diogenes did; but I must acknowledge, though the age is verydegenerate, that it is not quite void of perfection. I know somepersons that still reconcile me to the world, and that convince me thatvirtue is not fled, though it is confined to a few. "[133] "The men haveso despicable an opinion of women, and treat them by their words andactions so ungenerously and inhumanly. "[134] "The women were never soaudacious as now; this may well be called the brazen age. "[135] Thematerial tone of society and its lack of sentiment were largelyresponsible for the low estimation in which women were held. Marriageswere almost universally arranged on the simple basis of money, acircumstance which explains much of the conjugal infidelity andunhappiness which prevailed. "My Lady A. 's behaviour, " wrote Mrs. Delany, [136] "and some more wives' behaviour of the same stamp, has sodisgraced matrimony that I am not surprised the men are afraid of it;and if we consider the loose morals of the men, it is strange the womenare so easily won to their own undoing. " Mrs. Delany, while a youngmarried woman, although she was known to be of a virtuous character, was subjected to licentious attacks which fell little short ofviolence. It is hardly necessary to comment on the hard drinking andthe hard swearing which were almost universal characteristics ofgentlemen of fashion. Duelling was still a custom, and gambling was thefavorite amusement at court, at the clubs, and in ladies'drawing-rooms. The title of gentleman depended on birth, and hadnothing to do with personal conduct. Caste feeling was very strong. Gentlemen looked upon professional men or men of letters as beneaththem, however superior they might be in manners, morals, or education. A curious instance of this caste feeling occurred in the case ofCaptain Vratz, who said of himself and companions on their way to thegallows for murder, that "God would show them some respect as they weregentlemen. " When Gay's "Beggar's Opera" was put on the stage, thefashionable world crowded to see their own coarseness and immoralityexhibited in the persons of thieves and highwaymen, and to laugh at thetruth of the Beggar's words: "Through the whole piece you may observesuch a similitude of manners in high and low life, that it is difficultto determine whether (in the fashionable vices) the fine gentlemenimitate the gentlemen of the road, or the gentlemen of the road thefine gentlemen. " The lower classes of society were as ignorant and brutal as the higherwere coarse and corrupt. Among the other qualities in which the timeswere deficient, was philanthropy. The measures which the wisdom andcharity of the present have exerted to diminish crime, and to improvethe condition of the poor, were then represented only by a harsh andcruel penal code, which had a powerful, though an indirect tendency topromote pauperism and to multiply criminals. Although population hadgreatly increased, no new provision had been made for religiousteaching, and there were no schools but those of Edward andElizabeth. [137] Defective poor-laws, which forbade laborers to movefrom one parish to another in search of work, made pauperism in manycases the inevitable fate of the industrious. In the cities there wasno adequate police regulation of the criminal classes; and this, too, at a time when peaceful habits were fast growing among the people atlarge, and police protection was more needed than ever before. At thesame time there came upon the lower classes, the terrible scourge ofgin. Violent and ignorant as these classes were, the effects upon themof so cheap and maddening a drink were incalculably debasing. "Thedrunkenness of the common people, " says an eye-witness, "was souniversal by the retailing of a liquor called _gin_, with which theycould get drunk for a groat, that the whole town of London, and manytowns in the country swarmed with drunken people of both sexes frommorning to night, and were more like a scene from a Bacchanal than theresidence of a civil society. "[138] The sign which hangs over theinn-door in Hogarth's picture of Gin Lane, and announces that thecustomer can get drunk for a penny, dead drunk for twopence, and havestraw for nothing, was a copy, not an invention. Attempts to limit thetraffic in gin were met by riots so fierce that the government wasobliged to withdraw its measures. The violent natures of the commonpeople appeared in their amusements as well as in their crimes. Theirsports were of the most brutal kind, and almost all involved thesufferings of men or animals. Among other entertainments advertised totake place in London in 1729 and 1730, were "a mad bull to be dressedup with fireworks and turned loose in the game place, a dog to bedressed up with fireworks over him, a bear to be let loose at the sametime, and a cat to be tied to the bull's tail, a mad bull dressed upwith fireworks to be baited. "[139] Such amusements were interspersedwith cock-fighting, prize fights, and boxing matches between women. Thesame brutality characterised the crimes of the period. Violent riots, aggravated by the plunder of gin-shops, attended the preaching of theMethodists, the Gin Act, and even the employment by Garrick of a fewFrench dancers at Drury Lane Theatre. Piracy and smuggling weresystematically carried on, accompanied by atrocious cruelties andmurders. It was no uncommon practice for the inhabitants of thesea-coast to lure vessels on shore by false signals in order to plunderthem. Other causes, as well as the ignorance and brutality in which the lowerclasses almost necessarily lived, contributed to the number andimpunity of criminals. It was only in 1736 that the streets of London, hitherto plunged at night in total darkness, began to be lighted for afew hours by lamps. The right of sanctuary, which still practicallyexisted in such quarters as Whitefriars and the Mint afforded tocriminals an easy and safe retreat beyond the reach of the law. Therougher elements of the upper as well as of the lower classes, made thestreets impassable at night without great danger. They organizedthemselves into bands, and committed atrocious and wanton brutalitieson inoffensive passers-by. One band, called the Modocs, indulged in theamusement called "tipping the lion" which consisted in flattening thenose of the victim on his face and boring out his eyes with thefingers. There were also the "dancing masters, " who made people danceby pricking them with swords, the "sweaters, " who pricked their victimswith swords till they fell exhausted, and the "tumblers, " who set womenon their heads and mutilated their limbs. [140] Others rolled women downhill in barrels, cut the faces of maid-servants, and slit the noses ofwatchmen. The criminal classes became so daring and numerous that thestreets were insecure even in the day-time, "It is shocking to thinkwhat a shambles this country is grown!" wrote Walpole. "Seventeen wereexecuted this morning, after having murdered the turnkey on Fridaynight, and almost forced open Newgate. One is forced to travel even atnoon, as if one were going to battle. "[141] It was the custom to goout at night accompanied by armed servants. Addison gave an amusingdescription of the precautions observed when Sir Roger de Coverley wastaken to the theatre. "The Captain, who did not fail to meet me thereat the appointed Hour, bid Sir Roger fear nothing, for that he had puton the same Sword which he made use of at the Battle of _Steenkirk_. Sir Roger's Servants, and among the rest my old Friend the Butler, had, I found, provided themselves with good oaken Plants to attend theirMaster upon this occasion. When we had placed him in his Coach, withmyself at his left hand, the Captain before him, and his Butler at theHead of his Footmen in the Rear, we convoyed him in safety to thePlayhouse. "[142] "One night, in the beginning of November, 1749, " wroteWalpole, "as I was returning from Holland House by moonlight, about tenat night, I was attacked by two highwaymen in Hyde Park, and the pistolof one of them going off accidentally, razed the skin under my left eye, left some marks of shot on my face, and stunned me. "[143] These men weretaken about a year later. "I have been in town for a day or two, andheard no conversation but about M'Lean, a fashionable highwayman, whois just taken, and who robbed me among others. * * * His father was anIrish Dean; his brother is a Calvinist minister in great esteem at theHague. * * * He took to the road with only one companion, Plunkett, ajourneyman apothecary, my other friend. * * * M'Lean had a lodging inSt. James Street, over against White's, and another at Chelsea; Plunkettone in Jermyn St. , and their faces are as well known about St. James' asany gentleman who lives in that quarter, and who, perhaps, goes upon theroad too. M'Lean had a quarrel at Putney Bowling Green two months agowith an officer whom he challenged for disputing his rank; but thecaptain declined, till M'Lean should produce a certificate of hisnobility, which he has just received. * * * As I conclude he will suffer, and wish him no ill, I don't care to have his idea, and am almost singlein not having been to see him. Lord Mountford at the head of half White'swent the first day: his aunt was crying over him: as soon as they werewithdrawn she said to him, knowing they were of White's, 'My dear, whatdid the lords say to you? Have you ever been concerned with any ofthem?'--was not it admirable? What a favorable idea people must haveof White's! and what if White's should not deserve a much better! Butthe chief personages who have been to comfort and weep over this fallenhero are Lady Caroline Petersham and Miss Asche: I call them Polly andLucy. "[144] The fact that death was the penalty for almost all serious violationsof the law gave an additional zest to crime. The criminal looked uponhimself, and was looked upon by others, as a brave man, and even thosewho abhorred the crime retained a certain admiration for the couragewhich they thought involved in its commission. Felons sat erect andproud in the cart which carried them to execution. Their great ambitionwas to die like "gentlemen, " and they saw no disgrace in death by "theladder and the cord, " so long as it was borne with bravado. Criminalsare frequent and prominent characters in contemporary fiction. Theperiod contributed more than any other to the romance of crime, and aglamour has been cast over the most infamous careers which has madethem celebrated to the present day. The famous highwayman Dick Turpin, and one Parsons, the son of a baronet, educated at Eton, attained apublic interest and admiration, in which the greatness of their crimeswas forgotten in the dangers they incurred and the boldness with whichthey defied justice. When Jack Sheppard, the burglar, was finallycaptured after two remarkable escapes from Newgate, [145] he became apopular hero. Great numbers of people visited him in prison and gavehim presents of money. Several lives were written of him. But the most remarkable criminal career, and that which bestillustrates the inefficiency of the law and the impunity and ferocityof criminals, is that of Johnathan Wild, surnamed the Great. [146] Thisman spent some time in Newgate, and having become acquainted with thesecrets and methods of its inhabitants, married a notorious woman whowas well versed in similar knowledge. He then set up an establishmentfor receiving stolen goods, and organized thieves into regular bands. Some were to rob churches, others to pick pockets at theatres andfairs, others to rob on the streets and highways. He even divided thecountry into districts, and appointed a special gang to work in each. All these thieves were obliged to account to him for what they stole, and he disposed of it in London, or if that seemed too dangerous, hesent it abroad in a ship of his own. He attained over lesser criminalsthe most rigid authority and absolute power. His lieutenants werechosen among transported convicts who had returned before theexpiration of their terms. These were legally incapable of givingevidence against Wild, but he could send them to the gallows at amoment's notice, if suspicious of their fidelity, by information to theauthorities. Over the common thieves he had nearly the same power. Those whom he suspected of retaining part of their booty, or whom hefeared as witnesses against himself, were at once sent to the gallowsby private information to the magistrates. On the other hand, a thiefwho was in danger of arrest, if useful and faithful, was taken intoWild's own house, protected, fed, and employed in counterfeiting orother in-door occupation. When a law was passed making it criminal toreceive stolen goods, Wild opened an intelligence office for thediscovery of missing articles. To that office came the thieves, like somany workmen, to deliver their booty and receive their wages, andthere, too, came the robbed to describe their losses and name theirrewards. If the reward were sufficient to satisfy Wild, he returned thearticle; otherwise he had it made unrecognizable by skilled workmenwhom he employed for the purpose, and presented it to a faithfulfollower, or disposed of it in the regular course of business. It isimpossible not to notice a certain resemblance between Johnathan Wildand Defoe's English Tradesman. The practical turn of mind, the absenceof sentiment so characteristic of the times, are to be seen alike inthe thief, the tradesman, and the gentleman. Conducted on purelybusiness principles, like a mercer's shop or a marriage between noblefamilies, without hatred or affection, anger or generosity, the workwent on. Wild dealt in human lives with the same cold, money-makingcalculation which directed the disposal of a stolen watch. When publiccomplaints were made, that although many robberies were committed fewthieves were apprehended, Wild supplied the gallows with thieves whowere useless to him or lukewarm in his interest. When a large rewardwas offered for the apprehension of a criminal, Wild was usually ableto deliver the man. If he was unable to do so, or was friendly to thecriminal, he still secured the reward by giving false informationagainst an innocent person, and supported his assertions by the perjuryof his subordinates. By these methods he soon grew rich. He carried asilver wand which he asserted to be a badge of office given him by thegovernment, and entered into secret leagues with corrupt magistrates. After a time he called himself a gentleman, and wore a sword, the firstuse of which was to cut off his wife's ear. At last he was detected inaiding the escape of a highwayman confined in Newgate, and beingdeprived of his power, he was easily convicted. He was hung in 1725, and on his way to the scaffold was almost pelted to death by the mob. The impunity with which Wild followed his long career of crime was notunusual. The authorities were inefficient and corrupt. Fielding, himself a police justice, makes a magistrate say in "Amelia": "And tospeak my opinion plainly, such are the laws and such the method ofproceeding that one would almost think our laws were made for theprotection of rogues, rather than for the punishment of them. " The lawsbore hardly upon the poor and spared the rich. "The parson, " complainedDefoe in the "Poor Man's Plea, " "preaches a thundering sermon againstdrunkenness, and the justice of the peace sets my poor neighbor in thestocks, and I am like to be much the better for either, when I knowperhaps that this same parson and this same justice were both drunktogether but the night before. " The magistrates and constables were asmuch in need of reform as the laws. "The greatest criminals in thistown, " said Walpole, [147] "are the officers of justice; there is notyranny they do not exercise, no villany of which they do not partake. "Many of the magistrates were never impartial, except, as Fielding said:"when they could get nothing on either side. " One class of constableswas described by Fielding in "Amelia. "[148] The watchmen intended "toguard our streets by night from thieves and robbers, an office which atleast requires strength of body, are chosen out of those poor olddecrepit people, who are from their want of bodily strength renderedincapable of getting a livelihood by work. These men, armed only with apole, which some of them are scarce able to lift, are to secure thepersons and houses of his Majesty's subjects from the attacks of young, bold, stout, desperate, and well-armed villains. If the poor oldfellows should run away from such enemies, no one, I think, can wonder, unless it be that they were able to make their escape. " Defoe'spickpockets are always more afraid of being mobbed on the spot, than ofbeing detected and punished by the police. Well known highwaymen notinfrequently rode through the streets of London with armed companions, although large rewards were offered for their capture. Many of theconstables were of the most villanous character. The followingincident, recorded by Walpole, is only one of many instances of theirbrutality which might be mentioned. [149] "There has lately been themost shocking scene of murder imaginable; a parcel of _drunken_constables took it into their heads to put the laws in executionagainst _disorderly_ persons, and so took up every woman they met tillthey had collected five or six and twenty, all of whom they thrust intoSt. Martin's round house, where they kept them all night, with doorsand windows closed. The poor creatures, who could not stir or breathe, screamed as long as they had any breath left, begging at least forwater; one poor wretch said she was worth eighteen-pence, and wouldgladly give it for a draught of water, but in vain! So well did theykeep them there, that in the morning four were found stifled to death;two died soon after, and a dozen more are in a shocking way. In short, it is horrid to think what the poor creatures suffered. Several of themwere beggars, who, from having no lodging, were necessarily found inthe street, and others honest labouring women. One of the dead was apoor washer-woman, big with child, who was returning home late fromwashing. * * * These same men, the same night, broke into a bagnio inCovent Garden, and took up Jack Spencer, Mr. Stewart, and Lord GeorgeGraham, and would have thrust them into the round-house with the poorwomen if they had not been worth more than eighteen-pence!" Keepers of prisons bought their places with the distinct purpose ofmaking money by extortions from the prisoners. The following is anaccount of the means pursued by Bainbridge, Warden of the Fleet, toextort money from one Solas, a poor man, imprisoned for debt[150]:"Bainbridge caused him to be turned into the dungeon, called the StrongRoom of the Master's side. This place is a vault, like those in whichthe dead are interred, and wherein the bodies of persons dying in thesaid prison are usually deposited till the coroner's inquest hathpassed upon them; it has no chimney nor fireplace, nor any light butwhat comes over the door, or through a hole of about eight inchessquare. It is neither paved nor boarded; and the rough bricks appearboth on the sides and top, being neither wainscotted nor plastered;what adds to the dampness and stench of the place, is its being builtover the common sewer, and adjoining to the sink and dunghill where allthe nastiness of the prison is cast. In this miserable place the poorwretch was kept by the said Bainbridge manacled and shackled for neartwo months. At length on receiving five guineas from Mr. Kemp, a friendof Solas's, Bainbridge released the prisoner from his cruelconfinement. But though his chains were taken off, his terror stillremained, and the unhappy man was prevailed upon by that terror, notonly to labor _gratis_ for the said Bainbridge, but to swear also atrandom all that he hath required of him; and the committee themselvessaw an instance of the deep impression his sufferings had made uponhim; for on his surmising from something said, that Bainbridge was toreturn again as Warden of the Fleet, he fainted, and the blood startedout of his mouth and nose. " This example is by no means an exceptionalone. It is impossible, within the limits of this volume, to give anadequate idea of the disease, the squalor, the cruelties and abuseswhich existed in the prisons. Their interiors are often described bythe novelists, who were unable to exaggerate the actual circumstances. Poor prisoners, when acquitted, were dragged back to prison and keptthere till their dues were paid or they were released by death. Richermen were subjected to all sorts of indignity and danger, even to thatof small-pox, to force them to enrich their jailers. The social condition of England in the first half of the eighteenthcentury presents a material and unattractive aspect. Its most prominentcharacteristics are the corruption and coarseness of the upper classes, and the ignorant brutality of the lower. Still there existed beneaththis exterior, qualities and habits in the highest degree favorable tocivilization and social order. At a later time these qualities broughtabout reforms which did away with many of the worst abuses. Among themiddle classes, fast rising to political and social prominence, livedan earnest morality, which at a later time took form in the greatMethodist revival, and the rise of philanthropy. This perseveringindustry of the same classes added enormously to the wealth of thenation. When reform came, it came as a revolt against existingconditions, showing at once how bad those conditions were, and howstrongly the popular mind inclined to a better state. A general feelingof disgust prevailed which left deep traces on contemporary literature, and produced a widespread misanthropy. The first half of the eighteenthcentury was to the period of the Restoration like the morning after adebauch. Rochester, in the time of Charles II, and Hervey, in the timeof George II were representative men. The difference in the feelingswith which these men looked upon life is significant. Rochester, in thefull tide of dissipation, glories in his sensuality, and writes the"Maimed Debauchee. " Should some brave youth (worth being drunk) prove nice, And from his fair inviter meanly shrink, 'T would please the ghost of my departed vice, If, at my council, he repent and drink. But Hervey represents the time when dissipation had run a long course, and disgust, sanctity, and misanthropy were succeeding. To him, as toSwift, men were "a worthless species of animals, " their vices, natural;their virtues, affectation: Mankind I know, their nature and their art, Their vice their own, their virtue but a part Ill played so oft, that all the cheat can tell, And dangerous only when 't is acted well, * * * * * To such reflections when I turn my mind _I loathe my being, and abhor mankind. _ [Footnote 90: Carlyle, "Frederick the Great, " p. 13. Vol. I. ] [Footnote 91: Addison, "An Account of the Greatest English Poets. "Quoted by Henry Morley, LL. D. , "English Literature in the Reign ofVictoria. "] [Footnote 92: Lecky's "History of England in the 18th Century, " vol. I, p. 502. ] [Footnote 93: Lord Hervey, "Memoirs of George II, " v. 3, p. 527. ] [Footnote 94: Hervey's "Mem. Of George II, " vol. 1, p. 147, note. ] [Footnote 95: Walpole's "Reminiscences"; Hervey's "Mem. , " v. 2, p. 103, note. ] [Footnote 96: Walpole's "Mem. Of George II, " vol. 1, p. 87. ] [Footnote 97: Browne's "Estimate of the Times"; Lecky, "Hist. Of 18thCentury, " vol. 1, p. 509. ] [Footnote 98: Lord Hervey, "Mem. Of Geo. II, " vol. I, p. 5. ] [Footnote 99: _Idem_, vol. I, p. 170. ] [Footnote 100: _Idem_, vol. I, p. 18. ] [Footnote 101: Hervey's "Mem. , " i, 20. ] [Footnote 102: _Idem_, vol. 1, p. 208. ] [Footnote 103: Hervey's "Memoirs, " 1, 39. ] [Footnote 104: _Idem_, ii, 360. ] [Footnote 105: _Idem_, ii, 31. ] [Footnote 106: _Idem_, vol. I, p. 91. ] [Footnote 107: Hervey's "Memoirs, " vol. 1, p. 37. ] [Footnote 108: Hervey, 1, 22-25. ] [Footnote 109: Horace Walpole, "Reminiscences. "] [Footnote 110: Locke "On Civil Government, " b. Ii, ch. 13; Lecky's"History of the 18th Century, " vol. I, p. 471. ] [Footnote 111: Hervey's "Memoirs, " ii, 280. ] [Footnote 112: Chesterfield, "Correspondence, " iii, 94. ] [Footnote 113: Walpole to Mann, Dec. 24, 1741. ] [Footnote 114: Hervey's "Memoirs, " i, 172. ] [Footnote 115: "History of the Eighteenth Century, " vol. 1, p. 512. ] [Footnote 116: Green's "Short History of the English People, " pp. 768-9. ] [Footnote 117: Hervey, ii, 189, note. ] [Footnote 118: Hervey's "Memoirs, " vol. I, p. 500. ] [Footnote 119: Hervey's "Memoirs, " vol. I, p. 502. ] [Footnote 120: Lord Hervey's "Memoirs", ii, 255. ] [Footnote 121: _Idem_, ii, 434. ] [Footnote 122: Hervey's "Memoirs, " ii, 472. ] [Footnote 123: Hervey's "Memoirs, " ii, 350. ] [Footnote 124: _Idem_, i, 90. ] [Footnote 125: _Idem_, ii, 349. ] [Footnote 126: _Tatler_, No. 159, Saturday, April 15, 1710. ] [Footnote 127: Steele, _Tatler_, No. 5. ] [Footnote 128: Walpole to Montague, March 20, 1737. ] [Footnote 129: Wilson's "Memoirs of Defoe, " vol. I, p. 265. ] [Footnote 130: Wilson's "Memoirs of Defoe, " vol. I, p. 206. ] [Footnote 131: Steele, _Tatler_, No. 12 May 7, 1709. ] [Footnote 132: Walpole to Mann, Nov. 26, 1711. ] [Footnote 133: Letter to Mrs. Ann Granville, Dec. 5, 1739. ] [Footnote 134: Letter to Mrs. Ann Granville, Jan. 17, 1731-32. ] [Footnote 135: Letter to Mrs. Ann Granville, Nov. 18, 1729. ] [Footnote 136: Letter to Mrs. Ann Granville, Christmas-day, 1729. ] [Footnote 137: Green, "Short History of the English People, " p. 717. ] [Footnote 138: Lord Hervey's "Memoirs of George II, " vol. Ii, p. 139. ] [Footnote 139: Strutt's "Sports and Pastimes, " p. 259; Lecky, "Historyof England in the 18th Century, " vol. I, chap. Iv. ] [Footnote 140: Lecky, "History of England in the 18th Century, " vol. I, p. 522. ] [Footnote 141: Walpole to Sir H. Mann, March 23, 1752. ] [Footnote 142: The _Spectator_, "Sir Roger at the Playhouse. "] [Footnote 143: Horace Walpole, "Short Notes of My Life. "] [Footnote 144: Horace Walpole to Sir H. Mann, Aug. 2, 1750. ] [Footnote 145: See the "Newgate Calendar. "] [Footnote 146: See the "Newgate Calendar" and Pike's "History ofCrime, " vol. 2, chap. X. ] [Footnote 147: Walpole to Mann, bet. July 14 and 29, 1742. ] [Footnote 148: "Amelia, " book i, chap. 2. ] [Footnote 149: Walpole to Mann, bet. July 14 and 29, 1742. ] [Footnote 150: "State Trials;" vol. Xvii, p. 298. _Proceedings againstJohn Higgins, Esq. , Warden of the Fleet, Thomas Bainbridge, Esq. , Warden ofthe Fleet, Richard Corbett, one of the Tipstaffs of the Fleet, andWilliam Acton, Keeper of the Marshalsea Prison: 3 George II, A. D. 1729. Report of the Com. Of the House of Commons_. ] II. Lord Hervey's bitter lines introduce us to Jonathan Swift. Nature, together with the character of his time, made the great Dean amisanthropist. Physical infirmity, disappointed hopes, and a longseries of humiliations destroyed the happiness which should havebelonged to his rare union of noble gifts, --his tall, commandingfigure, his awe-inspiring countenance, his acute wit, and magnificentintellect. Naturally proud and sensitive to an abnormal degree, he wasobliged to suffer the most galling slights. From his earliest years hehated dependence, and yet, until middle life he was forced to be adependent. His education was furnished by the charity of relatives, between whom and himself there was no affection. His college degree wasconferred in a manner which made it a disgrace rather than an honor. The long years which he passed in the household of Sir William Temple, subject to the humors and caprices of his master, embittered his temperat the time of life when it should have been most buoyant and hopeful. Thus began the melancholy and misanthropy which marred his whole life, darkening his triumphs, turning such love as he had to give into acurse to those who received it, producing an eccentricity which oftengave him the appearance of a madman, and finally bringing him to aterrible end--to die, as he himself foretold, like a blasted elm, firstat the top. He kept his birthday as a day of mourning. He solemnlyregretted his escape when nearly killed by an accident. He habituallyparted from a friend with the wish that they might never meet again. Cæsar's description of Cassius is wonderfully applicable to Swift:[151] ----He reads much; He is a great observer, and he looks Quite through the deeds of men ---- Seldom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort As if he mocked himself, and scorn'd his spirit That could be amused to smile at any thing. The character of Swift presents great apparent contradictions. Althoughfull of good-will and appreciation for individuals, although exercisingout of a small income the most discriminating and open handedgenerosity, there has never lived a man more bitter in his misanthropy, more fierce in his denunciation of mankind. Although capable of greatand disinterested affection, he was unable to make his affection asource of happiness to himself or to others. Although he always chosefor companionship the most refined and cultivated women, the wisest andmost honored men, his mind dwelt by preference on the most terribleexamples of human depravity, and he gave permanent form, in hisliterary productions, to ideas from which a healthy mind must alwaysturn with horror and disgust. His misanthropy was founded partly onobservation of the evil and corruption which he saw about him, andpartly on the suspicions and exaggerations of his own imagination. Hegave up writing a history of England, because, in his own words, hefound the characters of history such a pack of rascals that he wouldhave no more to say to them. He made a "List of Friends, " which heclassified as Grateful, Ungrateful, Indifferent, and Doubtful. Of thesefriends, forty-four in number, only seventeen were marked with the _g_which signified that their friendship was trusted. We cannotdisassociate Swift from his own time, nor can we attribute simply to amelancholy life or to mental aberration the revolting conceptions whichhis works contain. The coarseness and corruption which marked theprivate and public life of Swift's day had their share in theproduction of such poems as The "Lady's Dressing-Room, " and suchdegrading views of human nature as are expressed in the "Voyage to theHouyhnhnms. " It is a significant sign of the times that Hogarth, the greatestEnglish painter, and Swift, the greatest English writer, should haveemployed their talents in caricature and in satire. In the wonderfulallegory of the "Tale of a Tub, " in which the corruptions and failingsof the English, Roman, and Presbyterian churches were ridiculed in thepersons of Jack, Peter, and Martin, Swift displayed at an early age hisexuberant wit and surpassing satirical power. The "Tale of a Tub" wassucceeded by the "Battle of the Books, " an imaginary conflict betweenvolumes in a library, which exposed the absurdity of the controversyover the relative merits of the ancients and the moderns. But Swift'ssatire became most fierce and brilliant when it was turned from rivalcreeds and rival literatures, and directed toward mankind itself. The "Travels of Lemuel Gulliver" were dropped, said the publisher, athis house, in the dark, from a hackney-coach. In regard to this work, the Dean followed his custom of sending out his writings to the worldto make their way on their own merits, without the assistance of hisname. But the authorship of the book could not long remain unknownbefore the storm of applause and curiosity which it immediatelyexcited. It was a production, said Johnson, [152] "so new and strangethat it filled the reader with a mingled emotion of merriment andamazement. It was received with such avidity, that the price of thefirst edition was raised before the second could be made; it was readby the high and the low, the learned and illiterate. Criticism was fora while lost in wonder; no rules of judgment were applied to a bookwritten in open defiance of truth and regularity. " Whether read for thesatire or the story, the adventures of Gulliver proved equallyfascinating. They "offered personal and political satire to the readersin high life, low and coarse incidents to the vulgar, marvels to theromantic, wit to the young and lively, lessons of morality and policyto the grave, and maxims of deep and bitter misanthropy to neglectedage and disappointed ambition. "[153] The early part of the eighteenth century offered rich material to thesatirist, and Swift brought to his work unparalleled fierceness andpower. He attacked the corruption of the politician and the minister, the vanity and vice of the courtier, the folly and extravagance of thefashionable world, and gathering venom in his course, made his satireuniversal and painted the pettiness and deformity of the human race. But among the follies and vices of mankind, vanity was the fault mostoffensive to Swift, and that which he lashed with his most bitterinvective. To ridicule human pride, and to expose its inconsistencywith the imperfection of man, is the ruling object of his greatsatirical romance. On Gulliver's return to England from the land of theHouyhnhnms, where, under the degraded form of Yahoos, he had studiedmankind as they appeared when influenced by all human vices and brutalinstincts unveiled by hypocrisy or civilization, he describes hishorror at observing the existence of vanity among his countrymen whoresembled Yahoos so closely;-- My reconcilement to the Yahoo kind in general might not be so difficult, if they would be content with those vices and follies only which nature has entitled them to. I am not in the least provoked at the sight of a lawyer, a pickpocket, a colonel, a fool, a lord, a gamester, a politician, a whoremonger, a physician, an evidence, a suborner, an attorney, a traitor, or the like; this is all according to the due course of things: but when I behold a lump of deformity and diseases, both in body and mind, smitten with pride, it immediately breaks all the measures of my patience; neither shall I ever be able to comprehend how such an animal, and such a vice, could tally together. In the "Voyage to Lilliput" the follies and vanities of individuals andof parties are ridiculed by the representation of their practice amongdiminutive beings. Sir Robert Walpole suffered in the person of Flimnapthe Lilliputian Premier, Tories and Whigs in the High-Heels andLow-Heels, Catholics and Protestants in the Big-endians andSmall-endians. In the "Voyage to Brobdingnag, " where Gulliver findshimself a pigmy among giants, the general object of the satire is thesame, but its application becomes more bitter and universal. Characteristics of the human race hardly perceptible in their ordinaryproportions, attain a disgusting and monstrous prominence when seen inthe huge persons of the Brobdingnagians. The king of this giganticpeople is represented as a beneficent monarch, who directs all hisenergies toward the peace, prosperity, and material advancement of hissubjects; who seeks with a cold, calculating mind, undisturbed bypassion or prejudice, the greatest good of the greatest number. To thismonarch Gulliver gave a description of his native country: "I artfullyeluded many of his questions, and gave to every point a more favorableturn, by many degrees, than the strictness of truth would allow; for Ihave always borne that laudable partiality to my own country, whichDionysius Halicarnasseusis, with so much justice, recommends to ahistorian; I would hide the frailties and deformities of my politicalmother, and place her virtues and beauties in the most advantageouslight. " But the impression produced upon the King of Brobdingnag byGulliver's relation expressed the widespread sense of evil whichexisted in Swift's day, which tinctured literature with misanthropy, and made Rousseau at a later time argue the superiority of the savageman over his civilized, but corrupt and hypocritical brother. He was perfectly astonished with the historical account I gave him of our affairs during the last century; protesting: "It was only a heap of conspiracies, rebellions, murders, massacres, revolutions, banishments, the very worst effects that avarice, faction, hypocrisy, perfidiousness, cruelty, rage, madness, hatred, envy, lust, malice, and ambition could produce. " His majesty, in another audience, was at the pains to recapitulate the sum of all I had spoken; compared the questions he made with the answers I had given; then, taking me into his hands, and stroking me gently, delivered himself in these words, which I shall never forget, nor the manner he spoke them in: "My little friend, Grildrig, you have made a most admirable panegyric upon your country; you have clearly proved that ignorance, idleness, and vice are the proper ingredients for qualifying a legislator; that laws are best explained, interpreted, and applied by those whose interest and abilities lie in perverting, confounding, and eluding them. I observe among you some lines of an institution, which in its original, might have been tolerable, but these half erased, and the rest wholly blurred and blotted by corruptions. It does not appear from all you have said, how any one perfection is required toward the procurement of any one station among you; much less, that men are ennobled on account of their virtue; that priests are advanced for their piety or learning; soldiers for their conduct or valor; judges for their integrity; senators for the love of their country; or counsellors for their wisdom. * * * I cannot but conclude the bulk of your natives to be the most pernicious race of little odious vermin that nature ever suffered to crawl upon the surface of the earth!" In the voyage to Laputa the satire is directed against the vanity ofhuman wisdom, and the folly of abandoning useful occupations for theempty schemes of visionaries. The philosophers of Laputa had allowedtheir land to run to waste, and their people to fall into poverty intheir attempts to "soften marble for pillows and pin-cushions, " to"petrify the hoofs of a living horse to prevent them from foundering, "to "sow land with chaff, " and to "extract sunbeams from cucumbers, which were to be put in phials hermetically sealed, and let out to warmthe air in raw, inclement summers. " The satire cannot be consideredtoo broad when we consider the folly and credulity which, at the timeof the South Sea mania, led many persons into sinking their wholefortunes in such enterprises as the company "To Fish up Wrecks on theIrish Coast, " to "Make Salt-Water Fresh, " to "Extract Silver fromLead, " and to "Import Jackasses from Spain. " It is impossible within the limits of this volume to comment with anycompleteness on the application of Gulliver's Travels. The satiregathered strength and bitterness in its progress, until the limits ofhorror were reached in the voyage to the Houyhnhnms. This portion ofthe work cannot be considered to apply universally. Man does not hereperceive a truthful reflection of himself. The Houyhnhnms, beingsendowed with reason, but undisturbed and untempted by the passions orstruggles of earthly existence, are not brutes, and are not to becompared with men. The Yahoos, in their total depravity, are not human;they represent, and that with a terrible truthfulness, the conditioninto which men may fall when their animal instincts and baser passionsare allowed to subvert their reason and their noble qualities. The morea man suffers his better nature to yield to his lower, the more heresembles the detestable Yahoo. In this sense alone, the satire appliesgenerally to mankind; but it applies with peculiar point to somecharacteristics of Swift's time. In reading the following passage, itis impossible not to be reminded of the treatment of Sir Robert Walpoleby his former flatterers and sycophants when his power seemed at anend: Some curious _Houyhnhnms_ observe that in most herds there was a sort of ruling _Yahoo_, * * * who was always more deformed in body and mischievous in disposition than any of the rest; that this leader had usually a favorite as like himself as he could get, whose employment was to lick his master's feet * * * and drive the female Yahoos to his kennel; for which he was now and then rewarded with a piece of ass's flesh. This favorite is hated by the whole herd, and, therefore, to protect himself, keeps always near the person of his leader. He usually continues in office till a worse can be found; but the very moment he is discarded, his successor, at the head of all the _Yahoos_ in that district, young and old, male and female, come in a body, and * * * (defile) him from head to foot. But Swift, in his denunciation of men under the form of the Yahoos, disclosed the narrowness of his own misanthropy. When Gulliver hasreturned from his last voyage, with a mind which had dwelt on thebeastliness and vice of the human race as it existed in the land of theHouyhnhnms, his warped judgment is unable to discern in his countrymenany attributes but those which they seem to share with the Yahoos:-- My wife and family received me with great surprise and joy, because they concluded me certainly dead; but I must freely confess the sight of them filled me only with hatred, disgust, and contempt; and the more, by reflecting on the near alliance I had to them. * * * As soon as I entered the house, my wife took me in her arms and kissed me; at which, having not been used to the touch of that odious animal for so many years, I fell into a swoon for almost an hour. At the time I am writing, it is five years since my last return to England: during the first year, I could not endure my wife or children in my presence; the very smell of them was intolerable, much less could I suffer them to eat in the same room. To this hour they dare not presume to touch my bread, or drink out of the same cup; neither was I ever able to let one of them take me by the hand. Thus Swift himself, from the vividness with which he realized, and theintensity with which he hated, the vices and failings of humanity, wasunable to duly appreciate the good, which, in some measure, alwaysaccompanies the evil. It was the habit of the great Dean to utter the witticisms which causedthe continual delight or terror of all who approached him with the moststern composure. Such was the manner of the "Travels. " The solemn andcircumstantial narrative style, imitated from the old English explorersadded verisimilitude to the incidents and point to the sarcasm. Trifles, personal to the traveller and of no consequence to the courseof the story, gave an appearance of truth to the whole work. ThusGulliver keeps the reader informed of the most minute detailsinteresting to himself. "I took part of a small house in the Old Jewry;and being advised to alter my condition, I married Mrs. Mary Burton, second daughter to Mr. Edmund Burton, hosier, in Newgate Street, withwhom I received four hundred pounds for a portion. " In the same way heinforms us carefully that the date of his sailing on the first voyagewas May 4, 1699, from Bristol, and the storm which destroyed the shiparose when in the latitude of 30 degrees 2 minutes south. In a work offiction only such events are expected as have a direct bearing upon thedevelopment of the plot, and when immaterial details are introduced, the reader is likely to be impressed with their truth. In this way thepersonality of Gulliver is kept up, and he remains, through whateverstrange scenes he passes, the same honest, blunt English sailor. Yet more remarkable is the skill of the author in maintaining theprobability of the allegory. When living among the Lilliputians, Gulliver insensibly adopts their ideas of size. He admires as much asthey the prowess of the horseman who clears his shoe at a single leap. When the committee of the Lilliputian king examine Gulliver's pockets, they describe his handkerchief as a "great piece of coarse cloth, largeenough to be a foot-cloth to your majesty's chief room of state"; hispurse is "a net, almost large enough for a fisherman, " containing"several massy pieces of yellow metal, which, if they be real gold, must be of immense value. " The same almost mathematical accuracy ofproportion is kept up in the visit to Brobdingnag, and on Gulliver'sreturn to his native country he experiences as much trouble inreaccustoming his mind to the ordinary standard as he had met with inadopting that of pigmies or giants. There was a country clergymanliving in Ireland, who declared there were some things in Gulliver'sTravels he could not quite believe. His difficulty probably occurred inthe "Voyage to the Houyhnhnms. " In the latter part of the work Swiftallowed the fiction to yield to the exigencies of the satire. So longas we can imagine the existence of giants and pigmies, it is easy torealize all the circumstances connected with Gulliver's existence amongthem, but it is impossible to feel the same sense of reality in regardto horses who live in houses they could not build, and who eat oatsthey could not harvest. [154] The general desire for reform is not more clearly to be seen in Acts ofParliament than in the works of Swift and Addison. The earlier part ofthe century was marked by a strong realization of evil, and by aconstantly growing inclination to suppress it. The first condition isillustrated by the fierce satire of "Gulliver's Travels, " the secondby the earnest admonitions of the _Spectator_. The two great authorsmake a striking contrast. Swift, misanthropic, miserable, bitter;Addison, happy, loving mankind, admired alike by ally and opponent, Swift, dying mad; Addison, calm, conscious, employing his last momentsto ask pardon of one he had offended. The same contrast is in theirworks. Swift dwelt and gloated on the evil about him, exposed it inmore than its own deformity, and left his reader to reflect on his owndegradation. Addison, to whom that evil was almost equally apparent, but who turned from its contemplation with horror, exerted all histalents to correct it. "The great and only end of these speculations, "he tells the reader of the _Spectator_, "is to banish vice andignorance out of the territories of Great Britain. " With solemn reproof and delicate raillery, Addison urged women to layaside coarseness and folly, and preached against the licentiousness, swearing, gambling, duelling, and drunkenness of the men. He attackedwith both argument and ridicule the idea so prevalent since theRestoration, that vice was necessarily associated with pleasure andelegance, virtue with Puritanism and vulgarity. To teach people to bewitty without being indecent, gay without being vicious, such was theobject of Addison. As M. Taine says, he made morality fashionable. Todo this he exposed the folly and ugliness of vice. But he did more. Heheld up to the public view characters who exemplified his teachings, and were calculated to attract imitation. In the creation anddelineation of these characters he unconsciously began the Englishnovel. We should look in vain in the pages of Fielding, of Scott, or of GeorgeEliot, for a more perfect sketch of character than that of Sir Rogerde Coverley. And the minor personages are little less delicately andnaturally drawn. There is the Bachelor of the Inner-Temple, "anexcellent critick, " to whom "the time of the play is his hour ofbusiness"; Sir Andrew Freeport, the typical merchant; Captain Sentry, "a gentleman of great courage, good understanding, but invinciblemodesty"; Will Honeycomb, "an honest, worthy man where women are notconcerned"; the clergyman, who has ceased to have "interests in thisworld, as one who is hastening to the object of all his wishes, andconceives hope from his decays and infirmities. " "These are my ordinarycompanions, " says the _Spectator_, whom we soon learn to know very welltoo. Addison's knowledge of human nature, and his skill in delineating it insingle touches, place him in the front rank of writers of fiction, notwithstanding the limit of his contributions to this department ofliterature. In a few words we are made to see and know the Quaker whoreproves the insolent captain on the stage-coach: "Thy mirth, friend, savoureth of folly; thou art a person of a light mind; thy drum is atype of thee, it soundeth because it is empty. " There is nothingwanting to the reader's perfect acquaintance with Will Wimble, the poorrelation. All who know Worcestershire, says the _Spectator_, "are verywell acquainted with the parts and merits of Sir Roger. " His fame hasspread from Worcestershire throughout the English-speaking world, wherehe has been loved and admired for more than a hundred and fifty years. Sir Roger de Coverley is not to be described by any pen but that ofAddison. He exhibits, joined to a perfect simplicity, the qualities ofa just, honest, useful man, and delightful companion. Our acquaintancewith him is a personal one. We know how he appears at hiscountry-house, surrounded by admiring tenants and servants, and how heoccupies himself in London, and whom he meets there. We know hisancestry, the extent and management of his estate, his long standinglove affair with the beautiful widow, all his thoughts, opinions, andsurroundings. All who read about Sir Roger remember him with affection. Addison dwelt with tenderness on every detail regarding him, andfinally described Sir Roger's death to prevent any less reverential penfrom trifling with his hero. Previous to the publication of the papers of the _Spectator_ relatingto Sir Roger de Coverley, there had been no attempt at what is anecessary constituent of the modern novel--the study of character. There had been the romance and the allegory. There had been the shortlove story. But with Addison, nature becomes the subject of fiction, and the novel is begun. In a review of the remarkable life of Daniel Defoe, he appears to usunder the varied aspects of a tradesman, a pamphleteer, a politician, anovelist, and, through it all, a reformer. It is in his character as anovelist that he is now known, and that he is to be considered here. But there are few among the millions to whom "Robinson Crusoe" hasbrought pleasure, who know that the composition of that work was onlyone event in a long life of ceaseless labor, political and literary, and that its author's fame among his contemporaries was assuredindependently of it. Defoe's career was so full that both his chiefbiographers[155] have found three large volumes to be necessary to doit justice. And yet it was not until near the end of that busy life, when the author was fifty-eight years old, feeling the approach of ageand infirmity, and looking about for means to provide for a largefamily, that he added the writing of novels to his multifariousoccupations. There is probably no writer with whose works his life and personalityare more intimately connected. It is impossible to consider the oneseparate from the other. Defoe began to write novels as a tradesman, asa literary hack, and as a reformer. Being dependent on his pen for hisbread, he wrote what was likely to bring in the most immediate return. He calculated exactly the value and quality of his wares. He gave tohis fictions the same moral object which inspired his own life. Hisnovels followed naturally on his other labors, and partook of theircharacter. It was his custom, on the death of any celebrated person, towrite his life immediately, and to send it to the world while publicinterest was still fresh. But being often unable to obtain complete orauthentic information concerning the subject of his biography, hesupplemented facts and rumors by plausible inventions. Fiction enteredinto his biographies, just as biography afterward entered into hisnovels. But in writing the lives of real individuals Defoe recognizedthe necessity of impressing his reader with a sense of the truth andexactitude of the narrative. This effect he attained by the use of aliterary faculty which he possessed in a degree unequalled by any otherwriter--that of circumstantial invention. By the multiplication ofsmall, unimportant details, each one of which is carefully dwelt upon, and by the insertion of uninteresting personal incidents and moralreflections, seeming true from their very dulness, he gave to his worka remarkable verisimilitude. He did not even issue the book under hisown name, but invented an authorship which would attract attention andcredibility. Thus the "History of Charles XII" was announced on thetitle-page as "written by a Scot's gentleman in the Swedish service";and the "Life of Count Patkul" was "written by a Lutheran minister whoassisted him in his last home, and faithfully translated out of a HighDutch manuscript. "[156] The same characteristics appear in all Defoe'sworks. He invents freely, giving the most elaborate details to supporthis assertions, and attains to an extraordinary degree the art of"lying like truth. " In the "Journal of the Plague Year, " Defoe assumedwith his accustomed ease and skill the character of a plain, bluntLondon shopkeeper. He described with such apparent accuracy theobservations of a man who had lived in the scene of that terriblecalamity, giving curious incidents, anecdotes, statistics, after somethodical a manner, that it was long before any doubts were cast onthe authenticity of the journal. It was a work of imagination, but somatter-of-fact, that it is difficult to believe the author had anyimagination, and that he had not actually witnessed every occurrence heso calmly related. It is the same with the "Memoirs of a Cavalier. " Thecivil wars are described by a young officer who took part in them, whogives a detailed account of his own opinions, his wardrobe, his horse, his lodgings. Lord Chatham quoted these memoirs as the true account ofan eye-witness. From writing the life of a well known individual, Defoehad advanced to writing the life of a fictitious person placed amidsthistorical scenes. His next step was to write the life of a fictitiousperson amidst fictitious scenes. [157] The "Journal of the Plague Year" had been issued to satisfy a popularinterest excited by the appearance of the plague in France and theconsequent fear of it in England. A similar public demand occasionedthe composition of "Robinson Crusoe. " A sailor named Alexander Selkirkhad been "marooned" on the uninhabited island of Juan Fernandez, andafter living there alone for more than four years, had been taken offby the same captain who had abandoned him. The interest taken inEngland in the narrative of this event revealed to Defoe's acute mind agreat literary opportunity. But if he was indebted to the adventure ofSelkirk for the fundamental idea of his novel, he was not the lessoriginal. Never has a greater individuality been given to a fictitiouscharacter, or a more vivid impression of life and reality to thecircumstances surrounding him. The combination of ingenuity andsimplicity which distinguishes the work, has, for a century and a half, had a peculiar fascination for children, and has awakened the wonderand admiration of men. There are three works of English fiction ofimperishable interest, all of which have attained in a high degree thequality of reality, and have charmed alike all classes and ages. In theallegory of "The Pilgrim's Progress, " the sense of reality was producedby the intense realization of the subject by the author, unassisted byany literary device. In "Gulliver's Travels" the effect was attained bya skilful observation of exact proportions, added to a circumstantialand personal method of narration, which Swift probably owed in somemeasure to Defoe. If the reader can accept the possible existence ofpigmies and giants, his credulity is put to no further strain. Defoehad no difficulty of the supernatural to overcome. He had a poweralmost as great as that of Bunyan of identifying himself with his hero;and he surpassed Swift in the power of circumstantial invention. The story of "Robinson Crusoe" is too intimately known to requirecomment. His over-mastering desire to go to sea, his being cast up bythe breakers on the island, his endless labors, and the resolutedetermination which overcame them, his dangers, fears, and theconsolation of religion, the foot-print on the sand, the companionshipwith Friday, and the final release, are recollections of our childhoodtoo familiar to be dwelt upon. But in this very familiarity withRobinson himself, in the brightness and endurance of our idea of him, in our acquaintance with the inmost workings of his mind and heart, iscontained the evidence that Defoe not only wrote a novel of adventure, as he had intended, but that he wrote also a novel of character. If the author of "Robinson Crusoe" could realize so thoroughly thedifficulties and expedients of a man living on a desert island, hecould deal yet more easily with the adventures and shifts of thievesand abandoned women which formed the subject of his other tales. Inthese minor works, now little known, Defoe displayed equal talents, butdid not attain equal results. The enduring interest which must everattach to the central idea of "Robinson Crusoe" the complete isolationof the man--gave that work a very exceptional claim to the attention ofposterity. But it had other merits, which are not apparent in the sameperfection in Defoe's lesser novels. Its design was single andconcentrated, its chief character natural and strongly marked, itsplot coherent and complete. Moll Flanders and Colonel Jack are indeedwell-drawn and real persons, and the design of the works which beartheir names is clear, but in both cases the plot is merely a series ofindependent adventures, and the characters themselves could not, fromtheir nature, long attract the attention of readers. "Colonel Jack, ""Captain Singleton, " "Moll Flanders, " and "Roxana, " have beensurpassed, and are neglected. "Robinson Crusoe" is, of its kind, perfect, and therefore enduring. But the works of Defoe have a historical, almost equal to theirliterary, interest. Whoever would attain a correct idea of thecondition of the lower classes in the earlier part of the eighteenthcentury, should consult "Moll Flanders" and "Colonel Jack, " as much asthe "Newgate Calendar, " and histories of crime and labor. What theauthor has described, he had seen. Defoe was throughout his life a reformer; a large proportion of themany pamphlets and occasional writings which fell from his pen have fortheir object the reformation or exposure of some abuse. Yet a largenumber of his fictitious characters are thieves and harlots. Thecriminal classes occupied the public mind in the first half of theeighteenth century to a remarkable degree, and Defoe was not mistakenin thinking that novels concerning those classes would interest andsell. He knew that the public taste was low, and his business was tocater to public taste. He said, in "More Reformation":[158] Let this describe the nation's character. One man reads Milton, forty Rochester; The cause is plain, the temper of the time. One wrote the lewd, the other the sublime. To satisfy the forty who read Rochester, Defoe described the lives andoccupations of pirates, pickpockets, highwaymen, and women of abandonedcharacter. The title-pages of some of these novels cannot with decencybe quoted, and the novels themselves are filled with criminal andlicentious scenes. But the reforming inclination of Defoe himself, andthat which we find in the general literature of the time, induced himto turn these scenes into a moral account. Moll Flanders is a low, cunning, thoroughly bad woman, and her life is placed quite bare beforethe reader. Yet Defoe asserts that the book is designed to teach a goodlesson. [159] "There is not a superlative villain brought upon thestage, but either he is brought to an unhappy end, or brought to be apenitent. There is not an ill thing mentioned, but it is condemned evenin the relation; nor a virtuous, just thing, but it carries its praisealong with it. * * * Upon this foundation the book is recommended tothe reader, as a work from every part of which something may belearned, and some just and religious inference is drawn. " Defoe, thoroughly a man of his time, thought he could put the coarsest andmost vicious matter before his reader, and reasonably expect him toprofit by the moral, without being hurt by contact with the vice. "Allpossible care, " he says, "has been taken to give no lewd ideas, noimmodest turns in the dressing up of this story. * * * To this purposesome of the vicious part of her life, which could not be modestly told, is quite left out, and several other parts very much shortened. What isleft, 'tis hoped will not offend the chastest reader, or the modestesthearer. " To any one acquainted with "Moll Flanders" this seems astrange statement. It exhibits the standard of the age. Mrs. Behn saidalmost the same thing about her novels and plays. To make up for thelow, vicious life unrolled before us, it is not enough that Moll atlast "grew rich, lived honest, and died penitent. " The aim of "Roxana, or the Fortunate Mistress, " like that of "MollFlanders, " is to describe the gradual corruption of a woman, who isinfluenced by some conscientious scruples and misgivings, but theheroine is placed in a higher station of life. We have a curiouscommentary on the times in comparing the body of the work with thepreface. "Roxana" is among the coarsest records of vice in Englishfiction. But yet it is to impart moral instruction. "In the manner shehas told the story it is evident she does not insist upon herjustification in any part of it; much less does she recommend herconduct, or, indeed, any part of it, except her repentance, to ourimitation. On the contrary, she makes frequent excursions, in a justcensuring and condemning her own practice. How often does she reproachherself in the most passionate manner, and guide us to make justreflections in the like cases?" The modern reader is astonished to find"that all imaginable care has been taken to keep clear of indecenciesand immodest expressions; and, it is hoped, you will find nothing toprompt a vicious mind, but everywhere much to discourage and exposeit. " Defoe is much more successful in teaching a moral lesson in "ColonelJack. " The aim of this novel is to describe the course of a street-boywho takes to thieving before he knows that it is not a legitimatebusiness, and who being possessed naturally of a good character isbrought to repentance and reform when subjected to better influences. Defoe's preface has great significance when we consider the deplorablecondition of the lower classes and no better idea can be gained of theusual fate of the children of the poor than is afforded by this novel. Here is room for just and copious observations on the blessings and advantages of a sober and well-governed education, and the ruin of so many thousands of all ranks in this Nation for want of it; here also we may see how much public schools and charities might be improved, to prevent the destruction of so many unhappy children, as, in this town, are every year bred up for the executioner. The miserable condition of multitudes of youth, many of whose natural tempers are docible, and would lead them to learn the best things, rather than the worst, is truly deplorable, and is abundantly seen in the history of this man's childhood; where, though circumstances formed him by necessity to be a thief, surprising rectitude of principles remained with him, and made him early abhor the worst part of his trade, and at length to forsake the whole of it. Had he come into the world with the advantage of a virtuous education, and been instructed how to improve the generous principles he had in him, what a figure might he not have made, either as a man or a Christian. The promise of the preface is fulfilled. The whole work is a protestagainst the neglect of the education and training of the youth of thelower classes; and the life of Colonel Jack would be apt to have a goodeffect on youthful readers of the time. In Chapter X, when Jack hasrisen by his industry and humanity from being a slave on a Virginiaplantation to the rank of an overseer, and finally to that of anindependent planter, he makes a long digression to rejoice in hischange of condition and character: It was an inexpressible joy to me, that I was now like to be not only a man, but an honest man; and it yielded me a greater pleasure, that I was ransomed from being a vagabond, a thief, and a criminal, as I had been from a child, than that I was delivered from slavery, and the wretched state of a Virginia sold servant; I had notion enough in my mind of the hardship of the servant or slave, because I had felt it, and worked through it; I remembered it as a state of labour and servitude, hardship and suffering. But the other shocked my very nature, chilled my blood, and turned the very soul within me; the thought of it was like reflections upon hell and the damned spirits; it struck me with horror, it was odious and frightful to look back on, and it gave me a kind of fit, a convulsion or nervous disorder, that was very uneasy to me. These reflections remind us of the self-communings of Bunyan in "GraceAbounding in the Chief of Sinners. " They express the feelings ofremorse and the longings for a better state arising in the mind of arough but conscientious man. They are the promptings of a strong moralnature, and illustrate those national qualities which brought about thereforms which distinguish the latter half of the eighteenth century. Colonel Jack took advantage of every opportunity for improvement. Whena vagabond in Scotland, he learned with infinite pains to read andwrite. When a planter in Virginia, he took for his schoolmaster atransported felon, who knew Latin. This spirit of self-advancement bypatient labor, by invincible resolution, is the spirit of Defoe'swritings; it is the English characteristic which has raised the nationto all its prosperity and greatness. When "Robinson Crusoe" had attained celebrity, Defoe claimed that itwas an allegory of his own life. A parallel might easily be drawnbetween the isolation of the solitary sailor on his island, and thatof the persecuted author in the heart of a great city. All the world, and particularly his literary brethren, had been against Defoe. Popehad put him into the "Dunciad, " Swift had spoken of him as "the fellowwho was pilloried, I forget his name, " He had known oppression andpoverty, the pillory and the prison. He has left us his own view of theaim of "Robinson Crusoe. "[160] "Here is invincible patience recommendedunder the worst of misery; indefatigable application and undauntedresolution under the greatest and most discouraging circumstances. " Andsuch is the moral of Defoe's own life. Mrs. Heywood had written a number of stories[161] resembling, in thelicentiousness of their character and the flimsiness of theirconstruction, the novels of Mrs. Behn. Toward the end of her life shewrote "Miss Betsey Thoughtless, " which is believed to have suggested toMiss Burney some of the incidents in "Evelina. " This novel wasexceedingly popular, and had some merit, considering the period of itscomposition. It is among the earliest specimens of a domestic novel;the plot has interest, and the characters are life-like. Itillustrates, if any illustration were needed, the prevailing absence ofany elevated view, either of love, or of the relations between men andwomen. The book is made up of easy seductions and licentious talk, andrepresents its youthful characters as very familiar with dissolutescenes and thoughts. [Footnote 151: "Julius Cæsar, " Act. I, sc. 2. Quoted in Scott's "Lifeof Swift. " For Swift, see also "Life" by Sheridan, by Roscoe, and byForster. ] [Footnote 152: "Life of Swift. "] [Footnote 153: Sir W. Scott. "Life of Swift. "] [Footnote 154: See "Life of Swift, " by Scott. ] [Footnote 155: Wilson "Life of Defoe. " Lee, "Life of Defoe. "] [Footnote 156: See "Daniel Defoe, " by William Minto, p. 135. Americanedition. ] [Footnote 157: William Minto, "Life of Defoe, " p. 134:--"From writingbiographies with real names attached to them, it was but a short stepto writing biographies with fictitious names. "] [Footnote 158: "Memoir of Defoe, " William Hazlitt, p. 30. ] [Footnote 159: See the preface to "Moll Flanders. "] [Footnote 160: Preface to the "Serious Reflections of RobinsonCrusoe. "] [Footnote 161: "Love in Excess, " "The British Recluse, " "The InjuredHusband, " "Jenny and Jemmy Bessamy, " "The Fortunate Foundling. "] III. Samuel Richardson might have stood for Hogarth's "IndustriousApprentice. " When a printer's boy, young Samuel stole from his hoursof rest and relaxation the time to improve his mind. He was careful notto tire himself by sitting up too late at night over his books, andpurchased his own candles, so that his master, who called him the"pillar of his house, " might suffer no injury from his servant'simprovement. [162] Thus Richardson persevered in the path of virtue, until, like the "Industrious Apprentice, " himself, he married hismaster's daughter, succeeded to his business, and lived happy andrespected, surrounded by all the blessings which should fall to the lotof the truly good. "I was not fond of play, as other boys, " says the author of "Pamela";"my school-fellows used to call me _Serious_ and _Gravity_; and five ofthem particularly, delighted to single me out, either for a walk, or attheir fathers' houses, or at mine, to tell them stories, as theyphrased it. Some I told them from my reading, as true; others from myhead, as mere invention; of which they would be most fond. * * * _Allmy stories carried with them, I am bold to say, an useful moral. _"[163]In such a manner, and with such an intention, Richardson began hiscareer as a novelist. The life of the stout, vain little printer was already well advanced, his fortune was assured, and he was surrounded by a group ofaffectionate relatives and admiring female friends, when he was askedby a publisher to write "a little book of familiar letters on theuseful concerns in common life. " While thinking over this proposal, berecollected a story once told him of a young servant-girl, whose honorwas long attempted by a dissolute master, and who, by her resolutechastity, finally conquered his vicious intentions, and was rewardedby honorable marriage with her thwarted seducer. And then it occurredto Richardson, that this story, "if written in an easy and naturalmanner, suitable to the simplicity of it, might possibly introduce anew species of writing, that might possibly turn young people into acourse of reading different from the pomp and parade of romancewriting, and, dismissing the improbable and marvellous, with whichnovels generally abound, might tend to promote the cause of religionand virtue. " Such was the origin of a novel destined to make a new erain English fiction. It is evident that Richardson placed before himselftwo aims: to promote the cause of religion and virtue, and to introducea new species of writing, and in both he succeeded. The name, "Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded, " sounds like a tract, and"Pamela" is, indeed, a very long tract. The contrast is curious betweenthe moral object of the work and its contents. In the preface we aretold that "Pamela" is to inculcate religion and morality in an easy andagreeable manner; it is to make vice odious, to make virtue trulylovely, and to give practical examples, "worthy to be followed, in themost critical cases, by the modest virgin, the chaste bride, and theobliging wife. " Moreover, all this is to be done, "without raising asingle idea throughout the whole, that shall shock the exactestpurity. " Yet, "Pamela" contains not a few scenes likely to inflame theimagination, and its subject, kept continually before the reader'smind, is the licentious pursuit of a young girl. This story would notnow do for a tract. But it answered the purpose very well in theeighteenth century. Richardson had no fear his book would give theyouthful reader any new knowledge of evil, or that the long account ofPamela's attempted seduction would shock the "exactest purity" of histime. He simply described the dangers to which every attractive youngwoman was more or less subject by the prevailing looseness of morals, while, by the pathetic and resolute resistance of Pamela's chastity, heundoubtedly enlisted the sympathies of his reader on the side ofvirtue. The perusal of the book was recommended by Dr. Sherlock fromthe pulpit. One critic declared that it would do more good than twentyvolumes of sermons; another, that if all other books were to be burnt, "Pamela" and the Bible should be preserved. A gentleman said that hewould give it to his son as soon as he could read, that he might havean early impression of virtue. [164] The moral of "Pamela" was virtue rewarded. That of "Clarissa, "Richardson's second novel, was virtue triumphant, even in disgrace andruin. The heroine, to escape the tyranny of her parents who wished toforce her into a marriage she abhors, throws herself on the protectionof a lover, the famous Lovelace, who, failing to seduce her by anyother means, lures her into a brothel, and there violates her personwhile she is rendered insensible by opiates. Lovelace offers to makereparation for his crime by marriage, but in refusing this offer, andin dying of a broken heart, Clarissa carries out the moral of thestory. Richardson was blamed for making the libertine hero, Lovelace, moreattractive than was consistent with moral effect. And to remedy thismistake, he undertook in "Sir Charles Grandison, " his last novel, todraw the portrait of a man of _true honor_; "acting uniformly wellthrough a variety of trying scenes, because all his actions areregulated by one steady principle: a man of religion and virtue; ofliveliness and spirit; accomplished and agreeable; happy in himself, and a blessing to others. " Sir Charles then is not a man, but a model. "Pamela" and "Clarissa" remained virtuous through temptation and trial. But Grandison is a good man because he has no inducement to beotherwise. He can afford to be generous, because he is rich; he canafford to decline a duel, his reputation for skill in swordsmanship isso well established that he runs no danger of being called a coward; heis free from licentiousness, because his passions are under perfectcontrol. The name of Sir Charles Grandison has passed into a proverb, and its mention calls up to the mind a man of the most dignifieddeportment, of the most delicate consideration for women, and of themost elaborate manners. But it must be remembered that in Sir Charles, our author drew the portrait of what a gentleman should be, and not ofwhat a gentleman was. Even the most punctilious men of the time didnot, like Grandison, hesitate to visit a sick person, because it wouldinvolve travelling on Sunday; nor did they, as he, refuse to have theirhorses' tails docked, because nature had humanely given those tails asa protection against flies. The Grandisonian manners are not to betaken as a picture of contemporary fashion. Richardson was unacquaintedwith aristocratic habits, and his high-flown love scenes were purelyideal. When he goes into high life, said Chesterfield, "he mistakes themodes. " Not long before Sir Charles was making his formal and courtlyaddresses to Miss Byron, Walpole had written to George Montagu: "'Tisno little inducement to wish myself in France, that I hear gallantry isnot left off there; that you may be polite, and not be thought awkwardfor it. You know the pretty men of the age in England use the womenwith no more deference than they do their coach horses. " Such was thestate of things which the example of Sir Charles Grandison was intendedto remedy. The moral design is an important element in Richardson's novels, butthe extraordinary popularity of these works was owing to other causes. Richardson had known how to move his reader's heart, and how to give tohis characters a deep personal interest. He had attempted to introduce"a new species of writing, " and public enthusiasm testified to hissuccess. Colly Cibber read "Clarissa" before its publication, and waswrought up into a high state of excitement by the story. "What apiteous, d----d, disgraceful pickle you have placed her in!" he wroteto Richardson. "For God's sake, send me the sequel, or--I don't knowwhat to say! * * * My girls are all on fire and fright to know what canpossibly have become of her. " And when he heard that Clarissa was tohave a miserable end, he wrote the author: "God d----n him, if sheshould. "[165] Mrs. Pilkington was not less distressed: "Spare hervirgin purity, dear sir, spare it! Consider if this wounds both Mr. Cibber and me (_who neither of us set up for immaculate chastity_), what must it do with those who possess that inestimable treasure?"[166]Miss Fielding, the sister of the novelist of that name, thus described, in a letter to its author, her feelings on reading "Clarissa": "When Iread of her, I am all sensation; my heart glows. I am overwhelmed; myonly vent is tears. " One Thomas Turner, who kept a village shop inSussex, thus recorded in his diary the impression produced upon him bythe death of Clarissa: "Oh, may the Supreme Being give me grace tolead my life in such a manner as my exit may in some measure be likethat divine creature's. "[167] Johnson was an enthusiastic admirer ofRichardson. Dr. Young looked upon him as an "instrument of Providence. "Ladies at Ranelagh held up "Pamela, " to show that they had the famousbook. [168] Nor was this interest confined to the last century. "When Iwas in India, " said Macaulay to Thackeray, "I passed one hot season atthe hills, and there were the governor-general, and the secretary ofgovernment, and the commander-in-chief, and their wives. I had "Clarissa"with me, and as soon as they began to read, the whole station was in apassion of excitement about Miss Harlowe and her misfortunes, and herscoundrelly Lovelace. The governor's wife seized the book, and thesecretary waited for it, and the chief justice could not read it fortears!" Macaulay "acted the whole scene, " adds Thackeray; "he paced upand down the Athenæum library; I dare say he could have spoken pagesof the book. "[169] But admiration of Richardson was still greater amongforeigners. The novels were translated into French, Dutch, and German, and the enthusiasm they excited may be imagined from the warmth ofDiderot's eulogy: "I yet remember with delight the first time ('Clarissa')came into my hands. I was in the country. How deliciously was I affected!At every moment I saw my happiness abridged by a page. I then experiencedthe same sensations those feel who have long lived with one they love, and are on the point of separation. At the close of the work I seemed toremain deserted. * * * Oh, Richardson! thou singular genius in my eyes!thou shalt form my reading at all times. If, forced by sharp necessity, my friend falls into indigence; if the mediocrity of my fortune is notsufficient to bestow on my children the necessary cares for theireducation, I will sell my books, --but thou shalt remain! Yes, thou shaltrest in the _same class_ with Moses, Homer, Euripides, and Sophocles, tobe read alternately. "[170] What was the secret by which the stout little printer excited suchenthusiasm and won such eulogy? How did he appeal to natures sodifferent as the worldly Lord Chesterfield, the country shopkeeper, andthe impassioned Diderot? Richardson was the first novelist to stir theheart and to move the passions, and his power was the more strikingthat it was new. His study of human nature had begun early in life. "Iwas not more than thirteen, " he says, "when three young women, unknownto each other, having an high opinion of my taciturnity, revealed to metheir love secrets, in order to induce me to give them copies to writeafter, or correct, for answers to their lovers' letters. * * * I havebeen directed to chide, and even repulse, when an offence was eithertaken or given, at the very time when the heart of the chider orrepulser was open before me, overflowing with esteem and affection; andthe fair repulser, dreading to be taken at her word, directed _this_word, or _that_ expression, to be softened or changed. One, highlygratified with her lover's fervor and vows of everlasting love, hassaid, when I have asked her direction, _I cannot tell you what towrite; but_ (her heart on her lips) _you cannot write tookindly_. "[171] With such an apprenticeship, Richardson had come topossess a very delicate perception of character, and especially offemale character. There was a certain effeminacy in his own naturewhich made him understand women better than men. His best creations arePamela and Clarissa. Lovelace and Grandison are drawn from the outside;they are less real and natural. But Richardson leads his reader intothe inmost recesses of his heroines' hearts. He is at home indescribing the fears, the trials, and the final childlike rejoicings ofPamela. He attains to a high tragic effect in the death of Clarissa, ascene which Sir James Mackintosh ranked with Hume's description of thedeath of Mary Stuart. In this power to touch the heart and to move thepassions of his reader lay the charm of Richardson's writing. But topaint perfection, rather than to study nature, was his object in "SirCharles Grandison, " and therefore that novel was less powerful in theauthor's day, and is less interesting in ours than "Pamela" and"Clarissa. " We no longer need the example of the pompous Sir Charles todissuade us from indecent language and drunkenness in a lady'sdrawing-room, and we can only laugh at the studied propriety of hisfaultless intercourse with Miss Byron: He kissed my hand with fervor, dropped down on one knee; again kissed it--You have laid me, madam, under everlasting obligation; and will you permit me before I rise--loveliest of women, will you permit me to beg an early day?-- He clasped me in his; arms with an ardor--that displeased me not on reflection. But at the time startled me. He then thanked me again on one knee. I held out the hand he had not in his, with intent to raise him; for I could not speak. He received it as a token of favor; kissed it with ardor; arose; _again_ pressed my cheeks with his lips. I was too much surprised to repulse him with anger; but was he not too free? Am I a prude, my dear? Restrain, check me, madam, whenever I seem to trespass on your goodness. Yet how shall I forbear to wish you to hasten the day that shall make you wholly mine? You will the rather allow me to wish it, as you will then be more than ever your own mistress; though you have always been generously left to a discretion that never was more deservedly trusted to. Your will, madam, will ever comprehend mine. The verisimilitude of Richardson's novels, which is made so striking byhis feminine attention to detail, may seem destroyed to modern readersby the apparent improbability of the narrative itself. It appearsstrange that young girls like Pamela or Clarissa should be so entirelyin the power of their seducers, that incidents should be repeated withimpunity which the existence of a police force would seem to makeimpossible. But the reader whose sense of probability is shocked by theunpunished and uninterrupted villanies of Mr. B. And of Lovelace, canfind evidence of the security with which such crimes could be committedby the rich and influential in the Newgate calendar. The forcibledetention in his own house, by Lord Baltimore, of a young girl, hisatrocious treatment of her, and his escape from punishment, areincidents in real life not more remarkable than the fictions of thenovelist. Sir Walter Scott lamented, early in the present century, the neglectinto which the works of Richardson had fallen. That neglect has notsince been diminished, for obvious reasons. "Surely, sir, " said Erskineto Johnson, "Richardson is very tedious. " "Why, sir, " was thelexicographer's reply, "if you were to read Richardson for the story, your impatience would be so much fretted that you would hang yourself, but you must read him for the sentiment, and consider the story as onlygiving occasion to the sentiment. " But the reader of today will agreewith Erskine in thinking that Richardson is tedious. We have so manygood novels which do not require the attention and labor exacted byhim. We live so fast that we cannot spare the time for so muchsentiment. These novels, like the elaborate embroideries of the lastcentury, belong to a period when life was less full, and books lessabundant. Samuel Richardson will take his place among the great authorswho are much admired and little read, whose works every educated personshould have heard of, but upon which very few would like to beexamined. With Richardson's novels English fiction took a long step forward; butit made a still greater advance in the hands of Henry Fielding. Thelatter was peculiarly well fitted by his talents and experience tocarry the novel to a high position of importance and artistic merit. Heunited a considerable dramatic, and a great narrative power with anexuberant wit and an extensive knowledge of men. Allied to a noblefamily, but oppressed by poverty, Fielding mingled during his life withall classes of society. The Hon. George Lyttleton was his friend andprotector, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu was his cousin. On the other hand, his poverty and improvidence constantly kept him, as Lady Mary put it, "raking in the lowest rinks of vice and misery. " Richardson, who alwaysdenounced Fielding's works as "wretchedly low and dirty, " saidsneeringly: "his brawls, his jars, his jails, his spunging-houses areall drawn from what he has seen and known. " But in this ungeneroussneer lay a substantial compliment. Fielding did describe what he hadseen and known, and the variety of his experience gave him a breadthand power in describing human nature which the confined life ofRichardson could not afford. The two novelists cannot be fairlycompared, nor should they be considered as rivals. They pursueddifferent methods, and aimed at opposite effects. Each has a high placein English literature, which the greatness of the other cannot depress. Richardson is best able to make his reader weep, and Fielding to makehim laugh. Fielding was a tall, handsome fellow, so full of life and spirits that"his happy disposition, " to quote Lady Mary, "made him forget everyevil when he was before a venison-pastry, or over a flask ofchampagne. " This rollicking, careless joyousness is the tone of hisbooks. Whether taken to a prison, an inn, or a lady's boudoir, whetherwatching the breaking of heads, the blackening of eyes, or the makingof love, the reader is always kept smiling. Fielding is often censured by moralists for the coarseness of hisnovels. But had he not been coarse he would not have been true. Hedescribed life as it was in the eighteenth century, as he had seen itin the ups and downs of a checkered career. His characters were takenfrom the higher ranks and the lower. He placed the house, theamusements, the habits of a country gentleman before the reader withthe faithfulness of a man who had hunted, feasted, and got drunk withcountry-gentlemen. He described the miserable prisons of his time as heonly could who had mingled with their degraded inmates, and had exertedhis power as a police magistrate to break up the gangs of ruffians whoinfested the streets. Thus Fielding's novels have a high historical, aswell as a literary value. Mr. Lecky has testified to their importancein a reconstruction of the past by placing "Amelia" among hisauthorities. Squire Allworthy, Squire Western, Tom Jones, Parson Adams, are characters to be studied by whoever would understand social life inthe eighteenth century. The lovely Sophia, the modest Fanny, and aboveall Amelia, whom Thackeray considered "the most charming character inEnglish fiction, " are portraits in the gallery of history. [172] As Fielding set out to describe truth and nature as he saw them, thereader must put away his notions of refinement and delicacy. He must beprepared to be entertained by blows, licentious assaults, a tub ofhog's blood thrown by a clergyman, coarse practical jokes, foul talk, all put before him without disguise or circumlocution. As he followsParson Adams, Joseph, and Fanny in their journey, he must always beready for a fight. Here is a specimen: "The captain * * * drew forth his hanger as Adams approached him, and was levelling a blow at his head which would probably have silenced the preacher forever, had not Joseph in that instant lifted up a certain huge stone pot of the chamber with one hand, which six beaux could not have lifted with both, and discharged it, together with the contents, full in the captain's face. The uplifted hanger dropped from his hand, and he fell prostrate on the floor with a lumpish noise, and his half-pence rattled in his pocket: the red liquor which his veins contained, and the white liquor which the pot contained, ran in one stream down his face and his clothes. Nor had Adams quite escaped, some of the water having in its passage shed its honors on his head, and begun to trickle down the wrinkles, or rather furrows, of his cheeks; when one of the servants snatching a mop out of a pail of water, which had already done its duty in washing the house, pushed it in the parson's face; yet could he not bear him down; for the parson wresting the mop from the fellow with one hand, with the other brought his enemy as low as the earth. "[173] To obtain any adequate idea of the range of Fielding's pictures ofhuman nature, the reader must consult the novels themselves. Proprietyforbids the insertion here of quotations which could convey animpression of the happy dissoluteness of Tom Jones, the brutalcoarseness of Squire Western, or the scenes of unblushing license whichpervade the novels of Henry Fielding. But a sample of the witty, jovialtone which has made these novels so popular may be of interest toreaders who are not inclined to open "Tom Jones" itself. The followingscene was occasioned by the appearance of Molly Seagrim in church, inunaccustomed and ostentatious finery, and is described in the Homericstyle, which Fielding sometimes adopted with such humorous effect. As a vast herd of cows in a rich farmer's yard, if, while they are milked, they hear their calves at a distance, lamenting the robbery which is then committing, roar and bellow: so roared forth the Somersetshire mob an halloloo, made up of almost as many squalls, screams, and other different sounds, as there were persons, or indeed passions, among them. Some were inspired by rage, others alarmed by fear, and others had nothing in theirs heads but the love of fun; but chiefly Envy, the sister of Satan and his constant companion, rushed among the crowd and blew up the fury of the women; who no sooner came up to Molly than they pelted her with dirt and rubbish. Molly, having endeavored in vain to make a handsome retreat, faced about; and laying hold of ragged Bess, who advanced in the front of the enemy, she at one blow felled her to the ground. The whole army of the enemy (though near a hundred in number), seeing the fate of their general, gave back many paces, and retired beyond a new dug grave; for the church-yard was the field of battle, where there was to be a funeral that very evening. Molly pursued her victory, and catching up a skull which lay on the side of the grave, discharged it with such fury, that having hit a tailor on the head, the two skulls sent equally forth a hollow sound at their meeting, and the tailor took presently measure of his length on the ground, where the skulls lay side by side, and it was doubtful which was the more valuable of the two. Molly, then taking a thigh bone in her hand, fell in among the flying ranks, and dealing her blows with great liberality on either side, overthrew the carcass of many a mighty hero and heroine. Recount, O muse, the names of those who fell on this fatal day. First Jemmy Tweedle felt on his hinder head the direful bone. Him the pleasant banks of sweetly winding Stour had nourished, where he first learnt the vocal art, with which, wandering up and down at wakes and fairs, he cheered the rural nymphs and swains, when upon the green they interweaved the sprightly dance; while he himself stood fiddling and jumping to his own music. How little now avails his fiddle! He thumps the verdant floor with his carcass. Next old Echepole, the sow-gelder, received a blow in his forehead from our Amazonian heroine, and immediately fell to the ground. He was a swinging fat fellow, and fell with almost as much noise as a house. His tobacco-box dropt at the same time from his pocket, which Molly took up as lawful spoils. Then Kate of the Mill tumbled unfortunately over a tombstone, which catching hold of her ungartered stocking, inverted the order of nature, and gave her heels the superiority to her head. Betty Pippin, with young Roger her lover, fell both to the ground; where, O Perverse Fate! she salutes the earth, and he the sky. [174] Fielding had shown more than any predecessor the possibilities offiction in the study of character and the illustration of manners, andto the art of the narrator, he had added that of the dramatist. Thefalling of the rug in Molly Seagrim's bedroom[175] is one of thehappiest incidents ever devised, and no doubt suggested to Sheridan thefalling of the screen in the "School for Scandal. " But the chiefdistinction of Fielding lies in his having carried the novel to a highpoint as a work of art. It was the opinion of Coleridge that the"Oedipus Tyrannus, " "The Alchemist, " and "Tom Jones, " were the threemost perfect plots ever planned. [176] It is to this excellence ofplot--the subordination of each minor circumstance to the general aim, the skill with which all events are made to lead up to the finaldénouement--that Fielding, if any one, deserves the title of thefounder of the English novel. But to give this title to any individualis a manifest injustice. The novel was developed, not created; and inthat development many minds took part. Short love stories had been madefamiliar in England by the Italian writers. Such, also, had beenproduced by Mrs. Behn, Mrs. Manley, and Mrs. Heywood. Defoe had writtennovels of adventure, in one of which, at least, is found thecombination of a character well drawn and a plot well executed. In thenumber of his characters and the complication of his plot, Richardsonhad surpassed Defoe. It is the merit of Fielding to have combined in afar greater degree than those who had gone before the characteristicqualities of the novel. In others we see the promise, in him thefulfilment. And this was in no respect the result of an accident. Fielding lookedupon his first work as a new attempt in English literature. "JosephAndrews" was first intended to be merely a satire on "Pamela. " But studyand reflection on the nature of his work determined Fielding to producea "prose epic. " "The epic as well as the drama, " he said in the preface, "is divided into tragedy and comedy. " Now, he continued, "when any kindof writing contains all the other parts (of the epic), such as fable, action, characters, sentiments, and diction, and is deficient in metreonly; it seems, I think, reasonable to refer it to the epic. " Such, too, was the opinion of the Chevalier Bunsen. "The romance of modern times, "he says in his preface to "Soll und Haben" * * * "represents the latest_stadium_ of the epic. Every romance is intended, or ought to be, a newIliad or Odyssey; in other words, a poetic representation of a course ofevents consistent with the highest laws of moral government, whether itdelineate the general history of a people, or narrate the fortunes of achosen hero. * * * The excellence of a romance, like that of an epic ora drama, lies in the apprehension and truthful exhibition of the courseof human things. "[177] Lord Byron expressed his opinion that Fieldinghad realized this view of the nature of the novel by calling him theprose Homer of human nature. Fielding's novels are now considered unfit for general perusal. Inconsidering the coarseness and immorality of a writer, the intention andthe result must be separated. That Fielding's works are coarse, and thatthey contain scenes and characters of a dissolute nature, is neither tobe denied nor to be regretted. If they were more pure, they would beless valuable from a historical point of view; less true to nature, andtherefore less artistic. That the author's intention was far from theproduction of works with an evil tendency, is evident. He was carefulto say in the preface to "Joseph Andrews": "It may be objected to methat I have against my own rules introduced vices, and of a very blackkind, in this work. To which I shall answer first, that it is verydifficult to pursue a series of human actions, and keep clear from them. Secondly, that the vices to be found here are rather the accidentalconsequences of some human frailty or foible, than causes habituallyexisting in the mind. Thirdly, that they are never set forth as theobjects of ridicule, but detestation. Fourthly, that they are neverthe principal figure at that time on the scene; and lastly, they neverproduce the intended evil. " And again, still more strongly, Fieldingclaims the merit of purity and moral effect for "Tom Jones, " "I hopemy reader will be convinced, at his very entrance on this work, thathe will find, in the whole course of it, nothing prejudicial to thecause of religion and virtue; nothing inconsistent with the strictestrules of decency, nor which can offend the chastest eye in the perusal. On the contrary, I declare, that to recommend goodness and innocencehath been my sincere endeavor in this history. * * * Besides displayingthat beauty of virtue which may attract the admiration of mankind, I haveattempted to engage a stronger motive to human action in her favor, byconvincing men that their true interest directs them to a pursuit of her. For this purpose I have shown, that no acquisitions of guilt cancompensate the loss of that solid inward comfort of mind, which is thesure companion of innocence and virtue; nor can in the least balance theevil of that horror and anxiety which, in their room, guilt introducedinto our bosoms. " Thus, it is evident, that Fielding had no desire to write what might beharmful. The contrast between his promise and his fulfilment is simplyan illustration of the standard of his time. His novels are coarse to adegree which may nullify their merits in the eyes of some readers ofthe present day, and may unfit them for the perusal of very youngpeople. But this is simply because the standard in such matters haschanged, and not because the novels were purposely made dissolute. Their coarseness was adapted to the lack of refinement in thought andspeech characteristic of that time. Fielding wished to "laugh mankindout of their follies and vices. " In his coarseness there is always anopen, frank laughter. There is none of that veiled pruriency whichlurks underneath the more conventionally expressed, but really vicioussentiments that are to be found in too many novels of our own day. The novel was well defined in character and well established inpopularity when Smollett entered the field so well occupied byRichardson and Fielding. On this account his works have a lessimportant place in the history of fiction than those of hispredecessors. While he added greatly to the store of fictitiouswriting, he developed no new ideas concerning it. Fielding hadannounced at the outset of his career as a novelist that he had takenCervantes as a prototype, and the influence of the great Spanish writeris plainly visible in "Joseph Andrews. " But in the literary workmanshipof his two later novels, Fielding's entire originality is undeniable. Smollett, however, is plainly an imitator of Le Sage. He did not aim atthat artistic construction of plot, which is Fielding's chief merit. The novel, in his hands, became rather a series of adventures, linkedtogether by their occurrence to the same individuals. "A novel, " hesaid, "is a large, diffused picture, comprehending the characters oflife, disposed in different groups, and exhibited in various attitudes, for the purposes of a uniform plan and general occurrence, to whichevery individual figure is subservient. But this plan cannot beexecuted with propriety, probability, or success, without a principalpersonage to attract the attention, unite the incidents, unwind theclue of the labyrinth, and at last close the scene by virtue of hisimportance. "[178] But Smollett presents the "different groups" and"various attitudes" of his "diffused picture" with a luxuriance ofimagination, a fidelity to nature, and an exuberance of broad humorwhich inspire interest even when they occasion disgust. If he addednothing new to the novel from a purely literary point of view, hisworks have an exceptional historical value. His life was well adapted to educate him as an observer and student ofhuman nature. Of a good Scotch family, but obliged by poverty to relyon his own efforts for a living, he mixed familiarly with variedclasses of men. As a surgeon in London, he came in contact with themiddle and lower ranks of the city, from which many of his bestcharacters are taken. As surgeon's mate on board a man-of-war, heobtained that acquaintance with a seafaring life which was afterwardturned to such excellent account. Of Smollett's works, "Humphrey Clinker" is the most humorous, "RoderickRandom" the simplest and most natural, "Perigrine Pickle, " the mostelaborate and brilliant. The reader is conducted from adventure toadventure with an unfailing interest, sustained by the distinctness ofthe picture and the brightness of the coloring. The characters met withare natural and well studied. Trunnion, Hatchway, Pipes, LieutenantBowling, and Jack Rattlin are all distinctly seamen, and yet each has amarked individuality of his own. Matthew Bramble and Winifred Jenkinsare among the best-drawn and most entertaining of fictitiouspersonages. Smollett's humor is usually of the broadest and mostelementary kind. It consists largely of hard blows, _a-propos_knockdowns, and practical jokes. More than any novelist, he illustratesthe coarseness of his time. His pages are filled with cruelties andblackguardism. Many of his principal characters are dissolute withoutenjoyment, and brutal without good nature. Modern taste is shocked bythe succession of repulsive scenes and degrading representations ofvice which are often intended to amuse, and always to entertain. But itis because life in the eighteenth century had so many repulsivefeatures, that the novels of the time often repel the modern reader, There is nothing strained or uncommon in the experiences of MissWilliams while in prison: There I saw nothing but rage, anguish, and impiety; and heard nothing but groans, curses, and blasphemy. In the midst of this hellish crew, I was subjected in the tyranny of a barbarian, who imposed upon me tasks that I could not possibly perform, and then punished my incapacity with the utmost rigor and inhumanity. I was often whipped into a swoon, and lashed out of it, during which miserable intervals I was robbed by my fellow-prisoners of every thing about me, even to my cap, shoes, and stockings; I was not only destitute of necessaries, but even of food, so that my wretchedness was extreme. Not one of my acquaintance, to whom I imparted my situation, would grant me the least succor or regard, on pretence of my being committed for theft; and my landlord refused to part with some of my own clothes, which I sent for, because I was indebted to him for a week's lodging. Overwhelmed with calamity, I grew desperate, and resolved to put an end to my grievances and life together; for this purpose I got up in the middle of the night, when I thought everybody around me asleep, and fixing one end of my handkerchief to a large hook in the ceiling that supported the scales on which the hemp is weighed, I stood upon a chair, and making a noose on the other end, put my neck into it with an intention to hang myself; but before I could adjust the knot, I was surprised and prevented by two women who had been awake all the while, and suspected my design. In the morning my attempt was published among the prisoners, and punished with thirty stripes, the pain of which co-operating with my disappointment and disgrace, bereft me of my senses, and threw me into an ecstasy of madness, during which I tore the flesh from my bones with my teeth, and dashed my head against the pavement. [179] While Smollett mingled such scenes of misery with coarse adventures andcoarse humor, he is yet always true to nature and always picturesque. He keeps the reader's attention even when he offends his taste. Heimpaired the literary merit of "Perigrine Pickle, " but at the same timeadded to its dissolute character and its immediate popularity by theforced insertion of the licentious "Memoirs of a Lady of Quality. " Nowa serious blemish, these memoirs formed at the time an added attractionto the book. They were eagerly read as the authentic account of LadyVane, a notorious woman of rank, and were furnished to Smollett byherself, in the hope, fully gratified, that her infamous career mightbe known to future generations. [180] That the standard of public taste was rising, would appear from thefact that in the second edition of "Perigrine Pickle, " Smollett foundit advisable to "reform the manners and correct the expression" of thefirst; but when "he flatters himself that he has expunged everyadventure, phrase, and insinuation that could be construed by the mostdelicate reader into a trespass upon the rules of decorum, " he does notgive a high idea of the standard of the "most delicate reader. " ButSmollett has left an account of his own views regarding the moraleffect of the pictures of vice and degradation which his works contain, and that account is a striking statement of contemporary feeling uponthe subject: The same principle by which we rejoice at the remuneration of merit, will teach us to relish the disgrace and discomfiture of vice, which is always an example of extensive use and influence, because it leaves a deep impression of terror upon the minds of those who were not confirmed in the pursuit of morality and virtue, and, while the balance wavers, enables the right scale to preponderate. * * * The impulses of fear, which is the most violent and interesting of all the passions, remain longer than any other upon the memory; and for one that is allured to virtue by the contemplation of that peace and happiness which it bestows, an hundred are deterred from the practice of vice, by the infamy and punishment to which it is liable from the laws and regulations of mankind. Let me not, therefore, be condemned for having chosen my principal character from the purlieus of treachery and fraud, when I declare that my purpose is to set him up as a beacon for the benefit of the inexperienced and the unwary, who, from the perusal of these memoirs, may learn to avoid the manifold snares with which they are continually surrounded in the paths of life; while those who hesitate on the brink of iniquity may he terrified from plunging into that irremediable gulph, by surveying the deplorable fate of Ferdinand Count Fathom. [181] This passage illustrates with remarkable fidelity the attitude, notonly of Smollett, but of the other novelists and the general public ofthe first half of the eighteenth century, toward vice and crime. Theconsciousness of evil and the desire for reformation were prominentfeatures of the time. But to deter men from wrong-doing, fear was theonly recognized agent. There was absolutely no feeling of philanthropy. There was no effort to prevent crime through the education orregulation of the lower classes; there was no attempt to reform thecriminal when convicted. The public fear of the criminal classes wasexpressed in the cruel and ineffective code which punished almost everyoffense with death. The corruptions which pervaded the administrationof justice made it almost impossible to punish the wealthy andinfluential. When Smollett declared that the miserable fate of CountFathom would deter his reader from similar courses by a fear of similarpunishment, when Defoe urged the moral usefulness of "Moll Flanders"and "Roxana, " the two novelists simply expressed the general feelingthat the sight of a malefactor hanging on the gallows was the mosteffective recommendation to virtue. In the same spirit in which justiceexposed the offender in the stocks to public view, the novelistdescribed his careers of vice ending in misery, and Hogarth conductedhis Idle Apprentice from stage to stage till Tyburn Hill is reached. The same moral end is always in view, but the lesson is illustrated bythe ugliness of vice, and not by the beauty of virtue. In our time wehave reason to be thankful for a criminal legislation tempered by mercyand philanthropy. We have attained, too, a standard of taste and ofhumanity which has banished the degrading exhibitions of publicpunishments, which has largely done away with coarseness and brutality, and has added much to the happiness of life. In fiction, the writer whowishes to serve a moral purpose attains his end by the more agreeablemethod of holding up examples of merit to be imitated, rather than ofvice to be shunned. But when the great novelists of the eighteenth century were writing, the standard of taste was extremely low. The author knew that he waskeeping his reader in bad company, and was supplying his mind withcoarse ideas, but he believed that he might do this without offense. Defoe thought that "Moll Flanders" would not "offend the chastestreader or the modestest hearer"; Richardson, that the prolonged effortto seduce Pamela could be described "without raising a single ideathroughout the whole that shall shock the exactest purity"; Fielding, that there was nothing in "Tom Jones" which "could offend the chastesteye in the perusal. " Nor, as concerned their own time, were theymistaken. They clearly understood the distinction between coarsenessand immorality. The young women who read "Tom Jones" with enthusiasmwere not less moral than the women who now avoid it, they were onlyless refined. They did not think vice less reprehensible, but were moreaccustomed to the sight of it, and therefore less easily offended byits description. While the novels of which we have been speaking were making their firstappearance, there lived in Kent a charming young lady who went by thename of "the celebrated Miss Talbot. " She had attained this distinctionby her great cultivation. She had studied astronomy and geography, was"mistress of French and Italian, " and knew a little Latin. When she wasonly twenty years of age, the Dean of Canterbury spoke of her with highadmiration. Her acquaintance was eagerly sought by accomplished youngladies, and by none more successfully than "the learned" Miss Carter. Both of these girls read the novels of the day, and fortunatelyrecorded some of their opinions in the letters which passed betweenthem. [182] "I want much to know, " wrote Miss Talbot, "whether you haveyet condescended to read 'Joseph Andrews. '" "I must thank you, " repliedMiss Carter, "for the perfectly agreeable entertainment I have met inreading 'Joseph Andrews. ' It contains such a surprising variety ofnature, wit, morality, and good sense, as is scarcely to be met with inany one composition, and there is such a spirit of benevolence throughthe whole, as, I think renders it peculiarly charming, " Some yearslater the Bishop of Gloucester came to visit Miss Talbot's family, andread "Amelia, " the young lady wrote, while he was nursing his cold bythe fireside. Miss Carter replied that "in favor of the bishop's cold, his reading 'Amelia' in silence may be tolerated, but I am somewhatscandalized that, since he did not read it to you, you did not read ityourself. " "The more I read 'Tom Jones, '" wrote Miss Talbot, "the moreI detest him, and admire Clarissa Harlowe, --yet there are in it thingsthat must touch and please every good heart, and probe to the quickmany a bad one, and humor that it is impossible not to laugh at. " "I amsorry, " replied Miss Carter, "to find you so outrageous about poor TomJones; he is no doubt an imperfect, but not a detestable character, with all that honesty, good-nature, and generosity. " Miss Talbot, in alater letter, said that she had once heard a lady piously say to herson that she wished with all her heart he was like Tom Jones. [183] In1747 "Clarissa" was read aloud at the palace of the Bishop of Oxford, Miss Talbot's uncle. "As for us, " she wrote, "we lived quite happy thewhole time we were reading it, and we made that time as long as wecould, too, for we only read it _en famille_, at set hours, and all therest of the day we talked of it. One can scarcely persuade one's selfthat they are not real characters and living people. " Even "RoderickRandom" made part of the young ladies' reading. "It is a very strangeand a very low book, " commented the Bishop's celebrated niece, "thoughnot without some characters in it, and, I believe, some very just, though very wretched descriptions. " [Footnote 162: Mrs. Barbauld's "Life of Richardson, " vol. 1, p. 42. Scott's "Life of Richardson. "] [Footnote 163: Mrs. Barbauld's "Life of Richardson, " vol. 1, p. 37. ] [Footnote 164: _Edinburgh Review. _ Oct. , 1804. Scott's "Life ofRichardson, " note. ] [Footnote 165: Richardson's correspondence, 1748. ] [Footnote 166: Richardson's correspondence. Forsyth's "Novels andNovelists, " p. 251. ] [Footnote 167: See the interesting "Glimpses of Our Ancestors, " byCharles Fleet, p. 33. ] [Footnote 168: Mrs. Barbauld's "Life of Richardson. "] [Footnote 169: W. M. Thackeray, "Nil Nisi Bonum", _Cornhill Mag. _, No. 1. ] [Footnote 170: D'Israeli's "Curiosities of Literature, " art. "Richardson. "] [Footnote 171: Mrs. Barbauld's "Life of Richardson, " vol. I, p. 40. Scott's "Life of Richardson. "] [Footnote 172: The reader may find some curious examples of thefidelity with which Fielding portrayed contemporary character andmanners in comparing passages in "Tom Jones, " with "Glimpses of ourAncestors, " by Charles Fleet, pp. 38, 39, _et passim_. ] [Footnote 173: "Joseph Andrews, " book III, chap. 9. ] [Footnote 174: "Tom Jones, " book iv, ch. 8. ] [Footnote 175: Samuel Rogers, "Table Talk, " p. 227. ] [Footnote 176: Coleridge, "Table Talk, " p. 339, vol. 2, London, 1835. ] [Footnote 177: Preface to "Debit and Credit" ("Soll und Haben"), byGustav Freitag. ] [Footnote 178: "Adventures of Count Fathom, " letter of dedication. ] [Footnote 179: "Roderick Random, " chap. Xxiii. ] [Footnote 180: 'The wife of William, second Viscount Vane, "was the toocelebrated Lady Vane; first married to Lord William Hamilton, andsecondly to Lord Vane; who has given her own extraordinary anddisreputable adventures to the world in Smollett's novel of 'PerigrinePickle, ' under the title of 'Memoirs of a Lady of Quality. '"--Walpoleto Mann, Nov 23, 1743. "The troops continue going to Flanders, butslowly enough. Lady Vane has taken a trip thither after a cousin ofLord Berkeley, who is as simple about her as her own husband is, andhas written to Mr. Knight at Paris to furnish her with what money shewants. He says she is vastly to blame, for he was trying to get her adivorce from Lord Vane, and then would have married her himself. Heradventures are worthy to be bound up with those of my goodsister-in-law, the German Princess, and Moll Flanders. "--Walpole toMann, June 14, 1742. ] [Footnote 181: "Adventures of Count Fathom, " letter of dedication. ] [Footnote 182: "The Carter and Talbot Correspondence, " Ed. By Rev. Montagu Pennington, 1809. ] [Footnote 183: See "The Carter and Talbot Correspondences. "] CHAPTER VII. THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY CONTINUED. I. --THE RELIGIOUS REVIVAL. II. --STERNE, JOHNSON, GOLDSMITH, AND OTHERS. III. --MISS BURNEY, AND THE FEMALE NOVELISTS. IV. --THE ROMANTIC REVIVAL. I. We have observed in the earlier works of fiction of the eighteenthcentury, together with great coarseness of thought and manners, thereflection of a strong moral and reforming tendency. As early as thereign of William III, Parliament had requested the king to issueproclamations to justices of the peace, instructing them to put inexecution the neglected laws against open licentiousness. [184] In 1698, Collier published his "Short View of the Immorality and Profaneness ofthe English Stage, " a powerful and effective protest against thedepravity of the drama. At about the same time had been formed theSocieties for the Reformation of Manners, which energetically attackedthe more flagrant forms of crime. "England, bad as she is, " wrote Defoein 1706, "is yet a reforming nation; and the work has made moreprogress from the court even to the street, than, I believe, any nationin the world can parallel in such a time and in such circumstances. "Toward the middle of the century, these tendencies took effect in theMethodist Revival, a movement destined to exert a profound influenceon society. Accompanying this revival, or resulting from it, were manyimportant reforms. The corruption of political life graduallydiminished. A new patriotism and unselfishness began to appear inpublic men. A spirit of philanthropy arose which corrected some of theworst social abuses. Under the leadership of the noble John Howard, theprisons, so long the abandoned haunts of squalor, oppression, andmisery, were considerably redeemed from their shameful condition. BeauNash marked the progress of peaceful and law-abiding habits by formallyforbidding the wearing of swords wherever his fashionable authority wasrecognized. In the fiction of the latter half of the eighteenth centuryis illustrated a gradual transition of morals and taste from theunbridled coarseness of the century's earlier years to the comparativerefinement of our own times. There lived in Sussex about the time of the Methodist revival, athriving shopkeeper named Thomas Turner. He had received a goodeducation, and in early life had been a schoolmaster. On reading"Clarissa" he had exclaimed, what would have gladdened the heart ofRichardson: "Oh, may the Supreme Being give me grace to lead my life insuch a manner as my exit may in some measure be like that divinecreature's!" His literary tastes were so pronounced and varied that inthe space of six weeks he had read Gray's "Poems, " Stewart "On theSupreme Being, " the "Whole Duty of Man, " "Paradise Lost and Regained, ""Othello, " the "Universal Magazine, " Thomson's "Seasons, " Young's"Night Thoughts, " Tournefort's "Voyage to the Levant, " and "PerigrinePickle. " This scholarly tradesman kept a diary, in which he recordedhis thoughts, his studies, and his amusements with a frankness whichdeserves the thanks of posterity. Some passages of his diary, in theirillustration of the combination of licence, coarseness, and moralearnestness characteristic of the writer's time may greatly assist usin appreciating the power and influence of the religious revival. [185] "I went to the audit and came home drunk. But I think never to exceedthe bounds of moderation more. * * * "Sunday, 28th, went down to Jones', where we drank one bowl of punch and two muggs of bumboo; and I camehome again in liquor. Oh, with what horrors does it fill my heart, tothink I should be guilty of doing so, and on a Sunday, too! Let me oncemore endeavour, never, no never, to be guilty of the same again. * * * Iread part of the fourth volume of the _Tatler_; the oftener I read it, the better I like it. I think I never found the vice of drinking so wellexploded in my life, as in one of the numbers. " In January, 1751, "Mr. Elless (the schoolmaster), Marchant, myself, and wife sat down towhist about seven o'clock, and played all night; very pleasant, and Ithink I may say innocent mirth, there being no oaths nor imprecationssounding from side to side, as is too often the case at cards. "February 2, "we supped at Mr. Fuller's, and spent the evening with agreat deal of mirth, till between one and two. Tho, Fuller brought mywife home on his back, I cannot say I came home sober, though I was farfrom being bad company. I think we spent the evening with a great dealof pleasure. " March 7th, a party met at Mr. Joseph Fuller's, "drinking, " records our diarist, "like horses, as the vulgar phraseis, and singing, till many of us were very drunk, and then we went todancing, and pulling of wigs, caps, and hats; and thus we continued inthis frantic manner, behaving more like mad people than they thatprofess the name of Christians. " Three days after, the same amusementsare enjoyed at the house of Mr. Porter, the clergyman of the parish, except "there was no swearing and ill words, by reason of which Mr. Porter calls it innocent mirth, but I in opinion differ muchtherefrom. " Mr. Turner had no great reason to respect the opinion ofclergymen on such matters. Soon after, "Mr. ----, the curate ofLaughton, came to the shop in the forenoon, and he having bought somethings of me (and I could wish he had paid for them), dined with me, and also staid in the afternoon till he got in liquor, and being socomplaisant as to keep him company, I was quite drunk. How do I detestmyself for being so foolish!" A little later, Mr, Turner attended avestry meeting, at which "we had several warm arguments, and severalvollies of execrable oaths oftentime redounded from almost all parts ofthe room. "About 4 P. M. I walked down to Whyly. We played at bragg the first partof the even. After ten we went to supper, on four broiled chicken, fourboiled ducks, minced veal, cold roast goose, chicken pastry, and ham. Our company, Mr. And Mrs. Porter, Mr. And Mrs. Coates, Mrs. Atkins, Mrs. Hicks, Mr. Piper and wife, Joseph Fuller and wife, Tho. Fuller andwife, Dame Durrant, myself and wife, and Mr. French's family. Aftersupper our behaviour was far from that of serious, harmless mirth; itwas downright obstreperious, mixed with a great deal of folly andstupidity. Our diversion was dancing or jumping about, without a violinor any musick, singing of foolish healths, and drinking all the timeas fast as it could be well poured down; and the parson of the parishwas one among the mixed multitude. If conscience dictates right fromwrong, as doubtless it sometimes does, mine is one that I may say issoon offended: for, I must say, I am always very uneasy at suchbehavior, thinking it not like the behaviour of the primitiveChristians, which, I imagine, was most in conformity to our Saviour'sgospel. "Thursday, Feb, 25th. This morning, about six o'clock, just as my wifewas got to bed, we was awaked by Mrs. Porter, who pretended she wantedsome cream of tartar; but as soon as my wife got out of bed, she vowedshe should come down. She found Mr. Porter (the clergyman), Mr. Fuller, and his wife, with a lighted candle, and part of a bottle of port wineand a glass. The next thing was to have me down stairs, which beingapprised of, I fastened my door. Up stairs they came, and threatened tobreak it open; so I ordered the boys to open it, when they poured intomy room; and as modesty forbid me to get out of bed, so I refrained;but their immodesty permitted them to draw me out of bed, as the phraseis, topsy-turvey; but, however, at the intercession of Mr. Porter, theypermitted me to put on * * * my wife's petticoats; and in this mannerthey made me dance, without shoes and stockings, until they had emptieda bottle of wine, and also a bottle of my beer. * * * About threeo'clock in the afternoon, they found their way to their respectivehomes, beginning to be a little serious, and, in my opinion, ashamed oftheir stupid enterprise and drunken perambulation. Now let any one callin reason to his assistance, and reflect seriously on what I havebefore recited, and they will join me in thinking that the preceptsdelivered from the pulpit on Sunday, though delivered with the greatestardour, must lose a great deal of there efficacy by such examples. " Such were the amusements and such the moral reflections of a countrytradesman in the middle of the last century, Fielding, Smollett, andthe other novelists described the same kind of life: the samesuccession of brawls, drunken sprees, cock-fights, boxing matches, andbull-baitings. It would be difficult to imagine a state of society moreripe for a revival. Mr. Thomas Turner had moral and religiousaspirations, but these could not be satisfied by the clergyman of hisparish or the curate of Laughton, the companions of his debauches butnot the sharers of his remorse. When the clergy were sincere and moral, they were still too cold and commonplace to seriously influence theirflocks. The sermons of the time were at best, moral essays, teachinglittle, as Mr. Lecky says, "that might not have been taught bydisciples of Socrates and Confucius. " They might encourage honesty andtemperance where those virtues already existed, but they had no spellto arouse religious feelings, nor to reclaim the vicious. How great, then, must have been the effect of the impassioned eloquence of aWhitefield, which could draw tears from thousands of hardened colliers, upon such a society as that of Mr. Turner and his friends, accustomedonly to the discourses of their boon companion, the Rev. Mr. Porter. The prevailing licence and the prevailing moral consciousness wereelements especially adapted to the work of the religious revivalist. The effect of the sermons of Berridge is thus described by aneye-witness[186]: I heard many cry out, especially children, whose agonies were amazing. One of the eldest, a girl of ten or twelve years old, was full in my view, in violent contortions of body, and weeping aloud, I think incessantly, during the whole service. * * * While poor sinners felt the sentence of death in their souls, what sounds of distress did I hear! Some shrieking, some roaring aloud. The most general was a loud breathing, like that of people half strangled and gasping for life. And indeed, almost all the cries were like those of human creatures dying in bitter anguish. Great numbers wept without any noise; others fell down as dead; some sinking in silence; some with extreme noise and violent agitation. I stood on the pew seat, as did a young man in an opposite pew--an able-bodied, fresh, healthy countryman. But in a moment, when he seemed to think of nothing less, down he dropped with a violence inconceivable. The adjoining pews seemed shook with his fall. I heard afterward the stamping of his feet, ready to break the boards as he lay in strong convulsions at the bottom of the pew. * * * Among the children who felt the arrows of the Almighty I saw a sturdy boy about eight years old, who roared above his fellows, and seemed, in his agony, in struggle with the strength of a grown man. His face was red as scarlet; and almost all on whom God laid his hand turned either red or almost black. * * * A stranger, well dressed, who stood facing me, fell backward to the wall; then forward on his knees, wringing his hands and roaring like a bull. His face at first turned quite red, then almost black. He rose and ran against the wall till Mr. Keeling and another held him. He screamed out "Oh! what shall I do? what shall I do? Oh, for one drop of the blood of Christ!" These were violent remedies, but they were applied to a powerfuldisease. If the revivalists did harm by the religious terrorism whichthey excited, they yet had a powerful and wide-spread influence forgood. They awakened religious feelings among the people, and diffuseda new earnestness among the clergy. A spirit of philanthropy was bornwith their teachings which has gone on growing until it now extends aprotecting arm even to brutes. The societies for the prevention ofcruelty to children and to animals are part of a great philanthropicmovement which began at the end of the eighteenth century, which hascarried into practical, every-day life the spirit of Christianity, andhas given to the words mercy and charity, the signification of real andexisting virtues. Horses, dogs, even rats, are now more safe fromwanton brutality than great numbers of men and women in the eighteenthcentury. To any one who studies that period, the stocks, the whippingpost, the gibbet, cock fights, prize-fights, bull-baitings, accounts ofrapes, are simply the outward signs of an all-pervading cruelty. If heopens a novel, he finds that the story turns on brutality in one formor other. It is not only in such novels as those of Fielding andSmollett, which are intended to describe the lower classes of society, and in which blackened eyes and broken heads are relished forms of wit, that the modern reader is offended by the continual infliction of pain. Goldsmith gives Squire Thornhill perfect impunity from the law and frompublic opinion in his crimes. Mackenzie does not think of visiting anylegal retribution on his "Man of the World. " Godwin wrote "CalebWilliams" to show with what impunity man preyed on man, how powerlessthe tenant and the dependent woman lay before the violence or theintrigue of the rich. And it is not only that a crime should becommitted with perfect security which would now receive a severesentence at the hands of an ordinary judge and jury which surprises thereader of to-day, but that scenes which would now shock any person ofcommon humanity or taste, were, in the last century, especiallyintended to amuse. In Miss Burney's "Evelina, " Captain Mirvancontinually insults and maltreats Mme. Duval, the grandmother of theheroine, in a manner which would not only be inconceivable in agentleman tolerated in society, but in a blackguard, not entirelybereft of feelings of decency or good-nature. While she is a guest inhis own house, he torments her with false accounts of the sufferings ofa friend; sends her on a futile errand to relieve those sufferings in acarriage of his own, and then, disguised as a highwayman, he assaultsher with the collusion of his servants, tears her clothes, and leavesher half dead with terror, tied with ropes, at the bottom of a ditch. When Mme. Duval relates her ill-treatment to her granddaughter, Evelinacould only find occasion to say: "Though this narrative almostcompelled me to laugh, yet I was really irritated with the captain, forcarrying his love of tormenting--sport, he calls it to such harshnessand unjustifiable extremes. " And Miss Burney expected, no doubt withreason, that her reader would be amused by all this. In the same work a nobleman and a fashionable commoner are describedas settling a bet by a race between two decrepit women over eightyyears of age. "When the signal was given for them to set off, thepoor creatures, feeble and frightened, ran against each other: andneither of them being able to support the shock, they both fell onthe ground. * * * Again they set off, and hobbled along, nearly evenwith each other, for some time, yet frequently, to the inexpressiblediversion of the company, they stumbled and tottered. * * * Not longafter, a foot of one of the poor women slipped, and with great forceshe came again to the ground. * * * Mr. Coverley went himself to helpher, and insisted that the other should stop. A debate ensued, but thepoor creature was too much hurt to move, and declared her utterinability to make another attempt. Mr. Coverley was quite brutal; heswore at her with unmanly rage, and seemed scarce able to refrain evenfrom striking her. " It would be impossible perhaps to find a party ofthe upper ranks gathered at a country house at the present time, composed of persons who could have endured, without remonstrance, suchtreatment of a pair of superannuated horses; yet Miss Burney describesthe efforts and sufferings of these old women as affordinginexpressible diversion to the ladies and gentlemen who figure in hernovel, and she evidently expects the reader to be equally entertained. "Evelina" was written by a young woman who saw the best society, whowas maid of honor to Queen Charlotte, who was universally admired forher delicacy and her talents, and whose novels are among the mostrefined of the time. The higher ranks were much less influenced by the religious revivalthan the lower. Although certainly not less in need of reformation, they were far less inclined to welcome it. The fashionable indifferenceto religion was an obstacle which Wesley found much more difficult toovercome than the brutal ignorance of the inmates of Newgate. Afterlistening to a sermon by Whitefield, Bolingbroke complimented thepreacher by saying that he had "done great justice to the divineattributes. " The Duchess of Buckingham's remarks on the preaching ofthe Methodists, in a letter to Lady Huntingdon, are an amusingcommentary on the times. "I thank your ladyship for the informationconcerning the Methodist preachers. Their doctrines are mostrepulsive, and strongly tinctured with impertinence and disrespecttoward their superiors, in perpetually endeavoring to level all ranksand do away with all distinctions. It is monstrous to be told that youhave a heart as sinful as the common wretches that crawl the earth. This is highly offensive and insulting, and I cannot but wonder thatyour ladyship should relish any sentiments so much at variance withhigh rank and good-breeding. "[187] High rank and good-breeding, however, in the society of which the Duchess of Buckingham was soproud, were not considered inconsistent with habitual drunkenness, indecency, and profanity. The vices which "the common wretches thatcrawl the earth" practised in addition to these, her Grace would havehad difficulty in mentioning. Still, in the latter half of the eighteenth century is to be traced acontinual improvement, which is reflected in contemporary fiction. As aremarkable example of the change which took place may be mentioned theinstance of the Earl of March. "As Duke of Queensberry, at nearerninety than eighty years of age, he was still rolling in wealth, stillwallowing in sin, and regarded by his countrymen as one whom it washardly decent to name, because he did not choose, out of respect forthe public opinion of 1808, to discontinue a mode of existence which in1768 was almost a thing of course" among the higher ranks. [188] [Footnote 184: Wilson's "Memoirs of Daniel Defoe. "] [Footnote 185: For the diary of Thomas Turner, see "Glimpses of ourAncestors, " by Charles Fleet, pp. 31-52. ] [Footnote 186: For these manifestations, see Wesley's "Journal, " andLecky's "History of England in the Eighteenth Century, " vol. II, chap. Ix. ] [Footnote 187: Lecky, "Hist. Of England in the 18th Century, " vol. Ii, chap. 9. ] [Footnote 188: See Trevelyan's "Early History of Charles James Fox, "Harper's ed. , p. 75. ] II. In 1759, were published the first two volumes of "Tristram Shandy, " asingular and brilliant medley of wit, sentiment, indecency, and studyof character. Laurence Sterne was a profligate clergyman, a dishonestauthor, and an unfaithful husband. He wrote "Tristram Shandy, " and hewrote a great many sermons. He descended to the indulgence of lowtastes, and rose to an elevated strain of thought, with equal facility. He was a man who knew the better and followed the worse. His talentsmade him a welcome guest at great men's tables, where he paid for hisdinner by amusing the company with a brilliant succession of witticismsand indecent anecdotes, which, to his hearers, derived an additionalpiquancy from the fact that they proceeded from the mouth of a divine. But although the man was in many respects contemptible, although hedisgraced his priestly character by his profligacy, and his literarycharacter by a shameless plagiarism, [189] he possessed in a high degreea quality which must give him a distinguished place in English fiction. His borrowed plumage and his imitation of Rabelais' style apart, Sternehad originality, a gift at all times rare, and always, perhaps, becoming rarer. As a humorist, he is to be classed with Fielding andSmollett, but as a novelist, his position in the history of fiction isseparate and unique. "Tristram Shandy" has all the elements of a novel except the plot. Theauthor has no story to tell. His aim is to amuse the reader by odd andwhimsical remarks on every subject and on every personage whosepeculiarities promise material for humor and satire. Sterne isperpetually digressing, moralizing commenting on every trivial topicwhich enters into his story, until the story itself is completely lost, if, indeed, it can be said ever to have been begun. The absence ofarrangement is so marked that it is very difficult to turn to a passagewhich in a previous perusal has struck the eye. The eccentricity andwhimsicality of the book contributed greatly to its immediatepopularity. But the same characteristics which seem brilliant whennovel, soon become dull when familiar, and although "Tristram Shandy"will always afford single passages of lasting interest to the lover ofliterature, the work as a whole is not a little tedious when readcontinuously from cover to cover. In the course of his literary medley, Sterne introduces his reader to agroup of characters amongst the most odd and original in fiction. Mr. Shandy, with his syllogisms and his hypotheses, his "close reasoningupon the smallest matters"; Yorick, the witty parson, whose epitaph, _Alas! Poor Yorick!_ expresses so tenderly the amiable faults for whichhe suffered; Captain Shandy, that combination of simplicity, gentleness, humanity, and modesty, are all creations which deserve torank with the most individual and happily conceived of fictitiouspersonages. Sterne makes a character known to the reader by asuccession of delicate touches rather than by description. He seems toenter into an individual, and make him betray his peculiarities bysignificant actions and phrases. Thus Mr. Shandy exposes at once thenature of his mind and the vigor of his "hobby-horse, " when heexclaims to his brother Toby: "What is the character of a family to anhypothesis?" The combination of sentiment, pathos, and humor which Sterne sometimesreached with remarkable success, is particularly apparent in everyincident which concerns the celebrated Captain Toby Shandy, for thecreation of which character this author may most easily be forgiven hisindecencies and his literary thefts. Uncle Toby's sympathy withLefevre, a poor army officer, on his way to join his regiment, who diedin an inn near Shandy's house, is exquisitely painted throughout, andthe colloquy between the captain and his faithful servant, CorporalTrim, when the death of the officer is imminent, is probably the finestpassage which ever fell from the skilful pen of Laurence Sterne: A sick brother-officer should have the best quarters, Trim; and if we had him with us, --we could tend and look to him. --Thou art an excellent nurse thyself, Trim: and what with thy care of him, and the old woman's, and his boy's, and mine together, we might recruit him again at once, and set him upon his legs. --In a fortnight or three weeks, added my uncle Toby, smiling, he might march. --He will never march, an' please your Honour, in this world, said the Corporal. --He _will_ march, said my uncle Toby, rising up from the side of the bed with one shoe off. --An' please your Honour, said the Corporal, he will never march but to his grave. He _shall_ march, cried my uncle Toby, marching the foot which had a shoe on, though without advancing an inch, --he _shall_ march to his regiment. --He cannot stand it, said the Corporal. --He shall be supported, said my uncle Toby. --He'll drop at last, said the Corporal, and what will become of his boy? He _shall not_ drop said my uncle Toby, firmly, --Ah, well-a-day!--do what we can for him, said Trim, maintaining his point, --the poor soul will die. --_He shall not die, by G--_, cried my uncle Toby. --The _accusing spirit_, which flew up to Heaven's chancery with the oath, blushed as he gave it in;--and the _recording angel_, as he wrote it down, dropped a tear upon the word, and blotted it out for ever. [190] "Ye, who listen with credulity to the whispers of fancy, and pursuewith eagerness the phantoms of hope; who expect that age will performthe promises of youth, and that the deficiencies of the present daywill be supplied by the morrow; attend to the history of Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia. " Thus begins the famous tale which Dr. Johnsonmade the repository of so much of his wisdom, and so beautiful anexample of English style. Rasselas and his royal brothers and sisterslive in a secluded portion of the earth known as the Happy Valley, where, completely isolated from the world, they await their successionto the crown of the imaginary land of Abyssinia, surrounded by everyluxury which can make life agreeable, and shut off from all knowledgeof those evils which can make it painful. The aim of the story is toshow the vanity of expecting perfect happiness, and the folly ofsacrificing present advantages for the delusive promises of the future. The scene opens in the Happy Valley, where there is all that labor ordanger can procure or purchase, without either labor to be endured ordanger to be dreaded. Rasselas illustrates the habitual discontent ofman by wearying of the monotonous happiness of his royal home, and, together with his sister Nekayah, who shares his ennui, and Imlac, aman of learning, he escapes from the abode of changeless joys andperpetual merriment. Once beyond the barriers of the Happy Valley, Rasselas and Nekayahseek in the various ranks and conditions of men the abode of truehappiness. It is sought in vain amidst the hollow and noisy pleasuresof the young and thoughtless; in vain among philosophers, whosetheories so ill accord with their practice; in vain among shepherds, whose actual life contrasts so painfully with the descriptions of thepoet; in vain in crowds, where sorrow lurks beneath the outward smile;in vain in the cell of the hermit, who counts the days till he shallonce more mix with the world. The task becomes more hopeless with eachnew disappointment. Rasselas pursues his investigation among the higherranks, in courts and cities; Nekayah, hers among the poor and humble, in the shop and the hamlet. But when the brother and sister meet toshare their experiences, they both have the same tale to tell of humandiscontent. Finally, in returning disappointed to Abyssinia, theyillustrate the tendency among men to look back with regret on the earlypleasures of life, abandoned for the impossible happiness whichdiscontent had taught them to seek. On this slight thread of narrative, Johnson strung his thoughts withgreat felicity. The characters, by the different view which theyentertain of life, are distinct and individual. The book is filled withpregnant and beautiful passages, which leave a deep impression on thereader. The words in which Imlac describes to the Prince and Princessthe dangers of an unrestrained imagination, might, with equalpropriety, find a place in a scientific treatise on the causes ofinsanity, and in a collection of beautiful literary extracts: To indulge the power of fiction, and send imagination out upon the wing, is often the sport of those who delight too much in silent speculation. When we are alone, we are not always busy; the labour of excogitation is too violent to last long; the ardour of inquiry will sometimes give way to idleness or satiety. He who has nothing external that can divert him, must find pleasure in his own thoughts, and must conceive himself what he is not; for who is pleased with what he is? He then expatiates in boundless futurity, and culls from all imaginable conditions that which for the present moment he should most desire, amuses his desires with impossible enjoyments, and confers upon his pride unattainable dominion. The mind dances from scene to scene, unites all pleasures in all combinations, and riots in delights which nature and fortune, with all their bounty, cannot bestow. In time, some particular train of ideas fixes the attention; all other intellectual gratifications are rejected; the mind, in weariness or leisure, recurs constantly to the favorite conception, and feasts on the luscious falsehood whenever she is offended with the bitterness of truth. By degrees, the reign of fancy is confirmed; she grows first imperious, and in time, despotic. Then fictions begin to operate as realities, false opinions fasten upon the mind, and life passes in dreams of rapture or of anguish. [191] The resemblance between Johnson's "Rasselas" and Voltaire's "Candide"is so marked, that had either author seen the other's work, he musthave been suspected of imitation. But while both these great minds werewriting at nearly the same time on the same theme of human misery, thelessons they taught differed in a manner which is strongly illustrativeof the differences between the two men and their respectivesurroundings. French scepticism and distrust of divine power ledVoltaire to impute human griefs to the incapacity of the Creator. ButJohnson, writing "Rasselas" in an hour of sorrow, to obtain means topay for his mother's funeral, taught that that happiness, which thisworld can not afford, should be sought in the prospect of another and abetter. [192] All readers of Boswell know how the "Vicar of Wakefield" found apublisher. How Goldsmith's landlady arrested him for his rent, and howhe wrote to Johnson in his distress. How the kind lexicographer sent aguinea at once, and followed to find the guinea already changed, and abottle of Madeira before the persecuted but philosophical author. HowJohnson put the cork in the bottle, and after a hasty glance at the MS. Of the "Vicar of Wakefield, " went out and sold it for sixty pounds. Andhow triumphantly Goldsmith rated his landlady. In the hands of that bookseller, who purchased the novel as much out ofcharity as in hope of profit, the "Vicar of Wakefield" remainedneglected, until the publication of "The Traveler" had made the authorfamous. This interval would have afforded Goldsmith ample time tocorrect the obvious inconsistencies and faults which his workcontained. But in the spirit of a man who depended on his pen for hisbread, he made no effort to improve what had already brought him allthis remuneration for which he could hope. This is the more to beregretted, that very little revision would have been sufficient, tomake the "Vicar of Wakefield" as perfect in its construction as in itsstyle and spirit. "There are a hundred faults in this thing, " says thepreface, "and a hundred things might be said to prove them beauties. But it is needless. A book may be amusing with numerous errors, or itmay be very dull without a single absurdity. The hero of this pieceunites in himself the three greatest characters upon earth;--he is apriest, a husbandman, and the father of a family. He is drawn as readyto teach, and ready to obey--as simple in affluence, and majestic inadversity. " These few words are not an inaccurate statement of the merits anddemerits of the "Vicar of Wakefield. " Faults there are, certainly. Theimprobability of Sir William Thornhill's being able to go about amonghis own tenantry _incognito_, without other disguise than a change ofdress; the inconsistency of the philanthropist's allowing hisvillainous nephew to retain possession of the wealth which he used onlyto assist him in his crimes; and, finally, the impossibility of thatnephew's being so nearly of an age with Sir William himself, when hemust have been the son of a younger brother, are all blemishes whichGoldsmith might easily have removed, had he not relied on the opinionwhich he expressed in Chapter xv, "the reputation of books is raised, not by their freedom from defect, but by the greatness of theirbeauties. " Such a rule would be an obviously dangerous one for an author tofollow. But Goldsmith's confidence in the beauties of his novel wasfully justified by the verdict of the world. No novelist has moredeeply imbued his work with his own genius and spirit, and none havehad a more beneficent genius, nor a more beautiful spirit to impartthan the author of "The Deserted Village. " The exquisite style, thedelicate choice of words, the amiability of sentiment, so peculiarlyhis own, and so well suited to express the simple beauty of histhoughts, give a charm to the work which familiarity can only endear. Dr. Primrose, preserving his simplicity, his modesty, and his nobilityof character alike when surrounded by the pleasures of his early andprosperous home, when struggling with the hardships of his ruinedfortune, and when rewarded at last by the surfeit of good-fortune whichfollows his trial, stands high among the most noble conceptions ofEnglish fiction. "We read the 'Vicar of Wakefield, '" said the great SirWalter, "in youth and in age. We return to it again and again, andbless the memory of an author who contrives so well to reconcile us tohuman nature. " Goethe, when in his eighty-first year, declared that Goldsmith's novel"was his delight at the age of twenty, that it had in a manner formed apart of his education, influencing his tastes and feelings throughoutlife, and that he had recently read it again from beginning to end, with renewed delight, and with a grateful sense of the early benefitderived from it. " "Rogers, the Nestor of British literature, whoserefined purity of taste and exquisite mental organization rendered himeminently calculated to appreciate a work of the kind, declared that ofall the books, which, through the fitful changes of three generationshe had seen rise and fall, the charm of the 'Vicar of Wakefield' hadalone continued as at first; and could he revisit the world after aninterval of many more generations, he should as surely look to find itundiminished. " So wrote Washington Irving; and if the reader isinclined to look for the causes of the extraordinary endurance ofGoldsmith's work, he can find them nowhere better stated than in thewords of John Forster: "Not in those graces of style, nor even in thathome-cherished gallery of familiar faces can the secret of itsextraordinary fascination be said to consist. It lies nearer the heart. A something which has found its way _there_; which, while it amused, has made us happier; which, gently interweaving itself with our habitsof thought, has increased our good-humour and charity; which, insensibly it may be, has corrected wilful impatiences of temper, andmade the world's daily accidents easier and kinder to us all; somewhatthus should be expressed, I think, the charm of the 'Vicar ofWakefield. '" In 1760 was published "Chrysal, the Adventures of a Guinea, " by CharlesJohnstone, the author of several deservedly forgotten novels. [193] Thefirst volume was sent to Dr. Johnson for his opinion, who thought, asBoswell tells us, that it should be published--an estimate justified bythe considerable circulation which the book enjoyed. Chrysal is an elementary spirit, whose abode is in a piece of goldconverted into a guinea. In that form the spirit passes from man toman, and takes accurate note of the different scenes of which itbecomes a witness. This is a natural and favorable medium for a satire, which Johnstone probably owed, in some measure, both to the "DiableBoiteux" of Gil Blas, and the "Adventures of a Halfpenny" of Dr. Bathurst. The circulation of the guinea enables the author to describethe characteristics of its possessors as seen by a truthful witness, and he has taken advantage of his opportunity to produce one of themost disgusting records of vice in literature. A depraved mind onlycould find any pleasure in reading "Chrysal, " and whoever is obliged toread it from cover to cover for the purpose of describing it to others, must find himself, at the end of his task, in sore vexation of spirit. Human depravity is never an agreeable subject for a work ofentertainment, and while Swift's genius holds the reader fascinatedwith the horror of his Yahoos, the ability of a Manley or a Johnstoneis not sufficient to aid the reader in wading through their viciousexpositions of corruption. It must be said that Johnstone had someexcuse. If he were to satirize society at all, it was better that heshould do it thoroughly; that he should expose official greed anddishonesty, the orgies of Medenham Abbey, the infamous extortions oftrading justices, in all their native ugliness. It must be said thatthe time in which he lived presented many features to the painter ofmanners which could not look otherwise than repulsive on his canvas. But his zeal to expose the vices of his age led him into doing greatinjustice to some persons, and into grossly libelling others. Heimputed crimes to individuals of which he could have had no knowledge;and he shamefully misrepresented the Methodists and the Jews. IfJohnstone had wished to see how offensive a book he might write, andhow disgusting and indecent a book the public of his day would read andapplaud, he might well have brought "Chrysal" into the world. If he hadintended, by exposing crime, to check it, he had better have burned hismanuscript. He has added one other corruption to those he exposed, andone other evidence of the lack of taste and decency which characterizedhis time. No man can plead the intention of a reformer as an excuse forplacing before the world the scenes and suggestions of unnatural crimewhich sully the pages of "Chrysal, " and if men do, in single instances, fall below the level of brutes, he who gloats over their infamy andpublishes their contagious guilt deserves some share of their odium. The novels of Henry Mackenzie have a charm of their own, which may belargely attributed to the fact that their author was a gentleman. Whoever has read, to any extent, the works of fiction of the eighteenthcentury, must have observed how perpetually he was kept in low company, how rarely he met with a character who had the instincts as well as thesocial position of a gentleman. A tone of refined sentiment and dignitypervades "The Man of Feeling, " which recalls the "Vicar of Wakefield, "and introduces the reader to better company and more elevated thoughtsthan the novels of the time usually afford. "The Man of Feeling" ishardly a narrative. Harley, the chief character, is a sensitive, retiring man, with feelings too fine for his surroundings. The authorplaces him in various scenes, and traces the effect which each producesupon his character. The effect of the work is agreeable, thoughmelancholy, and the early death of Harley completes the delineation ofa man too gentle and too sensitive to battle with life. In his next novel Mackenzie described the counterpart of Harley, "TheMan of the World. " Almost any writer of the present day who took a manof the world for his hero, would draw him as a calm, philosophicalperson, neither very good nor very bad, --one who took the pleasures andtroubles of life as they came, without quarrelling with either. But theman of the world as Mackenzie paints him, and as the eighteenth centurymade him, was quite another individual. Sir Thomas Sindall is a villainof the heroic type. Not one, simply, who does all the injury andcommits all the crimes which chance brings in his way. He labors with aceaseless persistency, and a resolution which years do not diminish, toseduce a single woman. Without any apparent passion, he finallyaccomplishes his object by force, after having spent several years inruining her brother to prevent his interference. The long periods oftime, the great expenditure of vital energy, and the exhaustless fundof brutality which are consumed by the fictitious villains of theeighteenth century in gratifying what would seem merely a passinginclination, astonish the reader of to-day. The crime of rape, rarelynow introduced into fiction, and rarely figuring even in criminalcourts, is a common incident in old novels, and as commonly, remainsunpunished. In Sir Thomas Sindall, Mackenzie meant to present acontrast to the delicate and benevolent character of Harley. Both areextremes, the one of sensibility, the other of brutality. Harley was anew creation, but Sindall quite a familiar person, with whom allreaders of the novels of the last century have often associated. It was suggested very sensibly to Mackenzie, that the interest of mostworks of fiction depended on the _designing_ villainy of one or morecharacters, and that in actual life calamities were more often broughtabout by the innocent errors of the sufferers. To place this viewbefore his readers, Mackenzie wrote "Julia de Roubigné, " in which awife brings death upon herself and her husband by indiscreetly, thoughinnocently, arousing his jealousy. Sir Walter Scott ranked this novelamong the "most heart-wringing histories" that ever were written--adescription which justly becomes it. Mackenzie's aim was less to weavea complicated plot, than to study and move the heart; and to the loverof sentiment his novels may still be attractive. The "Fool of Quality, " by Henry Brooke, has had a singular history. Theauthor was a young Irishman of a fine figure, a well-stored mind, and adisposition of particular gentleness. He was loved by Pope andLyttleton, caressed by the Prince of Wales, and honored by the friendlyinterest of Jonathan Swift. Married before he was twenty-one to a younggirl who presented him with three children before she was eighteen, hislife was a constant struggle to provide for a family which increasedwith every year. After a long period of active life, passed in literaryoccupations, he retired to an obscure part of Ireland, and there died, attended by a daughter, the only survivor of twenty-two children, whoremembered nothing of her father "previous to his retirement from theworld; and knew little of him, save that he bore the infirmities andmisfortunes of his declining years with the heroism of trueChristianity, and that he was possessed of virtues and feelings whichshone forth to the last moment of his life, unimpaired by thedistractions of pain, and unshaken amid the ruins of genius. "[194] The "Fool of Quality" was first published in 1766, and received amoderate share of public attention. Its narrative was extremely slight. Harry, the future Earl of Moreland, was stolen from his parents by anuncle in disguise; and the five volumes of the work consist almostentirely of an account of the education of the child, and the variousincidents which affected or illustrated his mental growth. One day JohnWesley chanced to meet with it, and although he required his followers"to read only such books as tend to the knowledge and love of God, " hewas tempted to look into this particular novel. The "whimsical title"at first offended him, but as he proceeded, he became so enthusiasticover the moral excellence of the work, that he expunged some offensivepassages it contained, and republished it for the benefit of theMethodists. "I now venture to recommend the following treatise, " saidWesley to his people, "as the most excellent in its kind that I haveseen either in the English or any other language. * * * It perpetuallyaims at inspiring and increasing every right affection; at theinstilling gratitude to God and benevolence to man. And it does thisnot by dry, dull, tedious, precepts, but by the liveliest examples thatcan be conceived; by setting before your eyes one of the most beautifulpictures that ever was drawn in the world. The strokes of this are sodelicately fine, the touches so easy, natural, and affecting, that Iknow not who can survey it with tearless eyes, unless he has a heart ofstone. I recommend it, therefore, to all those who are already, or whodesire to be, lovers of God and man. " It was not as a good novel thatWesley either enjoyed or republished the "Fool of Quality. " Herecommended it for the excellence of its moral, and the "Fool ofQuality" would have been allowed to slumber forever on Methodistbook-shelves, had it not been revived by a man who was an equally goodjudge of a moral and a work of fiction. But, in regard to this novel, it must be admitted that CharlesKingsley's judgment was seriously at fault. He saw both its qualitiesand its faults, but he did not realize that a good purpose will notmake up for a poor execution. The causes of the neglect of the book, said the Canon in his preface, are to be found "in its deep and grandethics, in its broad and genial humanity, in the divine value which itattaches to the relations of husband and wife, father and child, and tothe utter absence, both of that sentimentalism and that superstitionwhich have been alternately debauching of late years the minds of theyoung. And if he shall have arrived at this discovery, he will be ablepossibly to regard at least with patience those who are rash enough toaffirm that they have learnt from this book more which is pure, sacred, and eternal, than from any which has been published since Spenser's'Fairy Queen. '"[195] On the testimony of Wesley and of Kingsley, allthe merits of a moral nature which they claim for the "Fool of Quality"will readily be accorded to it. But it is very doubtful that suchqualities would necessarily interfere with the success of a work offiction. The real reason why very few who can help it will read thisnovel, lies in those characteristics which Kingsley himself admittedwould appear to the average reader. "The plot is extravagant as well asill-woven, and broken, besides, by episodes as extravagant as itself. The morality is quixotic, and practically impossible. The sermonizing, whether theological or social, is equally clumsy and obtrusive. Withoutartistic method, without knowledge of human nature and the real world, the book can never have touched many hearts and can touch nonenow. "[196] It is singular that Kingsley should have expected that a book with somany and so evident faults could have remained popular simply becauseits moral was a good one. If he had sat down to warn the world againstHenry Brooke's novel, he could hardly have expressed himself with moreeffect. Whatever merit it may have is buried under a mass of dulnessalmost impossible to penetrate, and a silliness pervades the charactersand the conversations which makes even the lighter portions unreadable. The "Fool of Quality" has all the drawbacks of a novel of purpose in anexaggerated form. The improvement of his reader is a laudable objectfor a novelist. But it is an object which can be successfully carriedout in a work of art, only very indirectly. An author may have a greatinfluence for good, but that influence can be obtained, not bydeliberate sermonizing, but only by tone of healthy sentiment whichinsensibly elevates the reader's mind. Toward the end of the eighteenth century, the number and variety ofworks of fiction rapidly increased. William Beckford, whom Byron callsin "Childe Harold, " "Vathek, England's wealthiest son, " wrote in histwentieth year the oriental romance "Vathek, " which excited greatattention at the time. It was composed in three days and two nights, during which the author never took off his clothes. Byron consideredthis tale superior to "Rasselas. " It represented the downward career ofan oriental prince, who had given himself up to sensual indulgence, andwho is allured by a Giaour into the commission of crimes which lead himto everlasting and horrible punishments. "Vathek" gives evidence of afamiliarity with oriental customs, and a vividness of imagination whichare remarkable in so youthful an author. The descriptions of the Caliphand of the Hall of Eblis are full of power. But in depth of meaning, and in that intrinsic worth which gives endurance to a literary work, it bears no comparison to "Rasselas. " The one affords an hour'samusement; the other retains its place among those volumes which areread and re-read with constant pleasure and satisfaction. The novels of Richard Cumberland, "Henry, " "Arundel, " and "John deLancaster, " contain some well-drawn characters and readable sketches oflife. But Cumberland had little originality. He aimed without successat Fielding's constructive excellence, and imitated that great master'shumor, only to reproduce his coarseness. The character of Ezekiel Daw, the Methodist, in "Henry, " is fair and just, and contrasts veryfavorably with the libellous representations of the Methodist preachersin Graves' "Spiritual Quixote, " and other contemporary novels. Anotherwriter of fiction of considerable prominence in his day, but of none inours, was Dr. Moore, whose "Zeluco" contained some very lively "Viewsof human nature, taken from life and manners, foreign and domestic, "but also some very disagreeable exhibitions of human degradation andvice. The influence of the French Revolution in England is apparent in theworks of several novelists who wrote at the end of the eighteenthcentury. Thomas Holcroft embodied radical views in novels now quiteforgotten. [197] Robert Bage has left four works containing opinions ofa revolutionary character--"Barham Downs, " "James Wallace, " "The FairSyrian, " and "Mount Henneth. " These novels are written in the form of aseries of letters and have little narrative interest. The author hasstriven, sometimes successfully, at a powerful delineation ofcharacter, but his works are too evidently a vehicle for his politicaland philosophical opinions. He represents with unnatural consistencythe upper classes as invariably corrupt and tyrannical, and the loweras invariably honest and deserving. His theories are not onlyinartistically prominent, but are worthless and immoral. He looks upona tax-gatherer as a thief, and condones feminine unchastity as atrivial and unimportant offence. The novelist most deeply embued with the doctrines of the FrenchRevolution was William Godwin--a man of great literary ambition, andless literary capacity. His "Life of Chaucer" has the merits of acompilation, but not those of an original literary work. His politicaland social writings were merely reproductions of French revolutionaryviews, and were entirely discredited by Malthus' attacks upon them. Thesame lack of originality and of independent power characterizedGodwin's novels. They all have a patch-work effect, and in all may befound the traces of imitation. "St. Leon" and "Mandeville"[198] aredull attempts in the direction of the historical novel. "Fleetwood, orthe New Man of Feeling" embodies some of the author's social views, andcontains evidence of an imitation of Fielding and Smollett, in whichonly their coarseness is successfully copied. But Godwin gave one book to the world which has acquired a notorietywhich entitles it to a more extended notice than its intrinsic meritswould otherwise justify. "Caleb Williams" was first published in 1794, and was widely read. Lord Byron is said to have threatened his wifethat he would treat her as Falkland had treated Caleb Williams, andthis fact brought the novel into prominence with the Byron controversy, and occasioned its republication in the present century. The authortells us that his object was "to comprehend a general review of themodes of domestic and unrecorded despotism by which man becomes thedestroyer of man. " And this was to be done "without subtracting fromthe interest and passion by which a performance of this sort (a novel)ought to be characterized. " In both his didactic and his artisticpurpose the author must be said to have failed. The story is briefly asfollows: Falkland, who is represented as a man whose chief thought andconsideration consist in guarding his honor from stain, stabs Tyrrel, his enemy, in the back, at night. He then allows two innocent men tosuffer for the murder on the gallows. His aim, during the remainder ofhis life, is to prevent the discovery of his crime and the consequentdisgrace to his name. Caleb Williams enters his employment as asecretary, discovers the secret with the greatest ease, and promisesnever to betray his patron. Williams soon becomes weary of hisposition, and attempts to escape. He is accused by Falkland of robberyand is imprisoned. He escapes from prison, and wanders about thecountry, always pursued by the hirelings of his master who use everymeans to render his life miserable. Finally he openly accuses Falklandof his crime, who confesses it and dies. The story is full of the mostevident inconsistencies. There is no adequate reason for Tyrrel'shatred of Falkland, which leads to the murder. It is inconceivable thata man of Falkland's worship of honor should commit so dastardly acrime, and should suffer two innocent men to pay its penalty. Thefacility with which Falkland allows his secretary to discover a secretwhich would bring him to the gallows is entirely inconsistent with thestrength of mind which the author imputes to his hero. Finally, theconfession of crime, after so many years of secrecy, and whenconscience must have been blunted by time and habit, is withoutadequate cause. The characters are very slightly sketched, and exciteneither interest nor sympathy. Emily Melville resembles Pamela tooclosely, and Tyrrel is a poor reproduction of Squire Western. Godwin tells us that, when thinking over "Caleb Williams, " he said tohimself a thousand times: "I will write a tale, that shall constitutean epoch in the mind of the reader, that no one, after he has read it, shall ever be exactly the same man that he was before. " The effort, andstraining after effect which this confession implies, are evidentthroughout the work. The reader's curiosity is continually excited bythe promise of new interest and new developments, but he is ascontinually disappointed. The main idea of the story is certainly astriking one, but it is feebly carried out. The constitution of societycannot be effectively attacked by so improbable and exceptional anillustration of tyranny as the persecution of Caleb Williams. [Footnote 189: It would be difficult to find a more bare-faced andimpudent literary theft than the case in which Sterne appropriated tohimself the remonstrance of Burton ("Anatomy of Melancholy"), againstthat very plagiarism which he (Sterne) was then committing. Burtonsaid: "As apothecaries, we make new mixtures, every day pour out of onevessel into another * * * We weave the same web, still twist the samerope again and again. " Sterne says, with an effrontery all his own:"Shall we forever make new books, as apothecaries make new medicines, by pouring only out of one vessel into another? Are we forever to betwisting and untwisting the same rope--forever in the same track?forever at the same pace?" For Sterne's plagiarism, see Dr. Ferriar's"Essay and Illustrations, " also Scott's "Life of Sterne. "] [Footnote 190: "Tristram Shandy, " orig. Ed. , vol. Viii, chap. 8. ] [Footnote 191: "Rasselas, " chap. Xliv. Contrast with Porter on "TheHuman Intellect, " pp. 371-2. ] [Footnote 192: See Scott's "Memoir of Johnson. "] [Footnote 193: "The Reverie, " "The History of Arbaces, " "The Pilgrim, ""The History of John Juniper. "] [Footnote 194: The facts of Brooke's life are taken from theintroduction to the "Fool of Quality, " by Rev. Charles Kingsley, NewYork, 1860. ] [Footnote 195: Charles Kingsley, preface to the "Fool of Quality. "] [Footnote 196: Kingsley's preface to "Fool of Quality. "] [Footnote 197: "Alwyn, " "Anna St. Ives, " "Hugh Trevor, " "BryanPerdue. "] [Footnote 198: Published in 1817, when the author was far advanced inyears. ] III. The publication of "Evelina, " in 1778, made a sensation which themerits of the work fully justified. The story of Miss Burney's[199]early life, her furtive attempts at fictitious composition, the greatvariety of artistic and political characters who passed in reviewbefore her observant eyes at Dr. Burney's house have been made familiarby her own diary and letters. Petted and admired by Johnson, Mrs. Thrale, and the brilliant literary society of which they formed thecentre, she lived sufficiently far into the present century to see theworks of her early friends enrolled among the classics or consigned tooblivion, and to recognize that the approval of posterity had beenadded to the early fame of her own writings. As a very young girl, unnoticed by the distinguished persons who frequented her father'shouse, she had studied with careful attention the characters andmanners of those who talked and moved about her. A strong desire toreproduce the impressions which filled her mind induced Miss Burney inher sixteenth year to devote her stolen hours of seclusion tofictitious composition. Discouraged in her early efforts by herstepmother, her habits of observation remained active, and took form, when the authoress was twenty five years old, in the famous novel of"Evelina. " The book was issued secretly and anonymously, the publishereven being ignorant of the writer's true name. But the immediatepopularity and admiration which greeted the work soon led to its openacknowledgment by the happy young authoress. And "Evelina" fully deserved the praise and interest which it obtainedand still excites. The aim was to describe the difficulties andsensations of a young girl just entering life. The heroine chosen byMiss Burney was one whose circumstances particularly well suited her toform the centre of a varied collection of characters and of acomprehensive picture of contemporary society. Well connected on herfather's side, Evelina moved in fashionable circles with the Mirvanfamily. On account of the origin of her mother she was brought intoclose contact with humbler personages, with Madame Duval and theBrangtons. Hence this novel presents to the reader a variety of socialscenes which gives it a value possessed by no other work of fiction ofthe eighteenth century. No novelist has described so well or so fullythe aspect of the theatres, of Vauxhall and Ranelagh, of Bath in theseason, of the ridottos and assemblies of the London fashionable world. The shops, the amusements and the manners of the middle classes aremade familiar to Evelina by her association with the Brangtons, and addgreatly to the breadth of this valuable picture of metropolitan life. With a feminine attention to detail, and a quick perception of salientcharacteristics, Miss Burney described the world about her sofaithfully and picturesquely as to deserve the thanks of every studentof social history. The novel of "Evelina, " the letters of HoraceWalpole and Mrs. Delany corroborate each other, and may beappropriately placed on the same shelf in a well-ordered library. In the painting of manners Miss Burney was eminently successful. Butshe was hardly less so in a point in which excellence could not havebeen expected in so youthful a writer. The plot of "Evelina" isconstructed with a skill worthy of a veteran. Fielding alone, of theeighteenth century novelists, can be said to surpass Miss Burney inthis respect. The whole story of the mischances and misunderstanding ofEvelina's intercourse with Lord Orville, the skill with which thevarious personages are brought into contact with each other and made tocontribute to the final _dénoument_, compose a truly artistic success. The introduction of Macartney and his marriage to the supposed daughterof Sir John Belmont form a very happy and effective invention. In regard to her sketches of character, it may be objected that MissBurney lacked breadth of treatment, that she dwelt on one distinctivecharacteristic at the expense of the others. But still, Lord Orville, though somewhat too much of a model, and Mrs. Selwyn, though somewhattoo habitually a wit, are vivid and life-like characters. The Brangtonsand Sir Clement Willougby are nature itself, and the girlish nature ofEvelina is betrayed in her letters with great felicity. It is no small triumph for Miss Burney, who has had so many and sodeserving competitors in the department of literature to which shecontributed, that her novels should have remained in activecirculation for more than a century after their publication. "Cecilia"has much the same merits which distinguished "Evelina, " and the twonovels bid fair to hold their own as long as English fiction retainsits popularity. Johnson considered Miss Burney equal to Fielding. Butalthough she possessed qualities similar to his--constructive power andpicturesqueness--she possessed them in a lesser degree. In themanagement of the difficulties of the epistolary form of novel-writing, she surpassed Richardson in verisimilitude and concentration. Some readers of the present day object to Miss Burney's novels thatthey contain so many references to "delicacy" and "propriety" that anair of affectation is produced. But at the time when "Evelina" waswritten, a perpetual discretion in actions and words was absolutelynecessary to a young woman who did not wish to be subjected tolibertine advances. Society is now so much more generally refined thatthere is far less danger of such misconstruction, and far less need fora young girl to be always on her guard. A sound objection, on theground of taste, may be made against the excessively prolonged accountof Captain Mirvan's brutalities. The effect might have been as wellproduced in a much shorter space, and the reader spared theuninteresting scenes which now fill so many repulsive pages. For thisdefect, however, we must blame the times more than the author. Charlotte Lennox was the daughter of Sir James Ramsay, Lieutenantgovernor of New York, where she was born in 1720. When fifteen years ofage she was sent to London, and there supported herself by her pen. Johnson said that he had "dined at Mrs. Garrick's with Mrs. Carter, Miss Hannah More, and Miss Fanny Burney: three such women are not to befound. I know not where I could find a fourth, except Mrs. Lennox, whois superior to them all. " Such high praise was not called forth by Mrs. Lennox's novels, which have little originality or power. "The FemaleQuixote" is an entertaining satire on the old French romances, but"Sophia, " and "Euphemia" are without any special interest. A writer of more ability, whose name is still remembered bynovel-readers, is Mrs. Inchbald. She was overcome in early life by anenthusiasm for the stage; ran away from home to find theatricalemployment, and remained for many years a popular London actress. Although possessed of great and durable beauty, and the object ofconstant attention from aristocratic admirers, it is believed that herreputation continued unsullied. Her poverty, largely caused by aworthless husband, obliged her to perform the most menial labors. Sherejoiced on one occasion that the approach of warmer weather releasedher from the duty of making fires, scouring the grate, sifting thecinders, and of going up and down three pair of long stairs with wateror dirt. All this Mrs. Inchbald thought that she could cheerfully bear, but the labor of being a fine lady the remainder of the day was almosttoo much for her. "Last Thursday, " she wrote to a friend, "I finishedscouring my bed-chamber, while a coach with a coronet and two footmenwaited at the door to take me an airing. " The same courage and industry were carried by Mrs. Inchbald into herliterary labors, the profits of which enabled her to live withconsiderable comfort toward the end of her life. She left a largenumber of plays, many of which had been acted with success, and twonovels, "A Simple Story, " published in 1791, and "Nature and Art, "published five years later. Neither of these works has much merit froma critical point of view. They are faulty in construction, and givefrequent evidence of the authoress' lack of education. Yet, in her ability to excite the interest and to move the feelings ofher reader, Mrs. Inchbald met with great success. Her novels are of thepathetic order, and appeal to the sympathies with a sometimes powerfuleffect. Maria Edgeworth was deeply moved by the "Simple Story. " "Itseffect upon my feelings, " she said after reading it for the fourthtime, "was as powerful as at the first reading; I never read _any_novel--I except none, --I never read any novel that affected me sostrongly, or that so completely possessed me with the belief in thereal existence, of all the persons it represents. I never oncerecollected the author whilst I was reading it; never said or thought, _that's a fine sentiment_, --or, _that is well expressed_--or, _that iswell invented_; I believed all to be real, and was affected as I shouldbe by the real scenes, if they had passed before my eyes; it is trulyand deeply pathetic. " The sisters, Harriet and Sophia Lee, wrote a number of stories gatheredtogether under the rather unfortunate title of "The Canterbury Tales, "which had a long-continued popularity. "The Young Lady's Tale, " and"The Clergyman's Tale" were written by Sophia; all the others, togetherwith the novel "Errors of Innocence, " belonged to Harriet. Thesestories have great narrative interest, and contain some powerfullydrawn characters. Byron was deeply affected by some of them. Of the"German's Tale, " he confessed: "It made a deep impression on me, andmay be said to contain the germ of much that I have since written. " Itnot only contained the germ of "Werner, " but supplied the wholematerial for that tragedy. All the characters of the novel arereproduced by Byron except "Ida, " whom he added. The plan of Miss Lee'swork is exactly followed, as the poet admitted, and even the languageis frequently adopted without essential change. Charlotte Smith was a woman of talent and imagination who was driven toliterature for aid in supporting a large family abandoned by theirspendthrift father. She was among the most prolific novelists of hertime, but only one work, "The Old Manor House, " enjoyed more than apassing reputation, or has any claim to particular mention here. Thechief merit of Charlotte Smith's novels lies in their descriptions ofscenery, an element only just entering into the work of the novelist. Clara Reeve and the celebrated Mrs. Radcliffe did much to sustain theprominent position which women were taking in fictitious composition, and their works will be commented upon in connection with the romanticrevival, to which movement they were eminent contributors. Toward the end of the eighteenth century, the number and variety ofworks of fiction increased with remarkable rapidity. The female sexsupplied its full share, both in amount and in excellence of work. Butthose who desire to see the advent of women into new walks of activelife on the ground that their presence and participation add to thepurity of every occupation they adopt, can find no illustration of thetheory in the connection of women with fictitious composition. Mrs. Behn, Mrs. Manley, and Mrs. Heywood, the earliest female novelists, produced the most inflammatory and licentious novels of their time. Ata later period, during the eighteenth century, although some femalewriters exhibited a very exceptional refinement, the majority showed inthis respect no marked superiority to their masculine contemporaries. In our own time, whoever would make a list of those novels which aremost evidently immoral in their teachings and licentious in their tone, would be obliged to seek them almost quite as much among the works offemale writers, as among those of the rougher sex. To write a really excellent novel, is among the most difficult ofliterary feats. But to write a poor one has often been found an easyundertaking. The apparent facility of fictitious composition hasdeceived great numbers of literary aspirants, and has filled thecirculating libraries with a vast collection of thoroughly worthlessproductions. This unfortunate fecundity, to which the department offiction is subject, began to be conspicuous at the end of theeighteenth century, [200] and excited much opposition to novels of allkinds. Hannah More, in her essays on female education, inveighedagainst the evil in terms which are quite as applicable at the presentday. "Who are those ever multiplying authors, that with unparalleledfecundity are overstocking the world with their quick-succeedingprogeny? They are _novel-writers_; the easiness of whose productions isat once the cause of their own fruitfulness, and of the almostinfinitely numerous race of imitators to whom they give birth. Such isthe frightful facility of this species of composition, that every rawgirl, while she reads, is tempted to fancy that she can also write. Andas Alexander, on perusing the Iliad, found by congenial sympathy theimage of Achilles stamped on his own ardent soul, and felt himself thehero he was studying; and as Correggio, on first beholding a picturewhich exhibited the perfection of the graphic art, prophetically feltall his own future greatness, and cried out in rapture: 'And I, too, ama painter!' So a thorough-paced novel-reading miss, at the close ofevery tissue of hackneyed adventures, feels within herself the stirringimpulse of corresponding genius, and triumphantly exclaims: 'And I, too, am an author!' The glutted imagination soon overflows with theredundance of cheap sentiment and plentiful incident, and, by a sort ofarithmetical proportion, is enabled by the perusal of any three novels, to produce a fourth; till every fresh production, like the prolificprogeny of Banquo, is followed by 'Another, and another, and another!'" [Footnote 199: Afterward Madame D'Arblay. ] [Footnote 200: See the "Progress of Romance, " by Clara Reeve, for thenames of many now forgotten novels, for which room cannot be sparedhere. ] IV. The writers who took the chief part in originating and sustaining theromantic revival in English fiction were Horace Walpole, Clara Reeve, and Mrs. Radcliffe. As we have called upon the testimony of Walpole sooften in this work, and as we are now to consider him as an author, some account of his personal appearance may be of interest. "Hisfigure, " says Miss Hawkins, "was not merely tall, but long and slenderto excess; his complexion, and particularly his hands, of a mostunhealthy paleness. His eyes were remarkably bright and penetrating, very dark and lively:--his voice was not strong, but his tones wereextremely pleasant, and, if I may so say, highly gentlemanly. I do notremember his common gait; he always entered a room in that style ofaffected delicacy which fashion had then made almost natural; _chapeaubras_ between his hands as if he wished to compress it, or under hisarm; knees bent, and feet on tiptoe, as if afraid of a wet floor. Hisdress in visiting was most usually, in summer, when I most saw him, alavender suit, the waistcoat embroidered with a little silver, or ofwhite silk worked in the tambour, partridge silk stockings, and goldbuckles, ruffles and frill generally lace. I remember, when a child, thinking him very much under-dressed, if at any time, except inmourning, he wore hemmed cambric. In summer, no powder, but his wigcombed straight, and showing his very smooth, pale forehead, and queuedbehind; in winter, powder. " Posterity has cause to regret that Horace Walpole, of all men bestfitted by personal knowledge and ability to draw a picture of thebrilliant society of his time, should have contributed no work in thedepartment of realistic fiction. Had the keen observation andexperience of the world so conspicuous in his letters been brought tobear on a narrative of real life not less ably constructed than that of"The Castle of Otranto, " an addition of no little value to the socialhistory of the eighteenth century must have been the result. Butalthough Walpole attempted no novel in which he might have depicted thefashionable life of which he was so faithful a chronicler, he yet triedan experiment in fiction for which he was peculiarly qualified by hisantiquarian studies and his fondness for the arts and customs of feudaltimes. The object of "The Castle of Otranto" was to unite the characteristicelements of the ancient romance with those of the modern novel. It wasattempted to introduce into a narrative constructed with modern orderand sequence, such supernatural events as controlled the incidents ofromantic fiction. To accomplish this result, it was necessary that the_mise en scène_ should be impressive and awe-inspiring, that thereader's mind should be insensibly prepared by strange surroundings forextraordinary incidents. In his selection of age and scene, Walpole washighly judicious. He chose the feudal period, when superstitionaccorded the most ready belief to supernatural agencies. He introducedhis reader to a huge, gloomy castle, furnished with towers, donjons, subterranean passages, and trapdoors. He took for his hero, Manfred, afierce and cruel knight, who had obtained his lands by duplicity andblood; whose chief aim in life was to continue his posterity inpossession of wrongfully acquired power. He added subordinatecharacters of a kind to aid the effect of supernatural phenomena: amonk in a neighboring convent, who threatened Manfred with divinevisitation for his crimes; superstitious servants, whose easy fearsexaggerated every unusual sound or foot-fall. He gave an interest tohis narrative by the love passages of Manfred's daughters which wereperpetually at the mercy of the fate which hung over the castle. Heintroduced his supernatural effects in the form of a gigantic gauntletseen on the stair-rail; a gigantic helmet which crushed the son andheir of the house as he was about to be married and to carry out hisfather's hopes; a skeleton monk who urged the rightful owner of thecastle to take his own from the usurper's hands. In attempting to make a regularly constructed narrative depend onsupernatural agencies, Walpole undoubtedly succeeded as far as successwas possible. But it may be said without hesitation that real successwas unattainable. The very merits of "The Castle of Otranto" sustainthis decision. The experiment had a fair trial. The narrative ofManfred's crimes and the punishments visited upon them, the charactersand actions of subordinate personages are all managed with skill; whilethe supernatural agencies are introduced at the proper times and havethe expected effects. But the real test of success in such an attemptmust lie in the impression made on the reader's mind. And thisimpression may be of two kinds. Let us imagine a group of young peoplesitting about the dying embers of a fire on a winter's evening, listening to a ghost story. The black darkness, the sound of the windhowling without, accord with the low tones, the dim light, and the taleof horror within. The minds of the listeners insensibly cast off theirordinary trains of thought, and give themselves up to the unrealimpressions of the moment. The incredible circumstances of theapparition are accepted without question or criticism; the impressionof the supernatural occurrences is alone thought of and enjoyed. Butnow, let the same tale be read aloud after breakfast, from a newspaper, with the affidavits of the witnesses of the apparition duly attached, and only laughter can be the result. Now let us apply the same test to romance. We open the "Morte d'Arthur";we find ourselves at once in an unreal, almost nameless land; we meetwith knights whom we only know apart by their armor, and queens amblingthrough pathless forests on white palfreys; we attend brillianttournaments and witness superhuman deeds of arms. Our minds, untroubledby scepticism and thoughtless of unreality, yield themselves to thepoetical illusion. Who stops to think of the incredible when SirBedivere hurls into the lake the dying Arthur's sword Excalibur? Then Sir Bedivere departed, and went to the sword, and lightly took it up, and went to the water side, and there he bound the girdle about the hilts, and then he threw the sword as far into the water as he might, and there came an arm and an hand above the water, and met it, and caught it, and so shook it thrice and brandished, and then vanished away the hand with the sword in the water. But when we are introduced to the castle of Otranto, when we know itsdimensions and appearance, when we have become acquainted with itsinmates, and have been made to realize that they are flesh and bloodlike ourselves, we cannot receive without a shock the account of thesupernatural occurrences by which they are affected. It is as if welistened to a ghost story in the glare of daylight, and in the fullactivity of our critical faculties. "Thou art no lawful prince, " said Jerome; "thou art no prince--go, discuss thy claim with Frederic; and when that is done----" "It is done, " replied Manfred; "Frederic accepts Matilda's hand, and is content to waive his claim, unless I have no male issue. " As he spoke these words three drops of blood fell from the nose of Alfonso's statue. "The Castle of Otranto" is an entertaining, well-constructed romancewhich may absorb the attention of young people, and indeed of allreaders who delight in tales of superstitious horror. But looked uponas a work of art, it contains discordant elements. The realistic mannerin which the scene and characters are made known, the exactitude withwhich the incidents are combined, are in constant opposition to thatpoetical ideality without which the supernatural cannot take possessionof the mind. In reading the "Morte d'Arthur" we are insensiblypenetrated by an atmosphere of the marvellous which makes a giant anatural companion, and a magic sword a necessary part of a warrior'soutfit. But Manfred and his family are so essentially human, and theirsurroundings are so realistic, that the reader's sense of congruity isshocked by the introduction of a bleeding statue or a skeleton monk. This was evident to Miss Clara Reeve, who hoped to attain success inthe attempt to unite the romance and the novel by limiting allsupernatural occurrences to the verge of probability. It is obviousthat the line would be difficult to draw. Miss Reeve drew it at ghosts. In the "Old English Baron, " she took a story similar to that ofWalpole. She presented to the reader a castle whose real owner had beenmurdered, and of which the rightful heir, ignorant of his birth, livedas a dependent on the wrongful possessor. The story turned on therevelation of the secret by the ghost of the murdered knight. "God defend us!" said Edmund; "but I verily believe that the person that owned this armor lies buried under us. " Upon this a dismal, hollow groan was heard, as if from underneath. A solemn silence ensued, and marks of fear were visible upon all three; the groan was thrice heard. To the average mind of the present day Clara Reeve's ghost is not lessimprobable and incredible than Walpole's gigantic helmet. If the readeris prepared by the poetic nature of a narrative for the influence ofthe supernatural, he will receive all marvels with equal ease; but ifhe be not prepared, if his mind be occupied during the greater part ofthe work with actual and ordinary occurrences, any supernatural eventis rejected. Miss Reeve introduced far less of the incredible than herpredecessor, but she did not approach Walpole in the adaptation of herscenes to supernatural effects. It requires less imagination to see afigure walk out of a portrait in the gloomy castle of Otranto, than tohear the groan of Miss Reeve's spectre. The incompatibility of the real and the unreal in the same work issufficiently shown by the course pursued by the different writers whotook part in the romantic revival. Walpole had boldly introduced askeleton monk, and had crushed one of his characters by a gigantichelmet which fell from the sky. Clara Reeve's sense of congruity wasshocked by so strong a contrast between the usual and theextraordinary, and therefore limited herself to a single supernaturaleffect, which might inspire fear while yet remaining within the boundsof superstitious credulity. The next and greatest contributor to theromantic revival still further modified the methods of herpredecessors, and in so modifying them, testified her doubts of theirefficacy. Mrs. Radcliffe's plan was not to summon a spectre from hisresting-place and to make him move among flesh and blood personages. She simply described the superstitious fears of her heroes andheroines, and sought to make her reader share in them. She excited theimagination by highly wrought scenes of horror, but instead ofascribing those scenes to the intervention of supernatural beings, sheshowed them to proceed from natural causes. The terror felt, by herfictitious characters and shared by the reader, was not so muchinspired by real dangers from without, as by superstitious fear within. The following passage will illustrate Mrs. Radcliffe's method ofdealing with the supernatural: From the disturbed slumber into which she then sunk, she was soon awakened by a noise, which seemed to arise within her chamber; but the silence that prevailed, as she tearfully listened, inclined her to believe that she had been alarmed by such sounds as sometimes occur in dreams, and she laid her head again upon the pillow. A return of the noise again disturbed her, it seemed to come from that part of the room which communicated with the private staircase, and she instantly remembered the odd circumstance of the door having been fastened during the preceding night by some unknown hand. The late alarming suspicion concerning its communication also occurred to her. Her heart became faint with terror. Half raising herself from the bed, and gently drawing aside the curtain, she looked toward the door of the staircase, but the lamp that burnt on the hearth spread so feeble a light through the apartment, that the remote parts of it were lost in shadow. The noise, however, which she was convinced came from the door, continued. It seemed like that made by the undrawing of rusty bolts, and often ceased, and was then renewed more gently, as if the hand that occasioned it was restrained by a fear of discovery. While Emily kept her eyes fixed on the spot, she saw the door move, and then slowly open, and perceived something enter the room, but the extreme duskiness prevented her perceiving what it was. Almost fainting with terror, she had yet sufficient command over herself to check the shriek that was escaping from her lips, and, letting the curtain drop from her hand, continued to observe in silence the motions of the mysterious figure she saw. It seemed to glide along the remote obscurity of the apartment, then paused, and, as it approached the hearth, she perceived, in the stronger light, what appeared to be a human figure. Certain remembrances now struck upon her heart, and almost subdued the feeble remains of her spirit. She continued, however, to watch the figure, which remained for some time motionless, but then, advancing slowly toward the bed, stood silently at the feet, where the curtains, being a little open, allowed her still to see it; terror, however, had now deprived her of the power of discrimination, as well as that of utterance. [201] This scene is an excellent example of Mrs. Radcliffe's power ofdepicting and exciting fear. The loneliness of Emily in the castle, herdread of real dangers inclining her mind to expect the unreal, areshown with an art of which neither Walpole nor Reeve were capable. But, while these writers would have introduced a real spectre as thedisturber of Emily's slumber, Mrs. Radcliffe is contented with theterror she has aroused, and hastens to explain its cause. Having continued there a moment, the form retreated towards the hearth, when it took the lamp, held it up, surveyed the chamber for a few moments, and then again advanced towards the bed. The light at that instant awakening the dog that had slept at Emily's feet, he barked loudly, and, jumping to the floor, flew at the stranger, who struck the animal smartly with a sheathed sword, and springing towards the bed, Emily discovered--Count Morano. These passages afford evidence of both the strength and the weakness ofMrs. Radcliffe's work. She chose a scene calculated to inspire horror, she subjected to its influence a lonely female, and she then describedwith blood-curdling minuteness each detail which could enhance thesense of hidden danger which it was her purpose to excite. While thereader follows such portions of her writings, he is carried by theforce and picturesqueness of Mrs. Radcliffe's language into a conditionof sympathy with the fears of the fictitious personage. But the momentthat the scene of horror is past, that the hidden danger is revealed, that, it turns out to be no ghost but only a Count Morano, all Mrs. Radcliffe's power is required to prevent an anti-climax. This weaknessis very different from that of Walpole or Reeve. They failed to excitethe feeling of superstitious fear. Mrs. Radcliffe excited it, but shedestroyed its effect by revealing the inadequacy of its cause. Theworks of Walpole, Clara Reeve, and particularly of Mrs. Radcliffe, contain very decided merits. They made a school which has found manyadmirers and has given a vast deal of pleasure. But the school wasfounded on wrong principles and could not endure. It is impossible forthe mind to enjoy the supernatural while it is chained down toevery-day life by realistic descriptions of scenes and persons. And itis equally impossible to permanently please by fear-inspiringnarratives, when the reader is aware that all the while there is nosufficient cause for the hero's terror. But what Mrs. Radcliffe attempted, she carried out with a very greatskill. She placed the scenes of her narratives in Sicily, in Italy, orthe south of France, and made good use of the warm natures and vividimaginations which are born of southern climates. Every aid which aneffective _mise en scène_ could supply to her supernatural effects wasmost skilfully brought into play. Lonely castles, secret passages, gloomy churches, and monkish superstitions, --all were adapted to thetale of unknown dangers and fearful predicaments which Mrs. Radcliffehad to tell. She kept up with remarkable strength a supernatural tonewhich insensibly aids the imagination. In her descriptions of scenery, she chose nature in its most awe-inspiring forms, and instilled intothe reader's mind the same sense of the insignificance of man, underthe influence of which her heroes and heroines so continually remain. We are reminded of Buckle's description of the effect of nature uponhuman imagination and credulity when we notice the striking manner inwhich Mrs. Radcliffe moulded the surroundings of her heroes andheroines, and made their minds susceptible to superstitious terror. From Beaujeu the road had constantly ascended, conducting the travellers into the higher regions of the air, where immense glaciers exhibited their frozen horrors, and eternal snow whitened the summits of the mountains. They often paused to contemplate these stupendous scenes, and, seated on some wild cliff, where only the ilex or the larch could flourish, looked over dark forests of fir, and precipices where human foot had never wandered, into the glen--so deep that the thunder of the torrent, which was seen to foam along the bottom was scarcely heard to murmur. Over these crags rose others of stupendous height and fantastic shape; some shooting into cones; others impending far over their base, in huge masses of granite, along whose broken ridges was often lodged a weight of snow, that, trembling even to the vibration of a sound, threatened to bear destruction in its course to the vale. Around on every side, far as the eye could penetrate, were seen only forms of grandeur the long perspective of mountain tops, tinged with ethereal blue, or white with snow; valleys of ice, and forests of gloomy fir. * * * The deep silence of these solitudes was broken only at intervals by the scream of the vultures, seen cowering round some cliff below, or by the cry of the eagle sailing high in the air; except when the travellers listened to the hollow thunder that sometimes muttered at their feet. [202] Lewis in "The Monk, " and Maturin in "The Family of Montorio, " carriedthe principles of the Radcliffe school beyond the verge of absurdity. Their novels are wild melodramas, the product of distortedimaginations, in which endless horrors are mingled with grossviolations of decency. "The Monk" and "The Family of Montorio" had agreat reputation in their day, and in contemporary criticism we findtheir praise sung and their immortality predicted. But, while theyillustrate, on the one hand, the temporary vogue an author may acquireby highly-wrought clap-trap and flashy flights of imagination, theyshow very plainly, in the oblivion which has overtaken them, how littlesuch characteristics avail in the race for enduring fame. [Footnote 201: "The Mysteries of Udolpho, " chap. Xix. ] [Footnote 202: "The Mysteries of Udolpho, " ch. Iv. ] V. At the end of the eighteenth century, the novel had become establishedas a popular form of literature, and the number of its votaries hadbegun to assume the proportions which have since made novelists by farthe most numerous literary body. Some writers, perhaps, have beenomitted who deserved mention as much as some who have been commentedupon. But all have been spoken of, it is believed, who contributed anynew ideas or methods to the art of fictitious composition. The novel had, indeed, taken the place of the stage to a very greatextent. If we compare the productions of the dramatist with those ofthe novelist, as regards both quantity and merit, during the lasthundred and fifty years, we shall perceive a great preponderance infavor of the writer of fiction. Although there are some respects inwhich the novel cannot compete with the drama, there are obviousreasons why the former should be much better adapted than the latter tomodern requirements. Great changes have come over the audience. Withthe progress of civilization, life has become less and less dramatic, and affords fewer striking scenes and violent ebullitions of passion. It not only furnishes far less material for stage effects, but alsosupplies little of that sympathy which the dramatist must find in theminds of his audience. While life has become less dramatic, it hasbecome far more complex, and requires a broader treatment in itsdelineation than the restrictions of the stage can allow. As we look back upon the fiction of the eighteenth century it isevident that the novel, like the play, is capable of great uses and ofgreat abuses, according to the spirit in which it is written. In thehands of Defoe, Richardson, Fielding, Goldsmith, and Miss Burney, itreached a high position as a work of art. It retained, indeed, much ofthe manner of the story of adventure, inasmuch as the interest was morecommonly made to depend on the fortunes of a chosen hero than on thedevelopment of a well constructed plot. But "Robinson Crusoe, " "TomJones, " "The Vicar of Wakefield, " and "Evelina, " are works whichdeserve and possess the interest of the present time. Such books asthese are to be cherished as precious legacies from the years that havegone before. They have given, in the course of their long activecirculation, an incalculable amount of pleasure. They have suppliedposterity with a picturesque view of the life and manners of theirancestors which could not be acquired from any other source. But whilethe fiction of the eighteenth century includes much that is valuablefrom a literary and from a historical point of view, it includes also agreat quantity of worthless and injurious writing. By far the largernumber of novels published were of a kind likely to exert an evilinfluence on their readers. Their coarseness and licentiousness had astrong tendency to disseminate the morbid thoughts and unregulatedpassions which dictated their production. So general was the feelingthat a work of fiction would probably contain immoral and debasingviews of life, that the novel and the novelist, were both looked uponaskance. "In the republic of letters, " said Miss Burney, "there is nomember of such inferior rank, or who is so much disdained by hisbrethren of the quill, as the humble novelist; nor is his fate lesshard in the world at large, since, among the whole class of writersperhaps not one can be named of which the votaries are more numerousbut less respectable. " Miss Edgeworth, in the beginning of the presentcentury, felt it necessary to call her first novel "a moral tale, "because so much folly, error, and vice are disseminated in booksclassed "under the denomination of novels. " A great part of the fictionof the last century, as indeed of our own time, possesses neither thevalue of a work of art nor that belonging to the description andpreservation of contemporary manners. Nor could the excuse of theamusement they afforded be called up in their favor. No amusement isworth having which is not healthy and innocent. The general prejudicewhich formerly existed against novels very much lessened theircirculation, and lessened the evil done by licentious productions. Careful parents did not allow a novel in their children's hands whichhad not passed an examination--a precaution now too generallyneglected. But notwithstanding all the trash, and worse than trash, which has goneinto circulation under the broad and attractive term of novel, it isevident that the English speaking public on both sides of the Atlanticdemand purity in the works of fiction which are submitted to itsjudgment. While no literary work can present a greater claim topermanent favor than a really good novel, none is more certain to bequite ephemeral than a bad one, whether its badness consist in themanner or the matter. For more than a hundred years "The Vicar ofWakefield" has held its own, while hundreds of novels which createdmore sensation at the time of their appearance have fallen intoeverlasting oblivion. And this triumph is not only due to literaryexcellence, but to the human excellence of the conception whichGoldsmith gave to the world. CHAPTER VIII. I. --THE NOVEL IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. II. --THE NOVEL OF LIFE AND MANNERS. III. --OF SCOTCH LIFE. IV. --OF IRISH LIFE. V. --OF ENGLISH LIFE. VI. --OF AMERICAN LIFE. VII. --THE HISTORICAL NOVEL. VIII. --THE NOVEL OF PURPOSE. IX. --THE NOVEL OF FANCY. X. --USE AND ABUSE OF FICTION. I. Fiction has absorbed so much of the literary talent of the presentcentury, and has attained so important a place in the lives andthoughts of the reading public, that, in this chapter, we will attempta description of its varied forms, and an inquiry into its uses andabuses, rather than an extended criticism of individual writers. Allibone's "Dictionary of Authors" contains two thousand two hundredand fifty-seven names of writers of fiction, by far the greater numberof which belong to the nineteenth century, and every year adds to thelist. There is no better example of the closeness of the connection betweensociety and its literature than is supplied by the novel. Every changein the public taste has been followed by a corresponding variety offiction, until it is difficult to enumerate all the schools into whichnovelists have divided themselves. During the present century, life hasbecome far more complex and the reading public far more exacting, varied, and extended than ever before. Steam and electricity havebrought distant countries into close communion, and have awakened afeeling of fellowship among the different nations of the civilisedworld which has greatly widened the horizon of human interests. Thespread of education, the increase and distribution of wealth, togetherwith the cheapness of printing, have largely increased the number andvariety of those who seek entertainment from works of fiction. Thenovel-reader is no longer content with the description of scenes andcharacters among which his own life is passed. He wishes to beintroduced to foreign countries, to past ages, and to societies andranks apart from his own. He wishes also to find in fiction thereflection of his own tastes and the discussion of his own interests. He seeks psychology, or study of character, or the excitement of acomplicated plot, or the details and events of sea-faring, criminal, orfashionable life. All of these different tastes the novelist hasundertaken to gratify. Under the extensive head of the novel of life and manners, the habits, modes of thought, and peculiarities of language of Scotland, Ireland, England, and the United States, with many sub-divisions of provincesand cities, have been studied and described. The novelist has extendedhis investigations into Eastern countries, and has portrayed thecustoms and institutions of Oriental life. He has taken his charactersfrom historic times, and has recommended the past for the instructionor amusement of the present. The experience of the soldier and thesailor have taken their place among the incidents of fiction; theadventures and crimes of blacklegs and convicts have been drawn upon togratify palates sated with the weak _pabulum_ of the fashionable novel. Fiction has not been confined to the study of manners and character, but has been extensively used to propagate opinions and to arguecauses. Novels have been written in support of religious views, Catholic, High-Church, and Low-Church; political novels have supportedthe interests of Tory, Whig, anti-slavery, and civil service;philosophical novels have exposed the evils of society as at presentconstituted, and have built up impossible utopias. Besides the novel ofpurpose, there has been the novel of fancy, in which the imaginationhas been allowed to soar unchecked in the regions of the unreal and thesupernatural. With so great a variety of works of fiction, it is not surprising tofind a corresponding variety of authorship. Lords and ladies, generalsand colonels have entered the lists against police court reporters andfemale adventurers. The novel is no longer the exclusive work of aprofessional author. Amateurs have attempted it to pass the time whichhung heavily on their hands; to put into form their dreams orexperiences; to gratify a mere literary vanity. The needy nobleman hasmade profitable use of his name on the title-page of a novel purportingto give information concerning fashionable life. But the mostremarkable characteristic of novel-writing has been the important parttaken by women. They have adopted fiction as their special departmentof literature, and have shown their capacity for it by the productionof novels which fully equal in number and almost equal in merit theworks of their masculine rivals. On her own ground, George Eliot has nosuperior, while the writings of Miss Austen, of Miss Edgeworth, of MissFerrier, of Mrs. Stowe, not to mention many others, are to be rankedamong the best works of fiction in any language. But while women havecontributed their full share of novels, both as regards quantity andmerit, they have also contributed much more than what we think theirfull share of worthless and immoral writing. Bad women will haveliterary capacity as well as bad men, but it is doubly shocking to findthat the prurient thoughts, the indecent allusions, and immoralopinions which are often met with in the novels of the day proceed fromthat sex which ought to be the stronghold of modesty and virtue. And this matter becomes very important when we consider the positionwhich works of fiction have attained in the present century. In thedays of Mrs. Behn, Mrs. Heywood, Fielding, or Smollett, coarseness ofthought and language was so general that it naturally had a prominentplace in novels. All persons who objected to licentious scenes andgross expressions in the reading of themselves or their childrenexcluded works of fiction. As Miss Edgeworth said, most novels werefilled with vice or folly, and as Miss Burney complained, no body ofliterary men were so numerous, or so little respectable as novelists. But, in the hands of such writers as Sir Walter Scott, as Miss Ferrier, as Miss Austen, as Dickens, as Thackeray, as Charles Kingsley, as Mr. Anthony Trollope, the novel has achieved for itself a position ofrespectability and dignity which seems to remain unimpaired, notwithstanding the efforts of many authors to destroy it. Works offiction are to be found in every home, in the hands of parents, in thehands of young boys and girls. The word novel has been given so high asignification by the great names which are associated with it, thatparental censorship has almost ceased. It is impossible that a form ofliterature to which so many and so great minds have been devoted, andwhich takes so prominent a place in the favor of the reading public, should not be without a powerful influence. Let us look more closely atthe works of fiction of the nineteenth century, and then endeavor todetermine how far their influence has been for good, and how far forevil. II. It is the especial province of the novel of life and manners to be asfar as possible a truthful reflection of nature. And the more itapproaches to this condition, the more realistic it is said to be. Butthe word realism is a vague term, and is constantly employed to expressdifferent ideas. As far as it applies to the novel, it usuallysignifies an author's fidelity to nature. But even with thisdefinition, the term realism has no very definite meaning unless allpersons agree as to what constitutes nature. There is a greatdifference in men according as they are looked at with the eye of aRaphael or of a Rembrandt. There has been a strong tendency amongnovelists of the present century who have written since Scott, todevote themselves more to the common characters and incidents ofevery-day life; to describe the world as it appears to the ordinaryobserver, who rarely associates with either heroes or villains, and haslittle experience of either the sublime or the marvellous. Such was theexpressed object of Thackeray, and such is the general character of theworks of George Eliot and of Mr. Anthony Trollope. This tendency hasbeen carried to an extreme by some English novelists, and above all bythe Frenchman, Emile Zola, who have not only thrown aside entirely theromantic element in their fictions, but have shown their ideas ofrealism to consist in the base and the ignoble, and have confined theirstudies to the vices and degradation of the human species. An admirer of Thackeray and an admirer of Zola would consider the worksof his favorite author to be realistic, and yet nature appears undervery different aspects in the pages of the two novelists. But thepartisans of Thackeray and those of Zola would probably unite in theopinion that Sir Walter Scott was not realistic; they would call himromantic, and claim that he painted ideal scenes and ideal characters. But among those who read and re-read the novels of Scott, by far thegreater number believe that "The Wizard of the North" was true tonature, that Jeanie Deans and Rob Roy and Meg Merrilies were notimpossible characters. There are many who enter into the scenesdescribed by Scott with as much feeling of reality as is experienced bythose who follow the career of a Pendennis, of a Duke of Omnium, or ofa Nana. A novelist, then, is realistic or not realistic according tothe views which he and his reader entertain of nature. To the optimist, to the youthful and romantic, "The Heart of Midlothian" and "GuyMannering" will seem a truthful representation of life. The moreworldly and practical will find their idea of reality in "The Mill onthe Floss, " in "Vanity Fair, " in "The Prime Minister. " And finallythose whose taste or lot has kept them "raking in the dirt of mankind"will think their view of truth best expressed by "L'Assommoir" or"Nana. " But we would not be understood to mean that a novelist or a painter isrealistic, because he represents nature as it appears to him, whetherhe look at it through a glass _couleur de rose_, or with the distortedeye of a cynic. He may describe the sublime, the ordinary, or the vile, as nature supplies examples of all three, and yet be realistic, so longas he presents any one of these conditions without exaggeration, andwithout too extended an application. The writers who have devoted themselves to the novel of life andmanners have all sought to be realistic, and the value of their worklargely depends on the success which has attended their efforts in thisdirection. The enduring vitality of "Tom Jones" is due to Fielding'sfidelity to nature, and it is safe to predict that no novel which failsin this respect can have more than an ephemeral reputation. Nothingcould be more false than the views of contemporary life contained in alarge part of the fiction of the present day, and the future historianwho looks to the novel of the nineteenth century for informationconcerning morals and social habits will have to exercise a constantdiscrimination. III. Scottish life and manners have been made familiar to the world by aseries of brilliant novelists, first among whom stands the greatestfigure in the history of English fiction. Sir Walter Scott wasqualified to an extraordinary degree for the great work he was destinedto perform for his country and for the novel. His ancestry, thetraditions among which he grew up, his in-born love of legendary lore, his vivid imagination and keenness of sympathy all fitted him toappreciate and to put into enduring form the latent romance whichpervaded his beloved Scotland. His practical experience as a lawyer andas a sheriff, gave him a clear insight into the institutions of hiscountry. Previous to the publication of "Waverley, " Scotland was acomparatively unknown land. Even Englishmen had little knowledge of itsnational habits, of its traditions, or its scenery. To Scotchmen, thehistory of their country was little more than a skeleton, till themagic wand of Scott it filled it with flesh and blood, and gave it newlife and animation. "Up to the era of Sir Walter, " says an eminentScotchman, "living people had some vague, general, indistinct notionsabout dead people mouldering away to nothing, centuries ago, in regularkirk-yards and chance burial-places, 'mang muirs and mosses many O, 'somewhere or other in that difficultly distinguished and very debatabledistrict called the Borders. All at once he touched their tombs with adivining-rod, and the turf streamed out ghosts, some in woodmen'sdresses, most in warriors' mail; queer archers leapt forth, with yewbows and quivers, and giants stalked shaking spears! The graychronicler smiled, and taking up his pen, wrote in lines of light theannals of the chivalrous and heroic days of auld feudal Scotland. Thenation then, for the first time, knew the character of its ancestors;for these were not spectres--not they, indeed, --nor phantoms of thebrain, but gaunt flesh and blood, or glad and glorious;--base-borncottage churls of the olden time, because Scottish, became familiar tothe love of the nation's heart, and so to its pride did the high bornlineage of palace kings. * * * We know now the character of our ownpeople as it showed itself in war and peace--in palace, castle, hall, hut, hovel, and shieling--through centuries of advancing civilization. " And it was not only to his countrymen that Scott made vivid andfamiliar the history of his native land. Since his genius described theHighland fastnesses, and peopled them with the chiefs and maidens ofold, all the world feels at home in that land at once so small and sogreat. In Italy, in France in Germany, in America, Jeanie Deans and theMaster of Ravenswood are household friends, and Scottish life andhabits are known to tens of thousands who never leave their nativetown. Besides making his country celebrated by his writings, Scott placed thenovel on the firm foundation in public estimation which it has sinceretained. He redeemed its character from the disrepute into which ithad fallen. He used it not only as a means of giving acute andhealthful pleasure, but he made it the medium for moral andintellectual advancement. The purity of thought which pervades all hiswritings, the never-failing nobility of the views of life which heplaced before his readers can have no other than an elevatinginfluence. Scott's literary success was due both to genius and to industry. Of hisearly precocity Mrs. Cockburn has left a remarkable instance. [203] "Ilast night supped in Mr. Walter Scott's. He has the most extraordinarygenius of a boy I ever saw. He was reading a poem to his mother when Iwent in. I made him read on; it was the description of a shipwreck. Hispassion rose with the storm. He lifted his eyes and hands: 'There's themast gone!' says he. 'Crash it goes! They will all perish!' After hisagitation he turns to me: 'That is too melancholy, ' says he. 'I hadbetter read you something more amusing. ' I preferred a little chat, andasked his opinion of Milton and other books he was reading, which hegave me wonderfully. One of his observations was: 'How strange it isthat Adam, just new come into the world, should know every thing! Thatmust be the poet's fancy, ' says he. But when told he was createdperfect by God, he instantly yielded. When taken to bed last night, hetold his aunt he liked that lady. 'What lady?' says she. 'Why, Mrs. Cockburn, for I think she is a virtuoso, --like myself. ' 'Dear Walter, 'says Aunt Jenny, 'what is a virtuoso?' 'Don't ye know? Why, it's onewho wishes and will know every thing. ' Now, sir, you will think this avery silly story. Pray, what age do you suppose this boy to be? Nameit, now, before I tell you. 'Why, twelve or fourteen. ' No such thing;he is not quite six years old. He has a lame leg, for which he was ayear at Bath, and has acquired the perfect English accent, which he hasnot lost since he came, and he reads like a Garrick. You will allowthis an uncommon exotic. " The vivid imagination and love of knowledge which Scott displayed fromhis earliest years were supplemented throughout his life by anassiduous self-cultivation. The great and varied body of legendary lorewhich he accumulated, together with his ever active and universalsympathy with mankind, made the chief elements in his fictions. Thereis no one respect in which the Waverley novels are pre-eminent. Asregards plot, Scott has been frequently surpassed. While "Kenilworth, "the "Bride of Lammermoor, " and "Ivanhoe, " are well constructed, theplan of "Rob Roy" and "The Monastery" are lacking in sequence. Othernovelists, too, have drawn character with quite as much power. But theWaverly novels have attained their supreme position in publicestimation by a rare and well balanced union of different qualities. They contain beautiful examples of the sublime, and amusing examples ofthe ludicrous. They reflect nature in various phases, and always withpicturesqueness, power, and truth. Of Scott's historical novels weshall speak elsewhere. Of those which relate especially to his owncountry, the most remarkable merit consists in the fidelity with whichthey have reflected the Scotch nationality. On this account they willalways possess a value for the student of social history. Of the estimation in which these novels have been held by the world, and the immense area over which their influence has extended, some ideamay be formed from the fact that the actual profits which accrued fromthem to the author or to his estate shortly after his death, exceededtwo millions of dollars. When we add to this sum the profits of thepublishers, and when we consider the number of translations issued inEurope and the editions printed since Scott's death in Great Britainand America, we can realize how vast a sum the world has been glad topay for the possession of these invaluable works. Following the great Sir Walter in the description of Scottish life andmanners, are many well-known writers. John Galt, in the "Annals of theParish, " gave many humorous descriptions of national character. InWilson's "Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life, " in "The EttrickShepherd, " in the works of Scott's son-in-law, Lockhart, are scenes andcharacters still very familiar to novel readers. Jane Porter embodiedrather ideal views of history in "Thaddeus of Warsaw, " and "TheScottish Chiefs. " The talents of Miss Ferrier, of Mrs. Oliphant, and ofMr. William Black have kept up the interest which the world has learnedto take in every thing appertaining to the land which Sir Walter Scotttaught it to know and love so well. [204] [Footnote 203: Mrs. Cockburn to Rev. Dr. Douglas, 1777; Lockhart's"Life of Scott. "] [Footnote 204: Other novelists belonging especially in Scotland and ofconsiderable reputation, are Maria Porter, Elizabeth Hamilton, A. Cunningham, Mrs. Johnstone, Hogg, Picken, Moir, Sir T. D. Lauder, HughMiller, George MacDonald. ] IV. First among the contributors to the novel of Irish life and manners maybe mentioned Maria Edgeworth, by whose successful labors Scott wasfirst inspired to undertake his own. In Miss Edgeworth's works, Irelandfound a true exposition of her wrongs and her virtues; and also of herfollies and errors. The evils of absenteeism were powerfullyillustrated in the novel of the same name. In "Castle Rackrent, " thetrials and difficulties of landlord and tenant were described withgenuine sympathy and dramatic force. The peculiarities of Irish temperand character have been studied by Miss Edgeworth with a fidelity whichhas given her novels the same national stamp and value which belong tothose of Scott. Like him, too, she did much to raise fiction incharacter, scope, and influence. Whether describing Irish, English, orfashionable life, she is always true to nature, always pure andelevated in tone. Her works are neither marred by the coarseness of thepast, nor by the false delicacy of the present. She studiously avoidserror and exaggeration in every form. Sentimentality and mock heroismhave no place in her pages. While she is wanting in poetry, she issingularly rich in the scenes and characters of every-day life, and hernovels are marked by a common-sense knowledge of the world which neverdegenerates into commonplace. Miss Edgeworth has been ably followed by several students of Irishlife. William Carleton's "Traits and Stories of the Irish Peasantry, "the novels of Samuel Lover and of John Banim are still well known. Thomas Crofton Croker, with whose amusing description of the "Last ofthe Irish Sarpints, " the reader is probably familiar, has studied hiscountrymen's superstitions and peculiarities with great success. Charles James Lever has long retained a well-deserved popularity by theproduction of about thirty jovial dashing novels, among which the mostcelebrated is "Charles O'Malley, the Irish Dragoon. "[205] [Footnote 205: Among other novelists of Irish life and manners may bementioned Lady Morgan, Mrs. S. C. Hall, Gerald Griffin, T. C. Grattan, Justin MacCarthy, and others. ] V. Novels relating particularly to English life and manners have beengreater in number and more varied in character than those of any othercountry. A large volume would be necessary to do any critical justiceto the many distinguished writers whom we can only briefly notice here. The most considerable subdivision of the English novel has been thatoccupied with the study of domestic life, --a department for which womenare particularly fitted, and in which they have been eminentlysuccessful. Mrs. Opie's "Simple Tales, " "Tales of Real Life, " and "Tales of theHeart, " although displaying no great talent in construction or style, excel in a natural pathos and a delicacy of sentiment which have madethem popular for many years. Miss Edgeworth brought to the study ofEnglish life the same practical views and library talents which we haveseen in her Irish novels. Her children's stories, "Frank, " "Harry andLucy, " and "Rosamund" were among the first contributions to juvenilefiction. "Helen, " in which she exposed the evils of untruthfulness, isa good example of the success with which this admirable woman couldcombine entertainment and moral elevation. Jane Austen's name has longbeen linked with that of Miss Edgeworth, as the two most powerfulfemale novelists of the earlier part of the century. In "Pride andPrejudice, " "Emma, " "Mansfield Park, " "Sense and Sensibility, " shedescribed the country gentry and middle classes of society. Shedepended neither on exciting scenes, nor on highly wrought effects ofhuman passion for the interest of her stories, but studied every-daylife and ordinary people with a sympathy and power of observation whichimparted a deep interest to all her works. Miss Ferrier's novels, "Inheritance" and "Marriage, " were greatly admired by Scott, and now, some sixty years later, are still widely read, and receive the honor ofboth cheap and expensive editions. Miss Ferrier's skill in theconstruction of a plot, her natural studies of character and theliveliness of her descriptions have kept her works popular, notwithstanding great changes in the public taste. Mrs. Trollope, themother of a more celebrated son, contributed largely to the Englishdomestic novel. The pathetic story of the lives of the Brontë sisters, supplied by Mrs. Gaskell, has deepened the interest excited by theearly popularity of "Jane Eyre. " Charlotte was the most talented of thefamily, and won a widespread admiration by her knowledge of life, herfreshness, her vigor, and her innocent disregard of conventionality. Mrs. Gaskell described the life and trials of the manufacturing classeswith great ability in "Mary Barton" and other novels. Miss Yonge, author of the "Heir of Redclyffe, " Mrs. Henry Wood, author of "EastLynne, " and Mrs. Lynn Linton have added largely to this department offiction. The Baroness Tautphoeus described English and German life inthe particularly fascinating novels, "Quits, " "At Odds, " and "TheInitials. " Miss Thackeray has made good use of talents inherited fromher father. Mary R. Mitford and Mrs. Alexander have written manyentertaining and popular novels. Miss Mulock began a long list ofsuccessful works with "The Ogilvies" and "John Halifax. " But by far the greatest female novelist who has devoted her talents tothe English domestic novel, and by far the greatest female writer inthe language is undeniably George Eliot. Women almost invariably leavethe stamp of their sex upon their work. But George Eliot took and helda man's position in literature from the outset of her career. It wasnot that she was unfeminine. She brought to her work a woman's sympathyand a woman's attention to detail. But in breadth of conception, incomprehensiveness of thought, her mind was essentially masculine. Herappreciation of varieties and shades of character was almostShakespearian. She could describe the self-indulgence of a Hetty Sorrelleading to cruelty, and that of a Tito leading to treachery, withperfect distinctness. She could enter into the generous aspirations ofa Savonarola, and the selfish desires of a Grandcourt, with equalperspicuity. Her readers do not feel less familiar with the dullbarrenness of Casaubon than with the pregnant vivacity of Mrs. Poyser. In the study of the inward workings of the human mind, George Eliot isunsurpassed by any novelist. Thackeray alone can dispute herpre-eminence in this respect. However much the reader may recoil fromthe horror of Little Hetty's crime, he cannot deny that it follows as anatural consequence. Although Dorothea's marriages are extremelydisappointing, the train of thought which led her to enter into them istraced with unerring clearness. An obstacle to the popularity of George Eliot's novels lies in theslowness of their movement. The author's soliloquies, comments, andreflections, which are so much valued by her especial admirers, constantly interrupt the course of the narrative, and prove cumbersometo such readers as enjoy a rapid, flowing story. But without theseinterruptions, how much of George Eliot's best wisdom would be lost!How many significant phrases would be lost from familiar language! Thecommentaries of the authoress herself on the incidents of her tale giveher works a value which inclines us to take up her volumes again andagain, long after the stories themselves have become familiar. We neverweary of such sentences as the following from "Adam Bede": "There is nodespair so absolute as that which comes with the first moments of ourfirst great sorrow, when we have not yet known what it is to havesuffered and be healed, to have despaired and to have recovered hope. "Not less beautiful and concentrated are those few words on woman's lovein "Middlemarch":--"Those childlike caresses which are the bent ofevery sweet woman, who has begun by showering kisses on the hard pateof her bald doll, creating a happy soul within that woodenness from thewealth of her own love. " A faculty which George Eliot possessed in common with Dickens andThackeray was that of making very ordinary people interesting. And thisis a talent characteristic of the best minds which have contributed tofiction or the drama. Shakespeare possessed it in a high degree, andthe best creations of Scott are ordinary, unheroic persons. The facultyarises from superior powers of observation. Some people will take awalk through a picturesque country or a crowded city without havingseen any thing worthy of remark. Others will pass over the sameground, and return overflowing with description. In the same manner, the great number of men and women pass through life finding every thingcommonplace, and the observing sympathy of a Thackeray, a Miss Austen, or a George Eliot is necessary to light up the unnoticed figures whichthrong the path. George Eliot is particularly happy in drawing a reallyordinary person, especially when a little pretension is added. She musthave written Mr. Brooke's opinion of women with true enjoyment: "Thereis a lightness about the feminine mind--a touch and go--music, the finearts, that kind of thing--they should study those up to a certainpoint, women should; but in a light way, you know. " But though Mrs. Poyser be humble, she is far from ordinary. "Some folks' tongues, " shesays, "are like the clocks as run on strikin', not to tell you the timeo' the day, but because there's summat wrong i' their own inside. " So long as George Eliot confined herself to her own sphere of action, she exhibited the same remarkable powers. But even her great name couldnot command admiration for "The Spanish Gypsy. " Her limitations clearlyappeared in "Daniel Deronda. " When describing the characters andintercourse of Grandcourt and Gwendolen, when dealing with every thingEnglish in that variously estimated work, she remained the great authorof "Adam Bede" and "Silas Marner. " But in undertaking the discussion ofthe religion and social position of the Jews, she mistook her owntalents, and created in Daniel Deronda, an indefinite combination ofvirtues unworthy of her genius. We have now noticed fifteen women, from Maria Edgeworth and Jane Austento George Eliot, who have contributed to the single department offiction concerned with English domestic life. Many other names almostequally deserving and equally celebrated might be added to the list. The enduring popularity of their works is sufficient commentary on thesuccess with which woman's talent has been directed toward fiction. Notonly have the productions of these writers a high literary value, buttheir widespread circulation has afforded a really healthful amusementto tens of thousands, and their influence has been uniformly forgood. [206] The novels of English domestic life written by men have been littlemore numerous or able, but much more extended in scope. "Tremaine" and"De Vere, " of R. Plumer Ward, contain clever sketches of character, butthe narrative is loaded down with political and philosophicaldisquisitions. Theodore Hook's stories were as unequal as his life. Almost all bear the marks of haste and carelessness, and yet very feware without some portion of that pointed wit and delicate humor whichdelineated Jack Brag, or described Mr. Abberley's dinner party in the"Man of Many Friends. " Richard Harris Barham is well known as theauthor of the witty "Ingoldsby Legends, " and Samuel Warren as theauthor of "Ten Thousand a Year. " Charles Kingsley described the lifeand grievances of mechanics in "Alton Locke. " Charles Reade began along series of popular novels with "Peg Woffington" and "ChristieJohnstone. " His best work is "Never Too Late to Mend, " in which hecriticized prison discipline, and described the striking scenes of theAustralian gold-fields. Few novels of the present day contain a moreinteresting story or more lifelike delineations of character. WilkieCollins' greatest power lies in the construction of his plot; the"Moonstone" and the "Woman in White, " are among the most absorbingnarratives in the whole range of fiction. His studies of the morbidworkings of the mind are often striking, but with the exception ofCount Fosco and a few others, his characters are not strongly marked. Thomas Hughes accomplished a truly noble work in the composition of"Tom Brown's School Days" and "Tom Brown at Oxford, "--books which havefound their way to every boy's heart, and have appealed to all that wasmost healthful and manly there. The novels of Benjamin d'Israeli arechiefly interesting in their relation to the character of theirillustrious author. As works of art they are faulty in construction, exaggerated in description, and unnatural in effect. "Vivian Gray" and"Lothair" cannot pretend to be truthful studies of English life, norwould their author, probably, have represented them as such. But somuch of the great statesman's power was instilled into his novels thatthey have a certain interest even for those who are most alive to theirfaults. They are the conceptions of a very rich imagination, andcontain many pictures which, if untrue to nature, are still extremelyvivid. D'Israeli's chief literary, and perhaps also his chief politicalcharacteristic, was a constant endeavor to make striking effects. Thereader may be sure to find nothing commonplace in his writings. Everyscene and every character is painted in the brightest of colors. If thebackground be sombre, it will simply throw out more brilliantly thefigures in the foreground. It is said that most men have a favoriteword. That of d'Israeli was "wondrous. " He took his reader intowondrous baronial halls, filled with wondrous gems, with wondroustapestries, with wondrous paintings, and introduced him to wondrousdukes and duchesses, looking out from wondrous dark orbs, and breathingthrough almond-shaped nostrils. He loved to bring the royal family onthe scene, and to trace the awe-inspiring effect of their augustpresence. When we open a novel of d'Israeli's we are certain of movingin a brilliant society, although one belonging to a yet undiscoveredworld. Women whose political influence changes the map of Europe, irresistible Catholic priests are mingled with impudent adventurers andprofessional toad-eaters. And over every thing is cast, by d'Israeli'sEastern imagination, a glamour of unlimited wealth, of numberlesscoronets, and of soaring ambitions. The political career of the Earl ofBeaconsfield is one of the most remarkable in history, and even hisopponents cannot withhold admiration from the great abilities andundaunted resolution which brought that career to its triumphant close. But the novels of the Earl of Beaconsfield have little value beyondtheir reflection of his dreams and his ambition. Among the most famous writers of fiction of the nineteenth century willalways be mentioned the name of Sir Bulwer Lytton. More than any otherwriter, he studied and developed the novel as a form of literature. Almost every novelist has taken some special field and has confinedhimself to that. Dickens, George Eliot, Thackeray made occasionalincursions on historic ground, but still their chief work was expendedupon the novel of life and manners. Lytton attempted, and successfully, every department of fiction. In "Zanoni, " he gave to the world a novelof fancy; in "Pelham" and "The Disowned, " fashionable novels: in "PaulClifford, " a criminal novel; in "Rienzi, " "Harold, " "The Last of theBarons, " historical novels; in "What Will He Do With It?" a novel offamiliar life. And he brought to each variety of fiction the sameartistic sense, the same knowledge of the world, and keen observation. To describe English life in all its phases, he was particularly fitted. Born in a high rank, he was perfectly at home in his descriptions ofthe upper classes, and never slow in exposing their vices. His studiesof men took so universal a form that he became familiar even with theslang terms of pickpockets and house-breakers. "What Will He Do WithIt?" combines examples of the heroic, the humorous, the pathetic, andthe villainous, and affords, perhaps, the best general view of theauthor's varied talents. Sir Bulwer Lytton is one of the mostvoluminous writers of a very prolific class, and yet he has neverrepeated himself. Mr. Anthony Trollope and several other novelists haveshown how fallacious is the idea that the imagination is a ficklemistress to be courted and waited for. They have proved that she can bemade to settle down and accustomed by habit to working at stated hoursand for regular periods. But Bulwer Lytton not only forced hisimagination to continuous labor, but he was able to insure an unendingnovelty of conception. In each one of his novels we are introduced toan entirely new set of characters inhabiting quite unfamiliar scenes. With a few exceptions, Mr. Anthony Trollope has confined himself to thenovel of English social life, but that mine he has worked withwonderful assiduity and success. In "The Warden, " in "BarchesterTowers, " are studies of clerical character for which this writer haswon a special reputation. "The Small House at Allington" is a lovestory of particular fascination. Few writers have described themanifestations of love in the acts and thoughts of a modest, sweet girlas delicately as Mr. Trollope has done in the case of the desertedLily. Her rejection of a second suitor is felt by the reader to be theinevitable consequence of so pure a passion, and the treachery ofCrosbie is traced through its various gradations with true fidelity tonature. "Phineas Finn" is an excellent example of a parliamentarynovel. That work and its companions, "Phineas Redux, " "The PrimeMinister, " and "The Duke's Children, " keep up our acquaintance with thefamily and connections of Plantagenet Palliser, Duke of Omnium, thanwhich few groups of fictitious characters are more continuouslyinteresting. Mr. Trollope's novels will have a special value for thefuture student of English social life in the nineteenth century. Therace-course, the hunting field, the country seat, Piccadilly, HydePark, the life of clubs and parliament, are described by him withphotographic minuteness. And the novel-reader of to-day derives aconstant pleasure from his books, notwithstanding the fact that themonotony of modern life is somewhat too closely reflected in them. The works of no writer in the English language, except those of Scott, have attained so immediate a reputation and have won so wide-spread apopularity as the novels of Charles Dickens. "In less than six monthsfrom the appearance of the first number of the 'Pickwick Papers, '" saidthe _London Quarterly Review_ in 1837, "the whole reading public weretalking about them, the names of Winkle, Warden, Weller, Snodgrass, Dodson and Fogg, had become familiar in our mouths as household terms;and Mr. Dickens was the grand object of interest to the whole tribe of'Leo-hunters, ' male and female, of the metropolis. Nay, Pickwickchintzes figured in linen-drapers' windows, and Weller corduroys inbreeches-makers' advertisements; Boz cabs might be seen rattlingthrough the streets; and the portrait of the author of 'Pelham' or'Crichton' was scraped down or pasted over to make room for that of thenew popular favourite in the omnibuses. " For forty years the writingsof this great novelist have held their place in the public esteemwithout any sensible diminution. Hundreds of thousands, old and young, in Great Britain, in America, in every country of Europe, have followedthe fortunes of Nicholas Nickleby, of David Copperfield, of OliverTwist, and of numberless other celebrated characters with unflagginginterest. Perhaps Dickens' most remarkable achievement lay in thenumber of his creations, and in the distinctness with which he couldimpress them on the memory of his readers. Of the great host of figureswho throng his scenes, how many we remember! Their names remain stampedon our minds, and some of their characteristic phrases, like Micawber's"Something will turn up, " or Tapley's "There's some credit in beingjolly here, " have passed into current phrases. Dickens' great objectwas to celebrate the virtues of the humbler ranks of life, and toexpose the acts of injustice or tyranny to which they are subjected. This he did in a spirit of the truest philanthropy and most universalbenevolence. The helpless victims of oppression, like little OliverTwist, or the inmates of Dotheboys Hall, found in him an effectivechampion. Never has hypocrisy, the besetting vice of this age, been somercilessly exposed as in the works of Dickens. It is not only in sucha character as Pecksniff that its ugliness is revealed, but whereverpretence hides guilt behind a sanctimonious countenance, the mask issurely torn off. Dickens hated hypocrisy as Thackeray hated snobbism. And both, in their zeal, occasionally saw the hypocrite or the snobwhere he did not exist. Dealing, as Dickens did, so exclusively withcommon and low-born characters, it is remarkable that his books sorarely leave any impression of vulgarity behind them. And this resultis due to the author's love of truth and detestation of all pretence. There can be no vulgarity without pretension. A great many novels ofthe day are extremely vulgar, because they describe ill-bred people andrepresent them to the reader as ladies and gentlemen. But Dickens'shopkeeper or street-sweeper makes no pretence to gentility, andtherefore is as far from being vulgar as the man who has never knownwhat it was to be any thing but a gentleman. The faults, like themerits, of Dickens' work resulted from the exuberance and power of hisimagination. The same vividness of conception which gives such life tohis description of a thunderstorm or of a quiet family scene, sometimesbetrayed him into exaggeration and caricature. And yet when we considerthe number and variety of the figures conjured up by his creative mind, from Paul Dombey to the Jew, Fagin, it is extraordinary that to so fewthis criticism will apply. Dickens' vast popularity resulted only in part from the artistic meritof his works. The breadth of his canvas, his intense realization offictitious scenes, and his extraordinary descriptive power arequalities enough to win for him his eminent position in fiction. Butthe affection felt for Dickens as a man, which has made him occupy somuch the hearts as well as the minds of the reading public, wasattracted by qualities apart from those which excited admiration forthe author. Dickens was essentially a national writer in the variety ofthe characters with whom he brought his readers into communion. He wasessentially popular, from the fact that he dealt with the masses andnot with any particular class. He was essentially English, in that hewas the apostle of home. No novelist who has treated domestic life hasso thoroughly caught its spirit, and has so sympathetically traced itsjoys and sorrows, its trials and recompenses. Family life has been formore than two centuries gradually supplanting the life of the camp andthe court. It is in the domestic circle that men now find the interestwhich was formerly sought in adventure or publicity. Not only in theChristmas stories, especially devoted to the celebration of home, butthrough all his great fictions Dickens made domestic life his chiefstudy. And he is, above all others, the favorite household novelist. While he lived, each new work of his was welcomed alike by parent andchild, and when he died, there were few homes where books ever camethat the loss of a friend was not felt. Scott, Dickens, almost all the great English novelists described heroesand heroines. They made their chief character an embodiment of virtueor strength, and strove to win for him the admiration of the reader. Even Tom Jones was a hero to Fielding, and Roderick Random to Smollett. But Thackeray said to himself as he looked out on the world, thathumanity was not made up of heroes and villains. He had never met withthe truly heroic, nor with the utterly depraved. It seemed to him thathuman nature lay between the two extremes. In "Vanity Fair, " in"Pendennis" and in "The Newcomes" he resolved to describe man as hewas, with virtues and failings, with occasional glimpses of the noble, and more common exhibitions of the mean and the little. Young men wereto appear in his pages with their weakness and selfishness; young girlswith their silliness and affectation. Thackeray, in a word, was to bemore realistic than his predecessors in fiction had dared to be. He wasto show his readers what they really were, and not what they would wishto be. But in Thackeray's novels is evident the difficulty of establishing anygenerally accepted standard of realism. If this quality consists inrepresenting a character as speaking and acting just as we shouldexpect such a character to speak and act, Thackeray succeeded asperhaps no novelist, except Fielding, had done before him. Becky Sharp, Sir Pitt Crawley, Pendennis, Clive Newcome, all use such words as thereader would expect from them. Their actions are the natural results ofthe trains of thought into which the author has given us an insight. When the old reprobate, Lord Steyne, discovers that Becky Sharp hadappropriated to herself the money which he had given her to restorepoor Miss Briggs' stolen property, he is not indignant at thedeception. The admiration of the noble rogue is only increased for thewoman who has shown herself to be possessed of a more astute roguerythan his own:-- "What an accomplished little devil it is!" thought he. "What a splendid actress and manager! She had almost got a second supply out of me the other day with her coaxing ways. She beats all the women I have ever seen in the course of all my well-spent life! They are babies compared to her. I am a green-horn myself and a fool in her hands--an old fool. She is unsurpassable in lies. " His lordship's admiration for Becky rose immeasurably at this proof of her cleverness. Getting the money was nothing--but getting double the sum she wanted and paying nobody--it was a magnificent stroke. In his delineation of character, in the perfect naturalness with whichall his personages act out their respective parts, no novelist is morerealistic than Thackeray. But realism has a broader application. Anovelist who takes every-day life for his subject has not only to givethe stamp of nature to all his scenes and individuals, but he must sowrite, that at the end of his book the reader will have the impressionthat real life, with its due apportionment of good and evil, ofhappiness and grief, has been placed before him. Some readers willreceive that impression from Thackeray's novels; but they will be thosewho think that the evil and the unhappiness predominate. So thought theauthor himself. But the world in general think differently, and agreeto look upon Thackeray as a satirist. As such, he ranks in English literature second only to Swift. To thegreat Dean, man was a lump of deformity and disease. He saw in humanitylittle besides its vice, and painted his species in colors under whichfew men have been willing to recognize a portrait. Thackeray's genialdisposition naturally made him far less bitter than Swift. He neithersaw nor portrayed the monstrous vice which excited the hatred of thesatirist of the eighteenth century. To Thackeray, men were weak ratherthan bad, selfish rather than vicious. George Osborne braves theconsequences of marrying poor Amelia Sedley, and yet prefers his ownpleasure to that of his wife. Rawdon Crawley is ignorant, rude, andunprincipled, but yet is loving and faithful to Rebecca. Weakness, pettiness, self-deception were the main objects of Thackeray's satire. Where are the absurdities of youthful woman-worship held up to suchderision as in Pendennis' love for Miss Costigan! Pen tried to engage her in conversation about poetry and about her profession. He asked her what she thought about Ophelia's madness, and whether she was in love with Hamlet or not? "In love with such a little ojus creature as that stunted manager of a Bingley?" She bristled with indignation at the thought. Pen explained that it was not of her he spoke, but of Ophelia of the play. "Oh, indeed, if no offense was meant none was taken: but as for Bingley, indeed, she did not value him--not that glass of punch. " Pen next tried her on Kotzebue. "Kotzebue? who was he?" "The author of the play in which she had been performing so admirably. " "She did not know that, the man's name at the beginning of the book was Thompson, " she said. Pen laughed at her adorable simplicity. .. . "How beautiful she is, " thought Pen, cantering homewards. "How simple and how tender! How charming it is to see a woman of her genius busying herself with the humble affairs of domestic life, cooking dishes to make her old father comfortable, and brewing him drink! How rude it was of me to begin to talk of professional matters, and how well she turned the conversation! . .. Pendennis, Pendennis, --how she spoke the word! Emily! Emily! how good, how noble, how beautiful, how perfect she is!"[207] Thackeray's satire is all the more powerful in that it is directedagainst foibles more than against vices. Many a reader who will rejectSwift's portrait of man as a libel, cannot but feel a twinge atThackeray's delicate pencillings. After dwelling on the worldliness, the hypocrisy, the self-seeking of the inmates of Queen's Crawley, howsoftly but how terribly he scourges them! "These honest folks at theHall, whose simplicity and sweet rural purity surely show the advantageof a country life over a town one. " His praise is the severest cut ofall. "Dear Rebecca, " "the dear creature, " and we wince for Becky. "Whata dignity it gives an old lady, that balance at the banker's! Howtenderly we look at her faults, if she be a relative. " "These moneytransactions, these speculations in life and death--these silentbattles for reversionary spoil--make brothers very loving toward eachother in Vanity Fair. " Thackeray is the novelist whose works depend in the least degree onnarrative interest. The characters are so clearly drawn and sointeresting, the manner of Thackeray's writing is so uniformlyentertaining, that his books can always be opened at random and readwith pleasure. "Henry Esmond" is the only novel in which the plot iscarefully constructed. The others are a string of consecutive chapters, each one of which possesses its individual interest. [208] The novel of English life and manners includes many subdivisions. Amongthe writings of Miss Edgeworth, Miss Ferrier, Bulwer Lytton, Mr. Anthony Trollope, and others, are novels which deal to a greater orless extent with fashionable life. A number of novelists, principallyfemale, have confined their studies to the aristocratic classes. [209]But the so called fashionable novel is most often the composition ofadventurers whose catch-penny productions aim at affording, to themiddle or lower ranks, information concerning the habits of thearistocracy. It is hardly necessary to remind the reader thatfashionable life in these novels is such as it might appear to animaginative kitchen-maid whose idea of up-stairs existence is foundedon the gossip of servants. When written by persons conversant withtheir subject, the fashionable novel forms a legitimate subdivision ofthe novel of life and manners. But it is most often a noxious weed. Itscultivators constantly make up for lack of talent by the excitement ofimmoral scenes, and give to their audience of sempstresses and grooms amost degraded view of aristocratic life. Even when harmless in matter, its rank luxuriance fills up space much better occupied by the flowersof literature. The eminent criminal novel is taken as a tonic by minds satiated withthe vapidity of fashionable fiction. From Lytton's "Paul Clifford, " andAinsworth's "Jack Sheppard, " down to "Merciless Ben, the Hair-Lifter, "criminal narrative has been occupied with endowing burglars andmurderers with the graces of gentlemen and the moral worth of Christianmissionaries. In its celebration of successful crime, and itsrepresentation under a heroic aspect of villains and blacklegs, nospecies of fiction is more false to nature or more injurious toyouthful readers. To such writers as George A. Lawrence and "Ouida" the world is indebtedfor the "Muscular Novel, " which combines all the worst elements of bothfashionable and criminal narrative. In "Guy Livingstone, " "Strathmore, "and a hundred similar fictions, the reader is introduced to men ofextraordinary physical development, whose strength is proof againstthe wildest dissipation; to women of extraordinary beauty, whose charmsare enhanced in proportion to their coarseness and lack of modesty. Jack Sheppard, reposing on a velvet couch, smoking a perfumedcigarette, and worshipped by two or three ornaments of the demi-monde, is the type most admired by the muscular novelist. Lawrence and "Ouida"have brought to their work a literary power which has given themconsiderable notoriety; and has placed them at the head of theirparticular school; but it is a school whose distinctive characteristicsconsist in extravagance, unhealthiness of tone, and falseness tonature. English military life has been ably described by such writers as E. Napier, G. R. Gleig, W. H. Maxwell, and James Grant. But as a maritimenation, England has been much more prolific of naval novelists. At thehead of these stands Captain Marryat, who has celebrated the pleasuresand described the incidents of sea-faring life in about thirty jovial, dashing books. Among the great number of odd and entertainingcharacters sketched by his hand, "Peter Simple" and "Midshipman Easy"are perhaps the most interesting. Marryat's narratives are notcarefully constructed, but flow on gracefully and easily, enlivened byan inexhaustible fund of humor, and enriched by an endless successionof bright or exciting scenes. The names of Captain Glassock, Howard, Trelawney, Captain Chamier, Michael Scott, and the author of the "Wreckof the Grosvenor, " are among those most prominently associated with themarine novel. These writers have not only dealt with the adventures ofa sailor's life and the peculiarities of a sailor's character, but havestudied the influence of the sea on the human mind. Through the great interest felt by Englishmen in the manners andcustoms of Eastern nations, Oriental novels have become a recognizeddepartment of English fiction. In the eighteenth century, Johnson, in"Rasselas, " and Beckford, in "Vathek, " had drawn on the romanticfeatures of Eastern life. In the present century successful attemptshave been made to study Oriental character through the medium of therealistic novel. Hope, in "Anastasius, " described the vices anddegradation of Turkey and Greece in the person of his hero. In JamesMorier's "Hajji Baba of Ispahan" and "Ayesha, " are vivid delineationsof Eastern character and highly humorous sketches of Persian life. James Baillie Fraser, in "The Kuzzilbash, " and Miss Pardoe in a numberof tales, have still further enriched the department of Orientalfiction. [Footnote 206: Other women who have contributed to the English domesticnovel--. Mary K. Mitford, Mrs. Crowe, Mrs. Marsh, Lady GeorgianaFullerton, Miss Kavanaugh, Geraldine Jewsbury, Mrs. Alexander, S. Bunbury, C. Sinclair, A. Strickland, M. C. Clarke, L. S. Costello, C. Crowe, A. H. Drury, G. Ellis, M. Howitt, Mrs. Hubback, Hon. Mrs. Norton, M. A. Power, E. Sewell, Mrs. Marquoid, Hesba Stretton, Florence Marryat, Elizabeth Wetherell, Sarah Tytler, C. C. Fraser-Tytler, C. Craik, Hon. Mrs. Chetwind, M. M. Grant, A. E. Bray, and others. ] [Footnote 207: "Pendennis, " Chap. V. ] [Footnote 208: Many other well-known writers have contributed to theEnglish domestic novel: Thomas Love Peacock, H. Coke, Samuel Philips, Angus B. Reach, Albert Smith, R. Cobbold, Edmund Yates, Thomas A. Trollope, Thomas Hardy, James Payn, George Augustus Sala, WilliamThornbury, the author of "The Bachelor of the Albany, " MortimerCollins, G. H. Lewes, Shirley Brooks, Douglas Jerrold, C. Crowley, T. DeQuincey, S. W. Fullom, J. Hannay, W. Howitt, C. Mackay, G. J. Whyte-Melville, T. Miller, L. Ritchie, F. E. Smedley, J. A. St. John, M. F. Tupper, F. M. Whitly, F. Williams, C. L. Wraxall, and others. ] [Footnote 209: T. H. Lister, Marquis of Normanby, Lady Caroline Lamb, Countess of Morley, Lady Charlotte Bury, Lady Dacre, Mrs. Gore, LadyBlessington. ] VI. James Fenimore Cooper said in regard to the materials for Americanfiction: "There is a familiarity of the subject, a scarcity of events, and a poverty in the accompaniments that drive an author from theundertaking in despair. " But the truth of this statement has beengreatly modified, if not quite refuted, by the work of that greatnovelist and of several others who have succeeded him. It is true thatAmerican life presents less salient characteristics than that ofEurope; that class distinctions are less marked; and that the energiesof the nation are still so much confined to strictly utilitarianobjects, that life moves along with unpicturesque sameness andevenness. But mankind remains equally complicated and equallyinteresting under whatever circumstances it may be placed. The vastextent of American territory and the infinite variety of itsinhabitants afford material to the novelist which yet remains almostuntouched. New England, New York, the Southern States, and, above all, the Great West, are rich in special customs, traditions, and habits ofthought with which fiction has only begun to concern itself. Thevisitor to Washington cannot fail to be struck by the variety of menwho jostle each other in that cosmopolitan city. The New Englandfarmer, the New York banker, the Southern planter, the Western herderor grain merchant, the California mine-owner, the negro, and perhaps astray visiting Indian chief, represent widely differing and highlyinteresting forms of life and opinion. Whenever native genius has castaside foreign influence and has found inspiration in Americantraditions and institutions, the extent and richness of its literarymaterial have been made manifest. The earliest examples of fiction in the United States were tentativeand lacking in originality. At the close of the eighteenth century, Charles Brockden Brown began the career of the first American novelistwith "Wieland. " His pecuniary necessities and the slight encouragementoffered at that time to American authors made it impossible for him toafford the time and care essential to artistic finish. His novels areof an imaginative and psychological character, often interesting inparts from the intense mental excitement which they describe. They weremuch admired by the English novelist Godwin, whose works they resemblein intensity of conception and faultiness of execution. A novel called"Charlotte Temple, " by Susanna Rowson, obtained a wide circulation inthe beginning of the present century, due much more to its foundationon a notorious scandal than to its own literary merit. "ModernChivalry; or the Adventures of Captain Farrago and Teague O'Reagan, his Servant"--a poor imitation of "Don Quixote"--as a satire directedagainst the Democratic party by H. H. Brackenridge. R. H. Dana's "TomThornton" and "Paul Felton" have little claim to attention beyond theexcitement of their rather sensational stories. But with the publication of "The Spy, " Cooper opened a thoroughlynational vein, and began a literary career which showed how littlenative genius need rely on foreign influence or on foreign subjects. Hedescribed the stirring events and the moral heroism of the AmericanRevolution with patriotic sympathy and original literary power. Hetouched the romantic chords of that great struggle with a delicacywhich met with a world-wide response. Not only did Americans feel thatin Cooper's novels the picturesque and characteristic features of theircountry were delineated by a master-hand, but in almost every Europeanland, translations of "The Spy, " "The Pioneers, " or "The Pathfinder, "testified to the universal interest excited by the examples ofsimplicity, endurance, and sagacity which formed the subjects ofCooper's pen. In "The Pioneers, " "The Last of the Mohicans, " "ThePrairie, " "The Pathfinder, " and "The Deer-slayer" figures the characterof Leatherstocking, than whom no fictitious personage has a greaterclaim to interest. His bravery, resolution, and woodland skill make hima type of the hardy race who pushed westward the reign of civilization. The scenes among which he lived, the primeval forest, the great inlandlakes, the hunter's camp, and Indian wigwam were described by Cooperwith a fidelity and picturesqueness which will always give to his worksa national value. Now that farms and manufacturing towns cover what acentury ago was a trackless wilderness, where backwoodsmen and Indiansshot bear and deer, it would be almost impossible for us to realize theprevious condition of our now populous country were it not for thenovels of Cooper. And this great writer not only described the wildaspect of American scenery and the hardly less wild features of pioneercharacter. He painted with equal skill the life of the American sailor, at a time when that life had an interest and excitement it no longerpossesses. Long Tom Coffin, Tom Tiller, Bob Yarn, belonged to a periodwhen the United Stales was a maritime country, before Americanenterprise and industry were shut off from the sea by legislativeimbecility. No marine novelist has given a more life-like impression ofa ship than Cooper, and none have excelled him in descriptions of thesea and in studies of those peculiar forms of human nature produced bylife on the ocean. So long as Cooper confined himself to purelynational subjects, his success was brilliant and continuous; but manyof his works show the effect of misdirected talent, and have falleninto neglect. The "Legend of Sleepy Hollow, " and "Rip Van Winkle" are the specimensof American fiction most intimately associated with New York. In thesestories the traditions and scenery of the Hudson River were treated byWashington Irving with all the richness of imagination and delicacy ofexpression of which he had so great a store. Some part of that romanticinterest afforded to the traveller by the castles of the Rhine, hasbeen imparted to the Hudson by the exquisite pages of the "SketchBook. " The stories of Nathaniel P. Willis and some of the novels ofBayard Taylor and of J. G. Holland also belong especially to New York. At the head of New England, and, indeed, of American writers offiction, stands Nathaniel Hawthorne. His three great works, "TheScarlet Letter, " "The House of the Seven Gables, " and "The BlithedaleRomance, " are the finest specimens of imaginative writing whichAmerican genius has yet produced. The interest of Hawthorne's novelslies almost entirely in their subtle and astute studies of the hiddenworkings of the human mind. His fictions are remarkable for their wantof action. "The Scarlet Letter" can hardly be said to have a plot. Theseries of chapters which intervene between the exhibition of HesterPrynne on the scaffold and the voluntary self-exposure there of thePuritan minister, simply represent gradual changes from the first tothe last situation of the principal characters. But narrativeexcitement was never Hawthorne's object, and the want of it is neverfelt by his reader. Each scene is an appropriate sequel to the last, and a natural introduction to the next. Each chapter has its specialinterest, --the analysis of a condition of mind, a dramatic situation, or a highly finished domestic picture. It is in the delineation ofcharacter and the study of human motives that Hawthorne's chiefexcellence as a novelist consists. Nothing can exceed the penetrationand vividness with which such persons as Zenobia, in "The BlithedaleRomance, " and Holgrave, in "The House of the Seven Gables, " aredescribed. The homeward walk of the fallen young minister, in "TheScarlet Letter, " when he had resolved to desert his flock and toconnect himself again with Hester Prynne, is an unsurpassed delineationof sudden moral degeneration. There is nothing of modern realism inHawthorne's novels, and yet they leave a realistic impression behindthem. The greater number of his characters appear to us rather asrepresentatives of certain mental conditions then as real flesh andblood. Neither in the dialogue, nor in what may be called the"properties" of his writing did Hawthorne strive at realistic effects. Still, when the reader lays down "The Scarlet Letter, " or "The House ofthe Seven Gables, " he insensibly feels himself embued with the spiritand atmosphere of Puritan New England. Hawthorne was so intensely a NewEnglander in his sympathies, prejudices, and habits of mind, that hiswritings were always colored by the thought and sentiment of his nativeland. In "The Scarlet Letter, " there is little evidence of the use ofhistorical researches, and yet in that volume, colonial life has beenmade real and actual to us by the very intensity of the author'snational feeling. New England fiction includes a number of other celebrated and honorednames. Catherine M. Sedgwick began her literary career with "HopeLeslie, " a story founded on the early history of Massachusetts, whichwas followed by "Redwood" and "The Linwoods, or Sixty Years Since inAmerica. " Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes studied New England village life in"Elsie Venner, " and Sylvester Judd that of the Maine backwoods in"Margaret. " Mr. T. W. Higginson has written "Malbone. " Mr. W. D. Howells, Rev. Edward Everett Hale, and Miss E. S. Phelps are still adding totheir reputations. Among the novels relating to life in the Southern States, "Uncle Tom'sCabin" is the most prominent. The circulation and fame of this bookhave been the most remarkable phenomenon in the annals of literature. Within a year, more than two hundred thousand copies were sold in theUnited States, and fully a million in England. Thirteen differenttranslations were issued in Germany, four in France, and two in Russia;the Magyar language boasted three separate versions; the Wallachian, two; the Welsh, two; and the Dutch, two; while the Armenian, Arabic, Romaic, and all the European languages had at least one version. Thebook was dramatized in not less than twenty different forms, and wasacted all over Europe. In France, and still more in England, all otherbooks and all other subjects became, for the time, secondary to "UncleTom's Cabin. " This extraordinary popularity was chiefly due to theimportance and novelty of the subject treated. Mrs. Stowe imparted aconsiderable narrative interest to her work, and gave to her charactersa very life-like effect. Her pathetic and humorous scenes are naturaland well arranged. The peculiarities of negro life and habits ofthought are placed before the reader with genuine sympathy and truth. Uncle Tom and Topsy are fine and original creations. But taken simplyas a novel, "Uncle Tom's Cabin" is not more remarkable than a hundredothers, and cannot compete with such works as "Tom Jones, " "Adam Bede, "or "David Copperfield. " Mrs. Stowe's extraordinary success was fullydeserved, but it resulted less from the literary excellence of herwork, than from the fact that when one great subject rose pre-eminentin the public mind, she was able to embody it in a popular and easilycomprehended form. Gilmore Simms and John P. Kennedy have contributedlargely to the novel of Southern life. Mr. G. W. Cable is now studyingLouisiana characters, and Judge Tourgee the general condition of theSouth since the war. Novels descriptive of Western life have been written by Charles FennoHoffman, James Hall, Timothy Flint, Thomas, and O'Connell. But none ofthese writers have given such original sketches of character, or haveso graphically portrayed the spirit of life in the far West as Mr. Bret Harte. "The Luck of Roaring Camp" and the other stories of thistalented writer have opened a vein of romance where it was leastexpected. American fiction has been exceptionally rich in stories adapted to thejuvenile mind, among which the most prominent are Mrs. Whitney's "FaithGartney's Girlhood, " Miss Alcott's "Little Women, " and Mr. T. B. Aldrich's "Story of a Bad Boy. " Edgar Allan Poe's "Tales of theGrotesque and the Arabesque, " are remarkable for intensity andvividness of conception, combined with a circumstantial inventionalmost equal to that of Defoe. Mrs. Burnett and Mr. J. W. De Forest arestill writing excellent novels of American life; and Mr. Henry James, Jr. , is studying that peculiar form of human nature known as theAmerican in Europe. [210] [Footnote 210: Other American writers of fiction:--R. B. Kimball, HermanMelville, Dr. R. Bird, John Neal, H. W. Longfellow, Washington Allston, Maria S. Cummins, W. G. Simms, Theodore Winthrop, Mary J. Holmes, Mrs. Terhune, Augusta Evans Wilson, Catherine Sedgwick Valerio. ] VII. The historical novel is obviously a subdivision of the novel of lifeand manners. But, dealing as it does with remote ages, with forgottenopinions and long-disused customs, it has to reconstruct where thenovel of contemporary life has only to illustrate. Strict historicalaccuracy can hardly be expected in fiction concerned with the past. Thedetails of life, always difficult to seize, are almost beyond the reachof the novelist who deals with a subject with which he has had nopersonal experience. A certain amount of accuracy concerning dress, customs, peculiarities of opinion and language are necessary to give toa historical novel the effect of verisimilitude. But what is chieflyrequisite in such a work is that the general spirit of the periodtreated should be successfully caught; that the reader should findhimself occupied with a train of associations and sympathies whichinsensibly withdraws his thoughts from their ordinary channels, andoccupies them with the beliefs, opinions, and aspirations of a totallydifferent state of society. Such is the special merit of Scott's historical novels. Manyinaccuracies of fact might be pointed out in them. His study of thecharacter of James I, in "The Fortunes of Nigel, " is in severalrespects entirely mistaken. His description of a euphuist in "TheMonastery" bears no resemblance whatever to the followers of John Lyly. In "The Talisman" and in "Ivanhoe, " of which the scenes are laid in thetime of Richard Coeur de Lion, the reader recognises little realismof language. But as Scott's historical novels deal with periodsextending from that of the crusades down to the Pretender's attempt in1745, an intimate knowledge of the innumerable social changes andpeculiarities is not to be expected. It is, indeed, to be doubted that a novelist can so reproduce a distantepoch as to satisfy the ideas of careful historical students. He can, however, make familiar to his readers the general spirit of a time. And, in this, Scott was eminently successful. "Kenilworth" gives avivid picture of the gay picturesqueness of Elizabeth's age. "Woodstock" contains a fine contrast between the Cavalier and thePuritan character. "Quentin Durward" affords a lasting impression ofthe times of Louis XI and Charles the Bold. Scott's strong nationalfeeling and his intense sympathy with the traditions of his native landnaturally gave to his Scotch fictions a particular historical value. "The Legend of Montrose, " describing the civil war in the sixteenthcentury; "Old Mortality, " dealing with the rebellion of theCovenanters; and "Waverley, " occupied with the Pretender's troubles inthe middle of the eighteenth century, threw into bold relief widelydiffering periods of Scotch history. Its is, indeed, extraordinary thatone mind should have been able to seize so many and so variedhistorical conditions as are treated in the Waverley novels. Of theseworks, about fourteen deal with entirely distinct epochs, each one ofwhich is given its individual character and obtains its appropriatetreatment. [211] Bulwer Lytton's "Last Days of Pompeii, " and "Harold, the Last of theSaxon Kings, " are both powerful, ingenious, and interesting narratives, and they give as definite an idea, perhaps, of the times of which theytreat as is possible after so long a lapse of time. "Rienzi" leaves agreater impression of verisimilitude. "The Last of the Barons" issomewhat clogged by its superabundance of historic incident, but stillaffords a striking view of declining feudalism. In the "Tale of TwoCities" and "Barnaby Rudge, " Dickens described the sanguinary scenes ofthe French Revolution and the Lord Gordon Riots with his never-failingpower. Since the Waverley novels, the most perfect specimen of Englishhistorical fiction has been "Henry Esmond. " The artistic constructionof its plot, and the life-like reality of its characters, place itfirst among Thackeray's works. But its pre-eminence among historicalnovels is due to the fact that it reproduces so vividly the spirit andatmosphere of a past age. All the thoughts, opinions, and actions ofthe characters in "Henry Esmond" are such as we should expect frompersons living in the beginning of the eighteenth century. Whoever isfamiliar with the pages of the "Spectator" will notice how faithfullyThackeray adopted the language of Steele and Addison. It is true thathe had a far less difficult task before him in describing the age ofQueen Anne than fell to the lot of Bulwer Lytton in "The Last Days ofPompeii. " The latter work required far more historical research and afar greater effort of the imagination. But while in Lytton's novel thereader cannot divest himself of a certain sense of unreality, he feelsthat "Henry Esmond" really carries him back to the period it portrays. George Eliot's "Romola" must always retain a high place in historicalfiction. But its author's great creative power led her to bestow morepains on such of the characters as proceeded from her own imagination, than on those whom history provided ready-made. The reader's memoryretains a more vivid impression of Tito than it does of Savonarola. Charles Kingsley's "Hypatia" and "Westward Ho!" are among the mostprominent of recent historical novels. The latter aimed at describingthe time of Elizabeth, but resembles more closely that of Cromwell. John Gibson Lockhart, in "Valerius, " and Mr. Wilkie Collins in"Antonina, " have studied the life of ancient Rome. James FenimoreCooper in "The Spy" and "The Pioneers" threw into bold relief thestirring incidents of American colonial and revolutionary times. Nathaniel Hawthorne reproduced the spirit of Puritan New England in"The Scarlet Letter, " of which mention has already been made. [Footnote 211: Horace Smith, Sir T. D. Lauder, and G. P. R. James arewell-known historical novelists who have written under the influence ofScott. W. Harrison Ainsworth has made use of historical material in"The Tower of London, " and similar writings. ] VIII. The novel of purpose may be defined as a work of fiction of which themain object is to teach a lesson or to advocate a principle. Strictlyspeaking, every good novel has a purpose, or some well-defined aim, ifit be only that of affording entertainment. But the novel of purposedistinctly subordinates the amusement of the reader to his improvementor information. With a few exceptions, such as "The Fool of Quality, "this species of fiction is the product of the nineteenth century. Ithas special difficulties to contend against. To combine a didactic aimwith artistic excellence is among the most difficult of literaryexperiments. If the lesson or principle to be inculcated be given toomuch prominence, the reader who opens the book for entertainment willshut it very soon in spite of any prospective self-improvement. Ifnarrative interest or artistic beauty be the most striking feature ofthe work, its serious aim will be unnoticed. The safest plan for thewriter of the novel of purpose to pursue, is to openly acknowledge hisobject, and to place that object before the reader in as attractive amanner as possible. But he cannot expect to attain success unless theprinciple he advocates be one of general interest and importance. Norcan he expect, when that principle has obtained acceptance, that thework in which it is urged can have any further prominence. He must becontent that his object is attained, and that his book, having servedits purpose, falls into obscurity. Some of Miss Edgeworth's tales, and such novels as Miss Brunton's"Self-Control" and "Discipline, " were among the earliest specimens offiction having the professed object of moral improvement. These bookswere very popular at a time when a well-justified prejudice againstnovels prevailed. But since the character of fiction has been raised toits present standard of purity, professedly moral novels have becomeunnecessary for general reading. The successors of Miss Edgeworth's andMiss Brunton's works now appear in the form of temperance novels andSunday-school books. A curious form of the novel of purpose is thatwritten in the interest of religious sects or special tenets, of whichspecimens may be found in the writings of Elizabeth M. Sewell, whoadvocated High Church doctrines. Harriet Martineau made very successfuluse of fiction in conveying her ideas on political economy. In "Ginx'sBaby, " by Mr. Edward Jenkins, the popularity and interest of apolitical pamphlet had been greatly increased by the assistance of anarrative form. The most important specimens of the novel of purpose are those writtenin the interest of some injured or suffering class. A mere recital ofgeneral grievances is not likely to have much effect on the publicmind. But a novelist who can interest a considerable body of readers ina few well-chosen characters, who can subject his fictitious personagesto the evils which he means to expose, and thus arouse the sympathy andindignation of a large number of people, can make a novel of purpose avery effective weapon of reform. Individuals are much more interestingthan bodies of men, and the sufferings of little Oliver Twist or of theinmates of Dotheboys Hall, as related by Dickens, will arouse publicattention far more actively than the report of an examining committee. But although a novelist may accomplish great results by such devotionto a philanthrophic object, he can hardly avoid injury to the artisticeffect and permanent value of his work. Many passages in Dickens'novels which have had a great influence in the cause of reform, cannotfail, in the future, when the evil exposed is no longer felt, to be adrag on the works which contain them. Charles Kingsley described the grievances of mechanics in "AltonLocke, " a work in which the artistic elements are much subordinated tothe didactic. A more powerful novel of purpose is Mrs. Gaskell's "MaryBarton, " which enlists the sympathies of the reader very strongly withthe trials of the manufacturing classes. Not of more literaryexcellence, but dealing with a subject of far wider interest than thatof "Mary Barton, " was the "Uncle Tom's Cabin" of Mrs. Stowe. This workis a wonderful example of the capacities of fiction for moving thepublic mind. Before its publication, great numbers of ordinarily humanepeople had a general, ill defined horror of slavery. It was felt to bea barbarous institution, a blot on American civilization. But to mostpeople it was a distant abuse, with which they seldom or never came incontact, and of which they only heard the evil effects in a generalway. But with the publication of "Uncle Tom's Cabin" the whole Northernpublic were brought face to face with the question of slavery. Herewere individuals, made real and interesting by the power of thenovelist, subjected to tyranny and suffering from which every generousnature recoiled. Slavery then assumed a new and more personal aspect, and thousands who were indifferent to the rights of the negroes ingeneral felt a sympathy with the fate of Uncle Tom which easilyextended to the sufferings of the whole race. But the extraordinaryreputation and circulation given to "Uncle Tom's Cabin" by theworld-wide interest in its subject, could not be sustained when publicinterest in that subject declined; and the volume which at one timeoccupied the attention of the whole civilized world, fell intocomparative obscurity when its mission was accomplished. IX. Works of fiction occupied with purely imaginary or supernaturalsubjects have been comparatively rare. While Byron, Shelley and hiswife were living at the Lake of Geneva, a rainy week kept them indoors, and all three occupied themselves with reading or inventing ghoststories. Mrs. Shelley, who was the daughter of Godwin the novelist, andwho inherited his intensity of imagination, reproduced the impressionsthen made upon her mind in the remarkable but disagreeable romance of"Frankenstein. " The story is related by a young student, who creates amonstrous being from materials gathered in the tomb and thedissecting-room. When the creature is made complete with bones, muscles, and skin, it acquires life and commits atrocious crimes. Itmurders a friend of the student, strangles his bride, and finally comesto an end in the Northern seas. While some parts of the story arewritten with considerable power, the general effect is exceedinglyunpleasant. Bulwer Lytton's "Zanoni, " a peculiarly fanciful work, unfolds the mysteries of the Rosicrucians. In "Alice's Adventures inWonderland, " the freaks and vagaries of the imagination in sleep arevividly traced. The curious mixture of the actual and the unreal, themerging of wholly different ideas in one conception, so frequent indreams, are described with extraordinary skill and delicacy. Thechildlike simplicity of Alice's mind is charmingly maintained, and theexquisite vein of humor which runs through the whole book makes it oneof the most delightful as well as one of the most remarkable offictions. X. In an article published in _The Ninteenth Century_, Mr. AnthonyTrollope expressed his views on the good and evil influences exerted byworks of fiction, and he has repeated very much the same opinions inhis interesting book on Thackeray. [212] "However poor your matter maybe, " he says, "however near you may come to that 'foolishest ofexisting mortals, ' as Carlyle presumes some unfortunate novelist to be, still, if there be those who read your works, they will undoubtedly bemore or less influenced by what they find there. And it is because thenovelist amuses that he is thus influential. The sermon too often hasno such effect, because it is applied with the declared intention ofhaving it. The palpable and overt dose the child rejects; but thatwhich is cunningly insinuated by the aid of jam or honey is acceptedunconsciously, and goes on its curative mission. So it is with thenovel. It is taken because of its jam and honey. But, unlike thehonest, simple jam and honey of the household cupboard, it is neverunmixed with physic. There will be the dose within it, either curativeor poisonous. The girl will be taught modesty or immodesty, truth orfalsehood; the lad will be taught honor or dishonor, simplicity oraffectation. Without the lesson the amusement will not be there. Thereare novels which certainly teach nothing; but then neither can theyamuse any one. I should be said to insist absurdly on the power of myown confraternity if I were to declare that the bulk of the youngpeople in the upper and middle classes receive their moral teachingchiefly from the novels they read. Mothers would no doubt think oftheir own sweet teaching: fathers of the examples which they set: andschoolmasters of the influence of their instructions. Happy is thecountry that has such mothers, fathers, schoolmasters! But the novelistcreeps in closer than the schoolmaster, closer than the father, closeralmost than the mother. He is the chosen guide, the tutor whom theyoung pupil chooses for herself. She retires with him, suspecting nolesson, safe against rebuke, throwing herself head and heart into thenarration as she can hardly do into her task-work; and there she istaught how she shall learn to love; how she shall receive the loverwhen he comes; how far she should advance to meet the joy; why sheshould be reticent, and not throw herself at once into this newdelight. It is the same with the young man, though he would be moreprone even than she to reject the suspicion of such tutorship. But he, too, will there learn either to speak the truth, or to lie; and willreceive from his novel lessons either of real manliness, or of thataffected apishness and tailor-begotten demeanor which too manyprofessors of the craft give out as their dearest precepts. " Such are the views of a close observer of human nature, whose workshave had an exceedingly wide and an always excellent influence. WhileMr. Trollope has probably exaggerated the educational power of thenovel, it cannot be denied that this form of literature takes aconsiderable part in moulding the opinions and standards of the young. The impressions of life derived from novels are almost as strong asthose we receive from what is passing in the world about us. If a workof fiction form a truthful reflection of nature, it must hold up tothe reader's view examples of evil as well as examples of good; it mustdeal with depravity as well as with virtue. And, therefore, all thatcan be expected from the novelist is that he should endeavor torepresent life as it is, with its due apportionment of beauty and ofugliness. And so much is demanded not only by the moralist, but by thecritic. Many writers who have described the life of criminals, who haveendeavored to make infamous careers attractive, and have pandered tothe lower tastes of the reading public, would urge in their owndefence: that they have nothing to do with morality; that their objectis to produce a work of art; that no question of the good or evileffect of their writing should be allowed to trammel their imagination. But the critic would rightly reply, that truth at least must berespected in a work of art; that the imagination must not be allowedthe liberty of misrepresentation; and that the novelist in whose pagesvice predominates, or is given an alluring aspect, is no more artisticthan the writer of Sunday-school books. In judging the influenceexerted by the great body of writers of fiction whose names have beenmentioned in this chapter, I shall therefore proceed on theunderstanding that that novelist who writes almost exclusively of goodpeople is not necessarily the one whose influence has been the best, nor that he who has drawn many weak or evil-doing characters hasnecessarily taught the worst lessons. The standard by which we mustjudge an author, as well from an artistic as from a moral point ofview, must be founded on the recognition that both good and evilprevail in the world, and that whoever undertakes to give a picture oflife must paint both the evil and the good in their true colors. In commenting on the fiction of the eighteenth century, its prevailingcoarseness was reprehended. But this characteristic was objected to onthe score of taste, but not at all on that of truth or morality. Thenovelist of that time would not have faithfully represented the societyabout him had he not allowed himself that license which universallyprevailed. Nor could the coarseness of the eighteenth-century writer beobjected to on moral grounds. Morality is concerned with thoughts, notwith expression. Whether we speak plainly the ideas in our mind, whether we communicate them by means of some, circumlocution, orwhether we keep them wholly to ourselves, is a matter of fashion, notof morality. [213] Our great-grandmothers were not less chaste becausethey spoke of things regarding which we remain silent in a mixedsociety: they were simply less squeamish. Mrs. Behn in her day, andFielding in his, described a licentious scene openly and honestlywithout a suspicion of evil. But a great change has come over public taste, and I may even say overpublic morality, during the present century. Licentious conduct is nolonger a venial offence; gross and immodest expressions are no longerallowed in respectable society. The improvement has certainly beengreat, although not as great as it seems. Out of our higher morality, out of our new and boasted refinement, has sprung a vice more ugly thancoarseness, more degrading than sensuality, and that vice is hypocrisy, which shelters all others behind its deceptive mask. Many a parent nowwinks at the hidden vice of a son, the exposure of which would fill himwith shame and indignation. Thousands of young men feel that they canprivately lead a life of dissipation, so long as they keep arespectable face to the world. It is not the vice that societypunishes, it is the being found out. So when we think of our improvedmorality and refinement, we must temper our pride with the reflectionthat we may be simply more hypocritical, and not more virtuous than ourancestors. Still, the fact that licentiousness must now wear a mask ofrespectability, that social status is now greatly affected by moralworth, shows that a real advance has been made. This advance has leftplainly marked traces on the fiction of our time, where, too, we shallfind plentiful evidence of that hypocrisy which has become ourbesetting sin. As we look back upon the list of the great authors who have written inthe present century, it must be with a feeling of gratitude for thebenefits they have conferred. They have devoted their lives to theproduction of literary works, the beauty and excellence of which haveincalculably elevated the public taste. They have held up ideals andnoble conceptions which insensibly impart a dignity to life, and anencouragement to youthful aspiration. They have described so truthfullyand sympathetically the character and aims of different classes anddifferent peoples, that whoever reads their works cannot but feelhimself drawn nearer to great divisions of the human race, which he hadhitherto regarded with an indifferent or a prejudiced eye. The novelsof Scott, of Dickens, of Thackeray, of George Eliot, of Miss Austen, ofMiss Ferrier, of very many others, have afforded to hundreds ofthousands, young and old, a never failing source of healthfulentertainment. Domestic life, as well in the cottage as the castle, hasbeen cheered and enlivened by their presence. Their examples ofheroism, of patience, of generosity, have excited the emulation of theyoung, while their pictures of selfishness and vice have stifled manyan evil inclination and have given birth to many a good resolution. Such writers as these have expressed the best tendencies of the age. And they have been able to do so because they themselves are among thebest men and women of their time. But, unfortunately, as the nineteenthcentury has many evil characteristics, and as depraved and weak-mindedpersons are often endowed with some literary capacity, a great deal ofpoisonous matter has unavoidably come to the surface in Englishfiction. The writers who have prostituted their talents in pandering tothe low tastes of their readers, have carefully avoided any such openrepresentation of vice as was permissible in the last century. But theyhave hidden under an outward respectability of words the most immoraland degrading thoughts. They have recognized the fact that a notinconsiderable number of persons would be be glad to find in a work offiction the same gross ideas which occupy their own minds. And thus amore dangerous, because a more insidious, species of literature hassprung up. The absence of parental censorship, the general freedom withwhich works of fiction are allowed to enter almost every household, permit these novels to fall into the hands of the youngest and mostsusceptible. The young girl or boy whose parents carefully put away thenewspaper which contains an account of a divorce trial or a rape, isvery possibly reading a novel of which the main interest lies in adetailed description of a seduction. It is not of the so-called "dimenovels" or of the stories published in a police gazette to whichreference is made, but to books issued by respectable publishers andoften written by women. Of these novels, the subject is the unlawfulgratification of the passions. Bigamy, seduction, adultery, are theincidents on which the story turns, and an effort is always made by thenovelist to give to the sinners as attractive and interesting an aspectas possible, and to hold up any respectable people who may appear inthe book to the contempt and derision of the reader. Perhaps we wouldbe wrong in blaming a writer for his or her vulgarity. This is a faultinto which some authors fall unconsciously, and is a part of theirnature which they cannot shake off. If Rhoda Broughton or "Ouida" wereto cease being vulgar in print, they would be obliged to stop writingaltogether, a public benefit which we can hardly expect them to confer. But we have a right to severely call an author to task for representingvice in an attractive aspect, for condoning offences against morality, for depicting licentiousness as unattended by retributive consequences. In so doing, a writer is false to art and to nature, as well as tomorality. Critics have done their utmost to discourage and expose this kind ofliterature. The pages of _The Spectator_, of _The Saturday Review_, of_The Athenæum_, of _The London Examiner_, of _The Nation_, are full ofreviews which denounce in unmeasured terms the vulgarity and pruriencyof much of the fiction of the present day. But their censure can havelittle practical effect. So long as a class of corrupt readers exists, so long will evil-minded men and women find a sale for the lowconceptions of their depraved minds. Parents alone, by supervising thereading of their children, can prevent the evil effects of immoralnovels. Some may think that I have exaggerated the bad characteristicsof modern fiction. A few examples of objectionable works will be foundat the foot of this page, [214] an acquaintance with which will sustainmy remarks. The reader may possibly object that these are obscure names inliterature, and that they represent writers whose works are ephemeral. The names chosen are the most prominent in the class to which theybelong. Their obscurity is a redeeming feature of the society which cantolerate their existence. Although writers are able to find a sale forthe most disgusting productions; although the critic is continuallyobliged, in reviewing current literature, to wade through the nastiestmire, it yet remains certain that public taste is not pleased with thevile. A limited circulation will be found for immoral novels among adepraved class, but it is to be said, for the credit of the nineteenthcentury, that talents prostituted can never bring fame. The conceptionsof a Goldsmith, a Scott, a Dickens, a Thackeray, a George Eliot, remainamong the dearest possessions of all English-speaking people. But theunhealthy, unnatural, and hideous pictures given to the world byvicious men and women receive the same wages as the sin they portray. [Footnote 212: In Mr. John Morley's edition of "English Men ofLetters, " chapter ix. ] [Footnote 213: See Macaulay on "The Comic Dramatists. "] [Footnote 214: See "Strathmore, " and others, by "Ouida"; "Not Wisely, But Too Well, " "Red as a Rose Is She, " "Joan, " by Rhoda Broughton;"Cherry Ripe, " by Helen Mathers; "The Lovels of Arden, " by MissBraddon; "Under which Lord?" by Mrs E. L. Linton; "A Romance of theNineteenth Century, " by W. H. Mallock; "Children of Nature, " by the Earlof Desart. A long list of very nasty books might easily be added, butthese will be sufficient to illustrate the bad tendencies of fiction, and to show how thoroughly female authors have kept pace in immodestyand indecency with their rivals of the less pretentious sex. ] THE END. INDEX. Addison, 180Ainsworth, H. , 303Alcott, Miss, 312Aldrich, T. B. , 312Alexander, Mrs. , 288Alice's Adventures in Wonder Land, 319Allston, W. , 312Amadis of Gaul, 46"Arcadia, " Greene's, 83---- Sidney's, 92"Argenis", 101, _note_Arthur, King, 21, 39---- Combat with Accolon, 31Atalantis, The New, 123Austen, Jane, 287 Banim, John, 285Barclay, Robert, 101, _note_Barham, R. H. , 291Beckford, W. , 247Behn, Aphra, 125Bird, R. , 312Black, W. , 284Blessington, Mrs. , 302, _note_Boyle, Roger, 121Brackenridge, H. H. , 307Braddon, M. E. , 327, 288Bray, A. E. , 291Brooke, H. , 243Brooks, S. , 302, _note_Broughton, R. , 327Brown, C. B. , 306Brunton, Mrs. , 316Bunbury, S. , 291Bunyan, John, 106Burnett, Mrs. , 312Burney, Miss, 251Bury, Lady C. , 302, _note_ Cable, G. W. , 311Calprenède, 119Carleton, W. , 285Chamier, Capt. , 304Charlemagne, 21, 24Chaucer, 42Chetwind, Mrs. , 291Chivalry, Decline of, 45---- Origin of, 17---- Rise of, 9---- Romances of, chap. , 1---- Theory and Practice of, 14Clarke, M. C. , 291Cobbold, R. , 302, _note_Coke, H. , 302, _note_Collins, M. , 302, _note_Collins, W. , 292, 315Cooper, J. F. , 307, 315Costello, L. S. , 291Craik, G. , 295Croker, T. C. , 285Crowe, C. , 291Crowe, Mrs. , 291Crowley, G. , 302, _note_Cummins, M. S. , 312Cunningham, A. , 281 Dacre, Lady, 302, _note_Dana, R. H. , 307D'Arblay, Mme. , 281Defoe, D. , 183De Forest, J. W. , 312Deloney, T. , 51De Quincey, T. , 302, _note_Desart, Earl of, 327Dickens, C. , 295, 314D'Israeli, B. , 293Drury, A. H. , 206 Edgeworth, M. , 285"Eliana", 121Eliot, George, 288, 315Ellis, G. , 291"Euphues", 76Euphuism, 76, 82, _note_Excalibur, 26, 39 Ferrier, Miss, 284, 287Fielding, Henry, 203Flint, T. , 311Ford, E. , 47, _note_Fraser, J. B. , 305Fraser-Tytler, C. C. , 291Friar Bacon, 52Friar Rush, 54Fullerton, Lady G. , 291Fullom, S. W. , 302, _note_ Galahad, Sir, 35, 37Galt, John, 284Gaskell, Mrs. , 287, 318Geoffrey of Monmouth, 24"George-a-Green", 50Glassock, Capt. , 304Gleig, G. R. , 304Godwin, Francis, 101, _note_Godwin, W. , 248Goldsmith, O. , 227Gomberville, 119Gore, Mrs. , 303, _note_Grant, James, 304Grant, M. M. , 291Grattan, T. C. , 286Graves, 248Greene, Robert, 82Griffin, Gerald, 286Guenever, 23, 34, 39Gulliver's Travels, 173 Hale, E. E. , 310Hall, J. , 311Hall, S. C. , 286Hamilton, E. , 284Hannay, J. , 302, _note_Hardy, T. , 302, _note_Harte, Bret, 312Hawthorne, N. , 309"Helyas", 46, _note_Heroic Romance, 119Heywood, Mrs. , 193Higginson, T. W. , 310Hoffman, C. F. , 311Hogg, 284Holcroft, T. , 248Holland, J. G. , 308Holmes, M. J. , 314Holmes, O. W. , 310Hook, Theodore, 291Hope's "Anastasius", 305Howard, 304Howells, W. D. , 310Howitt, M. , 291Howitt, W. , 302, _note_Hubback, Mrs. , 291Hughes, Thomas, 292Humor in Sidney's "Arcadia", 100---- in the "Morte d'Arthur", 40 Ideality in Fiction, 111Igraine, 25Inchbald, Mrs. , 255Irving, W. , 308Isould, 34 "Jack, the Giant-killer", 24James, G. P. R. , 311James, H. , Jr. , 312Jenkins, E. , 317Jerrold, Douglas, 302 _note_Jewsbury, Geraldine, 291Johnson, Dr. , 234Johnson, R. , 46, _note_Johnstone, C. , 240Johnstone, Mrs. , 284Judd, S. , 310 Kavanagh, Miss, 219Kennedy, J. P. , 311Kimball, R. B. , 312Kingsley, C. , 291, 315, 318 "Lady of the Lake", 26Lamb, Lady C. , 302, _note_Launcelot, 22, 34, 39Lauder, Sir T. D. , 284, 314Lawrence, Geo. A. , 303"Lear, King", 24Lee, Harriet and Sophia, 256Lennox, C. , 254Lever, C. J. , 286Lewes, G. H. , 302, _note_Lewis, 269Linton, E. L. , 327Lister, T. H. , 302, _note_Lockhart, 284, 315Lodge, T. , 88Longfellow, H. W. , 312Lover, S. , 285Lyly, J. , 75Lytton, Bulwer, 293, 314, 319 MacCarthy, J. , 266MacDonald, G. , 284Mackay, C. , 302, _note_Mackenzie, H. , 241Marquoid, Mrs. , 291Malory, Sir Thomas, 25Mallock, W. H. , 327, _note_"Man in the Moon", 101, _note_Manley, Mrs. , 123Mapes, Walter, 24Marryat, Capt. , 304Marryat, F. , 291Marsh, Mrs. , 291Martineau, H. , 317Mathers, H. , 327Maturin, 269Maxwell, W. H. , 304Meliadus, 25Melville, H. , 312Merlin, 24Miller, H. , 284Miller, T. , 302, _note_Mitford, M. R. , 288Moir, 284Moore, Dr. , 248Moore, Sir T. , 56Morier, J. , 305Morgan, Lady, 286Morgana, 26Morley, Countess of, 302, _note_"Morte d'Arthur", 24, 40Mulock, Miss, 288 Napier, E. , 304Neal, J. , 312Newcastle, Duchess of, 122Normanby, Marquis of, 302, _note_Norton, Hon. Mrs. , 291Novel, Development of, _see_ Addison, Defoe, Richardson, FieldingNovel, in the xixth Century, 274---- of American Life, 305---- of English Life, 291---- of Irish Life, 285---- of Scotch Life, 280---- Criminal, 303---- Fashionable, 303---- Historical, 313---- Immoral, 303---- Military, 304---- Muscular, 303---- Naval, 304---- Oriental, 305---- of fancy, 319---- of purpose, 316 O'Connell, 311Oliphant, Mrs. , 284Opie, Mrs. , 286"Ornatus and Artexia", 46, _note_"Oroonoko", 126Orrery, Earl of, 121Ouida, 303, 326 Palmerin of England, 46Palomides, Sir, 35"Pandosto", 85Pardoe, Miss, 305"Parismus", 47, _note_Parthenissa, 121Payn, J. , 302, _note_Peacock, T. L. , 302, _note_Pendragon, Uther, 25Perceval le Gallois, 25"Pheander", 17, _note_Phelps, E. S. , 310Philips, S. , 302, _note_"Philomela", 86Picken, 284"Pilgrim's Progress", 108Poe, E. A. , 312Porter, Jane, 284Porter, Maria, 284Power, M. A. , 291 Radcliffe, Ann, 265Reach, A. B. , 302, _note_Reade, C. , 291Realism, 279Reeve, Clara, 264Religious Revival, 220Richardson, Samuel, 193Ritchie, L. , 302, _note_Robin Hood, 47"Robert the Devil, " 47, _note_Roberts, H. , 47, _note_Romantic Revival, 259"Rosalynde, " 88Round Table, 26, 33, 38Rowson, S. , 306 "Saint Gréal, " 25, 35Sala, Geo. Aug. , 302, _note_Scott, Michael, 304Scott, Sir Walter, 280, 313Scudéri, 119Sedgwick, C. M. , 310"Seven Champions of Christendom, " 46, _note_Sewell, E. , 291Sewell, E. M. , 317Shelley, Mrs. , 319Sidney, Sir Phillip, 91Simms, G. , 311Simms, W. , 312Sinclair, C. , 307Smedley, F. E. , 302, _note_Smith, A. , 302, _note_Smith, C. , 257Smith, H. , 314Smollett, T. , 211Sterne, L. , 231St. John, J. A. , 302, _note_Stowe, H. B. , 310, 318Stretton, H. , 291Strickland, A. , 291Swift, J. , 170 Tautphoeus, Baroness, 287Taylor, B. , 308Terhune, Mrs. , 312Thackeray, Miss, 287Thackeray, W. M. , 298, 314Thomas, 311"Thomas of Reading, " 50Thornbury, W. , 302, _note_"Tom-a-Lincoln, " 46Tourgee, Judge, 311Trelawney, 304Tristram, 22, 25, 30, 34Trollope, A. , 294, 295Trollope, Mrs. , 287Trollope, T. A. , 302, _note_Tupper, M. F. , 302, _note_Turner, T. , Diary of, 221Tytler, S. , 297 Valerio, C. S. , 312 Walpole, Horace, 259Ward, R. Plumer, 291Warren, S. , 291Wetherell, E. , 291Whitly, F. M. , 302, _note_Whitney, Mrs. , 312Whyte-Melville, G. J. , 302, _note_Wilson, A. E. , 312Wilson, Prof. , 284Williams, F. , 302, _note_Willis, N. P. , 308Winthrop, T. , 312Wood, Mrs. H, 287Wraxall, C. L. , 302, _note_ Yates, E. , 302, _note_Yonge, Miss, 287