OUTLINES OF ENGLISH AND AMERICAN LITERATURE AN INTRODUCTION TO THE CHIEF WRITERS OF ENGLAND AND AMERICA, TO THE BOOKS THEY WROTE, AND TO THE TIMES IN WHICH THEY LIVED BY WILLIAM J. LONG This is the wey to al good aventure. --CHAUCER TO MY SISTER "MILLIE" IN GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE OF A LIFELONG SYMPATHY [Illustration: WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE After the Chandos Portrait in the National Portrait Gallery, London, whichis attributed to Richard Burbage or John Taylor. In the catalogue of theNational Portrait Gallery the following description is given: "The Chandos Shakespeare was the property of John Taylor, the player, by whom or by Richard Burbage it was painted. The picture was left by the former in his will to Sir William Davenant. After his death it was bought by Betterton, the actor, upon whose decease Mr. Keck of the Temple purchased it for 40 guineas, from whom it was inherited by Mr. Nicoll of Michenden House, Southgate, Middlesex, whose only daughter married James, Marquess of Caernarvon, afterwards Duke of Chandos, father to Ann Eliza, Duchess of Buckingham. " The above is written on paper attached to the back of the canvas. Its authenticity, however, has been doubted in some quarters. Purchased at the Stowe Sale, September 1848, by the Earl of Ellesmere, and presented by him to the nation, March 1856. Dimensions: 22 in. By 16-3/4 in. This reproduction of the portrait was made from a miniature copy on ivoryby Caroline King Phillips. ] PREFACE The last thing we find in making a book is to know what to putfirst. --Pascal When an author has finished his history, after months or years of happywork, there comes a dismal hour when he must explain its purpose andapologize for its shortcomings. The explanation in this case is very simple and goes back to a personalexperience. When the author first studied the history of our literaturethere was put into his hands as a textbook a most dreary catalogue of deadauthors, dead masterpieces, dead criticisms, dead ages; and a boy who knewchiefly that he was alive was supposed to become interested in thisliterary sepulchre or else have it said that there was something hopelessabout him. Later he learned that the great writers of England and Americawere concerned with life alone, as the most familiar, the most mysterious, the most fascinating thing in the world, and that the only valuable orinteresting feature of any work of literature is its vitality. To introduce these writers not as dead worthies but as companionable menand women, and to present their living subject as a living thing, winsomeas a smile on a human face, --such was the author's purpose in writing thisbook. The apology is harder to frame, as anyone knows who has attempted to gatherthe writers of a thousand years into a single volume that shall have thethree virtues of brevity, readableness and accuracy. That this record isbrief in view of the immensity of the subject is plainly apparent. That itmay prove pleasantly readable is a hope inspired chiefly by the fact thatit was a pleasure to write it, and that pleasure is contagious. As foraccuracy, every historian who fears God or regards man strives hard enoughfor that virtue; but after all his striving, remembering the difficulty ofcriticism and the perversity of names and dates that tend to error as thesparks fly upward, he must still trust heaven and send forth his work withsomething of Chaucer's feeling when he wrote: O littel bookë, thou art so unconning, How darst thou put thy-self in prees for drede? Which _may_ mean, to one who appreciates Chaucer's wisdom and humor, that having written a little book in what seemed to him an unskilled or"unconning" way, he hesitated to give it to the world for dread of the"prees" or crowd of critics who, even in that early day, were wont to lookupon each new book as a camel that must be put through the needle's eye oftheir tender mercies. In the selection and arrangement of his material the author has aimed tomake a usable book that may appeal to pupils and teachers alike. Becausehistory and literature are closely related (one being the record of man'sdeed, the other of his thought and feeling) there is a brief historicalintroduction to every literary period. There is also a review of thegeneral literary tendencies of each age, of the fashions, humors and idealsthat influenced writers in forming their style or selecting their subject. Then there is a biography of every important author, written not to offeranother subject for hero-worship but to present the man exactly as he was;a review of his chief works, which is intended chiefly as a guide to thebest reading; and a critical estimate or appreciation of his writings basedpartly upon first-hand impressions, partly upon the assumption that anauthor must deal honestly with life as he finds it and that the business ofcriticism is, as Emerson said, "not to legislate but to raise the dead. "This detailed study of the greater writers of a period is followed by anexamination of some of the minor writers and their memorable works. Finally, each chapter concludes with a concise summary of the period underconsideration, a list of selections for reading and a bibliography of worksthat will be found most useful in acquiring a larger knowledge of thesubject. In its general plan this little volume is modeled on the author's moreadvanced _English Literature_ and _American Literature_; but thematerial, the viewpoint, the presentation of individual writers, --all thedetails of the work are entirely new. Such a book is like a second journeythrough ample and beautiful regions filled with historic associations, ajourney that one undertakes with new companions, with renewed pleasure and, it is to be hoped, with increased wisdom. It is hardly necessary to addthat our subject has still its unvoiced charms, that it cannot be exhaustedor even adequately presented in any number of histories. For literaturedeals with life; and life, with its endlessly surprising variety in unity, has happily some suggestion of infinity. WILLIAM J. LONG STAMFORD, CONNECTICUT CONTENTS ENGLISH LITERATURE CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION: AN ESSAY OF LITERATURE What is Literature? The Tree and the Book. Books of Knowledge and Books ofPower. The Art of Literature. A Definition and Some Objections. CHAPTER II. BEGINNINGS OF ENGLISH LITERATURE Tributaries of Early Literature. The Anglo-Saxon or Old-English Period. Specimens of the Language. The Epic of Beowulf. Anglo-Saxon Songs. Types ofEarliest Poetry. Christian Literature of the Anglo-Saxon Period. TheNorthumbrian School. Bede. Cædmon. Cynewulf. The West-Saxon School. Alfredthe Great. _The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. _ The Anglo-Norman or Early Middle-English Period. Specimens of the Language. The Norman Conquest. Typical Norman Literature. Geoffrey of Monmouth. FirstAppearance of the Legends of Arthur. Types of Middle-English Literature. Metrical Romances. Some Old Songs. Summary of the Period. Selections forReading. Bibliography. CHAPTER III. THE AGE OF CHAUCER AND THE REVIVAL OF LEARNING Specimens of the Language. History of the Period. Geoffrey Chaucer. Contemporaries and Successors of Chaucer. Langland and his _PiersPlowman_. Malory and his _Morte d' Arthur_. Caxton and the FirstPrinting Press. The King's English as the Language of England. PopularBallads. Summary of the Period. Selections for Reading. Bibliography. CHAPTER IV. THE ELIZABETHAN AGE Historical Background. Literary Characteristics of the Period. ForeignInfluence. Outburst of Lyric Poetry. Lyrics of Love. Music and Poetry. Edmund Spenser. The Rise of the Drama. The Religious Drama. Miracle Plays, Moralities and Interludes. The Secular Drama. Pageants and Masques. PopularComedies. Classical and English Drama. Predecessors of Shakespeare. Marlowe. Shakespeare. Elizabethan Dramatists after Shakespeare. Ben Jonson. The Prose Writers. The Fashion of Euphuism. The Authorized Version of theScriptures. Francis Bacon. Summary of the Period. Selections for Reading. Bibliography. CHAPTER V. THE PURITAN AGE AND THE RESTORATION Historical Outline. Three Typical Writers. Milton. Bunyan. Dryden. Puritanand Cavalier Poets. George Herbert. Butler's _Hudibras_. The ProseWriters. Thomas Browne. Isaac Walton. Summary of the Period. Selections forReading. Bibliography. CHAPTER VI. EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY LITERATURE History of the Period. Eighteenth-Century Classicism. The Meaning ofClassicism in Literature. Alexander Pope. Swift. Addison. Steele. Johnson. Boswell. Burke. Historical Writing in the Eighteenth Century. Gibbon. The Revival of Romantic Poetry. Collins and Gray. Goldsmith. Burns. MinorPoets of Romanticism. Cowper. Macpherson and the Ossian Poems. Chatterton. Percy's _Reliques of Ancient English Poetry_. William Blake. The Early English Novel. The Old Romance and the New Novel. Defoe. Richardson. Fielding. Influence of the Early Novelists. Summary of thePeriod. Selections for Reading. Bibliography. CHAPTER VII. THE EARLY NINETEENTH CENTURY Historical Outline. The French Revolution and English Literature. Wordsworth. Coleridge. Southey. The Revolutionary Poets. Byron and Shelley. Keats. The Minor Poets. Campbell, Moore, Keble, Hood, Felicia Hemans, LeighHunt and Thomas Beddoes. The Fiction Writers. Walter Scott. Jane Austen. The Critics and Essayists. Charles Lamb. De Quincey. Summary of the Period. Selections for Reading. Bibliography. CHAPTER VIII. THE VICTORIAN AGE Historical Outline. The Victorian Poets. Tennyson. Browning. ElizabethBarrett Browning. Matthew Arnold. The Pre-Raphaelites. Rossetti. Morris. Swinburne. Minor Poets and Songs in Many Keys. The Greater Victorian Novelists. Dickens. Thackeray. George Eliot. OtherWriters of Notable Novels. The Brontë Sisters. Mrs. Gaskell. Charles Reade. Anthony Trollope. Blackmore. Kingsley. Later Victorian Novelists. Meredith. Hardy. Stevenson. Victorian Essayists and Historians. Typical Writers. Macaulay. Carlyle. Ruskin. Variety of Victorian Literature. Summary of the Period. Selectionsfor Reading. Bibliography. GENERAL BIBLIOGRAPHY AMERICAN LITERATURE CHAPTER I. THE PIONEERS AND NATION-BUILDERS Unique Quality of Early American Literature. Two Views of the Pioneers. TheColonial Period. Annalists and Historians. Bradford and Byrd. Puritan andCavalier Influences. Colonial Poetry. Wiggles-worth. Anne Bradstreet. Godfrey. Nature and Human Nature in Colonial Records. The Indian inLiterature. Religious Writers. Cotton Mather and Edwards. The Revolutionary Period. Party Literature. Benjamin Franklin. Revolutionary Poetry. The Hartford Wits. Trumbull's _M'Fingal_. Freneau. Orators and Statesmen of the Revolution. Citizen Literature. JamesOtis and Patrick Henry. Hamilton and Jefferson. Miscellaneous Writers. Thomas Paine. Crèvecoeur. Woolman. Beginning of American Fiction. CharlesBrockden Brown. Summary of the Period. Selections for Reading. Bibliography. CHAPTER II. LITERATURE OF THE NEW NATION Historical Background. Literary Environment. The National Spirit in Proseand Verse. The Knickerbocker School. Halleck, Drake, Willis and Paulding. Southern Writers. Simms, Kennedy, Wilde and Wirt. Various New EnglandWriters. First Literature of the West. Major Writers of the Period. Irving. Bryant. Cooper. Poe. Summary of the Period. Selections for Reading. Bibliography. CHAPTER III. THE PERIOD OF CONFLICT Political History. Social and Intellectual Changes. Brook Farm and OtherReform Societies. The Transcendental Movement. Literary Characteristics ofthe Period. The Elder Poets. Longfellow. Whittier. Lowell. Holmes, Lanier. Whitman. The Greater Prose Writers. Emerson. Hawthorne. Some Minor Poets. Timrod, Hayne, Ryan, Stoddard and Bayard Taylor. Secondary Writers ofFiction. Mrs. Stowe, Dana, Herman Melville, Cooke, Eggleston and Winthrop. Juvenile Literature. Louisa M. Alcott. Trowbridge. Miscellaneous Prose. Thoreau. The Historians. Motley, Prescott and Parkman. Summary of thePeriod. Selections for Reading. Bibliography. CHAPTER IV. THE ALL-AMERICA PERIOD The New Spirit of Nationality. Contemporary History. The Short Story andits Development. Bret Harte. The Local-Color Story and Some TypicalWriters. The Novel since 1876. Realism in Recent Fiction. Howells. MarkTwain. Various Types of Realism. Dialect Stories. Joel Chandler Harris. Recent Romances. Historical Novels. Poetry since 1876. Stedman and Aldrich. The New Spirit in Poetry. Joaquin Miller. Dialect Poems. The Poetry ofCommon Life. Carleton and Riley. Other Typical Poets. Miscellaneous Prose. The Nature Writers. History and Biography. John Fiske. Literary History andReminiscence. Bibliography. GENERAL BIBLIOGRAPHY LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS William Shakespeare Stonehenge, on Salisbury Plain Cædmon Cross at Whitby Abbey Domesday Book The Norman Stair, Canterbury Cathedral Chaucer Pilgrims setting out from the "Tabard" A Street in Caerleon on Usk The Almonry, Westminster Michael Drayton Edmund Spenser Raleigh's Birthplace, Budleigh Salterton The Library, Stratford Grammar School, attended by Shakespeare Anne Hathaway's Cottage The Main Room, Anne Hathaway's Cottage Cawdor Castle, Scotland, associated with Macbeth Francis Beaumont John Fletcher Ben Jonson Sir Philip Sidney Francis Bacon John Milton Cottage at Chalfont St. Giles, Buckinghamshire Ludlow Castle John Bunyan Bunyan Meetinghouse, Southwark John Dryden George Herbert Sir Thomas Browne Isaac Walton Old Fishing House, on River Dove, used by Walton Alexander Pope Twickenham Parish Church, where Pope was buried Jonathan Swift Trinity College, Dublin Joseph Addison Magdalen College, Oxford Sir Richard Steele Dr. Samuel Johnson Dr. Johnson's House (Bolt Court, Fleet St. ) James Boswell Edmund Burke Edward Gibbon Thomas Gray Stoke Poges Churchyard, showing Part of the Church and Gray's Tomb Oliver Goldsmith "The Cheshire Cheese, " London, showing Dr. Johnson's Favorite Seat Canonbury Tower (London) Robert Burns "Ellisland, " the Burns Farm, Dumfries The Village of Tarbolton, near which Burns Lived Auld Alloway Kirk Burns's Mausoleum William Cowper Daniel Defoe Cupola House William Wordsworth Wordsworth's Desk in Hawkshead School St. Oswald's Church, Grasmere Samuel Taylor Coleridge The Coleridge Cottage, Nether Stowey, Somersetshire Robert Southey Greta Hall, in the Lake Region Lord Byron Newstead Abbey and Byron Oak The Castle of Chillon Percy Bysshe Shelley John Keats Leigh Hunt Walter Scott Abbotsford The Great Window, Melrose Abbey Scott's Tomb in Dryburgh Abbey Mrs. Hannah More Charles Lamb East India House, London Mary Lamb The Lamb Building, Inner Temple, London Thomas De Quincey Dove Cottage, Grasmere Tennyson's Birthplace, Somersby Rectory, Lincolnshire Alfred Tennyson Summerhouse at Farringford Robert Browning Mrs. Browning's Tomb, at Florence The Palazzo Rezzonico, Browning's Home in Venice Piazza of San Lorenzo, Florence Elizabeth Barrett Browning Matthew Arnold The Manor House of William Morris William Morris Charles Dickens Gadshill Place, near Rochester Dickens's Birthplace, Landport, Portsea Yard of Reindeer Inn, Danbury The Gatehouse at Rochester, near Dickens's Home William Makepeace Thackeray Charterhouse School George Eliot Griff House, George Eliot's Early Home in Warwickshire Charlotte Brontë Mrs. Elizabeth Gaskell Richard Doddridge Blackmore Robert Louis Stevenson Thomas Babington Macaulay Thomas Carlyle Carlyle's House, Cheyne Row, Chelsea, London Arch Home, Ecclefechan John Ruskin Entrance to "Westover, " Home of William Byrd Plymouth in 1662. Bradford's House on Right William Byrd New Amsterdam (New York) in 1663 Cotton Mather Jonathan Edwards Benjamin Franklin Franklin's Shop Philip Freneau Thomas Jefferson Alexander Hamilton Monticello, the Home of Jefferson in Virginia Charles Brockden Brown William Gilmore Simms John Pendleton Kennedy Washington Irving "Sunnyside, " Home of Irving Rip Van Winkle Old Dutch Church, Sleepy Hollow William Cullen Bryant Bryant's Home, at Cummington James Fenimore Cooper Otsego Hall, Home of Cooper Cooper's Cave Edgar Allan Poe West Range, University of Virginia The Building of the _Southern Literary Messenger_ "The Man" (Abraham Lincoln) Birthplace of Longfellow at Falmouth (now Portland) Maine Henry Wadsworth Longfellow The Taproom, Wayside Inn, Sudbury Longfellow's Library in Craigie House, Cambridge John Greenleaf Whittier Oak Knoll, Whittier's Home, Danvers, Massachusetts Street in Old Marblehead James Russell Lowell Lowell's House, Cambridge, in Winter Oliver Wendell Holmes Old Colonial Doorway Sidney Lanier The Village of McGaheysville, Virginia Whitman's Birthplace, West Hills, Long Island Ralph Waldo Emerson Emerson's Home, Concord Nathaniel Hawthorne Old Customhouse, Boston "The House of the Seven Gables, " Salem (built in 1669) Hawthorne's Birthplace, Salem, Massachusetts Henry Timrod Paul Hamilton Hayne Harriet Beecher Stowe John Esten Cooke Louisa M Alcott Henry D Thoreau Francis Parkman Bret Harte George W. Cable Mary E. Wilkins-Freeman William Dean Howells Mark Twain Joel Chandler Harris Edmund Clarence Stedman Thomas Bailey Aldrich Joaquin Miller John Fiske Edward Everett Hale OUTLINES OF ENGLISH LITERATURE CHAPTER I INTRODUCTION: AN ESSAY OF LITERATURE (_Not a Lesson, but an Invitation_) I sleep, yet I love to be wakened, and love to see The fresh young faces bending over me; And the faces of them that are old, I love them too, For these, as well, in the days of their youth I knew. "Song of the Well" WHAT IS LITERATURE? In an old English book, written before Columbus dreamedof a westward journey to find the East, is the story of a traveler who setout to search the world for wisdom. Through Palestine and India he passed, traveling by sea or land through many seasons, till he came to a wonderfulisland where he saw a man plowing in the fields. And the wonder was, thatthe man was calling familiar words to his oxen, "such wordes as men spekento bestes in his owne lond. " Startled by the sound of his mother tongue heturned back on his course "in gret mervayle, for he knewe not how it myghtebe. " But if he had passed on a little, says the old record, "he would havefounden his contree and his owne knouleche. " Facing a new study of literature our impulse is to search in strange placesfor a definition; but though we compass a world of books, we must return atlast, like the worthy man of _Mandeville's Travels_, to our ownknowledge. Since childhood we have been familiar with this noble subject ofliterature. We have entered into the heritage of the ancient Greeks, whothought that Homer was a good teacher for the nursery; we have madeacquaintance with Psalm and Prophecy and Parable, with the knightly talesof Malory, with the fairy stories of Grimm or Andersen, with the poetry ofShakespeare, with the novels of Scott or Dickens, --in short, with some ofthe best books that the world has ever produced. We know, therefore, whatliterature is, and that it is an excellent thing which ministers to the joyof living; but when we are asked to define the subject, we are in theposition of St. Augustine, who said of time, "If you ask me what time is, Iknow not; but if you ask me not, then I know. " For literature is likehappiness, or love, or life itself, in that it can be understood orappreciated but can never be exactly described. It has certain describablequalities, however, and the best place to discover these is our ownbookcase. [Sidenote: THE TREE AND THE BOOK] Here on a shelf are a Dictionary, a History of America, a text onChemistry, which we read or study for information; on a higher shelf are_As You Like It_, _Hiawatha_, _Lorna Doone_, _The OregonTrail_, and other works to which we go for pleasure when the day's workis done. In one sense all these and all other books are literature; for theroot meaning of the word is "letters, " and a letter means a characterinscribed or rubbed upon a prepared surface. A series of lettersintelligently arranged forms a book, and for the root meaning of "book" youmust go to a tree; because the Latin word for book, _liber_, means theinner layer of bark that covers a tree bole, and "book" or "boc" is the oldEnglish name for the beech, on whose silvery surface our ancestors carvedtheir first runic letters. So also when we turn the "leaves" of a book, our mind goes back over a longtrail: through rattling printing-shop, and peaceful monk's cell, and gloomycave with walls covered with picture writing, till the trail ends beside ashadowy forest, where primitive man takes a smooth leaf and inscribes histhought upon it by means of a pointed stick. A tree is the Adam of allbooks, and everything that the hand of man has written upon the tree or itsproducts or its substitutes is literature. But that is too broad adefinition; we must limit it by excluding what does not here concern us. [Sidenote: BOOKS OF KNOWLEDGE AND OF POWER] Our first exclusion is of that immense class of writings--books of science, history, philosophy, and the rest--to which we go for information. Theseaim to preserve or to systematize the discoveries of men; they appealchiefly to the intellect and they are known as the literature of knowledge. There remains another large class of writings, sometimes called theliterature of power, consisting of poems, plays, essays, stories of everykind, to which we go treasure-hunting for happiness or counsel, for noblethoughts or fine feelings, for rest of body or exercise of spirit, --foralmost everything, in fine, except information. As Chaucer said, long ago, such writings are: For pleasaunce high, and for noon other end. They aim to give us pleasure; they appeal chiefly to our imagination andour emotions; they awaken in us a feeling of sympathy or admiration forwhatever is beautiful in nature or society or the soul of man. [Sidenote: THE ART OF LITERATURE] The author who would attempt books of such high purpose must be careful ofboth the matter and the manner of his writing, must give one thought towhat he shall say and another thought to how he shall say it. He selectsthe best or most melodious words, the finest figures, and aims to make hisstory or poem beautiful in itself, as a painter strives to reflect a faceor a landscape in a beautiful way. Any photographer can in a few minutesreproduce a human face, but only an artist can by care and labor bringforth a beautiful portrait. So any historian can write the facts of theBattle of Gettysburg; but only a Lincoln can in noble words reveal thebeauty and immortal meaning of that mighty conflict. To all such written works, which quicken our sense of the beautiful, andwhich are as a Jacob's ladder on which we mount for higher views of natureor humanity, we confidently give the name "literature, " meaning the art ofliterature in distinction from the mere craft of writing. [Sidenote: THE PASSING AND THE PERMANENT] Such a definition, though it cuts out the greater part of human records, isstill too broad for our purpose, and again we must limit it by a process ofexclusion. For to study almost any period of English letters is to discoverthat it produced hundreds of books which served the purpose of literature, if only for a season, by affording pleasure to readers. No sooner were theywritten than Time began to winnow them over and over, giving them to allthe winds of opinion, one generation after another, till the hosts ofephemeral works were swept aside, and only a remnant was left in the handsof the winnower. To this remnant, books of abiding interest, on which theyears have no effect save to mellow or flavor them, we give the name ofgreat or enduring literature; and with these chiefly we deal in our presentstudy. [Sidenote: THE QUALITY OF GREATNESS] To the inevitable question, What are the marks of great literature? nopositive answer can be returned. As a tree is judged by its fruits, so isliterature judged not by theory but by the effect which it produces onhuman life; and the judgment is first personal, then general. If a book haspower to awaken in you a lively sense of pleasure or a profound emotion ofsympathy; if it quickens your love of beauty or truth or goodness; if itmoves you to generous thought or noble action, then that book is, for youand for the time, a great book. If after ten or fifty years it still haspower to quicken you, then for you at least it is a great book forever. Andif it affects many other men and women as it affects you, and if it liveswith power from one generation to another, gladdening the children as itgladdened the fathers, then surely it is great literature, without furtherqualification or need of definition. From this viewpoint the greatest poemin the world--greatest in that it abides in most human hearts as a lovedand honored guest--is not a mighty _Iliad_ or _Paradise Lost_ or_Divine Comedy_; it is a familiar little poem of a dozen lines, beginning "The Lord is my Shepherd. " It is obvious that great literature, which appeals to all classes of menand to all times, cannot go far afield for rare subjects, or follow newinventions, or concern itself with fashions that are here to-day and goneto-morrow. Its only subjects are nature and human nature; it deals withcommon experiences of joy or sorrow, pain or pleasure, that all menunderstand; it cherishes the unchanging ideals of love, faith, duty, freedom, reverence, courtesy, which were old to the men who kept theirflocks on the plains of Shinar, and which will be young as the morning toour children's children. Such ideals tend to ennoble a writer, and therefore are great bookscharacterized by lofty thought, by fine feeling and, as a rule, by abeautiful simplicity of expression. They have another quality, hard todefine but easy to understand, a quality which leaves upon us theimpression of eternal youth, as if they had been dipped in the fountainwhich Ponce de Leon sought for in vain through the New World. If a greatbook could speak, it would use the words of the Cobzar (poet) in his "LastSong": The merry Spring, he is my brother, And when he comes this way Each year again, he always asks me: "Art thou not yet grown gray?" But I. I keep my youth forever, Even as the Spring his May. A DEFINITION. Literature, then, if one must formulate a definition, is thewritten record of man's best thought and feeling, and English literature isthe part of that record which belongs to the English people. In itsbroadest sense literature includes all writing, but as we commonly definethe term it excludes works which aim at instruction, and includes only theworks which aim to give pleasure, and which are artistic in that theyreflect nature or human life in a way to arouse our sense of beauty. In astill narrower sense, when we study the history of literature we dealchiefly with the great, the enduring books, which may have been written inan elder or a latter day, but which have in them the magic of all time. One may easily challenge such a definition, which, like most others, is farfrom faultless. It is difficult, for example, to draw the line sharplybetween instructive and pleasure-giving works; for many an instructive bookof history gives us pleasure, and there may be more instruction onimportant matters in a pleasurable poem than in a treatise on ethics. Again, there are historians who allege that English literature must includenot simply the works of Britain but everything written in the Englishlanguage. There are other objections; but to straighten them all out is tobe long in starting, and there is a pleasant journey ahead of us. Chaucerhad literature in mind when he wrote: Through me men goon into that blisful place Of hertës hele and dedly woundës cure; Through me men goon unto the wells of grace, Ther grene and lusty May shal ever endure: This is the wey to al good aventure. CHAPTER II BEGINNINGS OF ENGLISH LITERATURE Then the warrior, battle-tried, touched the sounding glee-wood: Straight awoke the harp's sweet note; straight a song uprose, Sooth and sad its music. Then from hero's lips there fell A wonder-tale, well told. _Beowulf_, line 2017 (a free rendering) In its beginnings English literature is like a river, which proceeds notfrom a single wellhead but from many springs, each sending forth itsrivulet of sweet or bitter water. As there is a place where the riverassumes a character of its own, distinct from all its tributaries, so inEnglish literature there is a time when it becomes national rather thantribal, and English rather than Saxon or Celtic or Norman. That time was inthe fifteenth century, when the poems of Chaucer and the printing press ofCaxton exalted the Midland above all other dialects and established it asthe literary language of England. [Sidenote: TRIBUTARIES OF LITERATURE] Before that time, if you study the records of Britain, you meet severaldifferent tribes and races of men: the native Celt, the law-giving Roman, the colonizing Saxon, the sea-roving Dane, the feudal baron of Normandy, each with his own language and literature reflecting the traditions of hisown people. Here in these old records is a strange medley of folk heroes, Arthur and Beowulf, Cnut and Brutus, Finn and Cuchulain, Roland and RobinHood. Older than the tales of such folk-heroes are ancient riddles, charms, invocations to earth and sky: Hal wes thu, Folde, fira moder! Hail to thee, Earth, thou mother of men! With these pagan spells are found the historical writings of the VenerableBede, the devout hymns of Cædmon, Welsh legends, Irish and Scottish fairystories, Scandinavian myths, Hebrew and Christian traditions, romances fromdistant Italy which had traveled far before the Italians welcomed them. Allthese and more, whether originating on British soil or brought in bymissionaries or invaders, held each to its own course for a time, then metand mingled in the swelling stream which became English literature. [Illustration: STONEHENGE, ON SALISBURY PLAINProbably the ruins of a temple of the native Britons] To trace all these tributaries to their obscure and lonely sources wouldrequire the labor of a lifetime. We shall here examine only the two mainbranches of our early literature, to the end that we may better appreciatethe vigor and variety of modern English. The first is the Anglo-Saxon, which came into England in the middle of the fifth century with thecolonizing Angles, Jutes and Saxons from the shores of the North Sea andthe Baltic; the second is the Norman-French, which arrived six centurieslater at the time of the Norman invasion. Except in their emphasis onpersonal courage, there is a marked contrast between these two branches, the former being stern and somber, the latter gay and fanciful. InAnglo-Saxon poetry we meet a strong man who cherishes his own ideals ofhonor, in Norman-French poetry a youth eagerly interested in romantic talesgathered from all the world. One represents life as a profound mystery, theother as a happy adventure. * * * * * ANGLO-SAXON OR OLD-ENGLISH PERIOD (450-1050) SPECIMENS OF THE LANGUAGE. Our English speech has changed so much in thecourse of centuries that it is now impossible to read our earliest recordswithout special study; but that Anglo-Saxon is our own and not a foreigntongue may appear from the following examples. The first is a stanza from"Widsith, " the chant of a wandering gleeman or minstrel; and for comparisonwe place beside it Andrew Lang's modern version. Nobody knows how old"Widsith" is; it may have been sung to the accompaniment of a harp that wasbroken fourteen hundred years ago. The second, much easier to read, is fromthe Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, which was prepared by King Alfred from an olderrecord in the ninth century: Swa scrithende gesceapum hweorfath, Gleomen gumena geond grunda fela; Thearfe secgath, thonc-word sprecath, Simle, suth oththe north sumne gemetath, Gydda gleawne geofam unhneawne. So wandering on the world about, Gleemen do roam through many lands; They say their needs, they speak their thanks, Sure, south or north someone to meet, Of songs to judge and gifts not grudge. Her Hengest and Aesc, his sunu, gefuhton wid Bryttas on thaere stowe the is gecweden Creccanford, and thaer ofslogon feower thusenda wera. And tha Bryttas tha forleton Cent-lond, and mid myclum ege flugon to Lundenbyrig. At this time Hengist and Esk, his son, fought with the Britons at the place that is called Crayford, and there slew four thousand men. And the Britons then forsook Kentland, and with much fear fled to London town. BEOWULF. The old epic poem, called after its hero Beowulf, is more thanmyth or legend, more even than history; it is a picture of a life and aworld that once had real existence. Of that vanished life, that world ofancient Englishmen, only a few material fragments remain: a bit of linkedarmor, a rusted sword with runic inscriptions, the oaken ribs of a wargalley buried with the Viking who had sailed it on stormy seas, and who wasentombed in it because he loved it. All these are silent witnesses; theyhave no speech or language. But this old poem is a living voice, speakingwith truth and sincerity of the daily habit of the fathers of modernEngland, of their adventures by sea or land, their stern courage and gravecourtesy, their ideals of manly honor, their thoughts of life and death. Let us hear, then, the story of _Beowulf_, picturing in ourimagination the story-teller and his audience. The scene opens in a greathall, where a fire blazes on the hearth and flashes upon polished shieldsagainst the timbered walls. Down the long room stretches a table where menare feasting or passing a beaker from hand to hand, and anon crying _Hal!hal!_ in answer to song or in greeting to a guest. At the head of thehall sits the chief with his chosen ealdormen. At a sign from the chief agleeman rises and strikes a single clear note from his harp. Silence fallson the benches; the story begins: Hail! we of the Spear Danes in days of old Have heard the glory of warriors sung; Have cheered the deeds that our chieftains wrought, And the brave Scyld's triumph o'er his foes. Then because there are Scyldings present, and because brave men revere their ancestors, the gleeman tells a beautiful legend of how King Scyld came and went: how he arrived as a little child, in a war-galley that no man sailed, asleep amid jewels and weapons; and how, when his life ended at the call of Wyrd or Fate, they placed him against the mast of a ship, with treasures heaped around him and a golden banner above his head, gave ship and cargo to the winds, and sent their chief nobly back to the deep whence he came. So with picturesque words the gleeman thrills his hearers with a vivid picture of a Viking's sea-burial. It thrills us now, when the Vikings are no more, and when no other picture can be drawn by an eyewitness of that splendid pagan rite. [Sidenote: THE STORY OF HEOROT] One of Scyld's descendants was King Hrothgar (Roger) who built the hall Heorot, where the king and his men used to gather nightly to feast, and to listen to the songs of scop or gleeman. [Footnote: Like Agamemnon and the Greek chieftains, every Saxon leader had his gleeman or minstrel, and had also his own poet, his scop or "shaper, " whose duty it was to shape a glorious deed into more glorious verse. So did our pagan ancestors build their monuments out of songs that should live in the hearts of men when granite or earth mound had crumbled away. ] "There was joy of heroes, " but in one night the joy was changed to mourning. Out on the lonely fens dwelt the jotun (giant or monster) Grendel, who heard the sound of men's mirth and quickly made an end of it. One night, as the thanes slept in the hall, he burst in the door and carried off thirty warriors to devour them in his lair under the sea. Another and another horrible raid followed, till Heorot was deserted and the fear of Grendel reigned among the Spear Danes. There were brave men among them, but of what use was courage when their weapons were powerless against the monster? "Their swords would not bite on his body. " For twelve years this terror continued; then the rumor of Grendel reached the land of the Geats, where Beowulf lived at the court of his uncle, King Hygelac. No sooner did Beowulf hear of a dragon to be slain, of a friendly king "in need of a man, " than he selected fourteen companions and launched his war-galley in search of adventure. [Sidenote: THE SAILING OF BEOWULF] At this point the old epic becomes a remarkable portrayal of daily life. In its picturesque lines we see the galley set sail, foam flying from her prow; we catch the first sight of the southern headlands, approach land, hear the challenge of the "warder of the cliffs" and Beowulf's courteous answer. We follow the march to Heorot in war-gear, spears flashing, swords and byrnies clanking, and witness the exchange of greetings between Hrothgar and the young hero. Again is the feast spread in Heorot; once more is heard the song of gleemen, the joyous sound of warriors in comradeship. There is also a significant picture of Hrothgar's wife, "mindful of courtesies, " honoring her guests by passing the mead-cup with her own hands. She is received by these stern men with profound respect. When the feast draws to an end the fear of Grendel returns. Hrothgar warns his guests that no weapon can harm the monster, that it is death to sleep in the hall; then the Spear Danes retire, leaving Beowulf and his companions to keep watch and ward. With the careless confidence of brave men, forthwith they all fall asleep: Forth from the fens, from the misty moorlands, Grendel came gliding--God's wrath he bore-- Came under clouds until he saw clearly, Glittering with gold plates, the mead-hall of men. Down fell the door, though hardened with fire-bands, Open it sprang at the stroke of his paw. Swollen with rage burst in the bale-bringer, Flamed in his eyes a fierce light, likest fire. [Sidenote: THE FIGHT WITH GRENDEL] Throwing himself upon the nearest sleeper Grendel crushes and swallows him; then he stretches out a paw towards Beowulf, only to find it "seized in such a grip as the fiend had never felt before. " A desperate conflict begins, and a mighty uproar, --crashing of benches, shoutings of men, the "war-song" of Grendel, who is trying to break the grip of his foe. As the monster struggles toward the door, dragging the hero with him, a wide wound opens on his shoulder; the sinews snap, and with a mighty wrench Beowulf tears off the whole limb. While Grendel rushes howling across the fens, Beowulf hangs the grisly arm with its iron claws, "the whole grapple of Grendel, " over the door where all may see it. Once more there is joy in Heorot, songs, speeches, the liberal giving of gifts. Thinking all danger past, the Danes sleep in the hall; but at midnight comes the mother of Grendel, raging to avenge her son. Seizing the king's bravest companion she carries him away, and he is never seen again. Here is another adventure for Beowulf. To old Hrothgar, lamenting his lost earl, the hero says simply: Wise chief, sorrow not. For a man it is meet His friend to avenge, not to mourn for his loss; For death comes to all, but honor endures: Let him win it who will, ere Wyrd to him calls, And fame be the fee of a warrior dead! Following the trail of the _Brimwylf_ or _Merewif_ (sea-wolf or sea-woman) Beowulf and his companions pass through desolate regions to a wild cliff on the shore. There a friend offers his good sword Hrunting for the combat, and Beowulf accepts the weapon, saying: ic me mid Hruntinge Dom gewyrce, oththe mec death nimeth. I with Hrunting Honor will win, or death shall me take. [Sidenote: THE DRAGON'S CAVE] Then he plunges into the black water, is attacked on all sides by the _Grundwrygen_ or bottom monsters, and as he stops to fight them is seized by the _Merewif_ and dragged into a cave, a mighty "sea-hall" free from water and filled with a strange light. On its floor are vast treasures; its walls are adorned with weapons; in a corner huddles the wounded Grendel. All this Beowulf sees in a glance as he turns to fight his new foe. Follows then another terrific combat, in which the brand Hrunting proves useless. Though it rings out its "clanging war-song" on the monster's scales, it will not "bite" on the charmed body. Beowulf is down, and at the point of death, when his eye lights on a huge sword forged by the jotuns of old. Struggling to his feet he seizes the weapon, whirls it around his head for a mighty blow, and the fight is won. Another blow cuts off the head of Grendel, but at the touch of the poisonous blood the steel blade melts like ice before the fire. Leaving all the treasures, Beowulf takes only the golden hilt of the magic sword and the head of Grendel, reënters the sea and mounts up to his companions. They welcome him as one returned from the dead. They relieve him of helmet and byrnie, and swing away in a triumphal procession to Heorot. The hero towers among them, a conspicuous figure, and next to him comes the enormous head of Grendel carried on a spear-shaft by four of the stoutest thanes. [Sidenote: THE FIREDRAKE] More feasting, gifts, noble speeches follow before the hero returns to his own land, laden with treasures. So ends the first part of the epic. In the second part Beowulf succeeds Hygelac as chief of the Geats, and rules them well for fifty years. Then a "firedrake, " guarding an immense hoard of treasure (as in most of the old dragon stories), begins to ravage the land. Once more the aged Beowulf goes forth to champion his people; but he feels that "Wyrd is close to hand, " and the fatalism which pervades all the poem is finely expressed in his speech to his companions. In his last fight he kills the dragon, winning the dragon's treasure for his people; but as he battles amid flame and smoke the fire enters his lungs, and he dies "as dies a man, " paying for victory with his life. Among his last words is a command which reminds us again of the old Greeks, and of the word of Elpenor to Odysseus: "Bid my brave men raise a barrow for me on the headland, broad, high, to be seen far out at sea: that hereafter sea-farers, driving their foamy keels through ocean's mist, may behold and say, ''Tis Beowulf's mound!'" The hero's last words and the closing scenes of the epic, including the funeral pyre, the "bale-fire" and another Viking burial to the chant of armed men riding their war steeds, are among the noblest that have come down to us from beyond the dawn of history. Such, in brief outline, is the story of _Beowulf_. It is recorded on afire-marked manuscript, preserved as by a miracle from the torch of theDanes, which is now one of the priceless treasures of the British Museum. The handwriting indicates that the manuscript was copied about the year1100, but the language points to the eighth or ninth century, when the poemin its present form was probably composed on English soil. [Footnote:Materials used in _Beowulf_ are very old, and may have been brought toEngland during the Anglo-Saxon invasion. Parts of the material, such as thedragon-fights, are purely mythical. They relate to Beowa, a superman, ofwhom many legends were told by Scandinavian minstrels. The Grendel legend, for example, appears in the Icelandic saga of Gretti, who slays the dragonGlam. Other parts of _Beowulf_ are old battle songs; and still others, relating to King Hygelac and his nephew, have some historical foundation. So little is known about the epic that one cannot safely make any positivestatement as to its origin. It was written in crude, uneven lines; but arhythmic, martial effect, as of marching men, was produced by strong accentand alliteration, and the effect was strengthened by the harp with whichthe gleeman always accompanied his recital. ] ANGLO-SAXON SONGS. Beside the epic of _Beowulf_ a few mutilated poemshave been preserved, and these are as fragments of a plate or film uponwhich the life of long ago left its impression. One of the oldest of thesepoems is "Widsith, " the "wide-goer, " which describes the wanderings andrewards of the ancient gleeman. It begins: Widsith spake, his word-hoard unlocked, He who farthest had fared among earth-folk and tribe-folk. Then follows a recital of the places he had visited, and the gifts he hadreceived for his singing. Some of the personages named are real, othersmythical; and as the list covers half a world and several centuries oftime, it is certain that Widsith's recital cannot be taken literally. [Sidenote: MEANING OF WIDSITH] Two explanations offer themselves: the first, that the poem contains thework of many scops, each of whom added his travels to those of hispredecessor; the second, that Widsith, like other gleemen, was bothhistorian and poet, a keeper of tribal legends as well as a shaper ofsongs, and that he was ever ready to entertain his audience with things newor old. Thus, he mentioned Hrothgar as one whom he had visited; and if ahearer called for a tale at this point, the scop would recite that part of_Beowulf_ which tells of the monster Grendel. Again, he named Sigardthe Volsung (the Siegfrid of the _Niebelungenlied_ and of Wagner'sopera), and this would recall the slaying of the dragon Fafnir, or someother story of the old Norse saga. So every name or place which Widsithmentioned was an invitation. When he came to a hall and "unlocked hisword-hoard, " he offered his hearers a variety of poems and legends fromwhich they made their own selection. Looked at in this way, the old poembecomes an epitome of Anglo-Saxon literature. [Sidenote: TYPES OF SAXON POETRY] Other fragments of the period are valuable as indicating that theAnglo-Saxons were familiar with various types of poetry. "Deor's Lament, "describing the sorrows of a scop who had lost his place beside his chief, is a true lyric; that is, a poem which reflects the author's feeling ratherthan the deed of another man. In his grief the scop comforts himself byrecalling the afflictions of various heroes, and he ends each stanza withthe refrain: That sorrow he endured; this also may I. Among the best of the early poems are: "The Ruined City, " reflecting thefeeling of one who looks on crumbling walls that were once the abode ofhuman ambition; "The Seafarer, " a chantey of the deep, which ends with anallegory comparing life to a sea voyage; "The Wanderer, " which is theplaint of one who has lost home, patron, ambition, and as the easiest wayout of his difficulty turns _eardstappa_, an "earth-hitter" or tramp;"The Husband's Message, " which is the oldest love song in our literature;and a few ballads and battle songs, such as "The Battle of Brunanburh"(familiar to us in Tennyson's translation) and "The Fight at Finnsburgh, "which was mentioned by the gleemen in _Beowulf_, and which was thenprobably as well known as "The Charge of the Light Brigade" is to modernEnglishmen. Another early war song, "The Battle of Maldon" or "Byrhtnoth's Death, " hasseldom been rivaled in savage vigor or in the expression of deathlessloyalty to a chosen leader. The climax of the poem is reached when the fewsurvivors of an uneven battle make a ring of spears about their fallenchief, shake their weapons in the face of an overwhelming horde of Danes, while Byrhtwold, "the old comrade, " chants their defiance: The sterner shall thought be, the bolder our hearts, The greater the mood as lessens our might. We know not when or by whom this stirring battle cry was written. It wascopied under date of 991 in the _Anglo-Saxon Chronicle_, and iscommonly called the swan song of Anglo-Saxon poetry. The lion song would bea better name for it. LATER PROSE AND POETRY. The works we have just considered were wholly paganin spirit, but all reference to Thor or other gods was excluded by themonks who first wrote down the scop's poetry. With the coming of these monks a reform swept over pagan England, andliterature reflected the change in a variety of ways. For example, earlyAnglo-Saxon poetry was mostly warlike, for the reason that the variousearldoms were in constant strife; but now the peace of good will waspreached, and moral courage, the triumph of self-control, was exalted abovemere physical hardihood. In the new literature the adventures of Columb orAidan or Brendan were quite as thrilling as any legends of Beowulf orSigard, but the climax of the adventure was spiritual, and the emphasis wasalways on moral heroism. Another result of the changed condition was that the unlettered scop, whocarried his whole stock of poetry in his head, was replaced by the literarymonk, who had behind him the immense culture of the Latin language, and whowas interested in world history or Christian doctrine rather than in tribalfights or pagan mythology. These monks were capable men; they understoodthe appeal of pagan poetry, and their motto was, "Let nothing good bewasted. " So they made careful copy of the scop's best songs (else had not ashred of early poetry survived), and so the pagan's respect for womanhood, his courage, his loyalty to a chief, --all his virtues were recognized andturned to religious account in the new literature. Even the beautiful paganscrolls, or "dragon knots, " once etched on a warrior's sword, werereproduced in glowing colors in the initial letters of the monk'silluminated Gospel. A third result of the peaceful conquest of the missionaries was that manymonasteries were established in Britain, each a center of learning and ofwriting. So arose the famous Northumbrian School of literature, to which weowe the writings of Bede, Cædmon, Cynewulf and others associated withcertain old monasteries, such as Peterborough, Jarrow, York and Whitby, allnorth of the river Humber. BEDE. The good work of the monks is finely exemplified in the life of theVenerable Bede, or Bæda (_cir_. 673-735), who is well called thefather of English learning. As a boy he entered the Benedictine monasteryat Jarrow; the temper of his manhood may be judged from a single sentenceof his own record: "While attentive to the discipline of mine order and the daily care of singing in the church, my constant delight was in learning or teaching or writing. " It is hardly too much to say that this gentle scholar was for half acentury the teacher of Europe. He collected a large library of manuscripts;he was the author of some forty works, covering the whole field of humanknowledge in his day; and to his school at Jarrow came hundreds of pupilsfrom all parts of the British Isles, and hundreds more from the Continent. Of all his works the most notable is the so-called "Ecclesiastical History"(_Historia ecclesiastica gentis anglorum_) which should be named the"History of the Race of Angles. " This book marks the beginning of ourliterature of knowledge, and to it we are largely indebted for what we knowof English history from the time of Cæsar's invasion to the early part ofthe eighth century. All the extant works of Bede are in Latin, but we are told by his pupilCuthbert that he was "skilled in our English songs, " that he made poems andtranslated the Gospel of John into English. These works, which would now beof priceless value, were all destroyed by the plundering Danes. As an example of Bede's style, we translate a typical passage from hisHistory. The scene is the Saxon _Witenagemôt_, or council of wise men, called by King Edward (625) to consider the doctrine of Paulinus, who hadbeen sent from Rome by Pope Gregory. The first speaker is Coifi, a priestof the old religion: "Consider well, O king, this new doctrine which is preached to us; for I now declare, what I have learned for certain, that the old religion has no virtue in it. For none of your people has been more diligent than I in the worship of our gods; yet many receive more favors from you, and are preferred above me, and are more prosperous in their affairs. If the old gods had any discernment, they would surely favor me, since I have been most diligent in their service. It is expedient, therefore, if this new faith that is preached is any more profitable than the old, that we accept it without delay. " Whereupon Coifi, who as a priest has hitherto been obliged to ride upon anass with wagging ears, calls loudly for a horse, a prancing horse, astallion, and cavorts off, a crowd running at his heels, to hurl a spearinto the shrine where he lately worshiped. He is a good type of thepolitical demagogue, who clamors for progress when he wants an office, andwhose spear is more likely to be hurled at the back of a friend than at thebreast of an enemy. Then a pagan chief rises to speak, and we bow to a nobler motive. Hisallegory of the mystery of life is like a strain of Anglo-Saxon poetry; itmoves us deeply, as it moved his hearers ten centuries ago: "This present life of man, O king, in comparison with the time that is hidden from us, is as the flight of a sparrow through the room where you sit at supper, with companions around you and a good fire on the hearth. Outside are the storms of wintry rain and snow. The sparrow flies in at one opening, and instantly out at another: whilst he is within he is sheltered from the winter storms, but after a moment of pleasant weather he speeds from winter back to winter again, and vanishes from your sight into the darkness whence he came. Even so the life of man appears for a little time; but of what went before and of what comes after we are wholly ignorant. If this new religion can teach us anything of greater certainty, it surely deserves to be followed. " [Footnote: Bede, _Historia_, Book II, chap xiii, a free translation] CÆDMON (SEVENTH CENTURY). In a beautiful chapter of Bede's History we mayread how Cædmon (d. 680) discovered his gift of poetry. He was, says therecord, a poor unlettered servant of the Abbess Hilda, in her monastery atWhitby. At that time (and here is an interesting commentary on monasticculture) singing and poetry were so familiar that, whenever a feast wasgiven, a harp would be brought in, and each monk or guest would in turnentertain the company with a song or poem to his own musical accompaniment. But Cædmon could not sing, and when he saw the harp coming down the tablehe would slip away ashamed, to perform his humble duties in the monastery: "Now it happened once that he did this thing at a certain festivity, and went out to the stable to care for the horses, this duty being assigned him for that night. As he slept at the usual time one stood by him, saying, 'Cædmon, sing me something. ' He answered, 'I cannot sing, and that is why I came hither from the feast. ' But he who spake unto him said again, 'Cædmon, sing to me. ' And he said, 'What shall I sing?' And that one said, 'Sing the beginning of created things. ' Thereupon Cædmon began to sing verses that he had never heard before, of this import: Nu scylun hergan hefaenriches ward . .. Now shall we hallow the warden of heaven, He the Creator, he the Allfather, Deeds of his might and thoughts of his mind. .. . " [Illustration: CÆDMON CROSS AT WHITBY ABBEY] In the morning he remembered the words, and came humbly to the monks torecite the first recorded Christian hymn in our language. And a very noblehymn it is. The monks heard him in wonder, and took him to the AbbessHilda, who gave order that Cædmon should receive instruction and enter themonastery as one of the brethren. Then the monks expounded to him theScriptures. He in turn, reflecting on what he had heard, echoed it back tothe monks "in such melodious words that his teachers became his pupils. "So, says the record, the whole course of Bible history was turned intoexcellent poetry. About a thousand years later, in the days of Milton, an Anglo-Saxonmanuscript was discovered containing a metrical paraphrase of the books ofGenesis, Exodus and Daniel, and these were supposed to be some of the poemsmentioned in Bede's narrative. A study of the poems (now known as theCædmonian Cycle) leads to the conclusion that they were probably the workof two or three writers, and it has not been determined what part Cædmonhad in their composition. The nobility of style in the Genesis poem and thepicturesque account of the fallen angels (which reappears in _ParadiseLost_) have won for Cædmon his designation as the Milton of theAnglo-Saxon period. [Footnote: A friend of Milton, calling himselfFranciscus Junius, first printed the Cædmon poems in Antwerp (_cir_. 1655) during Milton's lifetime. The Puritan poet was blind at the time, andit is not certain that he ever saw or heard the poems; yet there are manyparallelisms in the earlier and later works which warrant the conclusionthat Milton was influenced by Cædmon's work. ] CYNEWULF (EIGHTH CENTURY). There is a variety of poems belonging to theCynewulf Cycle, and of some of these Cynewulf (born _cir_. 750) wascertainly the author, since he wove his name into the verses in the mannerof an acrostic. Of Cynewulf's life we know nothing with certainty; but fromvarious poems which are attributed to him, and which undoubtedly reflectsome personal experience, scholars have constructed the followingbiography, --which may or may not be true. In his early life Cynewulf was probably a wandering scop of the old pagankind, delighting in wild nature, in adventure, in the clamor of fightingmen. To this period belong his "Riddles" [Footnote: These riddles areancient conundrums, in which some familiar object, such as a bow, a ship, astorm lashing the shore, the moon riding the clouds like a Viking's boat, is described in poetic language, and the last line usually calls on thehearer to name the object described. See Cook and Tinker, _Translationsfrom Old English Poetry_. ] and his vigorous descriptions of the sea andof battle, which show hardly a trace of Christian influence. Then cametrouble to Cynewulf, perhaps in the ravages of the Danes, and some deepspiritual experience of which he writes in a way to remind us of thePuritan age: "In the prison of the night I pondered with myself. I was stained with my own deeds, bound fast in my sins, hard smitten with sorrows, walled in by miseries. " A wondrous vision of the cross, "brightest of beacons, " shone suddenlythrough his darkness, and led him forth into light and joy. Then he wrotehis "Vision of the Rood" and probably also _Juliana_ and _TheChrist_. In the last period of his life, a time of great serenity, hewrote _Andreas_, a story of St. Andrew combining religious instructionwith extraordinary adventure; _Elene_, which describes the search forthe cross on which Christ died, and which is a prototype of the search forthe Holy Grail; and other poems of the same general kind. [Footnote: Thereis little agreement among scholars as to who wrote most of these poems. Theonly works to which Cynewulf signs his name are _The Christ_, _Elene_, _Juliana_ and _Fates of the Apostles_. All othersare doubtful, and our biography of Cynewulf is largely a matter of pleasantspeculation. ] Aside from the value of these works as a reflection ofAnglo-Saxon ideals, they are our best picture of Christianity as itappeared in England during the eighth and ninth centuries. ALFRED THE GREAT (848-901). We shall understand the importance of Alfred'swork if we remember how his country fared when he became king of the WestSaxons, in 871. At that time England lay at the mercy of the Danishsea-rovers. Soon after Bede's death they fell upon Northumbria, hewed outwith their swords a place of settlement, and were soon lords of the wholenorth country. Being pagans ("Thor's men" they called themselves) theysacked the monasteries, burned the libraries, made a lurid end of thecivilization which men like Columb and Bede had built up inNorth-Humberland. Then they pushed southward, and were in process ofpaganizing all England when they were turned back by the heroism of Alfred. How he accomplished his task, and how from his capital at Winchester heestablished law and order in England, is recorded in the histories. We aredealing here with literature, and in this field Alfred is distinguished intwo ways: first, by his preservation of early English poetry; and second, by his own writing, which earned for him the title of father of Englishprose. Finding that some fragments of poetry had escaped the fire of theDanes, he caused search to be made for old manuscripts, and had copies madeof all that were legible. [Footnote: These copies were made in Alfred'sdialect (West Saxon) not in the Northumbrian dialect in which they werefirst written. ] But what gave Alfred deepest concern was that in all hiskingdom there were few priests and no laymen who could read or write theirown language. As he wrote sadly: "King Alfred sends greeting to Bishop Werfrith in words of love and friendship. Let it be known to thee that it often comes to my mind what wise men and what happy times were formerly in England, . .. I remember what I saw before England had been ravaged and burned, how churches throughout the whole land were filled with treasures of books. And there was also a multitude of God's servants, but these had no knowledge of the books: they could not understand them because they were not written in their own language. It was as if the books said, 'Our fathers who once occupied these places loved wisdom, and through it they obtained wealth and left it to us. We see here their footprints, but we cannot follow them, and therefore have we lost both their wealth and their wisdom, because we would not incline our hearts to their example. ' When I remember this, I marvel that good and wise men who were formerly in England, and who had learned these books, did not translate them into their own language. Then I answered myself and said, 'They never thought that their children would be so careless, or that learning would so decay. '" [Footnote: A free version of part of Alfred's preface to his translation of Pope Gregory's _Cura Pastoralis_, which appeared in English as the Hirdeboc or Shepherd's Book. ] To remedy the evil, Alfred ordered that every freeborn Englishman shouldlearn to read and write his own language; but before he announced the orderhe followed it himself. Rather late in his boyhood he had learned to spellout an English book; now with immense difficulty he took up Latin, andtranslated the best works for the benefit of his people. His last notablework was the famous _Anglo-Saxon Chronicle_. [Sidenote: ANGLO-SAXON CHRONICLE] At that time it was customary in monasteries to keep a record of eventswhich seemed to the monks of special importance, such as the coming of abishop, the death of a king, an eclipse of the moon, a battle with theDanes. Alfred found such a record at Winchester, rewrote it (or else causedit to be rewritten) with numerous additions from Bede's History and othersources, and so made a fairly complete chronicle of England. This was sentto other monasteries, where it was copied and enlarged, so that severaldifferent versions have come down to us. The work thus begun was continuedafter Alfred's death, until 1154, and is the oldest contemporary historypossessed by any modern nation in its own language. * * * * * ANGLO-NORMAN OR MIDDLE-ENGLISH PERIOD (1066-1350) SPECIMENS OF THE LANGUAGE. A glance at the following selections will showhow Anglo-Saxon was slowly approaching our English speech of to-day. Thefirst is from a religious book called _Ancren Riwle_ (Rule of theAnchoresses, _cir_. 1225). The second, written about a century later, is from the riming chronicle, or verse history, of Robert Manning or Robertof Brunne. In it we note the appearance of rime, a new thing in Englishpoetry, borrowed from the French, and also a few words, such as "solace, "which are of foreign origin: "Hwoso hevide iseid to Eve, theo heo werp hire eien therone, 'A! wend te awei; thu worpest eien o thi death!' hwat heved heo ionswered? 'Me leove sire, ther havest wouh. Hwarof kalenges tu me? The eppel that ich loke on is forbode me to etene, and nout forto biholden. '" "Whoso had said (or, if anyone had said) to Eve when she cast her eye theron (i. E. On the apple) 'Ah! turn thou away; thou castest eyes on thy death!' what would she have answered? 'My dear sir, thou art wrong. Of what blamest thou me? The apple which I look upon is forbidden me to eat, not to behold. '" Lordynges that be now here, If ye wille listene and lere [1] All the story of Inglande, Als Robert Mannyng wryten it fand, And on Inglysch has it schewed, Not for the lered [2] but for the lewed, [3] For tho that on this land wonn [4] That ne Latin ne Frankys conn, [5] For to hauf solace and gamen In felauschip when they sitt samen; [6] And it is wisdom for to wytten [7] The state of the land, and haf it wryten. [Footnote 1: learn] [Footnote 2: learned] [Footnote 3: simple or ignorant] [Footnote 4: those that dwell] [Footnote 5: That neither Latin nor French know] [Footnote 6: together] [Footnote 7: know] THE NORMAN CONQUEST. For a century after the Norman conquest native poetrydisappeared from England, as a river may sink into the earth to reappearelsewhere with added volume and new characteristics. During all this timeFrench was the language not only of literature but of society and business;and if anyone had declared at the beginning of the twelfth century, whenNorman institutions were firmly established in England, that the time wasapproaching when the conquerors would forget their fatherland and theirmother tongue, he would surely have been called dreamer or madman. Yet theunexpected was precisely what happened, and the Norman conquest isremarkable alike for what it did and for what it failed to do. [Illustration: DOMESDAY BOOKFrom a facsimile edition published in 1862. The volumes, two in number, were kept in the chest here shown] It accomplished, first, the nationalization of England, uniting the pettySaxon earldoms into one powerful kingdom; and second, it brought intoEnglish life, grown sad and stern, like a man without hope, the spirit ofyouth, of enthusiasm, of eager adventure after the unknown, --in a word, thespirit of romance, which is but another name for that quest of some HolyGrail in which youth is forever engaged. NORMAN LITERATURE. One who reads the literature that the conquerors broughtto England must be struck by the contrast between the Anglo-Saxon and theNorman-French spirit. For example, here is the death of a national hero asportrayed in _The Song of Roland_, an old French epic, which theNormans first put into polished verse: Li quens Rollans se jut desuz un pin, Envers Espaigne en ad turnet son vis, De plusurs choscs a remembrer le prist. .. . "Then Roland placed himself beneath a pine tree. Towards Spain he turned his face. Of many things took he remembrance: of various lands where he had made conquests; of sweet France and his kindred; of Charlemagne, his feudal lord, who had nurtured him. He could not refrain from sighs and tears; neither could he forget himself in need. He confessed his sins and besought the Lord's mercy. He raised his right glove and offered it to God; Saint Gabriel from his hand received the offering. Then upon his breast he bowed his head; he joined his hands and went to his end. God sent down his cherubim, and Saint Michael who delivers from peril. Together with Saint Gabriel they departed, bearing the Count's soul to Paradise. " We have not put Roland's ceremonious exit into rime and meter; neither dowe offer any criticism of a scene in which the death of a national herostirs no interest or emotion, not even with the help of Gabriel and thecherubim. One is reminded by contrast of Scyld, who fares forth alone inhis Viking ship to meet the mystery of death; or of that last scene ofhuman grief and grandeur in _Beowulf_ where a few thanes bury theirdead chief on a headland by the gray sea, riding their war steeds aroundthe memorial mound with a chant of sorrow and victory. The contrast is even more marked in the mass of Norman literature: inromances of the maidens that sink underground in autumn, to reappear asflowers in spring; of Alexander's journey to the bottom of the sea in acrystal barrel, to view the mermaids and monsters; of Guy of Warwick, whoslew the giant Colbrant and overthrew all the knights of Europe, just towin a smile from his Felice; of that other hero who had offended his ladyby forgetting one of the commandments of love, and who vowed to fill abarrel with his tears, and did it. The Saxons were as serious in speech asin action, and their poetry is a true reflection of their daily life; butthe Normans, brave and resourceful as they were in war and statesmanship, turned to literature for amusement, and indulged their lively fancy infables, satires, garrulous romances, like children reveling in the lore ofelves and fairies. As the prattle of a child was the power that awakenedSilas Marner from his stupor of despair, so this Norman element of gayety, of exuberant romanticism, was precisely what was needed to rouse thesterner Saxon mind from its gloom and lethargy. [Illustration: THE NORMAN STAIR, CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL] THE NEW NATION. So much, then, the Normans accomplished: they broughtnationality into English life, and romance into English literature. Withoutessentially changing the Saxon spirit they enlarged its thought, arousedits hope, gave it wider horizons. They bound England with their laws, covered it with their feudal institutions, filled it with their ideas andtheir language; then, as an anticlimax, they disappeared from Englishhistory, and their institutions were modified to suit the Saxontemperament. The race conquered in war became in peace the conquerors. TheNormans speedily forgot France, and even warred against it. They began tospeak English, dropping its cumbersome Teutonic inflections, and adding toit the wealth of their own fine language. They ended by adopting England astheir country, and glorifying it above all others. "There is no land in theworld, " writes a poet of the thirteenth century, "where so many good kingsand saints have lived as in the isle of the English. Some were holy martyrswho died cheerfully for God; others had strength or courage like to that ofArthur, Edmund and Cnut. " This poet, who was a Norman monk at Westminster Abbey, wrote about theglories of England in the French language, and celebrated as the nationalheroes a Celt, a Saxon and a Dane. [Footnote: The significance of this oldpoem was pointed out by Jusserand, _Literary History of the EnglishPeople_, Vol. I, p. 112. ] So in the space of two centuries a new nation had arisen, combining thebest elements of the Anglo-Saxon and Norman-French people, with aconsiderable mixture of Celtic and Danish elements. Out of the union ofthese races and tongues came modern English life and letters. GEOFFREY AND THE LEGENDS OF ARTHUR. Geoffrey of Monmouth was a Welshman, familiar from his youth with Celtic legends; also he was a monk who knewhow to write Latin; and the combination was a fortunate one, as we shallsee. Long before Geoffrey produced his celebrated History (_cir. _ 1150), many stories of the Welsh hero Arthur [Footnote: Who Arthur was has neverbeen determined. There was probably a chieftain of that name who was activein opposing the Anglo-Saxon invaders of Britain, about the year 500; butGildas, who wrote a Chronicle of Britain only half a century later, doesnot mention him; neither does Bede, who made study of all available recordsbefore writing his History. William of Malmesbury, a chronicler of thetwelfth century, refers to "the warlike Arthur of whom the Britons tell somany extravagant fables, a man to be celebrated not in idle tales but intrue history. " He adds that there were two Arthurs, one a Welsh war-chief(not a king), and the other a myth or fairy creation. This, then, may bethe truth of the matter, that a real Arthur, who made a deep impression onthe Celtic imagination, was soon hidden in a mass of spurious legends. ThatBede had heard these legends is almost certain; that he did not mentionthem is probably due to the fact that he considered Arthur to be whollymythical. ] were current in Britain and on the Continent; but they werenever written because of a custom of the Middle Ages which required that, before a legend could be recorded, it must have the authority of some Latinmanuscript. Geoffrey undertook to supply such authority in his _Historiaregum britanniae_, or History of the Kings of Britain, in which heproved Arthur's descent from Roman ancestors. [Footnote: After the landingof the Romans in Britain a curious mingling of traditions took place, andin Geoffrey's time native Britons considered themselves as children ofBrutus of Rome, and therefore as grandchildren of Æneas of Troy. ] He quotedliberally from an ancient manuscript which, he alleged, establishedArthur's lineage, but which he did not show to others. A storm instantlyarose among the writers of that day, most of whom denounced Geoffrey'sLatin manuscript as a myth, and his History as a shameless invention. Buthe had shrewdly anticipated such criticism, and issued this warning to thehistorians, which is solemn or humorous according to your point of view: "I forbid William of Malmesbury and Henry of Huntingdon to speak of the kings of Britain, since they have not seen the book which Walter Archdeacon of Oxford [who was dead, of course] brought out of Brittany. " It is commonly believed that Geoffrey was an impostor, but in such mattersone should be wary of passing judgment. Many records of men, cities, empires, have suddenly arisen from the tombs to put to shame the scientistswho had denied their existence; and it is possible that Geoffrey had seenone of the legion of lost manuscripts. The one thing certain is, that if hehad any authority for his History he embellished the same freely frompopular legends or from his own imagination, as was customary at that time. [Sidenote: ARTHURIAN ROMANCES] His work made a sensation. A score of French poets seized upon hisArthurian legends and wove them into romances, each adding freely toGeoffrey's narrative. The poet Wace added the tale of the Round Table, andanother poet (Walter Map, perhaps) began a cycle of stories concerningGalahad and the quest of the Holy Grail. [Footnote: The Holy Grail, or SanGraal, or Sancgreal, was represented as the cup from which Christ drankwith his disciples at the Last Supper. Legend said that the sacred cup hadbeen brought to England, and Arthur's knights undertook, as the mostcompelling of all duties, to search until they found it. ] The origin of these Arthurian romances, which reappear so often in Englishpoetry, is forever shrouded in mystery. The point to remember is, that weowe them all to the genius of the native Celts; that it was Geoffrey ofMonmouth who first wrote them in Latin prose, and so preserved a treasurewhich else had been lost; and that it was the French _trouvères, _ orpoets, who completed the various cycles of romances which were latercollected in Malory's _Morte d' Arthur. _ TYPES OF MIDDLE-ENGLISH LITERATURE. It has long been customary to begin thestudy of English literature with Chaucer; but that does not mean that heinvented any new form of poetry or prose. To examine any collection of ourearly literature, such as Cook's _Middle-English Reader_, is todiscover that many literary types were flourishing in Chaucer's day, andthat some of these had grown old-fashioned before he began to use them. [Sidenote: METRICAL ROMANCES] In the thirteenth century, for example, the favorite type of literature inEngland was the metrical romance, which was introduced by the French poets, and written at first in the French language. The typical romance was arambling story dealing with the three subjects of love, chivalry andreligion; it was filled with adventures among giants, dragons, enchantedcastles; and in that day romance was not romance unless liberally suppliedwith magic and miracle. There were hundreds of such wonder-stories, arranged loosely in three main groups: the so-called "matter of Rome" dealtwith the fall of Troy in one part, and with the marvelous adventures ofAlexander in the other; the "matter of France" celebrated the heroism ofCharlemagne and his Paladins; and the "matter of Britain" wove the magicweb of romance around Arthur and his knights of the Round Table. One of the best of the metrical romances is "Sir Gawain and the GreenKnight, " which may be read as a measure of all the rest. If, as is commonlybelieved, the unknown author of "Sir Gawain" wrote also "The Pearl" (abeautiful old elegy, or poem of grief, which immortalizes a father's lovefor his little girl), he was the greatest poet of the early Middle-Englishperiod. Unfortunately for us, he wrote not in the king's English or speechof London (which became modern English) but in a different dialect, and hispoems should be read in a present-day version; else will the beauty of hiswork be lost in our effort to understand his language. Other types of early literature are the riming chronicles or versehistories (such as Layamon's _Brut_, a famous poem, in which theArthurian legends appear as part of English history), stories of travel, translations, religious poems, books of devotion, miracle plays, fables, satires, ballads, hymns, lullabies, lyrics of love and nature, --anastonishing collection for so ancient a time, indicative at once of ourchanging standards of poetry and of our unchanging human nature. For thefeelings which inspired or gave welcome to these poems, some five or sixhundred years ago, are precisely the same feelings which warm the heart ofa poet and his readers to-day. There is nothing ancient but the spelling inthis exquisite Lullaby, for instance, which was sung on Christmas eve: He cam also stylle Ther his moder was As dew in Aprylle That fallyt on the gras; He cam also stylle To his moderes bowr As dew in Aprylle That fallyt on the flour; He cam also stylle Ther his moder lay As dew in Aprylle That fallyt on the spray. [Footnote: In reading this beautiful old lullaby the _e_ in "stylle"and "Aprylle" should be lightly sounded, like _a_ in "China. "] Or witness this other fragment from an old love song, which reflects thefeeling of one who "would fain make some mirth" but who finds his heart sadwithin him: Now wold I fayne som myrthis make All oneli for my ladys sake, When I hir se; But now I am so ferre from hir Hit will nat be. Thogh I be long out of hir sight, I am hir man both day and night, And so will be; Wherfor, wold God as I love hir That she lovd me! When she is mery, then I am glad; When she is sory, then am I sad, And causë whi: For he livith nat that lovith hir So well as I. She sayth that she hath seen hit wreten That 'seldyn seen is soon foryeten. ' Hit is nat so; For in good feith, save oneli hir, I love no moo. Wherfor I pray, both night and day, That she may cast al care away, And leve in rest That evermo, where'er she be, I love hir best; And I to hir for to be trew, And never chaunge her for noon new Unto myne ende; And that I may in hir servise For evyr amend. [Footnote: The two poems quoted above hardly belong to the Norman-Frenchperiod proper, but rather to a time when the Anglo-Saxon had assimilatedthe French element, with its language and verse forms. They were written, probably, in the age of Chaucer, or in what is now called the LateMiddle-English period. ] * * * * * SUMMARY OF BEGINNINGS. The two main branches of our literature are the Anglo-Saxon and the Norman-French, both of which received some additions from Celtic, Danish and Roman sources. The Anglo-Saxon literature came to England with the invasion of Teutonic tribes, the Angles, Saxons and Jutes (_cir. _ 449). The Norman-French literature appeared after the Norman conquest of England, which began with the Battle of Hastings in 1066. The Anglo-Saxon literature is classified under two heads, pagan and Christian. The extant fragments of pagan literature include one epic or heroic poem, _Beowulf_, and several lyrics and battle songs, such as "Widsith, " "Deor's Lament, " "The Seafarer, " "The Battle of Brunanburh" and "The Battle of Maldon. " All these were written at an unknown date, and by unknown poets. The best Christian literature of the period was written in the Northumbrian and the West-Saxon schools. The greatest names of the Northumbrian school are Bede, Cædmon and Cynewulf. The most famous of the Wessex writers is Alfred the Great, who is called "the father of English prose. " The Normans were originally Northmen, or sea rovers from Scandinavia, who settled in northern France and adopted the Franco-Latin language and civilization. With their conquest of England, in the eleventh century, they brought nationality into English life, and the spirit of romance into English literature. Their stories in prose or verse were extremely fanciful, in marked contrast with the stern, somber poetry of the Anglo-Saxons. The most notable works of the Norman-French period are: Geoffrey's _History of the Kings of Britain_, which preserved in Latin prose the native legends of King Arthur; Layamon's _Brut_, a riming chronicle or verse history in the native tongue; many metrical romances, or stories of love, chivalry, magic and religion; and various popular songs and ballads. The greatest poet of the period is the unknown author of "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight" (a metrical romance) and probably also of "The Pearl, " a beautiful elegy, which is our earliest _In Memoriam_. SELECTIONS FOR READING. Without special study of Old English it is impossible to read our earliest literature. The beginner may, however, enter into the spirit of that literature by means of various modern versions, such as the following: _Beowulf_. Garnett's Beowulf (Ginn and Company), a literal translation, is useful to those who study Anglo-Saxon, but is not very readable. The same may be said of Gummere's The Oldest English Epic, which follows the verse form of the original. Two of the best versions for the beginner are Child's Beowulf, in Riverside Literature Series (Houghton), and Earle's The Deeds of Beowulf (Clarendon Press). _Anglo-Saxon Poetry_. The Seafarer, The Wanderer, The Husband's Message (or Love Letter), Deor's Lament, Riddles, Battle of Brunanburh, selections from The Christ, Andreas, Elene, Vision of the Rood, and The Phoenix, --all these are found in an excellent little volume, Cook and Tinker, Translations from Old English Poetry (Ginn and Company). _Anglo-Saxon Prose_. Good selections in Cook and Tinker, Translations from Old English Prose (Ginn and Company). Bede's History, translated in Everyman's Library (Dutton) and in the Bohn Library (Macmillan). In the same volume of the Bohn Library is a translation of The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. Alfred's Orosius (with stories of early exploration) translated in Pauli's Life of Alfred. _Norman-French Period_. Selections in Manly, English Poetry, and English Prose (Ginn and Company); also in Morris and Skeat, Specimens of Early English (Clarendon Press). The Song of Roland in Riverside Literature Series, and in King's Classics. Selected metrical romances in Ellis, Specimens of Early English Metrical Romances (Bohn Library); also in Morley, Early English Prose Romances, and in Carisbrooke Library Series. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, modernized by Weston, in Arthurian Romances Series. Andrew Lang, Aucassin and Nicolette (Crowell). The Pearl, translated by Jewett (Crowell), and by Weir Mitchell (Century). Selections from Layamon's Brut in Morley, English Writers, Vol. III. Geoffrey's History in Everyman's Library, and in King's Classics. The Arthurian legends in The Mabinogion (Everyman's Library); also in Sidney Lanier's The Boy's King Arthur and The Boy's Mabinogion (Scribner). A good single volume containing the best of Middle-English literature, with notes, is Cook, A Literary Middle-English Reader (Ginn and Company). BIBLIOGRAPHY. For extended works covering the entire field of English history and literature, and for a list of the best anthologies, school texts, etc. , see the General Bibliography. The following works are of special interest in studying early English literature. _HISTORY_. Allen, Anglo-Saxon Britain; Turner, History of the Anglo-Saxons; Ramsay, The Foundations of England; Freeman, Old English History; Cook, Life of Alfred; Freeman, Short History of the Norman Conquest; Jewett, Story of the Normans, in Stories of the Nations. _LITERATURE_. Brooke, History of Early English Literature; Jusserand, Literary History of the English People, Vol. I; Ten Brink, English Literature, Vol. I; Lewis, Beginnings of English Literature; Schofield, English Literature from the Norman Conquest to Chaucer; Brother Azarias, Development of Old-English Thought; Mitchell, From Celt to Tudor; Newell, King Arthur and the Round Table. A more advanced work on Arthur is Rhys, Studies in the Arthurian Legends. _FICTION AND POETRY_. Kingsley, Hereward the Wake; Lytton, Harold Last of the Saxon Kings; Scott, Ivanhoe; Kipling, Puck of Pook's Hill; Jane Porter, Scottish Chiefs; Shakespeare, King John; Tennyson, Becket, and The Idylls of the King; Gray, The Bard; Bates and Coman, English History Told by English Poets. CHAPTER III THE AGE OF CHAUCER AND THE REVIVAL OF LEARNING (1350-1550) For out of oldë feldës, as men seith, Cometh al this newë corn fro yeer te yere; And out of oldë bokës, in good feith, Cometh all this newë science that men lere. Chaucer, "Parliament of Foules" SPECIMENS OF THE LANGUAGE. Our first selection, from _Piers Plowman_(_cir. _ 1362), is the satire of Belling the Cat. The language is thatof the common people, and the verse is in the old Saxon manner, with accentand alliteration. The scene is a council of rats and mice (common people)called to consider how best to deal with the cat (court), and it satirizesthe popular agitators who declaim against the government. The speaker is arat, "a raton of renon, most renable of tonge": "I have y-seen segges, " quod he, "in the cite of London Beren beighes ful brighte abouten here nekkes. .. . Were there a belle on here beighe, certes, as me thynketh, Men myghte wite where thei went, and awei renne! And right so, " quod this raton, "reson me sheweth To bugge a belle of brasse or of brighte sylver, And knitten on a colere for owre comune profit, And hangen it upon the cattes hals; than hear we mowen Where he ritt or rest or renneth to playe. " . .. Alle this route of ratones to this reson thei assented; Ac tho the belle was y-bought and on the beighe hanged, Ther ne was ratoun in alle the route, for alle the rewme of Fraunce, That dorst have y-bounden the belle aboute the cattis nekke. "I have seen creatures" (dogs), quoth he, "in the city of London Bearing collars full bright around their necks. .. . Were there a bell on those collars, assuredly, in my opinion, One might know where the dogs go, and run away from them! And right so, " quoth this rat, "reason suggests to me To buy a bell of brass or of bright silver, And tie it on a collar for our common profit, And hang it on the cat's neck; in order that we may hear Where he rides or rests or runneth to play. " . .. All this rout (crowd) of rats to this reasoning assented; But when the bell was bought and hanged on the collar, There was not a rat in the crowd that, for all the realm of France Would have dared to bind the bell about the cat's neck. The second selection is from Chaucer's "Wife of Bath's Tale" (_cir_. 1375). It was written "in the French manner" with rime and meter, for theupper classes, and shows the difference between literary English and thespeech of the common people: In th' olde dayës of the Kyng Arthour, Of which that Britons speken greet honour, Al was this land fulfild of fayerye. The elf-queene with hir joly companye Dauncëd ful ofte in many a grene mede; This was the olde opinion, as I rede. I speke of manye hundred yeres ago; But now kan no man see none elves mo. The next two selections (written _cir_. 1450) show how rapidly thelanguage was approaching modern English. The prose, from Malory's _Morted' Arthur_, is the selection that Tennyson closely followed in his"Passing of Arthur. " The poetry, from the ballad of "Robin Hood and theMonk, " is probably a fifteenth-century version of a much older Englishsong: "'Therefore, ' sayd Arthur unto Syr Bedwere, 'take thou Excalybur my good swerde, and goo with it, to yonder water syde, and whan thou comest there I charge the throwe my swerde in that water, and come ageyn and telle me what thou there seest. ' "'My lord, ' sayd Bedwere, 'your commaundement shal be doon, and lyghtly brynge you worde ageyn. ' "So Syr Bedwere departed; and by the waye he behelde that noble swerde, that the pomel and the hafte was al of precyous stones; and thenne he sayd to hym self, 'Yf I throwe this ryche swerde in the water, thereof shal never come good, but harme and losse. ' And thenne Syr Bedwere hydde Excalybur under a tree. " In somer, when the shawes be sheyne, And leves be large and long, Hit is full mery in feyr foreste To here the foulys song: To se the dere draw to the dale, And leve the hillës hee, And shadow hem in the levës grene, Under the grene-wode tre. HISTORICAL OUTLINE. The history of England during this period is largely a record of strife and confusion. The struggle of the House of Commons against the despotism of kings; the Hundred Years War with France, in which those whose fathers had been Celts, Danes, Saxons, Normans, were now fighting shoulder to shoulder as Englishmen all; the suffering of the common people, resulting in the Peasant Rebellion; the barbarity of the nobles, who were destroying one another in the Wars of the Roses; the beginning of commerce and manufacturing, following the lead of Holland, and the rise of a powerful middle class; the belated appearance of the Renaissance, welcomed by a few scholars but unnoticed by the masses of people, who remained in dense ignorance, --even such a brief catalogue suggests that many books must be read before we can enter into the spirit of fourteenth-century England. We shall note here only two circumstances, which may help us to understand Chaucer and the age in which he lived. [Sidenote: MODERN PROBLEMS] The first is that the age of Chaucer, if examined carefully, shows many striking resemblances to our own. It was, for example, an age of warfare; and, as in our own age of hideous inventions, military methods were all upset by the discovery that the foot soldier with his blunderbuss was more potent than the panoplied knight on horseback. While war raged abroad, there was no end of labor troubles at home, strikes, "lockouts, " assaults on imported workmen (the Flemish weavers brought in by Edward III), and no end of experimental laws to remedy the evil. The Turk came into Europe, introducing the Eastern and the Balkan questions, which have ever since troubled us. Imperialism was rampant, in Edward's claim to France, for example, or in John of Gaunt's attempt to annex Castile. Even "feminism" was in the air, and its merits were shrewdly debated by Chaucer's Wife of Bath and his Clerk of Oxenford. A dozen other "modern" examples might be given, but the sum of the matter is this: that there is hardly a social or political or economic problem of the past fifty years that was not violently agitated in the latter half of the fourteenth century. [Footnote: See Kittredge, _Chaucer and his Poetry_ (1915), pp. 2-5. ] [Sidenote: REALISTIC POETRY] A second interesting circumstance is that this medieval age produced two poets, Langland and Chaucer, who were more realistic even than present-day writers in their portrayal of life, and who together gave us such a picture of English society as no other poets have ever equaled. Langland wrote his _Piers Plowman_ in the familiar Anglo-Saxon style for the common people, and pictured their life to the letter; while Chaucer wrote his _Canterbury Tales_, a poem shaped after Italian and French models, portraying the holiday side of the middle and upper classes. Langland drew a terrible picture of a degraded land, desperately in need of justice, of education, of reform in church and state; Chaucer showed a gay company of pilgrims riding through a prosperous country which he called his "Merrie England. " Perhaps the one thing in common with these two poets, the early types of Puritan and Cavalier, was their attitude towards democracy. Langland preached the gospel of labor, far more powerfully than Carlyle ever preached it, and exalted honest work as the patent of nobility. Chaucer, writing for the court, mingled his characters in the most democratic kind of fellowship and, though a knight rode at the head of his procession, put into the mouth of the Wife of Bath his definition of a gentleman: Loke who that is most vertuous alway, Privee and apert, [1] and most entendeth aye To do the gentle dedes that he can, And take him for the grettest gentilman. [Footnote [1]: Secretly and openly. ] * * * * * GEOFFREY CHAUCER (_cir_. 1340-1400) "Of Chaucer truly I know not whether to marvel more, either that he in that misty time could see so clearly, or that we in this clear age walk so stumblingly after him. " (Philip Sidney, _cir_. 1581) It was the habit of Old-English chieftains to take their scops with theminto battle, to the end that the scop's poem might be true to the outerworld of fact as well as to the inner world of ideals. The search for"local color" is, therefore, not the newest thing in fiction but the oldestthing in poetry. Chaucer, the first in time of our great English poets, wastrue to this old tradition. He was page, squire, soldier, statesman, diplomat, traveler; and then he was a poet, who portrayed in verse themany-colored life which he knew intimately at first hand. [Illustration: CHAUCER] For example, Chaucer had to describe a tournament, in the Knight's Tale;but instead of using his imagination, as other romancers had always done, he drew a vivid picture of one of those gorgeous pageants of decayingchivalry with which London diverted the French king, who had been broughtprisoner to the city after the victory of the Black Prince at Poitiers. Sowith his Tabard Inn, which is a real English inn, and with his Pilgrims, who are real pilgrims; and so with every other scene or character hedescribed. His specialty was human nature, his strong point observation, his method essentially modern. And by "modern" we mean that he portrayedthe men and women of his own day so well, with such sympathy and humor andwisdom, that we recognize and welcome them as friends or neighbors, who arethe same in all ages. From this viewpoint Chaucer is more modern thanTennyson or Longfellow. LIFE. Chaucer's boyhood was spent in London, near Westminster, where the brilliant court of Edward was visible to the favored ones; and near the Thames, where the world's commerce, then beginning to ebb and flow with the tides, might be seen of every man. His father was a vintner, or wine merchant, who had enough influence at court to obtain for his son a place in the house of the Princess Elizabeth. Behold then our future poet beginning his knightly training as page to a highborn lady. Presently he accompanied the Black Prince to the French wars, was taken prisoner and ransomed, and on his return entered the second stage of knighthood as esquire or personal attendant to the king. He married a maid of honor related to John of Gaunt, the famous Duke of Lancaster, and at thirty had passed from the rank of merchant into official and aristocratic circles. [Sidenote: PERIODS OF WORK] The literary work of Chaucer is conveniently, but not accurately, arranged in three different periods. While attached to the court, one of his duties was to entertain the king and his visitors in their leisure. French poems of love and chivalry were then in demand, and of these Chaucer had great store; but English had recently replaced French even at court, and King Edward and Queen Philippa, both patrons of art and letters, encouraged Chaucer to write in his native language. So he made translations of favorite poems into English, and wrote others in imitation of French models. These early works, the least interesting of all, belong to what is called the period of French influence. Then Chaucer, who had learned the art of silence as well as of speech, was sent abroad on a series of diplomatic missions. In Italy he probably met the poet Petrarch (as we infer from the Prologue to the Clerk's Tale) and became familiar with the works of Dante and Boccaccio. His subsequent poetry shows a decided advance in range and originality, partly because of his own growth, no doubt, and partly because of his better models. This second period, of about fifteen years, is called the time of Italian influence. In the third or English period Chaucer returned to London and was a busy man of affairs; for at the English court, unlike those of France and Italy, a poet was expected to earn his pension by some useful work, literature being regarded as a recreation. He was in turn comptroller of customs and superintendent of public works; also he was at times well supplied with money, and again, as the political fortunes of his patron John of Gaunt waned, in sore need of the comforts of life. Witness his "Complaint to His Empty Purse, " the humor of which evidently touched the king and brought Chaucer another pension. Two poems of this period are supposed to contain autobiographical material. In the _Legend of Good Women_ he says: And as for me, though that my wit be lytë, On bokës for to rede I me delytë. Again, in _The House of Fame_ he speaks of finding his real life in books after his daily work in the customhouse is ended. Some of the "rekeninges" (itemized accounts of goods and duties) to which he refers are still preserved in Chaucer's handwriting: For whan thy labour doon al is, And hast y-maad thy rekeninges, In stede of reste and newë thinges Thou gost hoom to thy hous anoon, And, also domb as any stoon, Thou sittest at another boke Til fully dawsëd is thy loke, And livest thus as an hermytë, Although thine abstinence is lytë. Such are the scanty facts concerning England's first great poet, the more elaborate biographies being made up chiefly of guesses or doubtful inferences. He died in the year 1400, and was buried in St. Benet's chapel in Westminster Abbey, a place now revered by all lovers of literature as the Poets' Corner. ON READING CHAUCER. Said Caxton, who was the first to print Chaucer's poetry, "He writeth no void words, but all his matter is full of high and quick sentence. " Caxton was right, and the modern reader's first aim should be to get the sense of Chaucer rather than his pronunciation. To understand him is not so difficult as appears at first sight, for most of the words that look strange because of their spelling will reveal their meaning to the ear if spoken aloud. Thus the word "leefful" becomes "leveful" or "leaveful" or "permissible. " Next, the reader should remember that Chaucer was a master of versification, and that every stanza of his is musical. At the beginning of a poem, therefore, read a few lines aloud, emphasizing the accented syllables until the rhythm is fixed; then make every line conform to it, and every word keep step to the music. To do this it is necessary to slur certain words and run others together; also, since the mistakes of Chaucer's copyists are repeated in modern editions, it is often necessary to add a helpful word or syllable to a line, or to omit others that are plainly superfluous. This way of reading Chaucer musically, as one would read any other poet, has three advantages: it is easy, it is pleasant, and it is far more effective than the learning of a hundred specifications laid down by the grammarians. [Sidenote: RULES FOR READING] As for Chaucer's pronunciation, you will not get that accurately without much study, which were better spent on more important matters; so be content with a few rules, which aim simply to help you enjoy the reading. As a general principle, the root vowel of a word was broadly sounded, and the rest slurred over. The characteristic sound of _a_ was as in "far"; _e_ was sounded like _a_, _i_ like _e_, and all diphthongs as broadly as possible, --in "floures" (flowers), for example, which should be pronounced "floorës. " Another rule relates to final syllables, and these will appear more interesting if we remember that they represent the dying inflections of nouns and adjectives, which were then declined as in modern German. Final _ed_ and _es_ are variable, but the rhythm will always tell us whether they should be given an extra syllable or not. So also with final _e_, which is often sounded, but not if the following word begins with a vowel or with _h_. In the latter case the two words may be run together, as in reading Virgil. If a final _e_ occurs at the end of a line, it may be lightly pronounced, like _a_ in "China, " to give added melody to the verse. Applying these rules, and using our liberty as freely as Chaucer used his, [Footnote: The language was changing rapidly in Chaucer's day, and there were no printed books to fix a standard. Sometimes Chaucer's grammar and spelling are according to rule, and again as heaven pleases. ] the opening lines of _The Canterbury Tales_ would read something like this: Whan that Aprille with his shoures sote _Whan that Apreelë with 'is shoorës sohtë_ The droghte of Marche hath perced to the rote, _The drooth of March hath paarcëd to the rohtë_ And bathed every veyne in swich licour, _And bahthëd ev'ree vyne in swech lecoor, _ Of which vertu engendred is the flour; _Of whech varetu engendred is the floor;_ Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth _Whan Zephirus aik with 'is swaite braith_ Inspired hath in every holt and heeth _Inspeerëd hath in ev'ree holt and haith_ The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne _The tendre croopës, and th' yoongë sonnë_ Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne, _Hath in the Ram 'is hawfë coors ironnë, _ And smale fowles maken melodye, _And smawlë foolës mahken malyodieë, _ That slepen al the night with open ye _That slaipen awl the nicht with open eë_ (So priketh hem nature in hir corages) _(So priketh 'eem nahtur in hir coorahgës)_ Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages. _Than longen folk to goon on peelgrimahgës. _ EARLY WORKS OF CHAUCER. In his first period, which was dominated by Frenchinfluence, Chaucer probably translated parts of the _Roman de laRose_, a dreary allegorical poem in which love is represented as aqueen-rose in a garden, surrounded by her court and ministers. Inendeavoring to pluck this rose the lover learns the "commandments" and"sacraments" of love, and meets with various adventures at the hands ofVirtue, Constancy, and other shadowy personages of less repute. Suchallegories were the delight of the Middle Ages; now they are as dust andashes. Other and better works of this period are _The Book of theDuchess_, an elegy written on the death of Blanche, wife of Chaucer'spatron, and various minor poems, such as "Compleynte unto Pitee, " thedainty love song "To Rosemunde, " and "Truth" or the "Ballad of GoodCounsel. " Characteristic works of the second or Italian period are _The House ofFame_, _The Legend of Good Women_, and especially _Troilus andCriseyde_. The last-named, though little known to modern readers, is oneof the most remarkable narrative poems in our literature. It began as aretelling of a familiar romance; it ended in an original poem, which mighteasily be made into a drama or a "modern" novel. [Sidenote: STORY OF TROILUS] The scene opens in Troy, during the siege of the city by the Greeks. The hero Troilus is a son of Priam, and is second only to the mighty Hector in warlike deeds. Devoted as he is to glory, he scoffs at lovers until the moment when his eye lights on Cressida. She is a beautiful young widow, and is free to do as she pleases for the moment, her father Calchas having gone over to the Greeks to escape the doom which he sees impending on Troy. Troilus falls desperately in love with Cressida, but she does not know or care, and he is ashamed to speak his mind after scoffing so long at love. Then appears Pandarus, friend of Troilus and uncle to Cressida, who soon learns the secret and brings the young people together. After a long courtship with interminable speeches (as in the old romances) Troilus wins the lady, and all goes happily until Calchas arranges to have his daughter brought to him in exchange for a captured Trojan warrior. The lovers are separated with many tears, but Cressida comforts the despairing Troilus by promising to hoodwink her doting father and return in a few days. Calchas, however, loves his daughter too well to trust her in a city that must soon be given over to plunder, and keeps her safe in the Greek camp. There the handsome young Diomede wins her, and presently Troilus is killed in battle by Achilles. Such is the old romance of feminine fickleness, which had been written ahundred times before Chaucer took it bodily from Boccaccio. Moreover hehumored the old romantic delusion which required that a lover should fallsick in the absence of his mistress, and turn pale or swoon at the sight ofher; but he added to the tale many elements not found in the old romances, such as real men and women, humor, pathos, analysis of human motives, and asense of impending tragedy which comes not from the loss of wealth orhappiness but of character. Cressida's final thought of her first lover isintensely pathetic, and a whole chapter of psychology is summed up in theline in which she promises herself to be true to Diomede at the very momentwhen she is false to Troilus: "Allas! of me unto the worldës ende Shal neyther ben ywríten nor y-songë No good word; for these bookës wol me shende. O, rollëd shal I ben on many a tongë! Thurghout the world my bellë shal be rongë, And wommen moste wol haten me of allë. Allas, that swich a cas me sholdë fallë! They wol seyn, in-as-much as in me is, I have hem doon dishonour, weylawey! Al be I not the firste that dide amis, What helpeth that to doon my blame awey? But since I see ther is no betre wey, And that too late is now for me to rewé, To Diomede, algate, I wol be trewé. " THE CANTERBURY TALES. The plan of gathering a company of people and lettingeach tell his favorite story has been used by so many poets, ancient andmodern, that it is idle to seek the origin of it. Like Topsy, it wasn'tborn; it just grew up. Chaucer's plan, however, is more comprehensive thanany other in that it includes all classes of society; it is also moreoriginal in that it does not invent heroic characters but takes such menand women as one might meet in any assembly, and shows how typical they areof humanity in all ages. As Lowell says, Chaucer made use in his_Canterbury Tales_ of two things that are everywhere regarded assymbols of human life; namely, the short journey and the inn. We might add, as an indication of Chaucer's philosophy, that his inn is a comfortableone, and that the journey is made in pleasant company and in fair weather. An outline of Chaucer's great work is as follows. On an evening in springtime the poet comes to Tabard Inn, in Southwark, and finds it filled with a merry company of men and women bent on a pilgrimage to the shrine of Thomas à Becket in Canterbury. After supper appears the jovial host, Harry Bailey, who finds the company so attractive that he must join it on its pilgrimage. He proposes that, as they shall be long on the way, they shall furnish their own entertainment by telling stories, the best tale to be rewarded by the best of suppers when the pilgrims return from Canterbury. They assent joyfully, and on the morrow begin their journey, cheered by the Knight's Tale as they ride forth under the sunrise. The light of morning and of springtime is upon this work, which is commonly placed at the beginning of modern English literature. As the journey proceeds we note two distinct parts to Chaucer's record. Onepart, made up of prologues and interludes, portrays the characters andaction of the present comedy; the other part, consisting of stories, reflects the comedies and tragedies of long ago. The one shows theperishable side of the men and women of Chaucer's day, their habits, dress, conversation; the other reveals an imperishable world of thought, feeling, ideals, in which these same men and women discover their kinship tohumanity. It is possible, since some of the stories are related to eachother, that Chaucer meant to arrange the _Canterbury Tales_ indramatic unity, so as to make a huge comedy of human society; but the workas it comes down to us is fragmentary, and no one has discovered the orderin which the fragments should be fitted together. [Illustration: PILGRIMS SETTING OUT FROM THE "TABARD"] [Sidenote: THE PROLOGUE] The Prologue is perhaps the best single fragment of the _CanterburyTales_. In it Chaucer introduces us to the characters of his drama: tothe grave Knight and the gay Squire, the one a model of Chivalry at itsbest, "a verray parfit gentil knight, " the other a young man so full oflife and love that "he slept namore than dooth a nightingale"; to themodest Prioress, also, with her pretty clothes, her exquisite manners, herboarding-school accomplishments: And Frensh she spak ful faire and fetisly, After the scole of Stratford attë Bowë, For Frensh of Paris was to hir unknowë. In contrast to this dainty figure is the coarse Wife of Bath, as garrulousas the nurse in _Romeo and Juliet_. So one character stands to anotheras shade to light, as they appear in a typical novel of Dickens. TheChurch, the greatest factor in medieval life, is misrepresented by thehunting Monk and the begging Friar, and is well represented by the Parson, who practiced true religion before he preached it: But Christës lore and his apostles twelvë He taughte, and first he folwëd it himselvë. Trade is represented by the Merchant, scholarship by the poor Clerk ofOxenford, the professions by the Doctor and the Man-of-law, common folk bythe Yeoman, Frankelyn (farmer), Miller and many others of low degree. Prominent among the latter was the Shipman: Hardy he was, and wys to undertakë; With many a tempest hadde his berd been shakë. From this character, whom Stevenson might have borrowed for his _TreasureIsland_, we infer the barbarity that prevailed when commerce was new, when the English sailor was by turns smuggler or pirate, equally ready tosail or scuttle a ship, and to silence any tongue that might tell tales bymaking its wretched owner "walk the plank. " Chaucer's description of thelatter process is a masterpiece of piratical humor: If that he faught and hadde the hyer hond, By water he sente hem hoom to every lond. [Sidenote: VARIETY OF TALES] Some thirty pilgrims appear in the famous Prologue, and as each was to telltwo stories on the way to Canterbury, and two more on the return, it isprobable that Chaucer contemplated a work of more than a hundred tales. Only four-and-twenty were completed, but these are enough to cover thefield of light literature in that day, from the romance of love to thehumorous animal fable. Between these are wonder-stories of giants andfairies, satires on the monks, parodies on literature, and some examples ofcoarse horseplay for which Chaucer offers an apology, saying that he mustlet each pilgrim tell his tale in his own way. A round dozen of these tales may still be read with pleasure; but, as asuggestion of Chaucer's variety, we name only three: the Knight's romanceof "Palamon and Arcite, " the Nun's Priest's fable of "Chanticleer, " and theClerk's old ballad of "Patient Griselda. " The last-named will be moreinteresting if we remember that the subject of woman's rights had beenhurled at the heads of the pilgrims by the Wife of Bath, and that the Clerktold his story to illustrate his different ideal of womanhood. THE CHARM OF CHAUCER. The first of Chaucer's qualities is that he is anexcellent story-teller; which means that he has a tale to tell, a goodmethod of telling it, and a philosophy of life which gives us something tothink about aside from the narrative. He had a profound insight of humannature, and in telling the simplest story was sure to slip in some nuggetof wisdom or humor: "What wol nat be mote need be left, " "For three maykeep counsel if twain be away, " "The lyf so short, the craft so long tolerne, " "Ful wys is he that can himselven knowe, " The firste vertue, sone, if thou wilt lere, Is to restreine and kepen wel thy tonge. There are literally hundreds of such "good things" which make Chaucer aconstant delight to those who, by a very little practice, can understandhim almost as easily as Shakespeare. Moreover he was a careful artist; heknew the principles of poetry and of story-telling, and before he wrote asong or a tale he considered both his subject and his audience, repeatingto himself his own rule: Ther nis no werkman, whatsoever he be, That may bothe werkë wel and hastily: This wol be doon at leysur, parfitly. A second quality of Chaucer is his power of observation, a power soextraordinary that, unlike other poets, he did not need to invent scenes orcharacters but only to describe what he had seen and heard in thiswonderful world. As he makes one of his characters say: For certeynly, he that me made To comen hider seydë me: I shouldë bothë hear et see In this place wonder thingës. In the _Canterbury Tales_ alone he employs more than a score ofcharacters, and hardly a romantic hero among them; rather does he delightin plain men and women, who reveal their quality not so much in theiraction as in their dress, manner, or tricks of speech. For Chaucer has theglance of an Indian, which passes over all obvious matters to light uponone significant detail; and that detail furnishes the name or the adjectiveof the object. Sometimes his descriptions of men or nature are microscopicin their accuracy, and again in a single line he awakens the reader'simagination, --as when Pandarus (in _Troilus_), in order to makehimself unobtrusive in a room where he is not wanted, picks up a manuscriptand "makes a face, " that is, he pretends to be absorbed in a story, and fand his countenance As for to loke upon an old romance. A dozen striking examples might be given, but we shall note only one. Inthe _Book of the Duchess_ the poet is in a forest, when a chase sweepsby with whoop of huntsman and clamor of hounds. After the hunt, when thewoods are all still, comes a little lost dog: Hit com and creep to me as lowë Right as hit haddë me y-knowë, Hild down his heed and jiyned his eres, And leyde al smouthë doun his heres. I wolde han caught hit, and anoon Hit fleddë and was fro me goon. [Sidenote: CHAUCER'S HUMOR] Next to his power of description, Chaucer's best quality is his humor, ahumor which is hard to phrase, since it runs from the keenest wit to thebroadest farce, yet is always kindly and human. A mendicant friar comes inout of the cold, glances about the snug kitchen for the best seat: And fro the bench he droof awey the cat. Sometimes his humor is delicate, as in touching up the foibles of theDoctor or the Man-of-law, or in the Priest's translation of Chanticleer'sevil remark about women: _In principio_ _Mulier est hominis confusio. _ Madame, the sentence of this Latin is: Woman is mannes joye and al his blis. The humor broadens in the Wife of Bath, who tells how she managed severalhusbands by making their lives miserable; and occasionally it grows alittle grim, as when the Maunciple tells the difference between a big and alittle rascal. The former does evil on a large scale, and, Lo! therfor is he cleped a Capitain; But for the outlawe hath but small meynee, And may not doon so gret an harm as he, Ne bring a countree to so gret mischeef, Men clepen him an outlawe or a theef. [Sidenote: FREEDOM FROM BIAS] A fourth quality of Chaucer is his broad tolerance, his absolutedisinterestedness. He leaves reforms to Wyclif and Langland, and can laughwith the Shipman who turns smuggler, or with the worldly Monk whose"jingling" bridle keeps others as well as himself from hearing the chapelbell. He will not even criticize the fickle Cressida for deserting Troilus, saying that men tell tales about her, which is punishment enough for anywoman. In fine, Chaucer is content to picture a world in which the rainfalleth alike upon the just and the unjust, and in which the latter seem tohave a liberal share of the umbrellas. He enjoys it all, and describes itsinhabitants as they are, not as he thinks they ought to be. The reader maythink that this or that character deserves to come to a bad end; but not soChaucer, who regards them all as kindly, as impersonally as Nature herself. So the Canterbury pilgrims are not simply fourteenth-century Englishmen;they are human types whom Chaucer met at the Tabard Inn, and whom laterEnglish writers discover on all of earth's highways. One appears unchangedin Shakespeare's drama, another in a novel of Jane Austen, a third livesover the way or down the street. From century to century they change not, save in name or dress. The poet who described or created such enduringcharacters stands among the few who are called universal writers. * * * * * CHAUCER'S CONTEMPORARIES AND SUCCESSORS Someone has compared a literary period to a wood in which a few giant oakslift head and shoulders above many other trees, all nourished by the samesoil and air. If we follow this figure, Langland and Wyclif are the onlygrowths that tower beside Chaucer, and Wyclif was a reformer who belongs toEnglish history rather than to literature. LANGLAND. William Langland (_cir_. 1332--1400) is a great figure inobscurity. We are not certain even of his name, and we must search his workto discover that he was, probably, a poor lay-priest whose life wasgoverned by two motives: a passion for the poor, which led him to pleadtheir cause in poetry, and a longing for all knowledge: All the sciences under sonnë, and all the sotyle craftës, I wolde I knew and couthë, kyndely in mynë hertë. His chief poem, _Piers Plowman_ (_cir_. 1362), is a series ofvisions in which are portrayed the shams and impostures of the age and themisery of the common people. The poem is, therefore, as the heavy shadowwhich throws into relief the bright picture of the _Canterbury Tales_. For example, while Chaucer portrays the Tabard Inn with its good cheer andmerry company, Langland goes to another inn on the next street; there helooks with pure eyes upon sad or evil-faced men and women, drinking, gaming, quarreling, and pictures a scene of physical and moral degradation. One must look on both pictures to know what an English inn was like in thefourteenth century. Because of its crude form and dialect _Piers Plowman_ is hard tofollow; but to the few who have read it and entered into Langland'svision--shared his passion for the poor, his hatred of shams, his belief inthe gospel of honest work, his humor and satire and philosophy--it is oneof the most powerful and original poems in English literature. [Footnote:The working classes were beginning to assert themselves in this age, and toproclaim "the rights of man. " Witness the followers of John Ball, and hisinfluence over the crowd when he chanted the lines: When Adam delved and Eve span, Who was then the gentleman? Langland's poem, written in the midst of the labor agitation, was the firstglorification of labor to appear in English literature. Those who read itmay make an interesting comparison between "Piers Plowman" and a modernlabor poem, such as Hood's "Song of the Shirt" or Markham's "The Man withthe Hoe. "] MALORY. Judged by its influence, the greatest prose work of the fifteenthcentury was the _Morte d'Arthur_ of Thomas Malory (d. 1471). Of theEnglish knight who compiled this work very little is known beyond this, that he sought to preserve in literature the spirit of medieval knighthoodand religion. He tells us nothing of this purpose; but Caxton, who receivedthe only known copy of Malory's manuscript and published it in 1485, seemsto have reflected the author's spirit in these words: "I according to my copy have set it in imprint, to the intent that noble men may see and learn the noble acts of chivalry, the gentle and virtuous deeds that some knyghts used in those days, by which they came to honour, and how they that were vicious were punished and put oft to shame and rebuke. .. . For herein may be seen noble chivalry, courtesy, humanity, hardness, love, friendship, cowardice, murder, hate, virtue and sin. Do after the good, and leave the evil, and it shall bring you to good fame and renommee. " [Illustration: A STREET IN CAERLEON ON USKThe traditional home of King Arthur] Malory's spirit is further indicated by the fact that he passed over allextravagant tales of foreign heroes and used only the best of the Arthurianromances. [Footnote: For the origin of the Arthurian stories see above, "Geoffrey and the Legends of Arthur" in Chapter II. An example of the waythese stories were enlarged is given by Lewis, _Beginnings of EnglishLiterature_, pp 73-76, who records the story of Arthur's death as told, first, by Geoffrey, then by Layamon, and finally by Malory, who copied thetale from French sources. If we add Tennyson's "Passing of Arthur, " weshall have the story as told from the twelfth to the nineteenth century. ]These had been left in a chaotic state by poets, and Malory brought orderout of the chaos by omitting tedious fables and arranging his material insomething like dramatic unity under three heads: the Coming of Arthur withits glorious promise, the Round Table, and the Search for the Holy Grail: "And thenne the kynge and al estates wente home unto Camelot, and soo wente to evensonge to the grete mynster, and soo after upon that to souper; and every knyght sette in his owne place as they were to forehand. Thenne anone they herd crakynge and cryenge of thonder, that hem thought the place shold alle to dryve. In the myddes of this blast entred a sonne beaume more clerer by seven tymes than ever they sawe daye, and al they were alyghted of the grace of the Holy Ghoost. Then beganne every knyghte to behold other, and eyther sawe other by theire semynge fayrer than ever they sawe afore. Not for thenne there was no knyght myghte speke one word a grete whyle, and soo they loked every man on other, as they had ben domb. Thenne ther entred into the halle the Holy Graile, covered with whyte samyte, but ther was none myghte see hit, nor who bare hit. And there was al the halle fulfylled with good odoures, and every knyght had suche metes and drynkes as he best loved in this world. And when the Holy Grayle had be borne thurgh the halle, thenne the holy vessel departed sodenly, that they wyste not where hit becam. .. . "'Now, ' said Sir Gawayne, 'we have ben served this daye of what metes and drynkes we thoughte on, but one thynge begyled us; we myght not see the Holy Grayle, it was soo precyously coverd. Therfor I wil mak here avowe, that to morne, withoute lenger abydyng, I shall laboure in the quest of the Sancgreal; that I shalle hold me oute a twelve moneth and a day, or more yf nede be, and never shalle I retorne ageyne unto the courte tyl I have sene hit more openly than hit hath ben sene here. '. .. Whan they of the Table Round herde Syr Gawayne saye so, they arose up the most party and maade suche avowes as Sire Gawayne had made. " Into this holy quest sin enters like a serpent; then in quick successiontragedy, rebellion, the passing of Arthur, the penitence of guiltyLauncelot and Guinevere. The figures fade away at last, as Shelley says ofthe figures of the Iliad, "in tenderness and inexpiable sorrow. " As the best of Malory's work is now easily accessible, we forbear furtherquotation. These old Arthurian legends, the common inheritance of allEnglish-speaking people, should be known to every reader. As they appear in_Morte d'Arthur_ they are notable as an example of fine old Englishprose, as a reflection of the enduring ideals of chivalry, and finally as astorehouse in which Spenser, Tennyson and many others have found materialfor some of their noblest poems. CAXTON. William Caxton (d. 1491) is famous for having brought the printingpress to England, but he has other claims to literary renown. He was editoras well as printer; he translated more than a score of the books which camefrom his press; and, finally, it was he who did more than any other man tofix a standard of English speech. In Caxton's day several dialects were in use, and, as we infer from one ofhis prefaces, he was doubtful which was most suitable for literature ormost likely to become the common speech of England. His doubt was dissolvedby the time he had printed the _Canterbury Tales_ and the _Morted'Arthur_. Many other works followed in the same "King's English"; hissuccessor at the printing press, Wynkyn de Worde, continued in the sameline; and when, less than sixty years after the first English book wasprinted, Tyndale's translation of the New Testament had found its way toevery shire in England, there was no longer room for doubt that theEast-Midland dialect had become the standard of the English nation. We havebeen speaking and writing that dialect ever since. [Illustration: THE ALMONRY, WESTMINSTERCaxton's printing office From an old print] [Sidenote: STORY OF THE PRINTING PRESS] The story of how printing came to England, not as a literary but as abusiness venture, is a very interesting one. Caxton was an English merchantwho had established himself at Bruges, then one of the trading centers ofEurope. There his business prospered, and he became governor of the_Domus Angliae_, or House of the English Guild of MerchantAdventurers. There is romance in the very name. With moderate wealth cameleisure to Caxton, and he indulged his literary taste by writing his ownversion of some popular romances concerning the siege of Troy, beingencouraged by the English princess Margaret, Duchess of Burgundy, intowhose service he had entered. Copies of his work being in demand, Caxton consulted the professionalcopyists, whose beautiful work we read about in a remarkable novel called_The Cloister and the Hearth_. Then suddenly came to Bruges the rumorof Gutenberg's discovery of printing from movable types, and Caxtonhastened to Germany to investigate the matter, led by the desire to getcopies of his own work as cheaply as possible. The discovery fascinatedhim; instead of a few copies of his manuscript he brought back to Bruges apress, from which he issued his _Recuyell of the Historyes of Troy_(1474), which was probably the first book to appear in English print. Quickto see the commercial advantages of the new invention, Caxton moved hisprinting press to London, near Westminster Abbey, where he brought out in1477 his _Dictes and Sayinges of the Philosophers_, the first bookever printed on English soil. [Footnote: Another book of Caxton's, _TheGame and Playe of the Chesse_ (1475) was long accorded this honor, butit is fairly certain that the book on chess-playing was printed in Bruges. ] [Sidenote: THE FIRST PRINTED BOOKS] From the very outset Caxton's venture was successful, and he was soon busyin supplying books that were most in demand. He has been criticized for notprinting the classics and other books of the New Learning; but he evidentlyknew his business and his audience, and aimed to give people what theywanted, not what he thought they ought to have. Chaucer's _CanterburyTales_, Malory's _Morte d'Arthur_, Mandeville's _Travels_, Æsop's _Fables_, parts of the _Æneid_, translations of Frenchromances, lives of the saints (The Golden Legend), cookbooks, prayer books, books of etiquette, --the list of Caxton's eighty-odd publications becomessignificant when we remember that he printed only popular books, and thatthe titles indicate the taste of the age which first looked upon the marvelof printing. POPULAR BALLADS. If it be asked, "What is a ballad?" any positive answerwill lead to disputation. Originally the ballad was probably a chant toaccompany a dance, and so it represents the earliest form of poetry. Intheory, as various definitions indicate, it is a short poem telling a storyof some exploit, usually of a valorous kind. In common practice, fromChaucer to Tennyson, the ballad is almost any kind of short poem treatingof any event, grave or gay, in any descriptive or dramatic way that appealsto the poet. For the origin of the ballad one must search far back among the socialcustoms of primitive times. That the Anglo-Saxons were familiar with itappears from the record of Tacitus, who speaks of their _carmina_ ornarrative songs; but, with the exception of "The Fight at Finnsburgh" and afew other fragments, all these have disappeared. During the Middle Ages ballads were constantly appearing among the commonpeople, [Footnote: Thus, when Sidney says, "I never heard the old song ofPercy and Douglass that I found not my heart moved more than with atrumpet, " and when Shakespeare shows Autolycus at a country fair offering"songs for men and women of all sizes, " both poets are referring to popularballads. Even later, as late as the American Revolution, history was firstwritten for the people in the form of ballads. ] but they were seldomwritten, and found no standing in polite literature. In the eighteenthcentury, however, certain men who had grown weary of the formal poetry ofPope and his school turned for relief to the old vigorous ballads of thepeople, and rescued them from oblivion. The one book to which, more thanany other, we owe the revival of interest in balladry is _Percy'sReliques of Ancient English Poetry_ (1765). [Sidenote: THE MARKS OF A BALLAD] The best of our ballads date in their present form from the fifteenth orsixteenth century; but the originals were much older, and had beentransmitted orally for years before they were recorded on manuscript. As westudy them we note, as their first characteristic, that they spring fromthe unlettered common people, that they are by unknown authors, and thatthey appear in different versions because they were changed by eachminstrel to suit his own taste or that of his audience. A second characteristic is the objective quality of the ballad, which dealsnot with a poet's thought or feeling (such subjective emotions give rise tothe lyric) but with a man or a deed. See in the ballad of "Sir PatrickSpence" (or Spens) how the unknown author goes straight to his story: The king sits in Dumferling towne, Drinking the blude-red wine: "O whar will I get guid sailor To sail this schip of mine?" Up and spak an eldern knicht, Sat at the king's richt kne: "Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor That sails upon the se. " There is a brief pause to tell us of Sir Patrick's dismay when word comesthat the king expects him to take out a ship at a time when she should beriding to anchor, then on goes the narrative: "Mak hast, mak haste, my mirry men all, Our guid schip sails the morne. " "O say na sae, my master deir, For I feir a deadlie storme: "Late, late yestreen I saw the new moone Wi the auld moone in hir arme, And I feir, I feir, my deir master, That we will cum to harme. " At the end there is no wailing, no moral, no display of the poet's feeling, but just a picture: O lang, lang may the ladies stand, Wi thair gold kems in their hair, Waiting for thair ain deir lords, For they'll se thame na mair. Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour, It's fiftie fadom deip, And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence, Wi the Scots lords at his feit. Directness, vigor, dramatic action, an ending that appeals to theimagination, --most of the good qualities of story-telling are found in thisold Scottish ballad. If we compare it with Longfellow's "Wreck of theHesperus, " we may discover that the two poets, though far apart in time andspace, have followed almost identical methods. Other good ballads, which take us out under the open sky among vigorousmen, are certain parts of "The Gest of Robin Hood, " "Mary Hamilton, " "TheWife of Usher's Well, " "The Wee Wee Man, " "Fair Helen, " "Hind Horn, ""Bonnie George Campbell, " "Johnnie O'Cockley's Well, " "Catharine Jaffray"(from which Scott borrowed his "Lochinvar"), and especially "The NutbrownMayde, " sweetest and most artistic of all the ballads, which gives apopular and happy version of the tale that Chaucer told in his "PatientGriselda. " * * * * * SUMMARY. The period included in the Age of Chaucer and the Revival of Learning covers two centuries, from 1350 to 1550. The chief literary figure of the period, and one of the greatest of English poets, is Geoffrey Chaucer, who died in the year 1400. He was greatly influenced by French and Italian models; he wrote for the middle and upper classes; his greatest work was _The Canterbury Tales_. Langland, another poet contemporary with Chaucer, is famous for his _Piers Plowman_, a powerful poem aiming at social reform, and vividly portraying the life of the common people. It is written in the old Saxon manner, with accent and alliteration, and is difficult to read in its original form. After the death of Chaucer a century and a half passed before another great writer appeared in England. The time was one of general decline in literature, and the most obvious causes were: the Wars of the Roses, which destroyed many of the patrons of literature; the Reformation, which occupied the nation with religious controversy; and the Renaissance or Revival of Learning, which turned scholars to the literature of Greece and Rome rather than to English works. In our study of the latter part of the period we reviewed: (1) the rise of the popular ballad, which was almost the only type of literature known to the common people. (2) The work of Malory, who arranged the best of the Arthurian legends in his _Morte d'Arthur. _ (3) The work of Caxton, who brought the first printing press to London, and who was instrumental in establishing the East-Midland dialect as the literary language of England. SELECTIONS FOR READING. Typical selections from all authors of the period are given in Manly, English Poetry, and English Prose; Newcomer and Andrews, Twelve Centuries of English Poetry and Prose; Ward, English Poets; Morris and Skeat, Specimens of Early English. Chaucer's Prologue, Knight's Tale, and other selections in Riverside Literature, King's Classics, and several other school series. A good single-volume edition of Chaucer's poetry is Skeat, The Student's Chaucer (Clarendon Press). A good, but expensive, modernized version is Tatlock and MacKaye, Modern Reader's Chaucer (Macmillan). Metrical version of Piers Plowman, by Skeat, in King's Classics; modernized prose version by Kate Warren, in Treasury of English Literature (Dodge). Selections from Malory's Morte d'Arthur in Athenæum Press Series (Ginn and Company); also in Camelot Series. An elaborate edition of Malory with introduction by Sommer and an essay by Andrew Lang (3 vols. , London, 1889); another with modernized text, introduction by Rhys, illustrations by Aubrey Beardsley (London, 1893). The best of the old ballads are published in Pocket Classics, and in Maynard's English Classics; a volume of ancient and modern English ballads in Ginn and Company's Classics for Children; Percy's Reliques, in Everyman's Library. Allingham, The Ballad Book; Hazlitt, Popular Poetry of England; Gummere, Old English Ballads; Gayley and Flaherty, Poetry of the People; Child, English and Scottish Popular Poetry (5 vols. ); the last-named work, edited and abridged by Kittredge, in one volume. BIBLIOGRAPHY. The following works have been sifted from a much larger number dealing with the age of Chaucer and the Revival of Learning. More extended works, covering the entire field of English history and literature, are listed in the General Bibliography. _HISTORY_. Snell, the Age of Chaucer; Jusserand, Wayfaring Life in the Fourteenth Century; Jenks, In the Days of Chaucer; Trevelyan, In the Age of Wyclif; Coulton, Chaucer and His England; Denton, England in the Fifteenth Century; Green, Town Life in the Fifteenth Century; Einstein, The Italian Renaissance in England; Froissart, Chronicles; Lanier, The Boy's Froissart. _LITERATURE_. Ward, Life of Chaucer (English Men of Letters Series); Kittredge, Chaucer and His Poetry (Harvard University Press); Pollard, Chaucer Primer; Lounsbury, Studies in Chaucer; Lowell's essay in My Study Windows; essay by Hazlitt, in Lectures on the English Poets; Jusserand, Piers Plowman; Roper, Life of Sir Thomas More. _FICTION AND POETRY_. Lytton, Last of the Barons; Yonge, Lances of Lynwood; Scott, Marmion; Shakespeare, Richard II, Henry IV, Richard III; Bates and Coman, English History Told by English Poets. CHAPTER IV THE ELIZABETHAN AGE (1550-1620) This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, . .. This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England! Shakespeare, _King Richard II_ HISTORICAL BACKGROUND. In such triumphant lines, falling from the lips of that old imperialist John of Gaunt, did Shakespeare reflect, not the rebellious spirit of the age of Richard II, but the boundless enthusiasm of his own times, when the defeat of Spain's mighty Armada had left England "in splendid isolation, " unchallenged mistress of her own realm and of the encircling sea. For it was in the latter part of Elizabeth's reign that England found herself as a nation, and became conscious of her destiny as a world empire. There is another and darker side to the political shield, but the student of literature is not concerned with it. We are to remember the patriotic enthusiasm of the age, overlooking the frequent despotism of "good Queen Bess" and entering into the spirit of national pride and power that thrilled all classes of Englishmen during her reign, if we are to understand the outburst of Elizabethan literature. Nearly two centuries of trouble and danger had passed since Chaucer died, and no national poet had appeared in England. The Renaissance came, and the Reformation, but they brought no great writers with them. During the first thirty years of Elizabeth's reign not a single important literary work was produced; then suddenly appeared the poetry of Spenser and Chapman, the prose of Hooker, Sidney and Bacon, the dramas of Marlowe, Shakespeare, Ben Jonson and a score of others, --all voicing the national feeling after the defeat of the Armada, and growing silent as soon as the enthusiasm began to wane. LITERARY CHARACTERISTICS. Next to the patriotic spirit of Elizabethanliterature, its most notable qualities are its youthful freshness andvigor, its romantic spirit, its absorption in the theme of love, itsextravagance of speech, its lively sense of the wonder of heaven and earth. The ideal beauty of Spenser's poetry, the bombast of Marlowe, the boundlesszest of Shakespeare's historical plays, the romantic love celebrated inunnumbered lyrics, --all these speak of youth, of springtime, of the joy andthe heroic adventure of human living. This romantic enthusiasm of Elizabethan poetry and prose may be explainedby the fact that, besides the national impulse, three other inspiringinfluences were at work. The first in point of time was the rediscovery ofthe classics of Greece and Rome, --beautiful old poems, which were as new tothe Elizabethans as to Keats when he wrote his immortal sonnet, beginning: Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold. The second awakening factor was the widespread interest in nature and thephysical sciences, which spurred many another Elizabethan besides Bacon to"take all knowledge for his province. " This new interest was generallyromantic rather than scientific, was more concerned with marvels, like thephilosopher's stone that would transmute all things to gold, than with thesimple facts of nature. Bacon's chemical changes, which follow the"instincts" of metals, are almost on a par with those other changesdescribed in Shakespeare's song of Ariel: Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. The third factor which stimulated the Elizabethan imagination was thediscovery of the world beyond the Atlantic, a world of wealth, of beauty, of unmeasured opportunity for brave spirits, in regions long supposed to bepossessed of demons, monsters, Othello's impossible cannibals that each other eat, The anthropophagi, and men whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders. [Sidenote: THE NEW WORLD] When Drake returned from his voyage around the world he brought to Englandtwo things: a tale of vast regions just over the world's rim that awaitedEnglish explorers, and a ship loaded to the hatches with gold and jewels. That the latter treasure was little better than a pirate's booty; that itwas stolen from the Spaniards, who had taken it from poor savages at theprice of blood and torture, --all this was not mentioned. The queen and herfavorites shared the treasure with Drake's buccaneers, and the New Worldseemed to them a place of barbaric splendor, where the savage's wattled hutwas roofed with silver, his garments beaded with all precious jewels. As apopular play of the period declares: "Why, man, all their dripping pans are pure gold! The prisoners they take are fettered in gold; and as for rubies and diamonds, they goe forth on holydayes and gather 'hem by the seashore to hang on their children's coates. " Before the American settlements opened England's eyes to the stern realityof things, it was the romance of the New World that appealed mostpowerfully to the imagination, and that influenced Elizabethan literatureto an extent which we have not yet begun to measure. FOREIGN INFLUENCE. We shall understand the imitative quality of earlyElizabethan poetry if we read it in the light of these facts: that in thesixteenth century England was far behind other European nations in culture;that the Renaissance had influenced Italy and Holland for a century beforeit crossed the Channel; that, at a time when every Dutch peasant read hisBible, the masses of English people remained in dense ignorance, and themajority of the official classes were like Shakespeare's father anddaughter in that they could neither read nor write. So, when the newnational spirit began to express itself in literature, Englishmen turned tothe more cultured nations and began to imitate them in poetry, as in dressand manners. Shakespeare gives us a hint of the matter when he makes Portiaridicule the apishness of the English. In _The Merchant of Venice_(Act I, scene 2) the maid Nerissa is speaking of various princely suitorsfor Portia's hand. She names them over, Frenchman, Italian, Scotsman, German; but Portia makes fun of them all. The maid tries again: _Nerissa_. What say you, then, to Falconbridge, the young baron of England? _Portia_. You know I say nothing to him, for he understands not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian; and you will come into the court and swear that I have a poor pennyworth in the English. He is a proper man's picture, but, alas, who can converse with a dumb show? How oddly he is suited! I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Germany and his behaviour every where. When Wyatt and Surrey brought the sonnet to England, they brought also thehabit of imitating the Italian poets; and this habit influenced Spenser andother Elizabethans even more than Chaucer had been influenced by Dante andPetrarch. It was the fashion at that time for Italian gentlemen to writepoetry; they practiced the art as they practiced riding or fencing; andpresently scores of Englishmen followed Sidney's example in taking up thisphase of foreign education. It was also an Italian custom to publish theworks of amateur poets in the form of anthologies, and soon there appearedin England _The Paradise of Dainty Devices, A Gorgeous Gallery of GallantInventions_ and other such collections, the best of which was_England's Helicon_ (1600). Still another foreign fashion was that ofwriting a series of sonnets to some real or imaginary mistress; and thatthe fashion was followed in England is evident from Spenser's_Amoretti_, Sidney's _Astrophel and Stella_, Shakespeare's_Sonnets_, and other less-famous effusions. * * * * * SPENSER AND THE LYRIC POETS [Illustration: MICHAEL DRAYTON] LYRICS OF LOVE. Love was the subject of a very large part of the minorpoems of the period, the monotony being relieved by an occasional ballad, such as Drayton's "Battle of Agincourt" and his "Ode to the VirginianVoyage, " the latter being one of the first poems inspired by the New World. Since love was still subject to literary rules, as in the metricalromances, it is not strange that most Elizabethan lyrics seem to the modernreader artificial. They deal largely with goddesses and airy shepherd folk;they contain many references to classic characters and scenes, to Venus, Olympus and the rest; they are nearly all characterized by extravagance oflanguage. A single selection, "Apelles' Song" by Lyly, may serve as typicalof the more fantastic love lyrics: Cupid and my Campaspe played At cards for kisses; Cupid paid. He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows, His mother's doves and team of sparrows: Loses them too; then down he throws The coral of his lip, the rose Growing on's cheek (but none knows how); With these the crystal of his brow, And then the dimple of his chin. All these did my Campaspe win. At last he set her both his eyes; She won, and Cupid blind did rise. O Love, has she done this to thee? What shall, alas! become of me? MUSIC AND POETRY. Another reason for the outburst of lyric poetry inElizabethan times was that choral music began to be studied, and there wasgreat demand for new songs. Then appeared a theory of the close relationbetween poetry and music, which was followed by the American poet Laniermore than two centuries later. [Footnote: Much of Lanier's verse seems morelike a musical improvisation than like an ordinary poem. His theory thatmusic and poetry are subject to the same laws is developed in his_Science of English Verse. _ It is interesting to note that Lanier'sancestors were musical directors at the courts of Elizabeth and of JamesI. ] This interesting theory is foreshadowed in several minor works of theperiod; for example, in Barnfield's sonnet "To R. L. , " beginning: If music and sweet poetry agree, As they must needs, the sister and the brother, Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me, Because thou lov'st the one, and I the other. The stage caught up the new fashion, and hundreds of lyrics appeared in theElizabethan drama, such as Dekker's "Content" (from the play of _PatientGrissell), which almost sets itself to music as we read it: Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers? O sweet content! Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexed? O punishment! Dost laugh to see how fools are vexed To add to golden numbers golden numbers? O sweet content, O sweet, O sweet content! _Work apace, apace, apace, apace! Honest labour bears a lovely face. Then hey noney, noney; hey noney, noney!_ Canst drink the waters of the crisped spring? O sweet content! Swim'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears? O punishment! Then he that patiently want's burden bears No burden bears, but is a king, a king. O sweet content, O sweet, O sweet content! So many lyric poets appeared during this period that we cannot hereclassify them; and it would be idle to list their names. The best place tomake acquaintance with theo is not in a dry history of literature, but insuch a pleasant little book as Palgrave's _Golden Treasury_, wheretheir best work is accessible to every reader. * * * * * EDMUND SPENSER (1552-1599) Spenser was the second of the great English poets, and it is but natural tocompare him with Chaucer, who was the first. In respect of time nearly twocenturies separate these elder poets; in all other respects, in aims, ideals, methods, they are as far apart as two men of the same race can wellbe. LIFE. Very little is known of Spenser; he appears in the light, then vanishes into the shadow, like his Arthur of _The Faery Queen_. We see him for a moment in the midst of rebellion in Ireland, or engaged in the scramble for preferment among the queen's favorites; he disappears, and from his obscurity comes a poem that is like the distant ringing of a chapel bell, faintly heard in the clatter of the city streets. We shall try here to understand this poet by dissolving some of the mystery that envelops him. He was born in London, and spent his youth amid the political and religious dissensions of the times of Mary and Elizabeth. For all this turmoil Spenser had no stomach; he was a man of peace, of books, of romantic dreams. He was of noble family, but poor; his only talent was to write poetry, and as poetry would not buy much bread in those days, his pride of birth was humbled in seeking the patronage of nobles: Full little knowest thou, that hast not tried, What hell it is in suing long to bide: . .. To fawn, to crouch, to wait, to ride, to run, To spend, to give, to want, to be undone. To the liberality of a patron he owed his education at Cambridge. It was then the heyday of Renaissance studies, and Spenser steeped himself in Greek, Latin and Italian literatures. Everything that was antique was then in favor at the universities; there was a revival of interest in Old-English poetry, which accounts largely for Spenser's use of obsolete words and his imitation of Chaucer's spelling. After graduation he spent some time in the north of England, probably as a tutor, and had an unhappy love affair, which he celebrated in his poems to Rosalind. Then he returned to London, lived by favor in the houses of Sidney and Leicester, and through these powerful patrons was appointed secretary to Lord Grey de Wilton, the queen's deputy in Ireland. [Illustration: EDMUND SPENSER] [Sidenote: SPENSER'S EXILE] From this time on our poet is represented as a melancholy Spenser's "exile, " but that is a poetic fiction. At that time Ireland, having refused to follow the Reformation, was engaged in a desperate struggle for civil and religious liberty. Every English army that sailed to crush this rebellion was accompanied by a swarm of parasites, each inspired by the hope of getting one of the rich estates that were confiscated from Irish owners. Spenser seems to have been one of these expectant adventurers who accompanied Lord Grey in his campaign of brutality. To the horrors of that campaign the poet was blind; [Footnote: The barbarism of Spenser's view, a common one at that time, is reflected in his _View of the Present State of Ireland. _ Honorable warfare on land or sea was unknown in Elizabeth's day. Scores of pirate ships of all nations were then openly preying on commerce. Drake, Frobisher and many other Elizabethan "heroes" were at times mere buccaneers who shared their plunder with the queen. In putting down the Irish rebellion Lords Grey and Essex used some of the same horrible methods employed by the notorious Duke of Alva in the Netherlands. ] his sympathies were all for his patron Grey, who appears in The Faery Queen as Sir Artegall, "the model of true justice. " For his services Spenser was awarded the castle of Kilcolman and 3000 acres of land, which had been taken from the Earl of Desmond. In the same way Raleigh became an Irish landlord, with 40, 000 acres to his credit; and so these two famous Elizabethans were thrown together in exile, as they termed it. Both longed to return to England, to enjoy London society and the revenues of Irish land at the same time, but unfortunately one condition of their immense grants was that they should occupy the land and keep the rightful owners from possessing it. [Sidenote: WORK IN IRELAND] In Ireland Spenser began to write his masterpiece _The Faery Queen_. Raleigh, to whom the first three books were read, was so impressed by the beauty of the work that he hurried the poet off to London, and gained for him the royal favor. In the poem "Colin Clout's Come Home Again" we may read Spenser's account of how the court impressed him after his sojourn in Ireland. [Illustration: RALEIGH'S BIRTHPLACE, BUDLEIGH SALTERTON. Hayes, Devonshire] The publication of the first parts of _The Faery Queen_ (1590) raised Spenser to the foremost place in English letters. He was made poet-laureate, and used every influence of patrons and of literary success to the end that he be allowed to remain in London, but the queen was flint-hearted, insisting that he must give up his estate or occupy it. So he returned sorrowfully to "exile, " and wrote three more books of _The Faery Queen_. To his other offices was added that of sheriff of County Cork, an adventurous office for any man even in times of peace, and for a poet, in a time of turmoil, an invitation to disaster. Presently another rebellion broke out, Kilcolman castle was burned, and the poet's family barely escaped with their lives. It was said by Ben Jonson that one of Spenser's children and some parts of _The Faery Queen_ perished in the fire, but the truth of the saying has not been established. Soon after this experience, which crushed the poet's spirit, he was ordered on official business to London, and died on the journey in 1599. As he was buried beside Chaucer, in Westminster Abbey, poets were seen casting memorial verses and the pens that had written them into his tomb. [Sidenote: CHARACTER] In character Spenser was unfitted either for the intrigues among Elizabeth's favorites or for the more desperate scenes amid which his Lot was cast. Unlike his friend Raleigh, who was a man of action, Spenser was essentially a dreamer, and except in Cambridge he seems never to have felt at home. His criticism of the age as barren and hopeless, and the melancholy of the greater part of his work, indicate that for him, at least, the great Elizabethan times were "out of joint. " The world, which thinks of Spenser as a great poet, has forgotten that he thought of himself as a disappointed man. WORKS OF SPENSER. The poems of Spenser may be conveniently grouped in threeclasses. In the first are the pastorals of _The Shepherd's Calendar_, in which he reflects some of the poetical fashions of his age. In thesecond are the allegories of _The Faery Queen_, in which he picturesthe state of England as a struggle between good and evil. In the thirdclass are his occasional poems of friendship and love, such as the_Amoretti_. All his works are alike musical, and all remote fromordinary life, like the eerie music of a wind harp. [Sidenote: SHEPHERD'S CALENDAR] _The Shepherd's Calendar_ (1579) is famous as the poem which announcedthat a successor to Chaucer had at last appeared in England. It is anamateurish work in which Spenser tried various meters; and to analyze it isto discover two discordant elements, which we may call fashionable poetryand puritanic preaching. Let us understand these elements clearly, forapart from them the _Calendar_ is a meaningless work. It was a fashion among Italian poets to make eclogues or pastoral poemsabout shepherds, their dancing, piping, love-making, --everything except ashepherd's proper business. Spenser followed this artificial fashion in his_Calendar_ by making twelve pastorals, one for each month of the year. These all take the form of conversations, accompanied by music and dancing, and the personages are Cuddie, Diggon, Hobbinoll, and other fantasticshepherds. According to poetic custom these should sing only of love; butin Spenser's day religious controversy was rampant, and flattery might notbe overlooked by a poet who aspired to royal favor. So while the Januarypastoral tells of the unhappy love of Colin Clout (Spenser) for Rosalind, the springtime of April calls for a song in praise of Elizabeth: Lo, how finely the Graces can it foot To the instrument! They dancen deffly and singen soote, In their merriment. Wants not a fourth Grace to make the dance even? Let that room to my Lady be yeven. She shall be a Grace, To fill the fourth place, And reign with the rest in heaven. In May the shepherds are rival pastors of the Reformation, who end theirsermons with an animal fable; in summer they discourse of Puritan theology;October brings them to contemplate the trials and disappointments of apoet, and the series ends with a parable comparing life to the four seasonsof the year. The moralizing of _The Shepherd's Calendar_ and the uncouth spellingwhich Spenser affected detract from the interest of the poem; but one whohas patience to read it finds on almost every page some fine poetic line, and occasionally a good song, like the following (from the August pastoral)in which two shepherds alternately supply the lines of a roundelay: Sitting upon a hill so high, Hey, ho, the high hill! The while my flock did feed thereby, The while the shepherd's self did spill, I saw the bouncing Bellibone, Hey, ho, Bonnibell! Tripping over the dale alone; She can trip it very well. Well deckéd in a frock of gray, Hey, ho, gray is greet! And in a kirtle of green say; The green is for maidens meet. A chaplet on her head she wore, Hey, ho, chapelet! Of sweet violets therein was store, She sweeter than the violet. THE FAERY QUEEN. Let us hear one of the stories of this celebrated poem, and after the tale is told we may discover Spenser's purpose in writing allthe others. [Sidenote: SIR GUYON] From the court of Gloriana, Queen of Faery, the gallant Sir Guyon sets out on adventure bent, and with him is a holy Palmer, or pilgrim, to protect him from the evil that lurks by every wayside. Hardly have the two entered the first wood when they fall into the hands of the wicked Archimago, who spends his time in devising spells or enchantments for the purpose of leading honest folk astray. For all he did was to deceive good knights, And draw them from pursuit of praise and fame. Escaping from the snare, Guyon hears a lamentation, and turns aside to find a beautiful woman dying beside a dead knight. Her story is, that her man has been led astray by the Lady Acrasia, who leads many knights to her Bower of Bliss, and there makes them forget honor and knightly duty. Guyon vows to right this wrong, and proceeds on the adventure. With the Palmer and a boatman he embarks in a skiff and crosses the Gulf of Greediness, deadly whirlpools on one side, and on the other the Magnet Mountain with wrecks of ships strewed about its foot. Sighting the fair Wandering Isles, he attempts to land, attracted here by a beautiful damsel, there by a woman in distress; but the Palmer tells him that these seeming women are evil shadows placed there to lead men astray. Next he meets the monsters of the deep, "sea-shouldering whales, " "scolopendras, " "grisly wassermans, " "mighty monoceroses with unmeasured tails. " Escaping these, he meets a greater peril in the mermaids, who sing to him alluringly: This is port of rest from troublous toil, The world's sweet inn from pain and wearisome turmoil. Many other sea-dangers are passed before Guyon comes to land, where he is immediately charged by a bellowing herd of savage beasts. Only the power of the Palmer's holy staff saves the knight from annihilation. This is the last physical danger which Guyon encounters. As he goes forward the country becomes an earthly paradise, where pleasures call to him from every side. It is his soul, not his body, which is now in peril. Here is the Palace of Pleasure, its wondrous gates carved with images representing Jason's search for the Golden Fleece. Beyond it are parks, gardens, fountains, and the beautiful Lady Excess, who squeezes grapes into a golden cup and offers it to Guyon as an invitation to linger. The scene grows ever more entrancing as he rejects the cup of Excess and pushes onward: Eftsoones they heard a most melodious sound Of all that mote delight a dainty ear, Such as at once might not on living ground, Save in this paradise, be heard elsewhere: Right hard it was for wight which did it hear To read what manner music that mote be; For all that pleasing is to living ear Was there consorted in one harmony; Birds, voices, instruments, winds, waters, all agree. Amid such allurements Guyon comes at last to where beautiful Acrasia lives, with knights who forget their knighthood. From the open portal comes a melody, the voice of an unseen singer lifting up the old song of Epicurus and of Omar: Gather the rose of love whilst yet is time. The following scenes in the Bower of Bliss were plainly suggested by the Palace of Circe, in the _Odyssey_; but where Homer is direct, simple, forceful, Spenser revels in luxuriant details. He charms all Guyon's senses with color, perfume, beauty, harmony; then he remembers that he is writing a moral poem, and suddenly his delighted knight turns reformer. He catches Acrasia in a net woven by the Palmer, and proceeds to smash her exquisite abode with puritanic thoroughness: But all those pleasaunt bowers and palace brave Guyon brake down with rigour pitilesse. As they fare forth after the destruction, the herd of horrible beasts is again encountered, and lo! all these creatures are men whom Acrasia has transformed into brutal shapes. The Palmer "strooks" them all with his holy staff, and they resume their human semblance. Some are glad, others wroth at the change; and one named Grylle, who had been a hog, reviles his rescuers for disturbing him; which gives the Palmer a final chance to moralize: Let Grylle be Grylle and have his hoggish mind; But let us hence depart while weather serves and wind. [Sidenote: OTHER STORIES] Such is Spenser's story of Sir Guyon, or Temperance. It is a long story, drifting through eighty-seven stanzas, but it is only a final chapter orcanto of the second book of _The Faery Queen_. Preceding it are elevenother cantos which serve as an introduction. So leisurely is Spenser intelling a tale! One canto deals with the wiles of Archimago and of the"false witch" Duessa; in another the varlet Braggadocchio steals Guyon'shorse and impersonates a knight, until he is put to shame by the fairhuntress Belphoebe, who is Queen Elizabeth in disguise. Now Elizabeth had ahawk face which was far from comely, but behold how it appeared to a poet: Her face so fair, as flesh it seemëd not, But heavenly portrait of bright angel's hue, Clear as the sky, withouten blame or blot, Through goodly mixture of complexions due; And in her cheek the vermeil red did shew Like roses in a bed of lilies shed, The which ambrosial odours from them threw And gazers' sense with double pleasure fed, Able to heal the sick and to revive the dead. There are a dozen more stanzas devoted to her voice, her eyes, her hair, her more than mortal beauty. Other cantos of the same book are devoted toGuyon's temptations; to his victories over Furor and Mammon; to his rescueof the Lady Alma, besieged by a horde of villains in her fair Castle ofTemperance. In this castle was an aged man, blind but forever doting overold records; and this gives Spenser the inspiration for another long cantodevoted to the ancient kings of Britain. So all is fish that comes to thispoet's net; but as one who is angling for trout is vexed by the nibbling ofchubs, the reader grows weary of Spenser's story before his story reallybegins. [Sidenote: THE FIRST BOOK] Other books of _The Faery Queen_ are so similar in character to theone just described that a canto from any one of them may be placed withoutchange in any other. In the first book, for example, the Redcross Knight(Holiness) fares forth accompanied by the Lady Una (Religion). Straightwaythey meet the enchanter Archimago, who separates them by fraud and magic. The Redcross Knight, led to believe that his Una is false, comes, aftermany adventures, to Queen Lucifera in the House of Pride; meanwhile Unawanders alone amidst perils, and by her beauty subdues the lion and thesatyrs of the wood. The rest of the book recounts their adventures withpaynims, giants and monsters, with Error, Avarice, Falsehood and otherallegorical figures. It is impossible to outline such a poem, for the simple reason that it hasno outlines. It is a phantasmagoria of beautiful and grotesque shapes, ofromance, morality and magic. Reading it is like watching cloud masses, aloft and remote, in which the imagination pictures men, monsters, landscapes, which change as we view them without cause or consequence. Though _The Faery Queen_ is overfilled with adventure, it has noaction, as we ordinarily understand the term. Its continual motion iswithout force or direction, like the vague motions of a dream. [Sidenote: PLAN OF THE FAERY QUEEN] What, then, was Spenser's object in writing _The Faery Queen_? Hisprofessed object was to use poetry in the service of morality by portrayingthe political and religious affairs of England as emblematic of a worldwideconflict between good and evil. According to his philosophy (which, hetells us, he borrowed from Aristotle) there were twelve chief virtues, andhe planned twelve books to celebrate them. [Footnote: Only six of thesebooks are extant, treating of the Redcross Knight or Holiness, Sir Guyon orTemperance, Britomartis or Chastity, Cambel and Triamond or Friendship, SirArtegall or Justice, and Sir Calidore or Courtesy. The rest of theallegory, if written, may have been destroyed in the fire of Kilcolman. ] Ineach book a knight or a lady representing a single virtue goes forth intothe world to conquer evil. In all the books Arthur, or Magnificence (thesum of all virtue), is apt to appear in any crisis; Lady Una representsreligion; Archimago is another name for heresy, and Duessa for falsehood;and in order to give point to Spenser's allegory the courtiers andstatesmen of the age are all flattered as glorious virtues or condemned asugly vices. [Sidenote: THE ALLEGORY] Those who are fond of puzzles may delight in giving names and dates tothese allegorical personages, in recognizing Elizabeth in Belphoebe orBritomart or Marcella, Sidney in the Redcross Knight, Leicester in Arthur, Raleigh in Timias, Mary Stuart in Duessa, and so on through the list ofcharacters good or evil. The beginner will wisely ignore all suchinterpretation, and for two reasons: first, because Spenser's allegoriesare too shadowy to be taken seriously; and second, because as a chroniclerof the times he is outrageously partisan and untrustworthy. In short, tosearch for any reality in _The Faery Queen_ is to spoil the poem as awork of the imagination. "If you do not meddle with the allegory, " saidHazlitt, "the allegory will not meddle with you. " MINOR POEMS. The minor poems of Spenser are more interesting, because morehuman, than the famous work which we have just considered. Prominent amongthese poems are the _Amoretti_, a collection of sonnets written inhonor of the Irish girl Elizabeth, who became the poet's wife. They areartificial, to be sure, but no more so than other love poems of the period. In connection with a few of these sonnets may be read Spenser's four"Hymns" (in honor of Love, Beauty, Heavenly Love and Heavenly Beauty) andespecially his "Epithalamium, " a marriage hymn which Brooke calls, withpardonable enthusiasm, "the most glorious love song in the Englishlanguage. " A CRITICISM OF SPENSER. In reading _The Faery Queen_ one must note thecontrast between Spenser's matter and his manner. His matter is: religion, chivalry, mythology, Italian romance, Arthurian legends, the struggles ofSpain and England on the Continent, the Reformation, the turmoil ofpolitical parties, the appeal of the New World, --a summary of all stirringmatters that interested his own tumultuous age. His manner is the reverseof what one might expect under the circumstances. He writes no stirringepic of victory or defeat, and never a downright word of a downright man, but a dreamy, shadowy narrative as soothing as the abode of Morpheus: And, more to lulle him in his slumber soft, A trickling stream from high rock tumbling downe, And ever-drizzling rain upon the loft, Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne Of swarming bees, did cast him in a swowne. No other noyse, nor people's troublous cryes, As still are wont t' annoy the wallëd towne, Might there be heard; but careless Quiet lyes Wrapt in eternal silence far from enemyes. Such stanzas (and they abound in every book of _The Faery Queen_) arepoems in themselves; but unfortunately they distract attention from thestory, which soon loses all progression and becomes as the rocking of anidle boat on the swell of a placid sea. The invention of this melodiousstanza, ever since called "Spenserian, " was in itself a notable achievementwhich influenced all subsequent English poetry. [Footnote: The Spenserianwas an improvement on the _ottava-rima_, or eight-line stanza, of theItalians. It has been used by Burns in "The Cotter's Saturday Night, " byShelley in "The Revolt of Islam, " by Byron in "Childe Harold, " by Keats in"The Eve of St. Agnes, " and by many other poets. ] [Sidenote: SPENSER'S FAULTS] As Spenser's faults cannot be ignored, let us be rid of them as quickly aspossible. We record, then: the unreality of his great work; its lack ofhuman interest, which causes most of us to drop the poem after a singlecanto; its affected antique spelling; its use of _fone_ (foes), _dan_ (master), _teene_ (trouble), _swink_ (labor), and ofmany more obsolete words; its frequent torturing of the king's English tomake a rime; its utter lack of humor, appearing in such absurd lines as, Astond he stood, and up his hair did hove. [Sidenote: MORAL IDEAL] Such defects are more than offset by Spenser's poetic virtues. We note, first, the moral purpose which allies him with the medieval poets in aim, but not in method. By most medieval romancers virtue was regarded as ameans to an end, as in the _Morte d' Arthur_, where a knight made avow of purity in order to obtain a sight of the Holy Grail. With Spenservirtue is not a means but an end, beautiful and desirable for its own sake;while sin is so pictured that men avoid it because of its intrinsicugliness. This is the moral secret of _The Faery Queen_, in whichvirtues are personified as noble knights or winsome women, while the vicesappear in the repulsive guise of hags, monsters and "loathy beasts. " [Sidenote: SENSE OF BEAUTY] Spenser's sense of ideal beauty or, as Lanier expressed it, "the beauty ofholiness and the holiness of beauty, " is perhaps his greatest poeticquality. He is the poet-painter of the Renaissance; he fills his pages withdescriptions of airy loveliness, as Italian artists covered the highceilings of Venice with the reflected splendor of earth and heaven. Moreover, his sense of beauty found expression in such harmonious linesthat one critic describes him as having set beautiful figures moving toexquisite music. In consequence of this beauty and melody, Spenser has been the inspirationof nearly all later English singers. Milton was one of the first to callhim master, and then in a long succession such diverse poets as Dryden, Burns, Wordsworth, Scott, Shelley, Keats, Byron, Tennyson and Swinburne. The poet of "Faery" has influenced all these and more so deeply that he haswon the distinctive title of "the poets' poet. " * * * * * THE DRAMATISTS "Few events in our literary history are so startling as this sudden rise ofthe Elizabethan drama, " says Green in his _History of the EnglishPeople_, and his judgment is echoed by other writers who speak of the"marvelous efflorescence" of the English drama as a matter beyondexplanation. Startling it may be, with its frank expression of a nation'slife, the glory and the shame of it; but there is nothing sudden orinexplicable about it, as we may see by reviewing the history ofplaywriting in England. THE RELIGIOUS DRAMA. In its simplicity the drama is a familiar story retoldto the eye by actors who "make believe" that they are the heroes of theaction. In this elemental form the play is almost as old as humanity. Indeed, it seems to be a natural impulse of children to act a story whichhas given them pleasure; of primitive men also, who from time immemorialhave kept alive the memory of tribal heroes by representing their deeds inplay or pantomime. Thus, certain parts of _Hiawatha_ are survivals ofdramatic myths that were once acted at the spring assembly of the AlgonquinIndians. An interesting fact concerning these primitive dramas, whether inIndia or Greece or Persia, is that they were invariably associated withsome religious belief or festival. [Sidenote: THE FIRST MIRACLES] A later example of this is found in the Church, which at an early age beganto make its holy-day services more impressive by means of Miracle plays andMysteries. [Footnote: In France any play representing the life of a saintwas called _miracle_, and a play dealing with the life of Christ wascalled _mystère_. In England no such distinction was made, the name"Miracle" being given to any drama dealing with Bible history or with thelives of the saints. ] At Christmas time, for example, the beautiful storyof Bethlehem would be made more vivid by placing in a corner of the parishchurch an image of a babe in a manger, with shepherds and the Magi at hand, and the choir in white garments chanting the _Gloria in excelsis_. Other festivals were celebrated in a similar way until a cycle of simpledramas had been prepared, clustering around four cardinal points ofChristian teaching; namely, Creation, the Fall, Redemption, and Doomsday orthe Last Judgment. [Sidenote: GROWTH OF THE MIRACLES] At first such plays were given in the church, and were deeply religious inspirit. They made a profound impression in England especially, where peopleflocked in such numbers to see them that presently they overflowed to thechurchyard, and from there to the city squares or the town common. Onceoutside the church, they were taken up by the guilds or trades-unions, inwhose hands they lost much of their religious character. Actors weretrained for the stage rather than for the church, and to please the crowdselements of comedy and buffoonery were introduced, [Footnote: In the"Shepherd's Play" or "Play of the Nativity, " for example, the adoration ofthe Magi is interrupted by Mak, who steals a sheep and carries it to hiswife. She hides the carcass in a cradle, and sings a lullaby to it whilethe indignant shepherds are searching the house. ] until the sacred dramadegenerated into a farce. Here and there, however, a true Miracle survivedand kept its character unspotted even to our own day, as in the famousPassion Play at Oberammergau. [Sidenote: CYCLES OF PLAYS] When and how these plays came to England is unknown. By the year 1300 theywere extremely popular, and continued so until they were replaced by theElizabethan drama. Most of the important towns of England had each its owncycle of plays [Footnote: At present only four good cycles of Miracles areknown to exist; namely, the Chester, York, Townley (or Wakefield) andCoventry plays. The number of plays varies, from twenty-five in the Chesterto forty-eight in the York cycle. ] which were given once a year, theperformance lasting from three to eight days in a prolonged festival. Everyguild responsible for a play had its own stage, which was set on wheels anddrawn about the town to appointed open places, where a crowd was waitingfor it. When it passed on, to repeat the play to a different audience, another stage took its place. The play of "Creation" would be succeeded bythe "Temptation of Adam and Eve, " and so on until the whole cycle ofMiracles from "Creation" to "Doomsday" had been performed. It was the playnot the audience that moved, and in this trundling about of the stage vanwe are reminded of Thespis, the alleged founder of Greek tragedy, who wentabout with his cart and his play from one festival to another. [Sidenote: MORALITIES] Two other dramatic types, the Morality and the Interlude, probably grew outof the religious drama. In one of the old Miracles we find two charactersnamed Truth and Righteousness, who are severe in their denunciation ofAdam, while Mercy and Peace plead for his life. Other virtues appear inother Miracles, then Death and the Seven Deadly Sins, until we have a playin which all the characters are personified virtues or vices. Such a playwas called a Morality, and it aimed to teach right conduct, as the Miracleshad at first aimed to teach right doctrine. [Sidenote: INTERLUDES] The Interlude was at first a crude sketch, a kind of ancient side show, introduced into the Miracle plays after the latter had been taken up by theguilds. A boy with a trained pig, a quarrel between husband and wife, --anyfarce was welcome so long as it amused the crowd or enlivened the Miracle. In time, however, the writing of Interludes became a profession; theyimproved rapidly in character, were separated from the Miracles, and wereperformed at entertainments or "revels" by trade guilds, by choir boys andby companies of strolling actors or "minstrels. " At the close of suchentertainments the minstrels would add a prayer for the king (aninheritance from the religious drama), and this impressive English customstill survives in the singing of "God Save the King" at the end of a publicassembly. THE SECULAR DRAMA. When the Normans came to England they brought with thema love of pageants, or spectacles, that was destined to have an importantinfluence on the drama. These pageants, representing scenes from history ormythology (such as the bout between Richard and Saladin, or the combatbetween St. George and the Dragon), were staged to celebrate feasts, royalweddings, treaties or any other event that seemed of special importance. From Norman times they increased steadily in favor until Elizabeth beganher "progresses" through England, when every castle or town must prepare aplay or pageant to entertain the royal visitor. [Sidenote: THE MASQUE] From simple pantomime the pageant developed into a masque; that is, adramatic entertainment accompanied by poetry and music. Hundreds of suchmasques were written and acted before Shakespeare's day; the taste for themsurvived long after the Elizabethan drama had decayed; and a few of them, such as _The Sad Shepherd_ of Ben Jonson and the _Comus_ ofMilton, may still be read with pleasure. [Sidenote: POPULAR COMEDY] While the nobles were thus occupied with pageants and masques, the commonpeople were developing a crude drama in which comedy predominated. Suchwere the Christmas plays or "mummings, " introducing the characters of MerryAndrew and Old King Cole, which began in England before the Conquest, andwhich survived in country places down to our own times. [Footnote: InHardy's novel _The Return of the Native_ may be found a description ofthese mummings (from "mum, " a mask) in the nineteenth century. In Scott'snovel _The Abbot_ we have a glimpse of other mummings, such as weregiven to celebrate feast days of the Church. ] More widespread than themummings were crude spectacles prepared in celebration of secularholidays, --the May Day plays, for example, which represented the adventuresof Robin Hood and his merry men. To these popular comedies the Churchcontributed liberally, though unwillingly; its holy days became holidays tothe crowd, and its solemn fasts were given over to merriment, to the_festa fatuorum_, or play of fools, in which such characters as BoyBishop, Lord of Misrule and various clowns or jesters made a scandalouscaricature of things ecclesiastical. Such plays, prepared largely by clerksand choir boys, were repeatedly denounced by priest or bishop, but theyincreased rapidly from the twelfth to the sixteenth century. [Sidenote: SPREAD OF THE DRAMA] By the latter date England seemed in danger of going spectacle-mad; and wemay understand the symptoms if we remember that the play was then almostthe only form of popular amusement; that it took the place of the modernnewspaper, novel, political election and ball game, all combined. The tradeguilds, having trained actors for the springtime Miracles, continued togive other plays throughout the year. The servants of a nobleman, havinggiven a pageant to welcome the queen, went out through the country insearch of money or adventure, and presented the same spectacle whereverthey could find an audience. When the Renaissance came, reviving interestin the classics, Latin plays were taken up eagerly and presented inmodified form by every important school or university in England. In thisway our first regular comedy, _Ralph Royster Doyster_ (written byNicholas Udall, Master of Eton, and acted by his schoolboys _cir_. 1552), was adapted from an old Latin comedy, the _Miles Gloriosus_ ofPlautus. [Sidenote: BOY ACTORS] The awakened interest in music had also its influences on the Englishdrama. The choir boys of a church were frequently called upon to furnishmusic at a play, and from this it was but a step to furnish both the playand the music. So great was the demand to hear these boys that certainchoir masters (those of St. Paul's and the Chapel Royal) obtained the rightto take any poor boy with a good voice and train him, ostensibly for theservice of the Church, but in reality to make a profitable actor out ofhim. This dangerous practice was stimulated by the fact that the feminineparts in all plays had to be taken by boys, the stage being then deemed anunfit place for a woman. And it certainly was. If a boy "took to hislines, " his services were sold from one company to another, much as thepopular ball player is now sold, but with this difference, that the poorboy had no voice or profit in the transaction. Some of these lads werecruelly treated; all were in danger of moral degradation. The abuse wasfinally suppressed by Parliament, but not until the choir-boy players wererivals of the regular companies, in which Shakespeare and Ben Jonson playedtheir parts. CLASSICAL AND ENGLISH DRAMA. At the time of Shakespeare's birth two typesof plays were represented in England. The classic drama, modeled upon Greekor Roman plays, was constructed according to the dramatic "unities, " whichAristotle foreshadowed in his _Treatise on Poetry_. According to thisauthority, every play must be concerned with a "single, important andcomplete event"; in other words, it must have "unity of action. " A secondrule, relating to "unity of time, " required that the events represented ina play must all occur within a single day. A third provided that the actionshould take place in the same locality, and this was known as the "unity ofplace. " [Footnote: The Roman philosopher and dramatist Seneca (d. 65 A. D. )is supposed to have established this rule. The influence of Aristotle onthe "unities" is a matter of dispute. ] Other rules of classic dramarequired that tragedy and comedy should not occur in the same play, andthat battles, murders and all such violent affairs should never berepresented on the stage but be announced at the proper time by amessenger. [Sidenote: THE NATIVE DRAMA] The native plays ignored these classic unities. The public demandedchronicle plays, for example, in which the action must cover years of time, and jump from court to battlefield in following the hero. Tragedy andcomedy, instead of being separated, were represented as meeting at everycrossroad or entering the church door side by side. So the most solemnMiracles were scandalized by humorous Interludes, and into the most tragicof Shakespeare's scenes entered the fool and the jester. A Greek playwrightmight object to brutalizing scenes before a cultured audience, but thecrowds who came to an Elizabethan play were of a temper to enjoy a Mohawkscalp dance. They were accustomed to violent scenes and sensations; theyhad witnessed the rack and gibbet in constant operation; they were familiarwith the sight of human heads decorating the posts of London Bridge orcarried about on the pikes of soldiers. After witnessing such horrors freeof cost, they would follow their queen and pay their money to see a chainedbear torn to pieces by ferocious bulldogs. Then they would go to a play, and throw stones or dead cats at the actors if their tastes were notgratified. To please such crowds no stage action could possibly be too rough; hencethe riotousness of the early theaters, which for safety were placed outsidethe city limits; hence also the blood and thunder of Shakespeare's_Adronicus_ and the atrocities represented in the plays of Kyd andMarlowe. [Sidenote: THE TWO SCHOOLS] Following such different ideals, two schools of playwrights appeared inEngland. One school, the University Wits, to whom we owe our first realtragedy, _Gorboduc_, [Footnote: This play, called also _Ferrex andPorrex_, was written by Sackville and Norton, and played in 1562, onlytwo years before Shakespeare's birth. It related how Gorboduc divided hisBritish kingdom between his two sons, who quarreled and threw the wholecountry into rebellion--a story much like that used by Shakespeare in_King Lear_. The violent parts of this first tragedy were notrepresented on the stage but were announced by a messenger. At the end ofeach act a "chorus" summed up the situation, as in classic tragedy. _Gorboduc_ differed from all earlier plays in that it was divided intoacts and scenes, and was written in blank verse. It is generally regardedas the first in time of the Elizabethan dramas. A few comedies divided intoacts and scenes were written before _Gorboduc_, but not in the blankverse with which we associate an Elizabethan play. ] aimed to make theEnglish drama like that of Greece and Rome. The other, or native, schoolaimed at a play which should represent life, or please the crowd, withoutregard to any rules ancient or modern. The best Elizabethan drama was acombination of classic and native elements, with the latter predominating. SHAKESPEARE'S PREDECESSORS. In a general way, all unknown men who for threecenturies had been producing miracle plays, moralities, interludes, masquesand pageants were Shakespeare's predecessors; but we refer here to a smallgroup of playwrights who rapidly developed what is now called theElizabethan drama. The time was the last quarter of the sixteenth century. By that time England was as excited over the stage as a modern communityover the "movies. " Plays were given on every important occasion by choirboys, by noblemen's servants, by court players governed by the Master ofRevels, by grammar schools and universities, by trade guilds in every shireof England. Actors were everywhere in training, and audiences gathered asto a bull-baiting whenever a new spectacle was presented. Then came theawakening of the national consciousness, the sense of English pride andpower after the defeat of the Armada, and this new national spirit foundexpression in hundreds of chronicle plays representing the past glories ofBritain. [Footnote: Over two hundred chronicle plays, representing almostevery important character in English history, appeared within a few years. Shakespeare wrote thirteen plays founded on English history, and three onthe history of other countries. ] It was at this "psychological moment, " when English patriotism was arousedand London was as the heart of England, that a group of youngactors--Greene, Lyly, Peele, Dekker, Nash, Kyd, Marlowe, and others of lessdegree--seized upon the crude popular drama, enlarged it to meet the needsof the time, and within a single generation made it such a brilliantreflection of national thought and feeling as no other age has thus farproduced. MARLOWE. The best of these early playwrights, each of whom contributed someelement of value, was Christopher Marlowe (1564-1593), who is sometimescalled the father of the Elizabethan drama. He appeared in London sometimebefore 1587, when his first drama _Tamburlaine_ took the city bystorm. The prologue of this drama is at once a criticism and a promise: From jigging veins of rhyming mother-wits, And such conceits as clownage keeps in pay, We'll lead you to the stately tent of war, Where you shall hear the Scythian Tamburlaine Threatening the world with high-astounding terms, And scourging kingdoms with his conquering sword. The "jigging" refers to the doggerel verse of the earlier drama, and"clownage" to the crude horseplay intended to amuse the crowd. For thedoggerel is substituted blank verse, "Marlowe's mighty line" as it has eversince been called, since he was the first to use it with power; and for the"clownage" he promises a play of human interest revolving around a manwhose sole ambition is for world power, --such ambition as stirred theEnglish nation when it called halt to the encroachments of Spain, andannounced that henceforth it must be reckoned with in the councils of theContinent. Though _Tamburlaine_ is largely rant and bombast, there issomething in it which fascinates us like the sight of a wild bull on arampage; for such was Timur, the hero of the first play to which weconfidently give the name Elizabethan. In the latter part of the play theaction grows more intense; there is a sense of tragedy, of impending doom, in the vain attempt of the hero to oppose fate. He can conquer a world butnot his own griefs; he ends his triumphant career with a pathetic admissionof failure: "And Tamburlaine, the Scourge of God, must die. " [Sidenote: MARLOWE'S DRAMAS] The succeeding plays of Marlowe are all built on the same model; that is, they are one-man plays, and the man is dominated by a passion for power. _Doctor Faustus_, the most poetical of Marlowe's works, is a playrepresenting a scholar who hungers for more knowledge, especially theknowledge of magic. In order to obtain it he makes a bargain with thedevil, selling his soul for twenty-four years of unlimited power andpleasure. [Footnote: The story is the same as that of Goethe's_Faust_. It was a favorite story, or rather collection of stories, ofthe Middle Ages, and was first printed as the _History of JohannFaust_ in Frankfort, in 1587. Marlowe's play was written, probably, inthe same year. ] _The Jew of Malta_ deals with the lust for such poweras wealth gives, and the hero is the money-lender Barabas, a monster ofavarice and hate, who probably suggested to Shakespeare the character ofShylock in _The Merchant of Venice_. The last play written by Marlowewas _Edward II_, which dealt with a man who might have been powerful, since he was a king, but who furnished a terrible example of weakness andpetty tyranny that ended miserably in a dungeon. After writing these four plays with their extraordinary promise, Marlowe, who led a wretched life, was stabbed in a tavern brawl. The splendid workwhich he only began (for he died under thirty years of age) was immediatelytaken up by the greatest of all dramatists, Shakespeare. * * * * * WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (1564-1616) "The name of Shakespeare is the greatest in all literature. No man ever came near to him in the creative power of the mind; no man ever had such strength and such variety of imagination. " (Hallam) "Shakespeare's mind is the horizon beyond which, at present, we do not see. " (Emerson) "I do not believe that any book or person or event in my life ever made so great an impression on me as the plays of Shakespeare. They appear to be the work of some heavenly genius. " (Goethe) Shakespeare's name has become a signal for enthusiasm. The tributes quotedabove are doubtless extravagant, but they were written by men of mark inthree different countries, and they serve to indicate the tremendousimpression which Shakespeare has left upon the world. He wrote in his daysome thirty-seven plays and a few poems; since then as many hundred volumeshave been written in praise of his accomplishment. He died three centuriesago, without caring enough for his own work to print it. At the presenttime unnumbered critics, historians, scholars, are still explaining themind and the art displayed in that same neglected work. Most of theseeulogists begin or end their volumes with the remark that Shakespeare is sogreat as to be above praise or criticism. As Taine writes, before plunginginto his own analysis, "Lofty words, eulogies are all used in vain;Shakespeare needs not praise but comprehension merely. " LIFE. It is probably because so very little is known about Shakespeare that so many bulky biographies have been written of him. Not a solitary letter of his is known to exist; not a play comes down to us as he wrote it. A few documents written by other men, and sometimes ending in a sprawling signature by Shakespeare, which looks as if made by a hand accustomed to almost any labor except that of the pen, --these are all we have to build upon. One record, in dribbling Latin, relates to the christening of "Gulielmus filius Johannes Shakspere"; a second, unreliable as a village gossip, tells an anecdote of the same person's boyhood; a third refers to Shakespeare as "one of his Majesty's poor players"; a fourth records the burial of the poet's son Hamnet; a fifth speaks of "Willi. Shakspere, gentleman"; a sixth is a bit of wretched doggerel inscribed on the poet's tombstone; a seventh tells us that in 1622, only six years after the poet's death, the public had so little regard for his art that the council of his native Stratford bribed his old company of players to go away from the town without giving a performance. It is from such dry and doubtful records that we must construct a biography, supplementing the meager facts by liberal use of our imagination. [Sidenote: EARLY DAYS] In the beautiful Warwickshire village of Stratford our poet was born, probably in the month of April, in 1564. His mother, Mary Arden, was a farmer's daughter; his father was a butcher and small tradesman, who at one time held the office of high bailiff of the village. There was a small grammar school in Stratford, and Shakespeare may have attended it for a few years. When he was about fourteen years old his father, who was often in lawsuits, was imprisoned for debt, and the boy probably left school and went to work. At eighteen he married Anne Hathaway, a peasant's daughter eight years older than himself; at twenty-three, with his father still in debt and his own family of three children to provide for, Shakespeare took the footpath that led to the world beyond his native village. [Footnote: Such is the prevalent opinion of Shakespeare's early days; but we are dealing here with surmises, not with established facts. There are scholars who allege that Shakespeare's poverty is a myth; that his father was prosperous to the end of his days; that he probably took the full course in Latin and Greek at the Stratford school. Almost everything connected with the poet's youth is still a matter of dispute. ] [Sidenote: IN LONDON] From Stratford he went to London, from solitude to crowds, from beautiful rural scenes to dirty streets, from natural country people to seekers after the bubble of fame or fortune. Why he went is largely a matter of speculation. That he was looking for work; that he followed a company of actors, as a boy follows a circus; that he was driven out of Stratford after poaching on the game preserves of Sir Thomas Lucy, whom he ridiculed in the plays of _Henry VI_ and _Merry Wives_, --these and other theories are still debated. The most probable explanation of his departure is that the stage lured him away, as the printing press called the young Franklin from whatever else he undertook; for he seems to have headed straight for the theater, and to have found his place not by chance or calculation but by unerring instinct. England was then, as we have noted, in danger of going stage mad, and Shakespeare appeared to put method into the madness. [Sidenote: ACTOR AND PLAYWRIGHT] Beginning, undoubtedly, as an actor of small parts, he soon learned the tricks of the stage and the humors of his audience. His first dramatic work was to revise old plays, giving them some new twist or setting to please the fickle public. Then he worked with other playwrights, with Lyly and Peele perhaps, and the horrors of his _Titus Andronicus_ are sufficient evidence of his collaboration with Marlowe. Finally he walked alone, having learned his steps, and _Romeo and Juliet_ and _Midsummer Nights Dream_ announced that a great poet and dramatist had suddenly appeared in England. [Illustration: THE LIBRARY, STRATFORD GRAMMAR SCHOOL ATTENDED BY SHAKESPEARE] [Sidenote: PERIOD OF GLOOM] This experimental period of Shakespeare's life in London was apparently a time of health, of joyousness, of enthusiasm which comes with the successful use of one's powers. It was followed by a period of gloom and sorrow, to which something of bitterness was added. What occasioned the change is again a matter of speculation. The first conjecture is that Shakespeare was a man to whom the low ideals of the Elizabethan stage were intolerable, and this opinion is strengthened after reading certain of Shakespeare's sonnets, which reflect a loathing for the theaters and the mannerless crowds that filled them. Another conjectural cause of his gloom was the fate of certain noblemen with whom he was apparently on terms of friendship, to whom he dedicated his poems, and from whom he received substantial gifts of money. Of these powerful friends, the Earl of Essex was beheaded for treason, Pembroke was banished, and Southampton had gone to that grave of so many high hopes, the Tower of London. Shakespeare may have shared the sorrow of these men, as once he had shared their joy, and there are critics who assume that he was personally implicated in the crazy attempt of Essex at rebellion. Whatever the cause of his grief, Shakespeare shows in his works that he no longer looks on the world with the clear eyes of youth. The great tragedies of this period, _Lear_, _Macbeth_, _Hamlet_, _Othello_ and _Cæsar_, all portray man not as a being of purpose and high destiny, but as the sport of chance, the helpless victim who cries out, as in _Henry IV_, for a sight of the Book of Fate, wherein is shown how chances mock, And changes fill the cup of alteration With divers liquors! O, if this were seen, The happiest youth, viewing his progress through, What perils past, what crosses to ensue, Would shut the book, and sit him down and die. [Sidenote: RETURN TO STRATFORD] For such a terrible mood London offered no remedy. For a time Shakespeare seems to have gloried in the city; then he wearied of it, grew disgusted with the stage, and finally, after some twenty-four years (_cir_. 1587-1611), sold his interest in the theaters, shook the dust of London from his feet, and followed his heart back to Stratford. There he adopted the ways of a country gentleman, and there peace and serenity returned to him. He wrote comparatively little after his retirement; but the few plays of this last period, such as _Cymbeline_, _Winter's Tale_ and _The Tempest_, are the mellowest of all his works. [Sidenote: SHAKESPEARE THE MAN] After a brief period of leisure, Shakespeare died at his prime in 1616, and was buried in the parish church of Stratford. Of his great works, now the admiration of the world, he thought so little that he never collected or printed them. From these works many attempts are made to determine the poet's character, beliefs, philosophy, --a difficult matter, since the works portray many types of character and philosophy equally well. The testimony of a few contemporaries is more to the point, and from these we hear that our poet was "very good company, " "of such civil demeanor, " "of such happy industry, " "of such excellent fancy and brave notions, " that he won in a somewhat brutal age the characteristic title of "the gentle Shakespeare. " THE DRAMAS OF SHAKESPEARE. In Shakespeare's day playwrights were producingvarious types of drama: the chronicle play, representing the glories ofEnglish history; the domestic drama, portraying homely scenes and commonpeople; the court comedy (called also Lylian comedy, after the dramatistwho developed it), abounding in wit and repartee for the delight of theupper classes; the melodrama, made up of sensational elements throwntogether without much plot; the tragedy of blood, centering in onecharacter who struggles amidst woes and horrors; romantic comedy andromantic tragedy, in which men and women were more or less idealized, andin which the elements of love, poetry, romance, youthful imagination andenthusiasm predominated. [Illustration: ANNE HATHAWAY'S COTTAGE] It is interesting to note that Shakespeare essayed all these types--thechronicle play in _Henry IV_, the domestic drama in _MerryWives_, the court comedy in _Loves Labor's Lost_, the melodrama in_Richard III_, the tragedy of blood in _King Lear_, romantictragedy in _Romeo and Juliet_, romantic comedy in _As You LikeIt_--and that in each he showed such a mastery as to raise him far aboveall his contemporaries. [Sidenote: EARLY DRAMAS] In his experimental period of work (_cir_. 1590-1595) Shakespearebegan by revising old plays in conjunction with other actors. _HenryVI_ is supposed to be an example of such tinkering work. The first partof this play (performed by Shakespeare's company in 1592) was in allprobability an older work made over by Shakespeare and some unknowndramatist. From the fact that Joan of Arc appears in the play in twoentirely different characters, and is even made to do battle at Rouenseveral years after her death, it is almost certain that _Henry VI_ inits present form was composed at different times and by different authors. [Illustration: THE MAIN ROOM, ANNE HATHAWAY'S COTTAGE] _Love's Labor's Lost_ is an example of the poet's first independentwork. In this play such characters as Holofernes the schoolmaster, Costardthe clown and Adriano the fantastic Spaniard are all plainly of the "stock"variety; various rimes and meters are used experimentally; blank verse isnot mastered; and some of the songs, such as "On a Day, " are more or lessartificial. Other plays of this early experimental period are _TwoGentlemen of Verona_ and _Richard III_, the latter of which showsthe influence and, possibly, the collaboration of Marlowe. [Sidenote: SECOND PERIOD] In the second period (_cir_. 1595-1600) Shakespeare constructed hisplots with better skill, showed a greater mastery of blank verse, createdsome original characters, and especially did he give free rein to hisromantic imagination. All doubt and experiment vanished in the confidententhusiasm of this period, as if Shakespeare felt within himself the comingof the sunrise in _Romeo and Juliet_: Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. Though some of his later plays are more carefully finished, in none of themare we so completely under the sway of poetry and romance as in these earlyworks, written when Shakespeare first felt the thrill of mastery in hisart. In _Midsummer Nights Dream_, for example, the practical affairs oflife seem to smother its poetic dreams; but note how the dream abides withus after the play is over. The spell of the enchanted forest is broken whenthe crowd invades its solitude; the witchery of moonlight fades into thelight of common day; and then comes Theseus with his dogs to drive not thefoxes but the fairies out of the landscape. As Chesterton points out, thismasterful man, who has seen no fairies, proceeds to arrange matters in apractical way, with a wedding, a feast and a pantomime, as if these werethe chief things of life. So, he thinks, the drama is ended; but after heand his noisy followers have departed to slumber, lo! enter once more Puck, Oberon, Titania and the whole train of fairies, to repeople the ancientworld and dance to the music of Mendelssohn: Hand in hand, with fairy grace, While we sing, and bless this place. So in _The Merchant of Venice_ with its tragic figure of Shylock, whois hurried off the stage to make place for a final scene of love, moonlightand music; so in every other play of this period, the poetic dream of lifetriumphs over its practical realities. [Sidenote: THIRD PERIOD] During the third period, of maturity of power (_cir. _ 1600-1610), Shakespeare was overshadowed by some personal grief or disappointment. Hewrote his "farewell to mirth" in _Twelfth Night_, and seems to havereflected his own perturbed state in the lines which he attributes toAchilles in _Troilus and Cressida_: My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd, And I myself see not the bottom of it. His great tragedies belong to this period, tragedies which reveal increaseddramatic power in Shakespeare, but also his loss of hope, his horribleconviction that man is not a free being but a puppet blown about by everywind of fate or circumstance. In _Hamlet_ great purposes wait upon afeeble will, and the strongest purpose may be either wrecked or consummatedby a trifle. The whole conception of humanity in this play suggests aclock, of which, if but one small wheel is touched, all the rest are throwninto confusion. In _Macbeth_ a man of courage and vaulting ambitionturns coward or traitor at the appearance of a ghost, at the gibber ofwitches, at the whisper of conscience, at the taunts of his wife. In_King Lear_ a monarch of high disposition drags himself and othersdown to destruction, not at the stern command of fate, but at the meresuggestion of foolishness. In _Othello_ love, faith, duty, thefidelity of a brave man, the loyalty of a pure woman, --all are blasted, wrecked, dishonored by a mere breath of suspicion blown by a villain. [Sidenote: LAST DRAMAS] In his final period, of leisurely experiment (_cir. _ 1610-1616), Shakespeare seems to have recovered in Stratford the cheerfulness that hehad lost in London. He did little work during this period, but that littleis of rare charm and sweetness. He no longer portrayed human life as acomedy of errors or a tragedy of weakness but as a glowing romance, as ifthe mellow autumn of his own life had tinged all the world with its owngolden hues. With the exception of _As You Like It_ (written in thesecond period), in which brotherhood is pictured as the end of life, andlove as its unfailing guide, it is doubtful if any of the earlier playsleaves such a wholesome impression as _The Winter's Tale_ or _TheTempest_, which were probably the last of the poet's works. Following is a list of Shakespeare's thirty-four plays (or thirty-seven, counting the different parts of _Henry IV_ and _Henry VI_)arranged according to the periods in which they were probably written. Thedates are approximate, not exact, and the chronological order is open toquestion: FIRST PERIOD, EARLY EXPERIMENT (1590-1595). _Titus Andronicus_, _Henry VI_, _Love's Labor's Lost_, _Comedy of Errors_, _Two Gentlemen of Verona_, _Richard III_, _Richard II_, _King John. _ SECOND PERIOD, DEVELOPMENT (1595-1600). _Romeo and Juliet_, _Midsummer Night's Dream_, _Merchant of Venice_, _Henry IV_, _Henry V_, _Merry Wives of Windsor_, _Much Ado AboutNothing_, _As You Like It. _ THIRD PERIOD, MATURITY AND TROUBLE (1600-1610). _Twelfth Night_, _Taming of the Shrew_, _Julius Caesar_, _Hamlet_, _Troilusand Cressida_, _All's Well that Ends Well_, _Measure forMeasure_, _Othello_, _King Lear_, _Macbeth_, _Antonyand Cleopatra_, _Timon of Athens. _ FOURTH PERIOD, LATER EXPERIMENT (1610-1616). _Coriolanus_, _Pericles_, _Cymbeline_, _The Winter's Tale_, _TheTempest_, _Henry VIII_ (left unfinished, completed probably byFletcher). [Sidenote: TRAGEDY AND COMEDY] The most convenient arrangement of these plays appears in the First Folio(1623) [Footnote: This was the first edition of Shakespeare's plays. It wasprepared seven years after the poet's death by two of his fellow actors, Heminge and Condell. It contained all the plays now attributed toShakespeare with the exception of _Pericles_. ] where they are groupedin three classes called tragedies, comedies and historical plays. Thetragedy is a drama in which the characters are the victims of unhappypassions, or are involved in desperate circumstances. The style is graveand dignified, the movement stately; the ending is disastrous toindividuals, but illustrates the triumph of a moral principle. These rulesof true tragedy are repeatedly set aside by Shakespeare, who introduceselements of buffoonery, and who contrives an ending that may stand for thetriumph of a principle but that is quite likely to be the result ofaccident or madness. His best tragedies are _Macbeth_, _Romeo andJuliet_, _Hamlet_, _King Lear_ and _Othello_. Comedy is a type of drama in which the elements of fun and humorpredominate. The style is gay; the action abounds in unexpected incidents;the ending brings ridicule or punishment to the villains in the plot, andsatisfaction to all worthy characters. Among the best of Shakespeare'scomedies, in which he is apt to introduce serious or tragic elements, are_As You Like It_, _Merchant of Venice_, _Midsummer Night'sDream_, _The Winter's Tale_, and _The Tempest_. [Illustration: CAWDOR CASTLE, SCOTLAND, ASSOCIATED WITH MACBETH] Strictly speaking there are only two dramatic types, all others, such asfarce, melodrama, tragi-comedy, lyric drama, or opera, and chronicle play, being modifications of comedy or tragedy. The historical play, to whichElizabethans were devoted, aimed to present great scenes or characters froma past age, and were generally made up of both tragic and comic elements. The best of Shakespeare's historical plays are _Julius Cæsar_, _Henry IV_, _Henry V_, _Richard III_ and _Coriolanus_. [Sidenote: WHAT TO READ] There is no better way to feel the power of Shakespeare than to read insuccession three different types of plays, such as the comedy of _As YouLike It_, the tragedy of _Macbeth_ and the historical play of_Julius Cæsar_. Another excellent trio is _The Merchant ofVenice_, _Romeo and Juliet_ and _Henry IV_; and the reading ofthese typical plays might well be concluded with _The Tempest_, whichwas probably Shakespeare's last word to his Elizabethan audience. THE QUALITY OF SHAKESPEARE. As the thousand details of a Gothic cathedralreceive character and meaning from its towering spire, so all the works ofShakespeare are dominated by his imagination. That imagination of his wasboth sympathetic and creative. It was sympathetic in that it understoodwithout conscious effort all kinds of men, from clowns to kings, and allhuman emotions that lie between the extremes of joy and sorrow; it wascreative in that, from any given emotion or motive, it could form a humancharacter who should be completely governed by that motive. Ambition inMacbeth, pride in Coriolanus, wit in Mercutio, broad humor in Falstaff, indecision in Hamlet, pure fancy in Ariel, brutality in Richard, apassionate love in Juliet, a merry love in Rosalind, an ideal love inPerdita, --such characters reveal Shakespeare's power to create living menand women from a single motive or emotion. Or take a single play, _Othello_, and disregarding all minorcharacters, fix attention on the pure devotion of Desdemona, the jealousyof Othello, the villainy of Iago. The genius that in a single hour can makeus understand these contrasting characters as if we had met them in theflesh, and make our hearts ache as we enter into their joy, their anguish, their dishonor, is beyond all ordinary standards of measurement. And_Othello_ must be multiplied many times before we reach the limit ofShakespeare's creative imagination. He is like the genii of the _ArabianNights_, who produce new marvels while we wonder at the old. Such an overpowering imagination must have created wildly, fancifully, hadit not been guided by other qualities: by an observation almost as keen asthat of Chaucer, and by the saving grace of humor. We need only mention thelatter qualities, for if the reader will examine any great play ofShakespeare, he will surely find them in evidence: the observation keepingthe characters of the poet's imagination true to the world of men andwomen, and the humor preventing some scene of terror or despair fromoverwhelming us by its terrible reality. [Sidenote: HIS FAULTS] In view of these and other qualities it has become almost a fashion tospeak of the "perfection" of Shakespeare's art; but in truth no word couldbe more out of place in such a connection. As Ben Jonson wrote in his_Timber_: "I remember the players have often mentioned it as an honor to Shakespeare that in his writing, whatever he penned, he never blotted out a line. My answer hath been, 'Would he had blotted a thousand. '" Even in his best work Shakespeare has more faults than any other poet ofEngland. He is in turn careless, extravagant, profuse, tedious, sensational; his wit grows stale or coarse; his patriotism turns tobombast; he mars even such pathetic scenes as the burial of Ophelia bybuffoonery and brawling; and all to please a public that was given tobull-baiting. These certainly are imperfections; yet the astonishing thing is that theypass almost unnoticed in Shakespeare. He reflected his age, the evil andthe good of it, just as it appeared to him; and the splendor of hisrepresentation is such that even his faults have their proper place, likeshadows in a sunlit landscape. [Sidenote: HIS VIEW OF LIFE] Of Shakespeare's philosophy we may say that it reflected equally well theviews of his hearers and of the hundred characters whom he created fortheir pleasure. Of his personal views it is impossible to say more thanthis, with truth: that he seems to have been in full sympathy with theolder writers whose stories he used as the sources of his drama. [Footnote:The chief sources of Shakespeare's plays are: (1) Older plays, from whichhe made half of his dramas, such as _Richard III_, _Hamlet_, _King John_. (2) Holinshed's _Chronicles_, from which he obtainedmaterial for his English historical plays. (3) Plutarch's _Lives_, translated by North, which furnished him material for _Caesar_, _Coriolanus_, _Antony and Cleopatra_. (4) French, Italian andSpanish romances, in translations, from which he obtained the stories of_The Merchant of Venice_, _Othello_, _Twelfth Night_ and_As You Like It_. ] Now these stories commonly reflected three thingsbesides the main narrative: a problem, its solution, and the consequentmoral or lesson. The problem was a form of evil; its solution depended ongoodness in some form; the moral was that goodness triumphs finally andinevitably over evil. Many such stories were cherished by the Elizabethans, the old tale of"Gammelyn" for example (from which came _As You Like It_); and just asin our own day popular novels are dramatized, so three centuries agoaudiences demanded to see familiar stories in vigorous action. That is whyShakespeare held to the old tales, and pleased his audience, instead ofinventing new plots. But however much he changed the characters or theaction of the story, he remained always true to the old moral: That goodness is the rule of life, And its glory and its triumph. Shakespeare's women are his finest characters, and he often portrays thelove of a noble woman as triumphing over the sin or weakness of men. He haslittle regard for abnormal or degenerate types, such as appear in the laterElizabethan drama; he prefers vigorous men and pure women, precisely as theold story-tellers did; and if Richard or some other villain overruns hisstage for an hour, such men are finally overwhelmed by the very evil whichthey had planned for others. If they drag the innocent down to a commondestruction, these pure characters never seem to us to perish; they liveforever in our thought as the true emblems of humanity. [Sidenote: MORAL EMPHASIS] It was Charles Lamb who referred to a copy of Shakespeare's plays as "thismanly book. " The expression is a good one, and epitomizes the judgment of aworld which has found that, though Shakespeare introduces evil or vulgarelements into his plays, his emphasis is always upon the right man and theright action. This may seem a trite thing to say in praise of a greatgenius; but when you reflect that Shakespeare is read throughout thecivilized world, the simple fact that the splendor of his poetry isbalanced by the rightness of his message becomes significant andimpressive. It speaks not only for Shakespeare but for the moral quality ofthe multitudes who acknowledge his mastery. Wherever his plays are read, onland or sea, in the crowded cities of men or the far silent places of theearth, there the solitary man finds himself face to face with theunchanging ideals of his race, with honor, duty, courtesy, and the moralimperative, This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man. * * * * * THE ELIZABETHAN DRAMA AFTER SHAKESPEARE The drama began to decline during Shakespeare's lifetime. Even before hisretirement to Stratford other popular dramatists appeared who catered to avulgar taste by introducing more sensational elements into the stagespectacle. In consequence the drama degenerated so rapidly that in 1642, only twenty-six years after the master dramatist had passed away, Parliament closed the theaters as evil and degrading places. This closingis charged to the zeal of the Puritans, who were rapidly rising into power, and the charge is probably well founded. So also was the Puritan zeal. Onewho was compelled to read the plays of the period, to say nothing ofwitnessing them, must thank these stern old Roundheads for their insistenceon public decency and morality. In the drama of all ages there seems to bea terrible fatality which turns the stage first to levity, then towickedness, and which sooner or later calls for reformation. [Illustration: FRANCIS BEAUMONT] Among those who played their parts in the rise and fall of the drama, thechief names are Jonson, Beaumont, Fletcher, Middleton, Webster, Heywood, Dekker, Massinger, Ford and Shirley. Concerning the work of thesedramatists there is wide diversity of opinion. Lamb regards them, Beaumontand Fletcher especially, as "an inferior sort of Sidneys and Shakespeares. "Landor writes of them poetically: They stood around The throne of Shakespeare, sturdy but unclean. Lowell finds some small things to praise in a large collection of theirplays. Hazlitt regards them as "a race of giants, a common and noble brood, of whom Shakespeare was simply the tallest. " Dyce, who had an extraordinaryknowledge of all these dramatists, regards such praise as absurd, sayingthat "Shakespeare is not only immeasurably superior to the dramatists ofhis time, but is utterly unlike them in almost every respect. " [Illustration: JOHN FLETCHERFrom the engraving by Philip Oudinet published 1811] We shall not attempt to decide where such doctors disagree. It may not beamiss, however, to record this personal opinion: that these playwrightsadded little to the drama and still less to literature, and that it ishardly worth while to search out their good passages amid a welter ofrepulsive details. If they are to be read at all, the student will findenough of their work for comparison with the Shakespearean drama in a bookof selections, such as Lamb's _Specimens of English Dramatic Poetry_or Thayer's _The Best Elizabethan Plays_. BEN JONSON (1573?-1637). The greatest figure among these dramatists wasJonson, --"O rare Ben Jonson" as his epitaph describes him, "O rough BenJonson" as he was known to the playwrights with whom he waged literarywarfare. His first notable play, _Every Man in His Humour_, satirizingthe fads or humors of London, was acted by Shakespeare's company, andShakespeare played one of the parts. Then Jonson fell out with his fellowactors, and wrote _The Poetaster_ (acted by a rival company) toridicule them and their work. Shakespeare was silent, but the cudgels weretaken up by Marston and Dekker, the latter of whom wrote, among other andbetter plays, _Satiromastix_, which was played by Shakespeare'scompany as a counter attack on Jonson. [Illustration: BEN JONSON] The value of Jonson's plays is that they give us vivid pictures ofElizabethan society, its speech, fashions, amusements, such as no otherdramatist has drawn. Shakespeare pictures men and women as they might be inany age; but Jonson is content to picture the men and women of London asthey appeared superficially in the year 1600. His chief comedies, whichsatirize the shams of his age, are: _Volpone, or the Fox_, a mercilessexposure of greed and avarice; _The Alchemist_, a study of quackery asit was practiced in Elizabethan days; _Bartholomew Fair_, a riot offolly; and _Epicoene, or the Silent Woman_, which would now be calleda roaring farce. His chief tragedies are _Sejanus_ and_Catiline_. In later life Jonson was appointed poet laureate, and wrote many masques, such as the _Masque of Beauty_ and the unfinished _Sad Shepherd_. These and a few lyrics, such as the "Triumph of Charis" and the songbeginning, "Drink to me only with thine eyes, " are the pleasantest ofJonson's works. At the end he abandoned the drama, as Shakespeare had done, and lashed it as severely as any Puritan in the ode beginning, "Come leavethe loathëd stage. " * * * * * THE PROSE WRITERS Unless one have antiquarian tastes, there is little in Elizabethan prose toreward the reader. Strange to say, the most tedious part of it was writtenby literary men in what was supposed to be a very fine style; while thesmall part that still attracts us (such as Bacon's _Essays_ orHakluyt's _Voyages_) was mostly written by practical men with nothought for literary effect. This curious result came about in the following way. In the sixteenthcentury poetry was old, but English prose was new; for in the two centuriesthat had elapsed since Mandeville wrote his _Travels_, Malory's_Morte d' Arthur_ (1475) and Ascham's _Scholemaster_ (1563) areabout the only two books that can be said to have a prose style. Then, justas the Elizabethans were turning to literature, John Lyly appeared with his_Euphues, or the Anatomy of Wit_ (1578), an alleged novel made up oframbling conversations upon love, education, fashion, --everything that cameinto the author's head. The style was involved, artificial, tortured; itwas loaded with conceits, antitheses and decorations: "I perceive, Camilla, that be your cloth never so bad it will take some colour, and your cause never so false it will bear some show of probability; wherein you manifest the right nature of a woman, who, having no way to win, thinketh to overcome with words. .. . Take heed, Camilla, that seeking all the wood for a straight stick you choose not at the last a crooked staff, or prescribing a good counsel to others thou thyself follow the worst much like to Chius, who selling the best wine to others drank himself of the lees. " [Sidenote: THE FAD OF EUPHUISM] This "high fantastical" style, ever since called euphuistic, created asensation. The age was given over to extravagance and the artificialelegance of _Euphues_ seemed to match the other fashions. Just asElizabethan men and women began to wear grotesque ruffs about their necksas soon as they learned the art of starching from the Dutch, so now theybegan to decorate their writing with the conceits of Lyly. [Footnote: Lylydid not invent the fashion; he carried to an extreme a tendency towardsartificial writing which was prevalent in England and on the Continent. Asis often the case, it was the extreme of fashion that became fashionable. ]Only a year after _Euphues_ appeared, Spenser published _TheShepherd's Calendar_, and his prose notes show how quickly the style, like a bad habit, had taken possession of the literary world. Shakespeareridicules the fashion in the character of Holofernes, in _Love's Labor'sLost_, yet he follows it as slavishly as the rest. He could write goodprose when he would, as is shown by a part of Hamlet's speech; but as arule he makes his characters speak as if the art of prose were like walkinga tight rope, which must be done with a balancing pole and somecontortions. The scholars who produced the translation of the Scripturesknown as the Authorized Version could certainly write well; yet if youexamine their Dedication, in which, uninfluenced by the noble sincerity ofthe Bible's style, they were free to follow the fashion, you may find therethe two faults of Elizabethan prose; namely, the habit of servile flatteryand the sham of euphuism. Among prose writers of the period the name that appears most frequently isthat of Philip Sidney (1554-1586). He wrote one of our first criticalessays, _An Apologie for Poetrie_ (cir. 1581), the spirit of which maybe judged from the following: "Nowe therein of all sciences . .. Is our poet the monarch. For he dooth not only show the way but giveth so sweete a prospect into the way as will intice any man to enter into it. Nay, he dooth, as if your journey should be through a faire vineyard, at the first give you a cluster of grapes, that, full of that taste, you may long to passe further. He beginneth not with obscure definitions, which must blur the margent with interpretations, and load the memory with doubtfulnesse; but hee cometh to you with words set in delightfull proportion, either accompanied with or prepared for the well enchaunting skill of musicke; and with a tale, forsooth, he cometh unto you, --with a tale which holdeth children from play and old men from the chimney corner. " [Illustration: SIR PHILIP SIDNEY] Sidney wrote also the pastoral romance _Arcadia_ which was famous inits day, and in which the curious reader may find an occasional goodpassage, such as the prayer to a heathen god, "O All-seeing Light, "--aprayer that became historic and deeply pathetic when King Charles repeatedit, facing death on the scaffold. That was in 1649, more than half acentury after _Arcadia_ was written: "O all-seeing Light, and eternal Life of all things, to whom nothing is either so great that it may resist or so small that it is contemned, look upon my miserie with thine eye of mercie, and let thine infinite power vouchsafe to limite out some proportion of deliverance unto me, as to thee shall seem most convenient. Let not injurie, O Lord, triumphe over me, and let my faults by thy hands be corrected, and make not mine unjuste enemie the minister of thy justice. But yet, my God, if in thy wisdome this be the aptest chastisement for my inexcusable follie; if this low bondage be fittest for my over-hie desires; if the pride of my not-inough humble hearte be thus to be broken, O Lord, I yeeld unto thy will, and joyfully embrace what sorrow thou wilt have me suffer. " [Sidenote: THE KING JAMES BIBLE] The finest example of the prose of the period is the King James orAuthorized Version of the Bible, which appeared in 1611. This translationwas so much influenced by the earlier work of Wyclif, Tyndale, and manyothers, that its style cannot properly be called Elizabethan or Jacobean;it is rather an epitome of English at its best in the two centuries betweenChaucer and Shakespeare. The forty-seven scholars who prepared thistranslation aimed at a faithful rendering of the Book which, aside from itsspiritual teaching, contains some of the noblest examples of style in thewhole range of human literature: the elemental simplicity of the Books ofMoses, the glowing poetry of Job and the Psalms, the sublime imagery ofIsaiah, the exquisite tenderness of the Parables, the forged and temperedargument of the Epistles, the gorgeous coloring of the Apocalypse. Allthese elements entered in some degree into the translation of 1611, and theresult was a work of such beauty, strength and simplicity that it remaineda standard of English prose for more than three centuries. It has not onlybeen a model for our best writers; it has pervaded all the minor literatureof the nation, and profoundly influenced the thought and the expression ofthe whole English-speaking world. * * * * * FRANCIS BACON (1561-1626) "My name and memory I leave to foreign nations, and to mine own country_after some time is passed over_, " said Bacon in his will. Thatreference to the future meant, not that England might learn to forget andforgive (for Bacon was not greatly troubled by his disgrace), but that shemight learn to appreciate his _Instauratio Magna_. In the samedocument the philosopher left magnificent bequests for various purposes, but when these were claimed by the beneficiaries it was learned that thedebts of the estate were three times the assets. This high-sounding will isan epitome of Bacon's life and work. LIFE. Bacon belongs with Sidney and Raleigh in that group of Elizabethans who aimed to be men of affairs, politicians, reformers, explorers, rather than writers of prose or poetry. He was of noble birth, and from an early age was attached to Elizabeth's court. There he expected rapid advancement, but the queen and his uncle (Lord Burghley) were both a little suspicious of the young man who, as he said, had "taken all knowledge for his province. " Failing to advance by favor, Bacon studied law and entered Parliament, where he rose rapidly to leadership. Ben Jonson writes of him, in that not very reliable collection of opinions called _Timber_: "There happened in my time one noble speaker who was full of gravity in his speaking. .. . No man ever spake more neatly, more pressly, more weightily, or suffered less emptiness, less idleness, in what he uttered. .. . The fear of every man that heard him was lest he should make an end. " [Illustration: FRANCIS BACON] [Sidenote: HIS TRIUMPH] When Elizabeth died, Bacon saw his way open. He offered his services to the royal favorite, Buckingham, and was soon in the good graces of King James. He was made Baron Verulam and Viscount St. Albans; he married a rich wife; he rose rapidly from one political honor to another, until at sixty he was Lord High Chancellor of England. So his threefold ambition for position, wealth and power was realized. It was while he held the highest state office that he published his _Novum Organum_, which established his reputation as "the first philosopher in Europe. " That was in 1620, the year when a handful of Pilgrims sailed away unnoticed on one of the world's momentous voyages. [Sidenote: HIS DISGRACE] After four years of power Bacon, who had been engaged with Buckingham in selling monopolies, and in other schemes to be rich at the public expense, was brought to task by Parliament. He was accused of receiving bribes, confessed his guilt (it is said to shield the king and Buckingham, who had shared the booty), was fined, imprisoned, banished from court, and forbidden to hold public office again. All these punishments except the last were remitted by King James, to whom Bacon had been a useful tool. His last few years were spent in scientific study at Gorhambury, where he lived proudly, keeping up the appearance of his former grandeur, until his death in 1626. Such a sketch seems a cold thing, but there is little of divine fire or human warmth in Bacon to kindle one's enthusiasm. His obituary might well be the final word of his essay "Of Wisdom for a Man's Self": "Whereas they have all their time sacrificed to themselves, they become in the end sacrifices to the inconstancy of fortune, whose wings they thought by their self-wisdom to have pinioned. " Ben Jonson had a different and, possibly, a more just opinion. In the work from which we have quoted he says: "My conceit of his person was never increased towards him by his place or honours; but I have and do reverence him for his greatness that was only proper to himself, in that he seemed to me ever by his work one of the greatest men, and most worthy of admiration, that had been in many ages. In his adversity I ever prayed that God would give him strength; for greatness he could not want. " WORKS OF BACON. The _Essays_ of Bacon are so highly esteemed that thecritic Hallam declares it would be "derogatory to a man of the slightestclaim to polite letters" to be unacquainted with them. His first venturewas a tiny volume called _Essays, Religious Meditations, Places ofPersuasion and Dissuasion_ (1597). This was modeled upon a French workby Montaigne (_Essais_, 1580) and was considered of small consequenceby the author. As time went on, and his ambitious works were overlooked infavor of his sketches, he paid more attention to the latter, revising andenlarging his work until the final edition of fifty-eight essays appearedin 1625. Then it was that Bacon wrote, "I do now publish my Essays, whichof all my works have been most current; for that, as it seems, they comehome to men's business and bosoms. " [Sidenote: QUALITY OF THE ESSAYS] The spirit of these works may be judged by the essay "Of Friendship. " Thispromises well, for near the beginning we read, "A crowd is not company, andfaces are but a gallery of pictures, and talking is but a tinkling cymbalwhere there is no love. " Excellent! As we read on, however, we find nothingof the love that beareth all things for a friend's sake. We are not evenencouraged to be friendly, but rather to cultivate the friendship of othermen for the following advantages: that a friend is useful in saving us fromsolitude; that he may increase our joy or diminish our trouble; that hegives us good counsel; that he can finish our work or take care of ourchildren, if need be; and finally, that he can spare our modesty whiletrumpeting our virtues: "How many things are there which a man cannot, with any face or comeliness, say or do himself! A man can scarce allege his own merits with modesty, much less extol them; a man cannot sometimes brook to supplicate or beg; and a number of the like. But all these things are graceful in a friend's mouth, which are blushing in a man's own. " In old Arabic manuscripts one frequently finds a record having theappearance of truth; but at the very end, in parenthesis, one reads, "Thisis all a lie, " or "This was my thought when I was sick, " or some otherenlightening climax. Bacon's essay "Of Friendship" might be more in accordwith the verities if it had a final note to the effect that the man whocultivates friendship in the Baconian way will never have or deserve afriend in the world. So with many other Baconian essays: with "Love" for example, in which weare told that it is impossible for a man to love and be wise; or with"Negotiations, " which informs us that, unless a man intends to use hisletter to justify himself (lo! the politician), it is better to deal byspeech than by writing; for a man can "disavow or expound" his speech, buthis written word may be used against him. [Sidenote: BACON'S VIEW OF LIFE] To some men, to most men, life offers a problem to be solved by standardsthat are eternally right; to others life is a game, the object is to win, and the rules may be manipulated to one's own advantage. Bacon's moralphilosophy was that of the gamester; his leading motive was self-interest;so when he wrote of love or friendship or any other noble sentiment he wasdealing with matters of which he had no knowledge. The best he could offerwas a "counsel of prudence, " and many will sympathize with John Wesley, whodeclared that worldly prudence is a quality from which an honest man shouldpray God to be delivered. [Sidenote: WHAT TO READ] It is only when Bacon deals with practical matters, leaving the high placesof life, where he is a stranger, to write of "Discourse" or "Gardens" or"Seeming Wise" that his essays begin to strike home by their vigor andvitality. Though seldom profound or sympathetic, they are notable for theirkeen observation and shrewd judgment of the ambitious world in which theauthor himself lived. Among those that are best worth reading are"Studies, " "Wisdom for a Man's Self, " "Riches, " "Great Place, " "Atheism, "and "Travel. " The style of these essays is in refreshing contrast to most Elizabethanprose, to the sonorous periods of Hooker, to the ramblings of Sidney, tothe conceits of Lyly and Shakespeare. The sentences are mostly short, clear, simple; and so much meaning is crystallized in them that theyovershadow even the "Poor Richard" maxims of Franklin, the man who had agenius for packing worldly wisdom into a convenient nutshell. [Sidenote: AMBITIOUS WORKS] Other works of Bacon are seldom read, and may be passed over lightly. Wemention only, as indicative of his wide range, his _History of HenryVII_, his Utopian romance _The New Atlantis_, his Advancement ofLearning and his _Novum Organum_. The last two works, one in English, the other in Latin, were parts of the _Instauratio Magna_, or _TheGreat Institution of True Philosophy_, a colossal work which Bacon didnot finish, which he never even outlined very clearly. The aim of the _Instauratio_ was, first, to sweep away ancientphilosophy and the classic education of the universities; and second, tosubstitute a scheme of scientific study to the end of discovering andutilizing the powers of nature. It gave Bacon his reputation (in Germanyespecially) of a great philosopher and scientist, and it is true that hisvision of vast discoveries has influenced the thought of the world; but toread any part of his great work is to meet a mind that seems ingeniousrather than philosophical, and fanciful rather than scientific. He had whathis learned contemporary Peter Heylyn termed "a chymical brain, " a brainthat was forever busy with new theories; and the leading theory was thatsome lucky man would discover a key or philosopher's stone or magic_sesame_ that must straightway unlock all the secrets of nature. Meanwhile the real scientists of his age were discovering secrets in theonly sure way, of hard, self-denying work. Gilbert was studying magnetism, Harvey discovering the circulation of the blood, Kepler determining thelaws that govern the planets' motions, Napier inventing logarithms, andGalileo standing in ecstasy beneath the first telescope ever pointed at thestars of heaven. [Sidenote: HIS VAST PLANS] Of the work of these scientific heroes Bacon had little knowledge, and fortheir plodding methods he had no sympathy. He was Viscount, LordChancellor, "high-browed Verulam, " and his heaven-scaling_Instauratio_ which, as he said, was "for the glory of the Creator andfor the relief of man's estate" must have something stupendous, Elizabethan, about it, like the victory over the Armada. In his plans therewas always an impression of vastness; his miscellaneous works were like thestrange maps that geographers made when the wonders of a new world openedupon their vision. Though he never made an important discovery, hisconviction that knowledge is power and that there are no metes or bounds toknowledge, his belief that the mighty forces of nature are waiting to doman's bidding, his thought of ships that navigate the air as easily as thesea, --all this Baconian dream of mental empire inspired the scientificworld for three centuries. It was as thoroughly Elizabethan in its way asthe voyage of Drake or the plays of Shakespeare. * * * * * SUMMARY. The most remarkable feature of the Elizabethan age was its patriotic enthusiasm. This enthusiasm found its best expression on the stage, in the portrayal of life in vigorous action; and dramas were produced in such number and of such quality that the whole period is sometimes called the age of the play. It was a time of poetry rather than of prose, and nearly all of the poetry is characterized by its emotional quality, by youthful freshness of feeling, by quickened imagination, and by an extravagance of language which overflows, even in Shakespeare, in a kind of glorious bombast. Our study of the literature of the age includes: (1) The outburst of lyric poetry. (2) The life and works of Spenser, second in time of the great English poets. (3) A review of the long history of the drama, from the earliest church spectacle, through miracle, morality, interlude, pageant and masque to the Elizabethan drama. (4) The immediate forerunners of Shakespeare, of whom the most notable was Marlowe. (5) The life and work of Shakespeare. (6) Ben Jonson, the successors of Shakespeare, and the rapid decline of the drama. (7) Elizabethan prose; the appearance of euphuism; Sidney's _Apologie for Poetrie_; the Authorized Version of the Scriptures; and the life and work of Francis Bacon. SELECTIONS FOR READING. Selected lyrics in Manly, English Poetry; Newcomer, Twelve Centuries of English Poetry and Prose; Palgrave, Golden Treasury; Schilling, Elizabethan Lyrics; Ward, English Poets. _Spenser_. Selected poems in Temple Classics, Cambridge Poets Series. Selections from The Faery Queen in Standard English Classics and other school editions. (See Texts, in General Bibliography. ) _Early Drama_. A miracle play, such as Noah, may be read in Manly, Specimens of Pre-Shakespearean Drama (Ginn and Company). Marlowe's plays in Everyman's Library; his Edward II in Holt's English Readings; his Faustus in Temple Dramatists, and in Mermaid Series. _Shakespeare_. Several editions of Shakespeare's plays, such as the revised Hudson (Ginn and Company) and the Neilson (Scott) are available. Single plays, such as Julius Caesar, Merchant of Venice, Macbeth, As You Like It, are edited for class use in Standard English Classics, Lake Classics, and various other school series. The Sonnets in Athenæum Press Series. _Ben Jonson_. The Alchemist in Cambridge Poets Series; also in Thayer, Best Elizabethan Plays (Ginn and Company), which includes in one volume plays by Marlowe, Jonson, Webster, Beaumont and Fletcher. _Prose Writers_. Selections from Bacon's Essays in Riverside Literature, or Maynard's English Classkcs. The Essays complete in Everyman's Library. Selections from Hooker, Sidney and Lyly in Manly, English Prose, or Craik, English Prose. Ampler selections in Garnett, English Prose from Elizabeth to Victoria (Ginn and Company), which contains in one volume typical works of 33 prose writers from Lyly to Carlyle. Hakluyt's Voyages in Everyman's Library. BIBLIOGRAPHY. _HISTORY_. Creighton, The Age of Elizabeth; Winter, Shakespeare's England; Goadby, The England of Shakespeare; Harrison, Elizabethan England; Spedding, Francis Bacon and his Times; Lee, Great Englishmen of the Sixteenth Century; Payne, Voyages of Elizabethan Seamen. _LITERATURE_. Saintsbury, Short History of Elizabethan Literature; Seccombe and Allen, The Age of Shakespeare; Whipple, Literature of the Age of Elizabeth; Schilling, Elizabethan Lyrics; Lee, Elizabethan Sonnets; Sheavyn, Literary Profession in the Elizabethan Age. _Spenser_. Life, by Church (English Men of Letters Series). Carpenter, Outline Guide to the Study of Spenser; Craik, Spenser and his Times. Essays, by Lowell, in Among My Books; by Dowden, in Transcripts and Studies; by Hazlitt, in Lectures on the English Poets; by Leigh Hunt, in Imagination and Fancy. _The Drama_. Gayley, Plays of Our Forefathers (a study of the early drama); Evans, English Masques; Bates, The English Religious Drama; Schilling, The Elizabethan Drama; Symonds, Shakespeare's Predecessors in the English Drama; Boas, Shakespeare and his Predecessors; Collier, History of English Dramatic Poetry; Ward, English Dramatic Literature; Chambers, The Medieval Stage; Pollard, English Miracle Plays, Moralities and Interludes. _Shakespeare_. Life, by Raleigh (E. M. Of L. ), by Lee, by Halliwell-Phillipps, by Brandes. Dowden, A Shakespeare Primer; Dowden, Shakespeare: a Critical Study of his Mind and Art; Baker, Development of Shakespeare as a Dramatist. _Other Dramatists_. Lowell, Old English Dramatists; Lamb, Specimens of English Dramatic Poets; Fleay, Biographical Chronicle of the English Drama; Ingram, Christopher Marlowe. _Prose Writers_. Church, Life of Bacon (E. M. Of L. ); Nicol, Bacon's Life and Philosophy; Macaulay, Essay on Bacon. Symonds, Life of Sidney (E. M. Of L. ); Bourne, Life of Sidney (Heroes of the Nations Series). Stebbing, Life of Raleigh. _FICTION AND POETRY_. Kingsley, Westward Ho; Black, Judith Shakespeare; Scott, Kenilworth; Schiller, Maria Stuart; Alfred Noyes, Drake; Bates and Coman, English History Told by English Poets. CHAPTER V THE PURITAN AGE AND THE RESTORATION (1625-1700) Milton, thou shouldst be living at this hour. England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters; altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; Oh! raise us up, return to us again, And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. Wordsworth, "Sonnet on Milton" HISTORICAL OUTLINE. The period from the accession of Charles I in 1625 to the Revolution of 1688 was filled with a mighty struggle over the question whether king or Commons should be supreme in England. On this question the English people were divided into two main parties. On one side were the Royalists, or Cavaliers, who upheld the monarch with his theory of the divine right of kings; on the other were the Puritans, or Independents, who stood for the rights of the individual man and for the liberties of Parliament and people. The latter party was at first very small; it had appeared in the days of Langland and Wyclif, and had been persecuted by Elizabeth; but persecution served only to increase its numbers and determination. Though the Puritans were never a majority in England, they soon ruled the land with a firmness it had not known since the days of William the Conqueror. They were primarily men of conscience, and no institution can stand before strong men whose conscience says the institution is wrong. That is why the degenerate theaters were not reformed but abolished; that is why the theory of the divine right of kings was shattered as by a thunderbolt when King Charles was sent to the block for treason against his country. The struggle reached a climax in the Civil War of 1642, which ended in a Puritan victory. As a result of that war, England was for a brief period a commonwealth, disciplined at home and respected abroad, through the genius and vigor and tyranny of Oliver Cromwell. When Cromwell died (1658) there was no man in England strong enough to take his place, and two years later "Prince Charlie, " who had long been an exile, was recalled to the throne as Charles II of England. He had learned nothing from his father's fate or his own experience, and proceeded by all evil ways to warrant this "Epitaph, " which his favorite, Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, pinned on the door of his bedchamber: Here lies our Sovereign Lord the King, Whose word no man relies on, Who never said a foolish thing, Nor ever did a wise one. The next twenty years are of such disgrace and national weakness that the historian hesitates to write about them. It was called the period of the Restoration, which meant, in effect, the restoration of all that was objectionable in monarchy. Another crisis came in the Revolution of 1688, when the country, aroused by the attempt of James II to establish another despotism in Church and state, invited Prince William of Orange (husband of the king's daughter Mary) to the English throne. That revolution meant three things: the supremacy of Parliament, the beginning of modern England, and the final triumph of the principle of political liberty for which the Puritan had fought and suffered hardship for a hundred years. TYPICAL WRITERS. Among the writers of the period three men stand outprominently, and such was the confusion of the times that in the wholerange of our literature it would be difficult to find three others whodiffer more widely in spirit or method. Milton represents the scholarship, the culture of the Renaissance, combined with the moral earnestness of thePuritan. Bunyan, a poor tinker and lay preacher, reflects the tremendousspiritual ferment among the common people. And Dryden, the cool, calculating author who made a business of writing, regards the Renaissanceand Puritanism as both things of the past. He lives in the present, aims togive readers what they like, follows the French critics of the period whoadvocate writing by rule, and popularizes that cold, formal, precise stylewhich, under the assumed name of classicism, is to dominate English poetryduring the following century. * * * * * JOHN MILTON (1608-1674) Yet some there be that by due steps aspire To lay their just hands on that golden key That opes the palace of eternity: To such my errand is. In these words of the Attendant Spirit in _Comus_ we seem to hearMilton speaking to his readers. To such as regard poetry as the means of anhour's pleasant recreation he brings no message; his "errand" is to thosewho, like Sidney, regard poetry as the handmaiden of virtue, or, likeAristotle, as the highest form of human history. LIFE. Milton was born in London (1608) at a time when Shakespeare and his fellow dramatists were in their glory. He grew up in a home where the delights of poetry and music were added to the moral discipline of the Puritan. Before he was twelve years old he had formed the habit of studying far into the night; and his field included not only Greek, Latin, Hebrew and modern European literatures, but mathematics also, and science and theology and music. His parents had devoted him in infancy to noble ends, and he joyously accepted their dedication, saying, "He who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well . .. Ought himself to be a true poem, that is, a composition and pattern of the best and honorablest things. " [Sidenote: MILTON AT HORTON] From St. Paul's school Milton went to Christ's College, Cambridge, took his master's degree, wrote a few poems in Latin, Italian and English, and formed a plan for a great epic, "a poem that England would not willingly let die. " Then he retired to his father's country-place at Horton, and for six years gave himself up to music, to untutored study, and to that formal pleasure in nature which is reflected in his work. Five short poems were the only literary result of this retirement, but these were the most perfect of their kind that England had thus far produced. Milton's next step, intended like all others to cultivate his talent, took him to the Continent. For fifteen months he traveled through France and Italy, and was about to visit Greece when, hearing of the struggle between king and Parliament, he set his face towards England again. "For I thought it base, " he said, "to be traveling at my ease for culture when my countrymen at home were fighting for liberty. " [Sidenote: HOME LIFE] To find himself, or to find the service to which he could devote his great learning, seems to have been Milton's object after his return to London (1639). While he waited he began to educate his nephews, and enlarged this work until he had a small private school, in which he tested some of the theories that appeared later in his _Tractate on Education_. Also he married, in haste it seems, and with deplorable consequences. His wife, Mary Powell, the daughter of a Cavalier, was a pleasure-loving young woman, and after a brief experience of Puritan discipline she wearied of it and went home. She has been amply criticized for her desertion, but Milton's house must have been rather chilly for any ordinary human being to find comfort in. To him woman seemed to have been made for obedience, and man for rebellion; his toplofty doctrine of masculine superiority found expression in a line regarding Adam and Eve, "He for God only, she for God in him, "--an old delusion, which had been seriously disturbed by the first woman. [Illustration: JOHN MILTON] [Sidenote: PERIOD OF CONTROVERSY] For a period of near twenty years Milton wrote but little poetry, his time being occupied with controversies that were then waged even more fiercely in the press than in the field. It was after the execution of King Charles (1649), when England was stunned and all Europe aghast at the Puritans' daring, that he published his _Tenure of Kings and Magistrates_, the argument of which was, that magistrates and people are equally subject to the law, and that the divine right of kings to rule is as nothing beside the divine right of the people to defend their liberties. That argument established Milton's position as the literary champion of democracy. He was chosen Secretary of the Commonwealth, his duties being to prepare the Latin correspondence with foreign countries, and to confound all arguments of the Royalists. During the next decade Milton's pen and Cromwell's sword were the two outward bulwarks of Puritanism, and one was quite as ready and almost as potent as the other. [Sidenote: HIS BLINDNESS] It was while Milton was thus occupied that he lost his eyesight, "his last sacrifice on the altar of English liberty. " His famous "Sonnet on his Blindness" is a lament not for his lost sight but for his lost talent; for while serving the Commonwealth he must abandon the dream of a great poem that he had cherished all his life: When I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent, which is death to hide, Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide; "Doth God exact day labour, light denied?" I fondly ask; but Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest; They also serve who only stand and wait. " With the Restoration (1660) came disaster to the blind Puritan poet, who had written too harshly against Charles I to be forgiven by Charles II. He was forced to hide; his property was confiscated; his works were burned in public by the hangman; had not his fame as a writer raised up powerful friends, he would have gone to the scaffold when Cromwell's bones were taken from the grave and hanged in impotent revenge. He was finally allowed to settle in a modest house, and to be in peace so long as he remained in obscurity. So the pen was silenced that had long been a scourge to the enemies of England. [Sidenote: HIS LONELINESS] His home life for the remainder of his years impresses us by its loneliness and grandeur. He who had delighted as a poet in the English country, and more delighted as a Puritan in the fierce struggle for liberty, was now confined to a small house, going from study to porch, and finding both in equal darkness. He who had roamed as a master through the wide fields of literature was now dependent on a chance reader. His soul also was afflicted by the apparent loss of all that Puritanism had so hardly won, by the degradation of his country, by family troubles; for his daughters often rebelled at the task of taking his dictation, and left him helpless. Saddest of all, there was no love in the house, for with all his genius Milton could not inspire affection in his own people; nor does he ever reach the heart of his readers. [Sidenote: HIS MASTERPIECE] In the midst of such scenes, denied the pleasure of hope, Milton seems to have lived largely in his memories. He took up his early dream of an immortal epic, lived with it seven years in seclusion, and the result was _Paradise Lost_. This epic is generally considered the finest fruit of Milton's genius, but there are two other poems that have a more personal and human significance. In the morning of his life he had written _Comus_, and the poem is a reflection of a noble youth whose way lies open and smiling before him. Almost forty years later, or just before his death in 1674, he wrote _Samson Agonistes_, and in this tragedy of a blind giant, bound, captive, but unconquerable, we have a picture of the agony and moral grandeur of the poet who takes leave of life: I feel my genial spirits droop, . .. My race of glory run, and race of shame; And I shall shortly be with them that rest. [1] [Footnote [1]: From Milton's _Samson_. For the comparison we are indebted to Henry Reed, _Lectures on English Literature_ (1863), p. 223. ] [Illustration: COTTAGE AT CHALFONT, ST. GILES, BUCKINGHAMSHIRE Where Milton lived during the Plague, and where _Paradise Lost_ was written] THE EARLY POEMS. Milton's first notable poem, written in college days, wasthe "Ode on the Morning of Christ's Nativity, " a chant of victory andpraise such as Pindar might have written had he known the meaning ofChristmas. In this boyish work one may find the dominant characteristic ofall Milton's poetry; namely, a blending of learning with piety, a devotionof all the treasures of classic culture to the service of religion. Among the earliest of the Horton poems (so-called because they were writtenin the country-place of that name) are "L'Allegro" and "Il Penseroso, " twoof the most widely quoted works in our literature. They should be read inorder to understand what people have admired for nearly three hundredyears, if not for their own beauty. "L'Allegro" (from the Italian, meaning"the cheerful man") is the poetic expression of a happy state of mind, and"Il Penseroso" [Footnote: The name is generally translated into"melancholy, " but the latter term is now commonly associated with sorrow ordisease. To Milton "melancholy" meant "pensiveness. " In writing "IlPenseroso" he was probably influenced by a famous book, Burton's _Anatomyof Melancholy_, which appeared in 1621 and was very widely read. ] of aquiet, thoughtful mood that verges upon sadness, like the mood that followsgood music. Both poems are largely inspired by nature, and seem to havebeen composed out of doors, one in the morning and the other in the eveningtwilight. [Sidenote: THE MASQUE OF COMUS] _Comus_ (1634), another of the Horton poems, is to many readers themost interesting of Milton's works. In form it is a masque, that is, adramatic poem intended to be staged to the accompaniment of music; inexecution it is the most perfect of all such poems inspired by theElizabethan love of pageants. We may regard it, therefore, as a late echoof the Elizabethan drama, which, like many another echo, is sweeter thoughfainter than the original. It was performed at Ludlow Castle, before theEarl of Bridgewater, and was suggested by an accident to the Earl'schildren, a simple accident, in which Milton saw the possibility of"turning the common dust of opportunity to gold. " The story is that of a girl who becomes separated from her brothers in a wood, and is soon lost. The magician Comus [Footnote: In mythology Comus, the god of revelry, was represented as the son of Dionysus (Bacchus, god of wine), and the witch Circe. In Greek poetry Comus is the leader of any gay band of satyrs or dancers. Milton's masque of _Comus_ was influenced by a similar story in Peele's _Old Wives' Tale_, by Spenser's "Palace of Pleasure" in _The Faery Queen_ (see above "Sir Guyon" in Chapter IV), and by Homer's story of the witch Circe in the _Odyssey_. ] appears with his band of revelers, and tries to bewitch the girl, to make her like one of his own brutish followers. She is protected by her own purity, is watched over by the Attendant Spirit, and finally rescued by her brothers. The story is somewhat like that of the old ballad of "The Children in the Wood, " but it is here transformed into a kind of morality play. [Sidenote: COMUS AND THE TEMPEST] In this masque may everywhere be seen the influence of Milton'spredecessors and the stamp of his own independence; his Puritan spiritalso, which must add a moral to the old pagan tales. Thus, Mirandawandering about the enchanted isle (in Shakespeare's _The Tempest_)hears strange, harmonious echoes, to which Caliban gives expression: The isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears, and sometimes voices, That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked I cried to dream again. The bewildered girl in _Comus_ also hears mysterious voices, and hasglimpses of a world not her own; but, like Sir Guyon of _The FaeryQueen_, she is on moral guard against all such deceptions: A thousand phantasies Begin to throng into my memory, Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire, And airy tongues that syllable men's names On sands and shores and desert wildernesses. These thoughts may startle well but not astound The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended By a strong-siding champion, Conscience. Again, in _The Tempest_ we meet "the frisky spirit" Ariel, who singsof his coming freedom from Prospero's service: Where the bee sucks, there suck I; In a cowslip's bell I lie; There I couch when owls do cry. On a bat's back I do fly After summer merrily: Merrily, merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. [Illustration: LUDLOW CASTLE] The Attendant Spirit in _Comus_ has something of Ariel's gayety, buthis joy is deeper-seated; he serves not the magician Prospero but theAlmighty, and comes gladly to earth in fulfilment of the divine promise, "He shall give His angels charge over thee to keep thee in all thy ways. "When his work is done he vanishes, like Ariel, but with a song which showsthe difference between the Elizabethan, or Renaissance, conception ofsensuous beauty (that is, beauty which appeals to the physical senses) andthe Puritan's idea of moral beauty, which appeals to the soul: Now my task is smoothly done, I can fly or I can run Quickly to the green earth's end, Where the bowed welkin slow doth bend, And from thence can soar as soon To the corners of the moon. Mortals, that would follow me, Love Virtue; she alone is free: She can teach ye how to climb Higher than the sphery chime; Or if Virtue feeble were, Heaven itself would stoop to her. [Sidenote: LYCIDAS] _Lycidas_ (1637), last of the Horton poems, is an elegy occasioned bythe death of one who had been Milton's fellow student at Cambridge. It wasan old college custom to celebrate important events by publishing acollection of Latin or English poems, and _Lycidas_ may be regarded asMilton's wreath, which he offered to the memory of his classmate and to hisuniversity. The poem is beautifully fashioned, and is greatly admired forits classic form; but it is cold as any monument, without a touch of humangrief or sympathy. Probably few modern readers will care for it as theycare for Tennyson's _In Memoriam_, a less perfect elegy, but one intowhich love enters as well as art. Other notable English elegies are the_Thyrsis_ of Matthew Arnold and the _Adonais_ of Shelley. MILTON'S LEFT HAND. This expression was used by Milton to designate certainprose works written in the middle period of his life, at a time of turmoiland danger. These works have magnificent passages which show the power andthe harmony of our English speech, but they are marred by other passages ofbitter raillery and invective. The most famous of all these works is thenoble plea called _Areopagitica:_ [Footnote: From the Areopagus orforum of Athens, the place of public appeal. This was the "Mars Hill" fromwhich St. Paul addressed the Athenians, as recorded in the Book of Acts. ]_a Speech for the Liberty of Unlicensed Printing_ (1644). There was a law in Milton's day forbidding the printing of any work untilit had been approved by the official Licenser of Books. Such a law may havebeen beneficial at times, but during the seventeenth century it was anotherinstrument of tyranny, since no Licenser would allow anything to be printedagainst his particular church or government. When _Areopagitica_ waswritten the Puritans of the Long Parliament were virtually rulers ofEngland, and Milton pleaded with his own party for the free expression ofevery honest opinion, for liberty in all wholesome pleasures, and fortolerance in religious matters. His stern confidence in truth, that shewill not be weakened but strengthened by attack, is summarized in thefamous sentence, "I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue. " Two interesting matters concerning _Areopagitica_ are: first, thatthis eloquent plea for the freedom of printing had to be issued in defianceof law, without a license; and second, that Milton was himself, a few yearslater, under Cromwell's iron government, a censor of the press. [Sidenote: THE SONNETS] Milton's rare sonnets seem to belong to this middle period of strife, though some of them were written earlier. Since Wyatt and Surrey hadbrought the Italian sonnet to England this form of verse had been employedto sing of love; but with Milton it became a heroic utterance, a trumpetWordsworth calls it, summoning men to virtue, to patriotism, to sternaction. The most personal of these sonnets are "On Having Arrived at theAge of Twenty-three, " "On his Blindness" and "To Cyriack Skinner"; the mostromantic is "To the Nightingale"; others that are especially noteworthy are"On the Late Massacre, " "On his Deceased Wife" [Footnote: This beautifulsonnet was written to his second wife, not to Mary Powell. ] and "ToCromwell. " The spirit of these sonnets, in contrast with those ofElizabethan times, is finely expressed by Landor in the lines: Few his words, but strong, And sounding through all ages and all climes; He caught the sonnet from the dainty hand Of Love, who cried to lose it, and he gave the notes To Glory. MILTON'S LATER POETRY. [Footnote: The three poems of Milton's later lifeare _Paradise Lost_, _Paradise Regained_ and _SamsonAgonistes_. The last-named has been referred to above under "HisMasterpiece". _Paradise Regained_ contains some noble passages, but isinferior to _Paradise Lost_, on which the poet's fame chiefly rests. ]It was in 1658, the year of Cromwell's death, when the political power ofPuritanism was tottering, that Milton in his blindness began to write_Paradise Lost_. After stating his theme he begins his epic, as Virgilbegan the _Æneid_, in the midst of the action; so that in reading hisfirst book it is well to have in mind an outline of the whole story, whichis as follows: [Sidenote: PLAN OF PARADISE LOST] The scene opens in Heaven, and the time is before the creation of the world. The archangel Lucifer rebels against the Almighty, and gathers to his banner an immense company of the heavenly hosts, of angels and flaming cherubim. A stupendous three days' battle follows between rebel and loyal legions, the issue being in doubt until the Son goes forth in his chariot of victory. Lucifer and his rebels are defeated, and are hurled over the ramparts of Heaven. Down, down through Chaos they fall "nine times the space that measures day and night, " until they reach the hollow vaults of Hell. In the second act (for _Paradise Lost_ has some dramatic as well as epic construction) we follow the creation of the earth in the midst of the universe; and herein we have an echo of the old belief that the earth was the center of the solar system. Adam and Eve are formed to take in the Almighty's affection the place of the fallen angels. They live happily in Paradise, watched over by celestial guardians. Meanwhile Lucifer and his followers are plotting revenge in Hell. They first boast valiantly, and talk of mighty war; but the revenge finally degenerates into a base plan to tempt Adam and Eve and win them over to the fallen hosts. The third act shows Lucifer, now called Satan or the Adversary, with his infernal peers in Pandemonium, plotting the ruin of the world. He makes an astounding journey through Chaos, disguises himself in various forms of bird or beast in order to watch Adam and Eve, is detected by Ithuriel and the guardian angels, and is driven away. Thereupon he haunts vast space, hiding in the shadow of the earth until his chance comes, when he creeps back into Eden by means of an underground river. Disguising himself as a serpent, he meets Eve and tempts her with the fruit of a certain "tree of knowledge, " which she has been forbidden to touch. She eats the fruit and shares it with Adam; then the pair are discovered in their disobedience, and are banished from Paradise. [Footnote: In the above outline we have arranged the events in the order in which they are supposed to have occurred. Milton tells the story in a somewhat confused way. The order of the twelve books of _Paradise Lost_ is not the natural or dramatic order of the story. ] [Sidenote: MILTON'S MATERIALS] It is evident from this outline that Milton uses material from twodifferent sources, one an ancient legend which Cædmon employed in hisParaphrase, the other the Bible narrative of Creation. Though the latter isbut a small part of the epic, it is as a fixed center about which all otherinterests are supposed to revolve. In reading _Paradise Lost_, therefore, with its vast scenes and colossal figures, one should keep inmind that every detail was planned by Milton to be closely related to hiscentral theme, which is the fall of man. In using such diverse materials Milton met with difficulties, some of which(the character of Lucifer, for example) were too great for his limiteddramatic powers. In Books I and II Lucifer is a magnificent figure, theproudest in all literature, a rebel with something of celestial grandeurabout him: "Is this the region, this the soil, the clime, " Said then the lost Archangel, "this the seat That we must change for Heaven? this mournful gloom For that celestial light? Be it so, since he Who now is sovran can dispose and bid What shall be right: farthest from him is best, Whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme Above his equals. Farewell, happy fields, Where joy forever dwells! Hail, horrors! hail, Infernal world! and thou, profoundest Hell, Receive thy new possessor, one who brings A mind not to be changed by place or time. The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven. What matter where, if I be still the same, And what I should be, all but less than he Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least We shall be free; the Almighty hath not built Here for his envy, will not drive us hence; Here we may reign secure; and in my choice To reign is worth ambition, though in Hell: Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven. " In other books of _Paradise Lost_ the same character appears not asthe heroic rebel but as the sneaking "father of lies, " all his grandeurgone, creeping as a snake into Paradise or sitting in the form of an uglytoad "squat at Eve's ear, " whispering petty deceits to a woman while shesleeps. It is probable that Milton meant to show here the moral results ofrebellion, but there is little in his poem to explain the sudden degeneracyfrom Lucifer to Satan. [Sidenote: MATTER AND MANNER] The reader will note, also, the strong contrast between Milton's matter andhis manner. His matter is largely mythical, and the myth is not beautifulor even interesting, but childish for the most part and frequentlygrotesque, as when cannon are used in the battle of the angels, or when theAlmighty makes plans, Lest unawares we lose This our high place, our sanctuary, our hill. Indeed, all Milton's celestial figures, with the exception of the originalLucifer, are as banal as those of the old miracle plays; and his Adam andEve are dull, wooden figures that serve merely to voice the poet's theologyor moral sentiments. In contrast with this unattractive matter, Milton's manner is always andunmistakably "the grand manner. " His imagination is lofty, his dictionnoble, and the epic of _Paradise Lost_ is so filled with memorablelines, with gorgeous descriptions, with passages of unexampled majesty orharmony or eloquence, that the crude material which he injects into theBible narrative is lost sight of in our wonder at his superb style. THE QUALITY OF MILTON. If it be asked, What is Milton's adjective? the word"sublime" rises to the lips as the best expression of his style. This word(from the Latin _sublimis_, meaning "exalted above the ordinary") ishard to define, but may be illustrated from one's familiar experience. You stand on a hilltop overlooking a mighty landscape on which the new snow has just fallen: the forest bending beneath its soft burden, the fields all white and still, the air scintillating with light and color, the whole world so clean and pure that it seems as if God had blotted out its imperfections and adorned it for his own pleasure. That is a sublime spectacle, and the soul of man is exalted as he looks upon it. Or here in your own village you see a woman who enters a room where a child is stricken with a deadly and contagious disease. She immolates herself for the suffering one, cares for him and saves him, then lays down her own life. That is a sublime act. Or you hear of a young patriot captured and hanged by the enemy, and as they lead him forth to death he says, "I regret that I have but one life to give to my country. " That is a sublime expression, and the feeling in your heart as you hear it is one of moral sublimity. [Sidenote: SUBLIMITY] The writer who lifts our thought and feeling above their ordinary level, who gives us an impression of outward grandeur or of moral exaltation, is asublime writer, has a sublime style; and Milton more than any other poetdeserves the adjective. His scenes are immeasurable; mountain, sea andforest are but his playthings; his imagination hesitates not to paintChaos, Heaven, Hell, the widespread Universe in which our world hangs likea pendant star and across which stretches the Milky Way: A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold, And pavement stars. No other poet could find suitable words for such vast themes, but Miltonnever falters. Read the assembly of the fallen hosts before Lucifer in BookI of _Paradise Lost_, or the opening of Hellgates in Book II, or theinvocation to light in Book III, or Satan's invocation to the sun in BookIV, or the morning hymn of Adam and Eve in Book V; or open _ParadiseLost_ anywhere, and you shall soon find some passage which, by thegrandeur of its scene or by the exalted feeling of the poet as he describesit, awakens in you the feeling of sublimity. [Sidenote: HARMONY] The harmony of Milton's verse is its second notable quality. Many of ourpoets use blank verse, as many other people walk, as if they had no senseof rhythm within them; but Milton, by reason of his long study and practiceof music, seems to be always writing to melody. In consequence it is easyto read his most prolix passages, as it is easy to walk over almost anykind of ground if one but keeps step to outward or inward music. Not onlyis Milton's verse stately and melodious, but he is a perfect master ofwords, choosing them for their sound as well as for their sense, as amusician chooses different instruments to express different emotions. Notethese contrasting descriptions of so simple a matter as the opening ofgates: Heaven opened wide Her ever-during gates, harmonious sound, On golden hinges moving. On a sudden open fly With impetuous recoil and jarring sound Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate Harsh thunder. In dealing with a poet of such magnificent qualities one should be wary ofcriticism. That Milton's poetry has little human interest, no humor, andplenty of faults, may be granted. His _Paradise Lost_ especially isovercrowded with mere learning or pedantry in one place and with pompouscommonplaces in another. But such faults appear trivial, unworthy ofmention in the presence of a poem that is as a storehouse from which theauthors and statesmen of three hundred years have drawn their choicestimages and expressions. It stands forever as our supreme example ofsublimity and harmony, --that sublimity which reflects the human spiritstanding awed and reverent before the grandeur of the universe; thatharmony of expression at which every great poet aims and which Miltonattained in such measure that he is called the organ-voice of England. * * * * * JOHN BUNYAN (1628-1688) There is a striking contrast between the poet and the prose writer of thePuritan age. Milton the poet is a man of culture, familiar with the bestliterature of all ages; Bunyan the prose writer is a poor, self-taughtlaborer who reads his Bible with difficulty, stumbling over the hardpassages. Milton writes for the cultivated classes, in harmonious verseadorned with classic figures; Bunyan speaks for common men in sinewy prose, and makes his meaning clear by homely illustrations drawn from daily life. Milton is a solitary and austere figure, admirable but not lovable; Bunyanis like a familiar acquaintance, ruddy-faced, clear-eyed, who wins us byhis sympathy, his friendliness, his good sense and good humor. He is knownas the author of one book, _The Pilgrim's Progress_, but that book hasprobably had more readers than any other that England has ever produced. LIFE. During Bunyan's lifetime England was in a state of religious ferment or revival, and his experience of it is vividly portrayed in a remarkable autobiography called _Grace Abounding to the Chief of inners_. In reading this book we find that his life is naturally separated into two periods. His youth was a time of struggle with doubts and temptations; his later years were characterized by inward peace and tireless labor. His peace meant that he was saved, his labor that he must save others. Here, in a word, is the secret of all his works. [Illustration: JOHN BUNYAN] He was born (1628) in the village of Elstow, Bedfordshire, and was the son of a poor tinker. He was sent to school long enough to learn elementary reading and writing; then he followed the tinker's trade; but at the age of sixteen, being offended at his father's second marriage, he ran away and joined the army. As a boy Bunyan had a vivid but morbid imagination, which led him to terrible doubts, fears, fits of despondency, hallucinations. On such a nature the emotional religious revivals of the age made a tremendous impression. He followed them for years, living in a state of torment, until he felt himself converted; whereupon he turned preacher and began to call other sinners to repentance. Such were his native power and rude eloquence that, wherever he went, the common people thronged to hear him. [Sidenote: IN BEDFORD JAIL] After the Restoration all this was changed. Public meetings were forbidden unless authorized by bishops of the Established Church, and Bunyan was one of the first to be called to account. When ordered to hold no more meetings he refused to obey, saying that when the Lord called him to preach salvation he would listen only to the Lord's voice. Then he was thrown into Bedford jail. During his imprisonment he supported his family by making shoe laces, and wrote _Grace Abounding_ and _The Pilgrim's Progress_. After his release Bunyan became the most popular writer and preacher in England. He wrote a large number of works, and went cheerfully up and down the land, preaching the gospel to the poor, helping the afflicted, doing an immense amount of good. He died (1688) as the result of exposure while on an errand of mercy. His works were then known only to humble readers, and not until long years had passed did critics awaken to the fact that one of England's most powerful and original writers had passed away with the poor tinker of Elstow. WORKS OF BUNYAN. From the pen of this uneducated preacher came nearly sixtyworks, great and small, the most notable of which are: _GraceAbounding_ (1666), a kind of spiritual autobiography; _The HolyWar_ (1665), a prose allegory with a theme similar to that of Milton'sepic; and _The Life and Death of Mr. Badman_ (1682), a character studywhich was a forerunner of the English novel. These works are seldom read, and Bunyan is known to most readers as the author of _The Pilgrim'sProgress_ (1678). This is the famous allegory [Footnote: Allegory isfigurative writing, in which some outward object or event is described insuch a way that we apply the description to humanity, to our mental orspiritual experiences. The object of allegory, as a rule, is to teach morallessons, and in this it is like a drawn-out fable and like a parable. Thetwo greatest allegories in our literature are Spenser's _Faery Queen_and Bunyan's _Pilgrim's Progress_. ] in which, under guise of tellingthe story of a pilgrim in search of a city, Bunyan portrays the experiencesof humanity in its journey from this world to the next. Here is an outlineof the story: [Sidenote: STORY OF PILGRIM'S PROGRESS] In the City of Destruction lives a poor sinner called Christian. When he learns that the city is doomed, he is terrified and flees out of it, carrying a great burden on his back. He is followed by the jeers of his neighbors, who have no fear. He seeks a safe and abiding city to dwell in, but is ignorant how to find it until Evangelist shows him the road. As he goes on his journey Mr. Worldly Wiseman meets him and urges him to return; but he hastens on, only to plunge into the Slough of Despond. His companion Pliable is here discouraged and turns back. Christian struggles on through the mud and reaches the Wicket Gate, where Interpreter shows him the way to the Celestial City. As he passes a cross beside the path, the heavy burden which he carries (his load of sins) falls off of itself. Then with many adventures he climbs the steep hill Difficulty, where his eyes behold the Castle Beautiful. To reach this he must pass some fearful lions in the way, but he adventures on, finds that the lions are chained, is welcomed by the porter Watchful, and is entertained in the castle overnight. Dangers thicken and difficulties multiply as he resumes his journey. His road is barred by the demon Apollyon, whom he fights to the death. The way now dips downward into the awful Valley of the Shadow. Passing through this, he enters the town of Vanity, goes to Vanity Fair, where he is abused and beaten, and where his companion Faithful is condemned to death. As he escapes from Vanity, the giant Despair seizes him and hurls him into the gloomy dungeon of Doubt. Again he escapes, struggles onward, and reaches the Delectable Mountains. There for the first time he sees the Celestial City, but between him and his refuge is a river, deep and terrible, without bridge or ford. He crosses it, and the journey ends as angels come singing down the streets to welcome Christian into the city. [Footnote: This is the story of the first part of _Pilgrim's Progress_, which was written in Bedford jail, but not published till some years later. In 1684 Bunyan published the second part of his story, describing the adventures of Christiana and her children on their journey to the Celestial City. This sequel, like most others, is of minor importance. ] [Illustration: BUNYAN MEETINGHOUSE, SOUTHWARK] Such an outline gives but a faint idea of Bunyan's great work, of itsrealistic figures, its living and speaking characters, its knowledge ofhumanity, its portrayal of the temptations and doubts that beset theordinary man, its picturesque style, which of itself would make the bookstand out above ten thousand ordinary stories. _Pilgrim's Progress_ isstill one of our best examples of clear, forceful, idiomatic English; andour wonder increases when we remember that it was written by a man ignorantof literary models. But he had read his Bible daily until its style andimagery had taken possession of him; also he had a vivid imagination, asincere purpose to help his fellows, and his simple rule of rhetoric was toforget himself and deliver his message. In one of his poems he gives us hisrule of expression, which is an excellent one for writers and speakers: Thine only way, Before them all, is to say out thy say In thine own native language. * * * * * JOHN DRYDEN (1631-1700) For fifty years Dryden lived in the city of Milton, in the country of JohnBunyan; but his works might indicate that he inhabited a different planet. Unlike his two great contemporaries, his first object was to win favor; hesold his talent to the highest bidder, won the leading place amongsecond-rate Restoration writers, and was content to reflect a generationwhich had neither the hearty enthusiasm of Elizabethan times nor the moralearnestness of Puritanism. LIFE. Knowledge of Dryden's life is rather meager, and as his motives are open to question we shall state here only a few facts. He was born of a Puritan and aristocratic family, at Aldwinkle, in 1631. After an excellent education, which included seven years at Trinity College, Cambridge, he turned to literature as a means of earning a livelihood, taking a worldly view of his profession and holding his pen ready to serve the winning side. Thus, he wrote his "Heroic Stanzas, " which have a hearty Puritan ring, on the death of Cromwell; but he turned Royalist and wrote the more flattering "Astræa Redux" to welcome Charles II back to power. [Sidenote: HIS VERSATILITY] In literature Dryden proved himself a man of remarkable versatility. Because plays were in demand, he produced many that catered to the evil tastes of the Restoration stage, --plays that he afterwards condemned unsparingly. He was equally ready to write prose or verse, songs, criticisms, political satires. In 1670 he was made poet laureate under Charles II; his affairs prospered; he became a literary dictator in London, holding forth nightly in Will's Coffeehouse to an admiring circle of listeners. After the Revolution of 1688 he lost his offices, and with them most of his income. [Illustration: JOHN DRYDEN From a picture by Hudson in the Hall of Trinity College, Cambridge] In his old age, being reduced to hackwork, he wrote obituaries, epitaphs, paraphrases of the tales of Chaucer, translations of Latin poets, --anything to earn an honest living. He died in 1700, and was buried beside Chaucer in Westminster Abbey. Such facts are not interesting; nor do they give us a true idea of the man Dryden. To understand him we should have to read his works (no easy or pleasant task) and compare his prose prefaces, in which he is at his best, with the comedies in which he is abominable. When not engaged with the degenerate stage, or with political or literary or religious controversies, he appears sane, well-balanced, good-tempered, manly; but the impression is not a lasting one. He seems to have catered to the vicious element of his own age, to have regretted the misuse of his talent, and to have recorded his own judgment in two lines from his ode "To the Memory of Mrs. Killigrew": O gracious God, how far have we Profaned thy heavenly grace of poesy! WORKS OF DRYDEN. The occasional poems written by Dryden may be left in theobscurity into which they fell after they had been applauded. The same maybe said of his typical poem "Annus Mirabilis, " which describes thewonderful events of the year 1666, a year which witnessed the taking of NewAmsterdam from the Dutch and the great fire of London. Both events werecelebrated in a way to contribute to the glory of King Charles and toDryden's political fortune. Of all his poetical works, only the odeswritten in honor of St. Cecilia are now remembered. The second ode, "Alexander's Feast, " is one of our best poems on the power of music. [Sidenote: HIS PLAYS] Dryden's numerous plays show considerable dramatic power, and every one ofthem contains some memorable line or passage; but they are spoiled by theauthor's insincerity in trying to satisfy the depraved taste of theRestoration stage. He wrote one play, _All for Love_, to pleasehimself, he said, and it is noticeable that this play is written in blankverse and shows the influence of Shakespeare, who was then out of fashion. If any of the plays are to be read, _All for Love_ should be selected, though it is exceptional, not typical, and gives but a faint idea ofDryden's ordinary dramatic methods. [Sidenote: SATIRES] In the field of political satire Dryden was a master, and his work here isinteresting as showing that unfortunate alliance between literature andpolitics which led many of the best English writers of the next century tosell their services to the Whigs or Tories. Dryden sided with the laterparty and, in a kind of allegory of the Bible story of Absalom's revoltagainst David, wrote "Absalom and Achitophel" to glorify the Tories and tocastigate the Whigs. This powerful political satire was followed by othersin the same vein, and by "MacFlecknoe, " which satirized certain poets withwhom Dryden was at loggerheads. As a rule, such works are for a day, havingno enduring interest because they have no human kindness, but occasionallyDryden portrays a man of his own time so well that his picture applies tothe vulgar politician of all ages, as in this characterization of Burnet: Prompt to assail and careless of defence, Invulnerable in his impudence, He dares the world, and eager of a name He thrusts about and justles into fame; So fond of loud report that, not to miss. Of being known (his last and utmost bliss), He rather would be known for what he is. These satires of Dryden were largely influential in establishing the heroiccouplet, [Footnote: The heroic couplet consists of two iambic pentameterlines that rime. By "pentameter" is meant that the line has five feet ormeasures; by "iambic, " that each foot contains two syllables, the firstshort or unaccented, the second long or accented. ] which dominated thefashion of English poetry for the next century. The couplet had been usedby earlier poets, Chaucer for example; but in his hands it was musical andunobtrusive, a minor part of a complete work. With Dryden, and with hiscontemporary Waller, the making of couplets was the main thing; in theirhands the couplet became "closed, " that is, it often contained a completethought, a criticism, a nugget of common sense, a poem in itself, as inthis aphorism from "MacFlecknoe": All human things are subject to decay, And when Fate summons, monarchs must obey. [Sidenote: PROSE WORKS] In his prose works Dryden proved himself the ablest critic of his time, andthe inventor of a neat, serviceable style which, with flattery toourselves, we are wont to call modern. Among his numerous critical works wenote especially "An Essay of Dramatic Poesy, " "Of Heroic Plays, " "Discourseon Satire, " and the Preface to his _Fables_. These have not the vigoror picturesqueness of Bunyan's prose, but they are written clearly, inshort sentences, with the chief aim of being understood. If we compare themwith the sonorous periods of Milton, or with the pretty involutions ofSidney, we shall see why Dryden is called "the father of modern prose. " Hissensible style appears in this criticism of Chaucer: "He must have been a man of a most wonderful comprehensive nature, because, as it has been truly observed of him, he has taken into the compass of his _Canterbury Tales_ the various manners and humours (as we now call them) of the whole English nation in his age. Not a single character has escaped him. .. . We have our fathers and great-grand-dames all before us as they were in Chaucer's days: their general characters are still remaining in mankind, and even in England, though they are called by other names than those of monks and friars and canons and lady abbesses and nuns; for mankind is ever the same, and nothing lost out of nature though everything is altered. " * * * * * SECONDARY WRITERS PURITAN AND CAVALIER VERSE. The numerous minor poets of this period areoften arranged in groups, but any true classification is impossible sincethere was no unity among them. Each was a law unto himself, and the resultwas to emphasize personal oddity or eccentricity. It would seem that inwriting of love, the common theme of poets, Puritan and Cavalier must alikespeak the common language of the heart; but that is precisely what they didnot do. With them love was no longer a passion, or even a fashion, but anyfantastic conceit that might decorate a rime. Thus, Suckling habituallymade love a joke: Why so pale and wan, fond lover, Prithee why so pale? Will, when looking well wont move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee why so pale? Crashaw turned from his religious poems to sing of love in a way to appealto the Transcendentalists, of a later age: Whoe'er she be, That not impossible she That shall command my heart and me. And Donne must search out some odd notion from natural (or unnatural)history, making love a spider that turns the wine of life into poison; orfrom mechanics, comparing lovers to a pair of dividers: If they be two, they are two so As stiff twin compasses are two: Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show To move, but doth if the other do. [Illustration: GEORGE HERBERTFrom a rare print by White, prefixed to his poems] Several of these poets, commonly grouped in a class which includes Donne, Herbert, Cowley, Crashaw, and others famous in their day, received the nameof metaphysical poets, not because of their profound thought, but becauseof their eccentric style and queer figures of speech. Of all this groupGeorge Herbert (1593-1633) is the sanest and the sweetest. His chief work, _The Temple_, is a collection of poems celebrating the beauty ofholiness, the sacraments, the Church, the experiences of the Christianlife. Some of these poems are ingenious conceits, and deserve the derisivename of "metaphysical" which Dr. Johnson flung at them; but others, such as"Virtue, " "The Pulley, " "Love" and "The Collar, " are the expression of abeautiful and saintly soul, speaking of the deep things of God; andspeaking so quietly withal that one is apt to miss the intensity that lurkseven in his calmest verses. Note in these opening and closing stanzas of"Virtue" the restraint of the one, the hidden glow of the other: Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky! The dew shall weep thy fall to-night; For thou must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like seasoned timber, never gives; But, though the whole world turn to coal, Then chiefly lives. [Sidenote: CAVALIER POETS] In contrast with the disciplined Puritan spirit of Herbert is the gayety ofanother group, called the Cavalier poets, among whom are Carew, Sucklingand Lovelace. They reflect clearly the spirit of the Royalists who followedKing Charles with a devotion worthy of a better master. Robert Herrick(1591-1674) is the best known of this group, and his only book, _Hesperides and Noble Numbers_ (1648), reflects the two elements foundin most of the minor poetry of the age; namely, Cavalier gayety and Puritanseriousness. In the first part of the book are some graceful versescelebrating the light loves of the Cavaliers and the fleeting joys ofcountry life: I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds and bowers, Of April, May, of June and July flowers; I sing of Maypoles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal cakes. In _Noble Numbers_ such poems as "Thanksgiving, " "A True Lent, ""Litany, " and the child's "Ode on the Birth of Our Saviour" reflect thebetter side of the Cavalier, who can be serious without pulling a longface, who goes to his devotions cheerfully, and who retains even in hisreligion what Andrew Lang calls a spirit of unregenerate happiness. [Sidenote: BUTLER'S HUDIBRAS] Samuel Butler (1612-1680) may also be classed with the Cavalier poets, though in truth he stands alone in this age, a master of doggerel rime andof ferocious satire. His chief work, _Hudibras_, a grotesquecaricature of Puritanism, appeared in 1663, when the restored king and hisfavorites were shamelessly plundering the government. The poem (probablysuggested by _Don Quixote_) relates a rambling story of the adventuresof Sir Hudibras, a sniveling Puritan knight, and his squire Ralpho. Itsdoggerel style may be inferred from the following: Besides, 'tis known he could speak Greek As naturally as pigs squeak; That Latin was no more difficle Than to a blackbird 'tis to whistle: Being rich in both, he never scanted His bounty unto such as wanted. Such was the stuff that the Royalists quoted to each other as wit; and thewit was so dear to king and courtiers that they carried copies of_Hudibras_ around in their pockets. The poem was enormously popular inits day, and some of its best lines are still quoted; but the selections wenow meet give but a faint idea of the general scurrility of a work whichamused England in the days when the Puritan's fanaticism was keenlyremembered, his struggle for liberty quite forgotten. PROSE WRITERS. Of the hundreds of prose works that appeared in Puritantimes very few are now known even by name. Their controversial fires aresunk to ashes; even the causes that produced or fanned them are forgotten. Meanwhile we cherish a few books that speak not of strife but of peace andcharity. [Illustration: SIR THOMAS BROWNE] Thomas Browne (1605-1682) was a physician, vastly learned in a day when heand other doctors gravely prescribed herbs or bloodsuckers for witchcraft;but he was less interested in his profession than in what was then calledmodern science. His most famous work is _Religio Medici_ (Religion ofa Physician, 1642), a beautiful book, cherished by those who know it as oneof the greatest prose works in the language. His _Urn Burial_ is evenmore remarkable for its subtle thought and condensed expression; but itscharm, like that of the Silent Places, is for the few who can discover andappreciate it. [Illustration: ISAAC WALTON] Isaac Walton (1593-1683), or Isaak, as he always wrote it, was a modestlinen merchant who, in the midst of troublous times, kept his serenity ofspirit by attending strictly to his own affairs, by reading good books, andby going fishing. His taste for literature is reflected with raresimplicity in his _Lives of Donne, Wotton, Hooker, George Herbert andBishop Sanderson_, a series of biographies which are among the earliestand sweetest in our language. Their charm lies partly in their refinedstyle, but more largely in their revelation of character; for Walton chosemen of gentle spirit for his subjects, men who were like himself incherishing the still depths of life rather than its noisy shallows, andwrote of them with the understanding of perfect sympathy. Wordsworthexpressed his appreciation of the work in a noble sonnet beginning: There are no colours in the fairest sky So fair as these. The feather whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men Dropped from an angel's wing. Walton's love of fishing, and of all the lore of trout brooks and springmeadows that fishing implies, found expression in _The Compleat Angler, or Contemplative Man's Recreation_ (1653). This is a series ofconversations in which an angler convinces his friends that fishing is notmerely the sport of catching fish, but an art that men are born to, likethe art of poetry. Even such a hard-hearted matter as impaling a minnow forbait becomes poetical, for this is the fashion of it: "Put your hook in athis mouth, and out at his gills, and do it as if you loved him. " It isenough to say of this old work, the classic of its kind, that it deservesall the honor which the tribe of anglers have given it, and that you couldhardly find a better book to fall asleep over after a day's fishing. [Sidenote: EVELYN AND PEPYS] No such gentle, human, lovable books were produced in Restoration times. The most famous prose works of the period are the diaries of John Evelynand Samuel Pepys. The former was a gentleman, and his _Diary_ is aninteresting chronicle of matters large and small from 1641 to 1697. Pepys, though he became Secretary of the Admiralty and President of the RoyalSociety, was a gossip, a chatterbox, with an eye that loved to peek intoclosets and a tongue that ran to slander. His _Diary_, covering theperiod from 1660 to 1669, is a keen but malicious exposition of private andpublic life during the Restoration. * * * * * SUMMARY. The literary period just studied covers the last three quarters of the seventeenth century. Its limits are very indefinite, merging into Elizabethan romance on the one side, and into eighteenth century formalism on the other. Historically, the period was one of bitter conflict between two main political and religious parties, the Royalists, or Cavaliers, and the Puritans. The literature of the age is extremely diverse in character, and is sadly lacking in the unity, the joyousness, the splendid enthusiasm of Elizabethan prose and poetry. The greatest writer of the period was John Milton. He is famous in literature for his early or Horton poems, which are Elizabethan in spirit; for his controversial prose works, which reflect the strife of the age; for his epic of _Paradise Lost_, and for his tragedy of _Samson_. Another notable Puritan, or rather Independent, writer was John Bunyan, whose works reflect the religious ferment of the seventeenth century. His chief works are _Grace Abounding_, a kind of spiritual biography, and _The Pilgrim's Progress_, an allegory of the Christian life which has been more widely read than any other English book. The chief writer of the Restoration period was John Dryden, a professional author, who often catered to the coarser tastes of the age. There is no single work by which he is gratefully remembered. He is noted for his political satires, for his vigorous use of the heroic couplet, for his modern prose style, and for his literary criticisms. Among the numerous minor poets of the period, Robert Herrick and George Herbert are especially noteworthy. A few miscellaneous prose works are the _Religio Medici_ of Thomas Browne, _The Compleat Angler_ of Isaac Walton, and the diaries of Pepys and Evelyn. SELECTIONS FOR READING. Minor poems of Milton, and parts of Paradise Lost, in Standard English Classics, Riverside Literature, and other school series (see Texts, in General Bibliography). Selections from Cavalier and Puritan poets in Maynard's English Classics, Golden Treasury Series, Manly's English Poetry, Century Readings, Ward's English Poets. Prose selections in Manly's English Prose, Craik's English Prose Selections, Garnett's English Prose from Elizabeth to Victoria. Pilgrim's Progress and Grace Abounding in Standard English Classics, Pocket Classics, Student's Classics. Religio Medici and Complete Angler in Temple Classics and Everyman's Library. Selections from Dryden in Manly's English Prose and Manly's English Poetry. Dryden's version of Palamon and Arcite (the Knight's Tale of Chaucer) in Standard English Classics, Riverside Literature, Lake Classics. BIBLIOGRAPHY. For texts and manuals dealing with the whole field of English history and literature see the General Bibliography. The following works deal chiefly with the Puritan and Restoration periods. _HISTORY_. Wakeling, King and Parliament (Oxford Manuals of English History); Gardiner, The First Two Stuarts and the Puritan Revolution (Great Epochs Series); Tulloch, English Puritanism; Harrison, Oliver Cromwell; Hale, The Fall of the Stuarts; Airy, The English Restoration and Louis XIV. _LITERATURE_. Masterman, The Age of Milton; Dowden, Puritan and Anglican; Wendell, Temper of the Seventeenth Century in Literature; Gosse, Seventeenth-Century Studies; Schilling, Seventeenth-Century Lyrics (Athenæum Press Series); Isaac Walton, Lives of Donne, Wotton, Hooker, Herbert and Sanderson. _Milton_. Life, by Garnett (Great Writers Series); by Pattison (English Men of Letters). Corson, Introduction to Milton; Raleigh, Milton; Stopford Brooke, Milton. Essays, by Macaulay; by Lowell, in Among My Books; by M. Arnold, in Essays in Criticism. _Bunyan_. Life, by Venables (Great Writers); by Froude (E. M. Of L. ). Brown, John Bunyan; Woodberry's essay, in Makers of Literature. _Dryden_. Life by Saintsbury (E. M. Of L. ). Gosse, From Shakespeare to Pope. _Thomas Browne_. Life, by Gosse (E. M. Of L. ). Essays, by L. Stephen, in Hours in a Library; by Pater, in Appreciations. _FICTION AND POETRY_. Shorthouse, John Inglesant; Scott, Old Mortality, Peveril of the Peak, Woodstock; Blackmore, Lorna Doone. Milton, Sonnet on Cromwell; Scott, Rokeby; Bates and Coman, English History Told by English Poets. CHAPTER VI EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY LITERATURE In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold: Alike fantastic if too new or old. Be not the first by whom the new are tried, Nor yet the last to lay the old aside. Pope, "An Essay on Criticism" HISTORY OF THE PERIOD. The most striking political feature of the times was the rise of constitutional and party government. The Revolution of 1688, which banished the Stuarts, had settled the king question by making Parliament supreme in England, but not all Englishmen were content with the settlement. No sooner were the people in control of the government than they divided into hostile parties: the liberal Whigs, who were determined to safeguard popular liberty, and the conservative Tories, with tender memories of kingcraft, who would leave as much authority as possible in the royal hands. On the extreme of Toryism was a third party of zealots, called the Jacobites, who aimed to bring the Stuarts back to the throne, and who for fifty years filled Britain with plots and rebellion. The literature of the age was at times dominated by the interests of these contending factions. The two main parties were so well balanced that power shifted easily from one to the other. To overturn a Tory or a Whig cabinet only a few votes were necessary, and to influence such votes London was flooded with pamphlets. Even before the great newspapers appeared, the press had become a mighty power in England, and any writer with a talent for argument or satire was almost certain to be hired by party leaders. Addison, Steele, Defoe, Swift, --most of the great writers of the age were, on occasion, the willing servants of the Whigs or Tories. So the new politician replaced the old nobleman as a patron of letters. [Sidenote: SOCIAL LIFE] Another feature of the age was the rapid development of social life. In earlier ages the typical Englishman had lived much by himself; his home was his castle, and in it he developed his intense individualism; but in the first half of the eighteenth century some three thousand public coffeehouses and a large number of private clubs appeared in London alone; and the sociability of which these clubs were an expression was typical of all English cities. Meanwhile country life was in sore need of refinement. The influence of this social life on literature was inevitable. Nearly all writers frequented the coffeehouses, and matters discussed there became subjects of literature; hence the enormous amount of eighteenth-century writing devoted to transient affairs, to politics, fashions, gossip. Moreover, as the club leaders set the fashion in manners or dress, in the correct way of taking snuff or of wearing wigs and ruffles, so the literary leaders emphasized formality or correctness of style, and to write prose like Addison, or verse like Pope, became the ambition of aspiring young authors. There are certain books of the period (seldom studied amongst its masterpieces) which are the best possible expression of its thought and manners. The Letters of Lord Chesterfield, for example, especially those written to his son, are more significant, and more readable, than anything produced by Johnson. Even better are the Memoirs of Horace Walpole, and his gossipy Letters, of which Thackeray wrote: "Fiddles sing all through them; wax lights, fine dresses, fine jokes, fine plate, fine equipages glitter and sparkle; never was such a brilliant, smirking Vanity Fair as that through which he leads us. " [Sidenote: SPREAD OF EMPIRE] Two other significant features of the age were the large part played by England in Continental wars, and the rapid expansion of the British empire. These Continental wars, which have ever since influenced British policy, seem to have originated (aside from the important matter of self-interest) in a double motive: to prevent any one nation from gaining overwhelming superiority by force of arms, and to save the smaller "buffer" states from being absorbed by their powerful neighbors. Thus the War of the Spanish Succession (1711) prevented the union of the French and Spanish monarchies, and preserved the smaller states of Holland and Germany. As Addison then wrote, at least half truthfully: 'T is Britain's care to watch o'er Europe's fate, And hold in balance each contending state: To threaten bold, presumptuous kings with war, And answer her afflicted neighbors' prayer. [1] [Footnote [1]: From Addison's Address to Liberty, in his poetical "Letter to Lord Halifax. "] The expansion of the empire, on the whole the most marvelous feature of English history, received a tremendous impetus in this age when India, Australia and the greater part of North America were added to the British dominions, and when Captain Cook opened the way for a belt of colonies around the whole world. The influence of the last-named movement hardly appears in the books which we ordinarily read as typical of the age. There are other books, however, which one may well read for his own unhampered enjoyment: such expansive books as Hawkesworth's _Voyages_ (1773), corresponding to Hakluyt's famous record of Elizabethan exploration, and especially the _Voyages of Captain Cook_, [Footnote: The first of Cook's fateful voyages appears in Hawkesworth's collection. The second was recorded by Cook himself (1777), and the third by Cook and Captain King (1784). See Synge, _Captain Cook's Voyages Around the World_ (London, 1897). ] which take us from the drawing-room chatter of politics or fashion or criticism into a world of adventure and great achievement. In such works, which make no profession of literary style, we feel the lure of the sea and of lands beyond the horizon, which is as the mighty background of English literature from Anglo-Saxon times to the present day. It is difficult to summarize the literature of this age, or to group suchantagonistic writers as Swift and Addison, Pope and Burns, Defoe andJohnson, Goldsmith and Fielding, with any fine discrimination. It is simplyfor convenience, therefore, that we study eighteenth-century writings inthree main divisions: the reign of so-called classicism, the revival ofromantic poetry, and the beginnings of the modern novel. As a whole, it isan age of prose rather than of poetry, and in this respect it differs fromall preceding ages of English literature. * * * * * EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY CLASSICISM The above title is an unfortunate one, but since it is widely used we musttry to understand it as best we can. Yet when one begins to define"classicism" one is reminded of that old bore Polonius, who tells howHamlet is affected: Your noble son is mad: Mad, call I it; for to define true madness, What is't but to be nothing else but mad? In our literature the word "classic" was probably first used in connectionwith the writers of Greece and Rome, and any English work which showed theinfluence of such writers was said to have a classic style. If we seek tothe root of the word, we shall find that it refers to the _classici_, that is, to the highest of the classes into which the census divided theRoman people; hence the proper use of "classic" to designate the writingsthat have won first rank in any nation. As Goethe said, "Everything that isgood in literature is classical. " [Sidenote: CLASSIC AND PSEUDO-CLASSIC] Gradually, however, the word "classic" came to have a different meaning, ameaning now expressed by the word "formal. " In the Elizabethan age, as wehave seen, critics insisted that English plays should conform to the rulesor "unities" of the Greek drama, and plays written according to such ruleswere called classic. Again, in the eighteenth century, English poets tookto studying ancient authors, especially Horace, to find out how poetryshould be written. Having discovered, as they thought, the rules ofcomposition, they insisted on following such rules rather than individualgenius or inspiration. It is largely because of this adherence to rules, this slavery to a fashion of the time, that so much of eighteenth-centuryverse seems cold and artificial, a thing made to order rather than thenatural expression of human feeling. The writers themselves were wellsatisfied with their formality, however, and called their own the Classicor Augustan age of English letters. [Footnote: Though the eighteenthcentury was dominated by this formal spirit, it had, like every other age, its classic and romantic movements. The work of Gray, Burns and otherromantic poets will be considered later. ] * * * * * ALEXANDER POPE (1688-1744) It was in 1819 that a controversy arose over the question, Was Pope a poet?To have asked that in 1719 would have indicated that the questioner wasignorant; to have asked it a half century later might have raised a doubtas to his sanity, for by that time Pope was acclaimed as a master by thegreat majority of poets in England and America. We judge now, looking athim in perspective and comparing him with Chaucer or Burns, that he was nota great poet but simply the kind of poet that the age demanded. He belongsto eighteenth-century London exclusively, and herein he differs from themaster poets who are at home in all places and expressive of all time. [Illustration: ALEXANDER POPE] LIFE. Pope is an interesting but not a lovable figure. Against the petty details of his life we should place, as a background, these amazing achievements: that this poor cripple, weak of body and spiteful of mind, was the supreme literary figure of his age; that he demonstrated how an English poet could live by his pen, instead of depending on patrons; that he won greater fame and fortune than Shakespeare or Milton received from their contemporaries; that he dominated the fashion of English poetry during his lifetime, and for many years after his death. [Sidenote: THE WRITER] Such are the important facts of Pope's career. For the rest: he was born in London, in the year of the Revolution (1688). Soon after that date his father, having gained a modest fortune in the linen business, retired to Binfield, on the fringe of Windsor Forest. There Pope passed his boyhood, studying a little under private tutors, forming a pleasurable acquaintance with Latin and Greek poets. From fourteen to twenty, he tells us, he read for amusement; but from twenty to twenty-seven he read for "improvement and instruction. " The most significant traits of these early years were his determination to be a poet and his talent for imitating any writer who pleased him. Dryden was his first master, from whom he inherited the couplet, then he imitated the French critic Boileau and the Roman poet Horace. By the time he was twenty four the publication of his _Essay on Criticism_ and _The Rape of the Lock_ had made him the foremost poet of England. By his translation of Homer he made a fortune, with which he bought a villa at Twickenham. There he lived in the pale sunshine of literary success, and there he quarreled with every writer who failed to appreciate his verses, his jealousy overflowing at last in _The Dunciad_ (Iliad of Dunces), a witty but venomous lampoon, in which he took revenge on all who had angered him. [Illustration: TWICKENHAM PARISH CHURCH, WHERE POPE WAS BURIED Pope lived at Twickenham for nearly thirty years] [Sidenote: THE MAN] Next to his desire for glory and revenge, Pope loved to be considered a man of high character, a teacher of moral philosophy. His ethical teaching appears in his _Moral Epistles_, his desire for a good reputation is written large in his Letters, which he secretly printed, and then alleged that they had been made public against his wish. These Letters might impress us as the utterances of a man of noble ideals, magnanimous with his friends, patient with his enemies, until we reflect that they were published by the author for the purpose of giving precisely that impression. Another side of Pope's nature is revealed in this: that to some of his friends, to Swift and Bolingbroke for example, he showed gratitude, and that to his parents he was ever a dutiful son. He came perhaps as near as he could to a real rather than an artificial sentiment when he wrote of his old mother: Me let the tender office long engage, To rock the cradle of reposing age. WORKS OF POPE. Pope's first important work, _An Essay on Criticism_(1711), is an echo of the rules which Horace had formulated in his _ArsPoetica_, more than seventeen centuries before Pope was born. The Frenchcritic Boileau made an alleged improvement of Horace in his _L'ArtPoétique_, and Pope imitated both writers with his rimed _Essay_, in which he attempted to sum up the rules by which poetry should be judged. And he did it, while still under the age of twenty-five, so brilliantlythat his characterization of the critic is unmatched in our literature. Afew selections will serve to show the character of the work: First follow nature, and your judgment frame By her just standard, which is still the same: Unerring nature, still divinely bright, One clear, unchanged and universal light, Life, force and beauty must to all impart, At once the source and end and test of Art. Poets, like painters, thus unskilled to trace The naked nature and the living grace, With gold and jewels cover every part, And hide with ornaments their want of art. True wit is nature to advantage dressed, What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed. Expression is the dress of thought, and still Appears more decent, as more suitable. [Sidenote: RAPE OF THE LOCK] Pope's next important poem, _The Rape of the Lock_ (1712), is his mostoriginal and readable work. The occasion of the poem was that a fop stole alock of hair from a young lady, and the theft plunged two families into aquarrel which was taken up by the fashionable set of London. Pope made amock-heroic poem on the subject, in which he satirized the fads andfashions of Queen Anne's age. Ordinarily Pope's fancy is of small range, and proceeds jerkily, like the flight of a woodpecker, from couplet tocouplet; but here he attempts to soar like the eagle. He introduces daintyaerial creatures, gnomes, sprites, sylphs, to combat for the belles andfops in their trivial concerns; and herein we see a clever burlesque of theold epic poems, in which gods or goddesses entered into the serious affairsof mortals. The craftsmanship of the poem is above praise; it is not only aneatly pointed satire on eighteenth-century fashions but is one of the mostgraceful works in English verse. [Sidenote: ESSAY OF MAN] An excellent supplement to _The Rape of the Lock_, which pictures thesuperficial elegance of the age, is _An Essay on Man_, which reflectsits philosophy. That philosophy under the general name of Deism, hadfancied to abolish the Church and all revealed religion, and had set up anew-old standard of natural faith and morals. Of this philosophy Pope hadsmall knowledge; but he was well acquainted with the discreditedBolingbroke, his "guide, philosopher and friend, " who was a fluent exponentof the new doctrine, and from Bolingbroke came the general scheme of the_Essay on Man_. The poem appears in the form of four epistles, dealing with man's place inthe universe, with his moral nature, with social and political ethics, andwith the problem of happiness. These were discussed from a common-senseviewpoint, and with feet always on solid earth. As Pope declares: Know then thyself, presume not God to scan; The proper study of mankind is man. .. . Created half to rise, and half to fall; Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all; Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled; The glory, jest and riddle of the world. Throughout the poem these two doctrines of Deism are kept in sight: thatthere is a God, a Mystery, who dwells apart from the world; and that manought to be contented, even happy, in his ignorance of matters beyond hishorizon: All nature is but art, unknown to thee; All chance, direction which thou canst not see; All discord, harmony not understood; All partial evil, universal good; And, spite of pride, in erring reason's spite, One truth is clear: whatever is, is right. The result is rubbish, so far as philosophy is concerned, but in the heapof incongruous statements which Pope brings together are a large number ofquotable lines, such as: Honor and shame from no condition rise; Act well your part, there all the honor lies. It is because of such lines, the care with which the whole poem ispolished, and the occasional appearance of real beauty (such as the passagebeginning, "Lo, the poor Indian") that the _Essay on Man_ occupiessuch a high place in eighteenth-century literature. [Sidenote: THE QUALITY OF POPE] It is hardly necessary to examine other works of Pope, since the poemsalready named give us the full measure of his strength and weakness. Histalent is to formulate rules of poetry, to satirize fashionable society, tomake brilliant epigrams in faultless couplets. His failure to move or evento interest us greatly is due to his second-hand philosophy, his inabilityto feel or express emotion, his artificial life apart from nature andhumanity. When we read Chaucer or Shakespeare, we have the impression thatthey would have been at home in any age or place, since they deal withhuman interests that are the same yesterday, to-day and forever; but we canhardly imagine Pope feeling at ease anywhere save in his own set and in hisown generation. He is the poet of one period, which set great store byformality, and in that period alone he is supreme. * * * * * JONATHAN SWIFT (1667-1745) In the history of literature Swift occupies a large place as the mostpowerful of English satirists; that is, writers who search out the faultsof society in order to hold them up to ridicule. To most readers, however, he is known as the author of _Gulliver's Travels_, a book which youngpeople still read with pleasure, as they read _Robinson Crusoe_ or anyother story of adventure. In the fate of that book, which was intended toscourge humanity but which has become a source of innocent entertainment, is a commentary on the colossal failure of Swift's ambition. [Illustration: JONATHAN SWIFT] LIFE. Little need be recorded of Swift's life beyond the few facts which help us to understand his satires. He was born in Dublin, of English parents, and was so "bantered by fortune" that he was compelled to spend the greater part of his life in Ireland, a country which he detested. He was very poor, very proud; and even in youth he railed at a mocking fate which compelled him to accept aid from others. For his education he was dependent on a relative, who helped him grudgingly. After leaving Trinity College, Dublin, the only employment he could find was with another relative, Sir William Temple, a retired statesman, who hired Swift as a secretary and treated him as a servant. Galled by his position and by his feeling of superiority (for he was a man of physical and mental power, who longed to be a master of great affairs) he took orders in the Anglican Church; but the only appointment he could obtain was in a village buried, as he said, in a forsaken district of Ireland. There his bitterness overflowed in _A Tale of a Tub_ and a few pamphlets of such satiric power that certain political leaders recognized Swift's value and summoned him to their assistance. [Illustration: TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN] [Sidenote: SWIFT IN LONDON] To understand his success in London one must remember the times. Politics were rampant; the city was the battleground of Whigs and Tories, whose best weapon was the printed pamphlet that justified one party by heaping abuse or ridicule on the other. Swift was a master of satire, and he was soon the most feared author in England. He seems to have had no fixed principles, for he was ready to join the Tories when that party came into power and to turn his literary cannon on the Whigs, whom he had recently supported. In truth, he despised both parties; his chief object was to win for himself the masterful position in Church or state for which, he believed, his talents had fitted him. For several years Swift was the literary champion of the victorious Tories; then, when his keen eye detected signs of tottering in the party, he asked for his reward. He obtained, not the great bishopric which he expected, but an appointment as Dean of St. Patrick's Cathedral in Dublin. Small and bitter fruit this seemed to Swift, after his years of service, but even so, it was given grudgingly. [Footnote: Swift's pride and arrogance with his official superiors worked against him. Also he had published _A Tale of a Tub_, a coarse satire against the churches, which scandalized the queen and her ministers, who could have given him preferment. Thackeray says, "I think the Bishops who advised Queen Anne not to appoint the author of the _Tale of a Tub_ to a Bishopric gave perfectly good advice. "] [Sidenote: LIFE IN IRELAND] When the Tories went out of power Swift's political occupation was gone. The last thirty years of his life were spent largely in Dublin. There in a living grave, as he regarded it, the scorn which he had hitherto felt for individuals or institutions widened until it included humanity. Such is the meaning of his _Gulliver's Travels_. His only pleasure during these years was to expose the gullibility of men, and a hundred good stories are current of his practical jokes, --such as his getting rid of a crowd which had gathered to watch an eclipse by sending a solemn messenger to announce that, by the Dean's orders, the eclipse was postponed till the next day. A brain disease fastened upon him gradually, and his last years were passed in a state of alternate stupor or madness from which death was a blessed deliverance. WORKS OF SWIFT. The poems of Swift, though they show undoubted power (everysmallest thing he wrote bears that stamp), may be passed over with thecomment of his relative Dryden, who wrote: "Cousin Swift, you will never bea poet. " The criticism was right, but thereafter Swift jeered at Dryden'spoetry. We may pass over also the _Battle of the Books_, the_Drapier's Letters_ and a score more of satires and lampoons. Of allthese minor works the _Bickerstaff Papers_, which record Swift'spractical joke on the astrologers, are most amusing. [Footnote: Almanacswere at that time published by pretender astrologers, who read fortunes ormade predictions from the stars. Against the most famous of these quacks, Partridge by name, Swift leveled his "Predictions for the year 1708, byIsaac Bickerstaff. " Among the predictions of coming events was this trifle:that Partridge was doomed to die on March 29 following, about eleveno'clock at night, of a raging fever. On March 30 appeared, in thenewspapers, a letter giving the details of Partridge's death, and then apamphlet called "An Elegy of Mr. Partridge. " Presently Partridge, who couldnot see the joke, made London laugh by his frantic attempts to prove thathe was alive. Then appeared an elaborate "Vindication of IsaacBickerstaff, " which proved by the infallible stars that Partridge was dead, and that the astrologer now in his place was an impostor. This joke wascopied twenty-five years later by Franklin in his _Poor Richard'sAlmanac. _] [Sidenote: GULLIVER'S TRAVELS] Swift's fame now rests largely upon his _Gulliver's Travels_, whichappeared in 1726 under the title, "Travels into Several Remote Nations ofthe World, by Lemuel Gulliver, first a Surgeon and then a Captain ofSeveral Ships. " In the first voyage we are taken to Lilliput, a countryinhabited by human beings about six inches tall, with minds in proportion. The capers of these midgets are a satire on human society, as seen throughSwift's scornful eyes. In the second voyage we go to Brobdingnag, where thepeople are of gigantic stature, and by contrast we are reminded of thepetty "human insects" whom Gulliver represents. The third voyage, to theIsland of Laputa, is a burlesque of the scientists and philosophers ofSwift's day. The fourth leads to the land of the Houyhnhnms, whereintelligent horses are the ruling creatures, and humanity is represented bythe Yahoos, a horribly degraded race, having the forms of men and thebestial habits of monkeys. Such is the ferocious satire on the elegant society of Queen Anne's day. Fortunately for our peace of mind we can read the book for its grim humorand adventurous action, as we read any other good story. Indeed, itsurprises most readers of _Gulliver_ to be told that the work wasintended to wreck our faith in humanity. [Sidenote: QUALITY OF SWIFT] In all his satires Swift's power lies in his prose style--a convincingstyle, clear, graphic, straightforward--and in his marvelous ability tomake every scene, however distant or grotesque, as natural as life itself. As Emerson said, he describes his characters as if for the police. Hisweakness is twofold: he has a fondness for coarse or malodorous references, and he is so beclouded in his own soul that he cannot see his fellows in atrue light. In one of his early works he announced the purpose of all hiswriting: My hate, whose lash just Heaven has long decreed, Shall on a day make Sin and Folly bleed. That was written at twenty-six, before he took orders in the Church. As atheological student it was certainly impressed upon the young man thatHeaven keeps its own prerogatives, and that sin and folly have never beeneffectually reformed by lashing. But Swift had a scorn of all judgmentexcept his own. As the eyes of fishes are so arranged that they see onlytheir prey and their enemies, so Swift had eyes only for the vices of menand for the lash that scourges them. When he wrote, therefore, he was notan observer, or even a judge; he was a criminal lawyer prosecuting humanityon the charge of being a sham. A tendency to insanity may possibly accountboth for his spleen against others and for the self-tortures which madehim, as Archbishop King said, "the most unhappy man on earth. " [Sidenote: JOURNAL TO STELLA] There is one oasis in the bitter desert of Swift's writings, namely, his_Journal to Stella_. While in the employ of Temple he was the dailycompanion of a young girl, Esther Johnson, who was an inmate of the samehousehold. Her love for Swift was pure and constant; wherever he went shefollowed and lived near him, bringing a ray of sunshine into his life, in aspirit which reminds us of the sublime expression of another woman: "Forwhither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thypeople shall be my people, and thy God my God. " She was probably married toSwift, but his pride kept him from openly acknowledging the union. While hewas at London he wrote a private journal for Esther (Stella) in which herecorded his impressions of the men and women he met, and of the politicalbattles in which he took part. That journal, filled with strangeabbreviations to which only he and Stella had the key, can hardly be calledliterature, but it is of profound interest. It gives us glimpses of a womanwho chose to live in the shadow; it shows the better side of Swift'snature, in contrast with his arrogance toward men and his brutal treatmentof women; and finally, it often takes us behind the scenes of a stage onwhich was played a mixed comedy of politics and society. * * * * * JOSEPH ADDISON (1672-1719) In Addison we have a pleasant reflection of the new social life of England. Select almost any feature of that life, and you shall find some account ofit in the papers of Addison: its party politics in his _WhigExaminer_; its "grand tour, " as part of a gentleman's education, in his_Remarks on Italy_; its adventure on foreign soil in such poems as"The Campaign"; its new drama of decency in his _Cato_; its classicdelusions in his _Account of the Greatest English Poets_; its frills, fashions and similar matters in his _Spectator_ essays. He triedalmost every type of literature, from hymns to librettos, and in each hesucceeded well enough to be loudly applauded. In his own day he wasaccounted a master poet, but now he is remembered as a writer of proseessays. [Illustration: JOSEPH ADDISON] LIFE. Addison's career offers an interesting contrast to that of Swift, who lived in the same age. He was the son of an English clergyman, settled in the deanery of Lichfield, and his early training left upon him the stamp of good taste and good breeding. In school he was always the model boy; in Oxford he wrote Latin verses on safe subjects, in the approved fashion; in politics he was content to "oil the machine" as he found it; in society he was shy and silent (though naturally a brilliant talker) because he feared to make some slip which might mar his prospects or the dignity of his position. A very discreet man was Addison, and the only failure he made of discretion was when he married the Dowager Countess of Warwick, went to live in her elegant Holland House, and lived unhappily ever afterwards. The last is a mere formal expression. Addison had not depth enough to be really unhappy. From the cold comfort of the Dowager's palace he would slip off to his club or to Will's Coffee house. There, with a pipe and a bottle, he would loosen his eloquent tongue and proceed to "make discreetly merry with a few old friends. " [Illustration: MAGDALEN COLLEGE OXFORD] His characteristic quality appears in the literary work which followed his Latin verses. He began with a flattering "Address to Dryden, " which pleased the old poet and brought Addison to the attention of literary celebrities. His next effort was "The Peace of Ryswick, " which flattered King William's statesmen and brought the author a chance to serve the Whig party. Also it brought a pension, with a suggestion that Addison should travel abroad and learn French and diplomacy, which he did, to his great content, for the space of three years. The death of the king brought Addison back to England. His pension stopped, and for a time he lived poorly "in a garret, " as one may read in Thackeray's _Henry Esmond_. Then came news of an English victory on the Continent (Marlborough's victory at Blenheim), and the Whigs wanted to make political capital out of the event. Addison was hunted up and engaged to write a poem. He responded with "The Campaign, " which made him famous. Patriots and politicians ascribed to the poem undying glory, and their judgment was accepted by fashionable folk of London. To read it now is to meet a formal, uninspired production, containing a few stock quotations and, incidentally, a sad commentary on the union of Whiggery and poetry. [Sidenote: HIS PATH OF ROSES] From that moment Addison's success was assured. He was given various offices of increasing importance; he entered Parliament; he wrote a classic tragedy, _Cato_, which took London by storm (his friend Steele had carefully "packed the house" for the first performance); his essays in _The Spectator_ were discussed in every fashionable club or drawing-room; he married a rich countess; he was appointed Secretary of State. The path of politics, which others find so narrow and slippery, was for Addison a broad road through pleasant gardens. Meanwhile Swift, who could not follow the Addisonian way of kindness and courtesy, was eating bitter bread and railing at humanity. After a brief experience as Secretary of State, finding that he could not make the speeches expected of him, Addison retired on a pension. His unwavering allegiance to good form in all matters appears even in his last remark, "See how a Christian can die. " That was in 1719. He had sought the easiest, pleasantest way through life, and had found it. Thackeray, who was in sympathy with such a career, summed it up in a glowing panegyric: "A life prosperous and beautiful, a calm death; an immense fame and affection afterwards for his happy and spotless name. " WORKS OF ADDISON. Addison's great reputation was won chiefly by his poetry;but with the exception of a few hymns, simple and devout, his poeticalworks no longer appeal to us. He was not a poet but a verse-maker. Hisclassic tragedy _Cato_, for example (which met with such amazingsuccess in London that it was taken over to the Continent, where it wasacclaimed "a masterpiece of regularity and elegance"), has some goodpassages, but one who reads the context is apt to find the elegant linesrunning together somewhat drowsily. Nor need that reflect on our taste orintelligence. Even the cultured Greeks, as if in anticipation of classicpoems, built two adjoining temples, one dedicated to the Muses and theother to Sleep. [Sidenote: THE ESSAYS] The _Essays_ of Addison give us the full measure of his literarytalent. In his verse, as in his political works, he seems to be speaking tostrangers; he is on guard over his dignity as a poet, as Secretary ofState, as husband of a countess; but in his _Essays_ we meet the manat his ease, fluent, witty, light-hearted but not frivolous, --just as hetalked to his friends in Will's Coffeehouse. The conversational quality ofthese _Essays_ has influenced all subsequent works of the sametype, --a type hard to define, but which leaves the impression of pleasanttalk about a subject, as distinct from any learned discussion. The _Essays_ cover a wide range: fashions, dress, manners, charactersketches, letters of travel, ghost stories, satires on common vices, week-end sermons on moral subjects. They are never profound, but they arealways pleasant, and their graceful style made such a lasting impressionthat, half a century later, Dr. Johnson summed up a general judgment whenhe said: "Whoever wishes to attain an English style, familiar but not coarse, and elegant but not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to the volumes of Addison. " ADDISON AND STEELE. Of these two associates Richard Steele (1672-1729) hadthe more original mind, and his writings reveal a warm, human sympathy thatis lacking in the work of his more famous contemporary. But while Addisoncultivated his one talent of writing, Steele was like Defoe in that healways had some new project in his head, and some old debt urging him toput the project into immediate execution. He was in turn poet, politicalpamphleteer, soldier, dramatist, member of Parliament, publisher, managerof a theater, following each occupation eagerly for a brief season, thenabandoning it cheerfully for another, --much like a boy picking blueberriesin a good place, who moves on and on to find a better bush, eats hisberries on the way, and comes home at last with an empty pail. [Illustration: SIR RICHARD STEELEFrom the engraving by Freeman after original by J. Richardson] [Sidenote: THE TATLER AND THE SPECTATOR] While holding the political office of "gazetteer" (one who had a monopolyof official news) the idea came to Steele of publishing a literarymagazine. The inventive Defoe had already issued _The Review_ (1704), but that had a political origin. With the first number of _The Tatler_(1709) the modern magazine made its bow to the public. This little sheet, published thrice a week and sold at a penny a copy, contained more or lesspolitics, to be sure, but the fact that it reflected the gossip ofcoffeehouses made it instantly popular. After less than two years oftriumph Steele lost his official position, and _The Tatler_ wasdiscontinued. The idea remained, however, and a few months later appeared_The Spectator_ (1711), a daily magazine which eschewed politics anddevoted itself to essays, reviews, letters, criticisms, --in short, to"polite" literature. Addison, who had been a contributor to _TheTatler_ entered heartily into the new venture, which had a brief butglorious career. He became known as "Mr. Spectator, " and the famousSpectator Essays are still commonly attributed to him, though in truthSteele furnished a large part of them. [Footnote: Of the _Tatler_essays Addison contributed 42, Steele about 180, and some 36 were the workof the two authors in collaboration. Of the _Spectator_ essays Addisonfurnished 274, Steele 236, and about 45 were the work of other writers. Insome of the best essays ("Sir Roger de Coverley, " for example) the two menworked together. Steele is supposed to have furnished the original ideas, the humor and overflowing kindness of such essays, while the work ofpolishing and perfecting the style fell to the more skillful Addison. ] [Sidenote: ADDISONIAN STYLE] Because of their cultivated prose style, Steele and Addison were longregarded as models, and we are still influenced by them in the direction ofclearness and grace of expression. How wide their influence extended may beseen in American literature. Hardly had _The Spectator_ appeared whenit crossed the Atlantic and began to dominate our English style on bothsides of the ocean. Franklin, in Boston, studied it by night in order toimitate it in the essay which he slipped under the printing-house door nextmorning; and Boyd, in Virginia, reflects its influence in his charmingJournal of exploration. Half a century later, the Hartford Wits werewriting clever sketches that seemed like the work of a new "Spectator";another half century, and Irving, the greatest master of English prose inhis day, was still writing in the Addisonian manner, and regretting as hewrote that the leisurely style showed signs, in a bustling age, "ofbecoming a little old-fashioned. " * * * * * DR. JOHNSON AND HIS CIRCLE Since Caxton established the king's English as a literary language ourprose style has often followed the changing fashion of London. Thus, Lylymade it fantastic, Dryden simplified it, Addison gave it grace; and eachleader set a fashion which was followed by a host of young writers. Hardlyhad the Addisonian style crossed the Atlantic, to be the model for Americanwriters for a century, when London acclaimed a new prose fashion--aponderous, grandiloquent fashion, characterized by mouth-filling words, antithetical sentences, rounded periods, sonorous commonplaces--which waseagerly adopted by orators and historians especially. The man who did morethan any other to set this new oratorical fashion in motion was the sameDr. Samuel Johnson who advised young writers to study Addison as a model. And that was only one of his amusing inconsistencies. Johnson was a man of power, who won a commanding place in English lettersby his hard work and his downright sincerity. He won his name of "the greatlexicographer" by his _Dictionary_, which we no longer consult, butwhich we remember as the first attempt at a complete English lexicon. Ifone asks what else he wrote, with the idea of going to the library andgetting a book for pleasure, the answer must be that Johnson's voluminousworks are now as dead as his dictionary. One student of literature may beinterested in such a melancholy poem as "The Vanity of Human Wishes";another will be entertained by the anecdotes or blunt criticisms of the_Lives of the Poets_; a third may be uplifted by the _RamblerEssays_, which are well called "majestically moral productions"; but weshall content ourselves here by recording Johnson's own refreshingcriticism of certain ancient authors, that "it is idle to criticize whatnobody reads. " Perhaps the best thing he wrote was a minor work, which hedid not know would ever be published. This was his manly Letter to LordChesterfield, a nobleman who had treated Johnson with discourtesy when thepoor author was making a heroic struggle, but who offered his patronagewhen the Dictionary was announced as an epoch-making work. In his noblerefusal of all extraneous help Johnson unconsciously voiced Literature'sdeclaration of independence: that henceforth a book must stand or fall onits own merits, and that the day of the literary patron was gone forever. [Illustration: DR. SAMUEL JOHNSONFrom the portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds] LIFE. The story of Johnson's life (1709-1784) has been so well told that one is loath to attempt a summary of it. We note, therefore, a few plain facts: that he was the son of a poor bookseller; that despite poverty and disease he obtained his classic education; that at twenty-six he came to London, and, after an experience with patrons, rebelled against them; that he did every kind of hackwork to earn his bread honestly, living in the very cellar of Grub Street, where he was often cold and more often hungry; that after nearly thirty years of labor his services to literature were rewarded by a pension, which he shared with the poor; that he then formed the Literary Club (including Reynolds, Pitt, Gibbon, Goldsmith, Burke, and almost every other prominent man in London) and indulged nightly in his famous "conversations, " which were either monologues or knockdown arguments; and that in his old age he was regarded as the king of letters, the oracle of literary taste in England. [Illustration: DR. JOHNSON'S HOUSE (BOLT COURT, FLEET ST. ) From the print by Charles J. Smith] Such is the bare outline of Johnson's career. To his character, his rough exterior and his kind heart, his vast learning and his Tory prejudices, his piety, his melancholy, his virtues, his frailty, his "mass of genuine manhood, " only a volume could do justice. Happily that volume is at hand. It is Boswell's _Life of Johnson_, a famous book that deserves its fame. BOSWELL'S JOHNSON. Boswell was an inquisitive barrister who came fromEdinburgh to London and thrust himself into the company of great men. ToJohnson, then at the summit of his fame, "Bozzy" was devotion itself, following his master about by day or night, refusing to be rebuffed, jotting down notes of what he saw and heard. After Johnson's death hegathered these notes together and, after seven years of labor, produced hisincomparable _Life of Johnson_ (1791). The greatness of Boswell's work may be traced to two causes. First, he hada great subject. The story of any human life is interesting, if truthfullytold, and Johnson's heroic life of labor and pain and reward was passed ina capital city, among famous men, at a time which witnessed the rapidexpansion of a mighty empire. Second, Boswell was as faithful as a mancould be to his subject, for whom he had such admiration that even thedictator's frailties seemed more impressive than the virtues of ordinaryhumanity. So Boswell concealed nothing, and felt no necessity to distributeeither praise or blame. He portrayed a man just as that man was, recordedthe word just as the word was spoken; and facing the man we may see hisenraptured audience, --at a distance, indeed, but marvelously clear, as whenwe look through the larger end of a field glass at a landscape dominated bya mountain. One who reads this matchless biography will know Johnson betterthan he knows his own neighbor; he will gain, moreover, a betterunderstanding of humanity, to reflect which clearly and truthfully is theprime object of all good literature. [Illustration: James Boswell] EDMUND BURKE (1729-1797). This brilliant Irishman came up to London as ayoung man of twenty-one. Within a few years--such was his character, hiseducation, his genius--he had won a reputation among old statesmen as apolitical philosopher. Then he entered Parliament, where for twenty yearsthe House listened with growing amazement to his rhythmic periods, and hewas acclaimed the most eloquent of orators. Among Burke's numerous works those on America, India and France aredeservedly the most famous. Of his orations on American subjects a studentof literature or history may profitably read "On Taxation" (1774) and "OnConciliation" (1775), in which Burke presents the Whig argument in favor ofa liberal colonial policy. The Tory view of the same question was bluntlypresented by Johnson in his essay "Taxation No Tyranny"; while like areverberation from America, powerful enough to carry across the Atlantic, came Thomas Paine's "Common Sense, " which was a ringing plea for colonialindependence. [Illustration: EDMUND BURKEFrom the print by John Jones, after Romney] Of Burke's works pertaining to India "The Nabob of Arcot's Debts" (1785)and the "Impeachment of Warren Hastings" (1786) are interesting to those whocan enjoy a long flight of sustained eloquence. Here again Burke presentsthe liberal, the humane view of what was then largely a political question;but in his _Reflections on the French Revolution_ (1790) he goes overto the Tories, thunders against the revolutionists or their Englishsympathizers, and exalts the undying glories of the British constitution. The _Reflections_ is the most brilliant of all Burke's works, and isadmired for its superb rhetorical style. [Sidenote: BURKE'S METHOD] To examine any of these works is to discover the author's characteristicmethod: first, his framework or argument is carefully constructed so as toappeal to reason; then this framework is buried out of sight and memory bya mass of description, digression, emotional appeal, allusions, illustrative matter from the author's wide reading or from his prolificimagination. Note this passage from the _French Revolution_: "It is now sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the Queen of France, then the Dauphiness, at Versailles; and surely never lighted on this orb, which she hardly seemed to touch, a more delightful vision. I saw her just above the horizon, decorating and cheering the elevated sphere she had just begun to move in, glittering like the morning star, full of life and splendor and joy. Oh, what a revolution! And what a heart must I have to contemplate without emotion that elevation and that fall! Little did I dream, when she added titles of veneration to those of distant, enthusiastic, respectful love, that she should ever be obliged to carry the sharp antidote against disgrace concealed in that bosom; little did I dream that I should have lived to see such disasters fallen upon her in a nation of gallant men, in a nation of men of honour and of cavaliers. I thought ten thousand swords must have leaped from their scabbards to avenge even a look that threatened her with insult. But the age of chivalry is gone. That of sophisters, economists and calculators has succeeded; and the glory of Europe is extinguished for ever. Never, never more shall we behold that generous loyalty to rank and sex, that proud submission, that dignified obedience, that subordination of the heart, which kept alive, even in servitude itself, the spirit of an exalted freedom. The unbought grace of life, the cheap defence of nations, the nurse of manly sentiment and heroic enterprise is gone! It is gone, that sensibility of principle, that chastity of honour, which felt a stain like a wound, which inspired courage whilst it mitigated ferocity, which ennobled whatever it touched, and under which vice itself lost half its evil by losing all its grossness. " That is finely expressed, but it has no bearing on the political matter inquestion; namely, whether the sympathy of England should be extended to theFrench revolutionists in their struggle for liberty. This irrelevancy ofBurke suggests our first criticism: that he is always eloquent, and usuallyright; but he is seldom convincing, and his eloquence is a hindrance ratherthan a help to his main purpose. So we are not surprised to hear that hiseloquent speech on Conciliation emptied the benches; or that after hissupreme effort in the impeachment of Hastings--an effort so tremendouslydramatic that spectators sobbed, screamed, were carried out in fits--theobject of all this invective was acquitted by his judges. Reading the worksnow, they seem to us praiseworthy not for their sustained eloquence, whichis wearisome, but for the brilliancy of certain detached passages whichcatch the eye like sparkling raindrops after a drenching shower. It was thesplendor of such passages, their vivid imagery and harmonious rhythm, whichled Matthew Arnold to assert that Burke was the greatest master of prosestyle in our literature. Anybody can make such an assertion; nobody canprove or disprove it. THE HISTORIANS. Perhaps it was the rapid expansion of the empire in thelatter, part of the eighteenth century which aroused such interest inhistorical subjects that works of history were then more eagerly welcomedthan poetry or fiction. Gibbon says in his _Memoirs_ that in his day"history was the most popular species of composition. " It was also the bestrewarded; for while Johnson, the most renowned author of his time, wrote aromance (_Rasselas_) hoping to sell it for enough to pay for hismother's funeral, Robertson easily disposed of his _History of theEmperor Charles V_ for £4500; and there were others who were even betterpaid for popular histories, the very titles of which are now forgotten. [Sidenote: GIBBON] Of all the historical works of the age, and their name was legion, only onesurvives with something of its original vitality, standing the double testof time and scholarship. This is _The Decline and Fall of the RomanEmpire_ (1776), a work which remained famous for a century, and whichstill has its admiring readers. It was written by Edward Gibbon(1737-1794), who belonged to the Literary Club that gathered about Johnson, and who cultivated his style, he tells us, first by adopting the dictator'srounded periods, and then practicing them "till they moved to flutes andhautboys. " The scope of Gibbon's work is enormous. It begins with the Emperor Trajan(A. D. 98) and carries us through the convulsions of a dying civilization, the descent of the Barbarians on Rome, the spread of Christianity, theCrusades, the rise of Mohammedanism, --through all the confused history ofthirteen centuries, ending with the capture of Constantinople by the Turks, in 1453. The mind that could grasp such vast and chaotic materials, arrangethem in orderly sequence and resent them as in a gorgeous panorama, movesus to wonder. To be sure, there are many things to criticize in Gibbon'smasterpiece, --the author's love of mere pageants; his materialism; hisinability to understand religious movements, or even religious motives; hislifeless figures, which move as if by mechanical springs, --but one whoreads the _Decline and Fall_ may be too much impressed by theevidences of scholarship, of vast labor, of genius even, to linger overfaults. It is a "monumental" work, most interesting to those who admiremonuments; and its style is the perfection of that oratorical, Johnsonesestyle which was popular in England in 1776, and which, half a centurylater, found its best American mouthpiece in Daniel Webster. The influenceof Gibbon may still be seen in the orators and historians who, lacking thecharm of simplicity, clothe even their platitudes in high-sounding phrases. [Illustration: EDWARD GIBBONFrom an enamel by H Bone, R. A. ; after Sir Joshua Reynolds] * * * * * THE REVIVAL OF ROMANTIC POETRY Every age has had its romantic poets--that is, poets who sing the dreamsand ideals of life, and whose songs seem to be written naturally, spontaneously, as from a full heart [Footnote: For specific examples offormal and romantic poetry see the comparison between Addison andWordsworth below, under "Natural vs Formal Poetry", Chapter VII]--but inthe eighteenth century they were completely overshadowed by formalversifiers who made poetry by rule. At that time the imaginative versewhich had delighted an earlier age was regarded much as we now regard anold beaver hat; Shakespeare and Milton were neglected, Spenser was but aname, Chaucer was clean forgotten. If a poet aspired to fame, he imitatedthe couplets of Dryden or Pope, who, as Cowper said, Made poetry a mere mechanic art, And every warbler has his tune by heart. [Illustration: THOMAS GRAYfrom a portrait by Benjamin Wilson, in the possession of John Murray] Among those who made vigorous protest against the precise and drearyformalism of the age were Collins and Gray, whose names are commonlyassociated in poetry, as are the names of Addison and Steele in prose. Theyhad the same tastes, the same gentle melancholy, the same freedom from thebondage of literary fashion. Of the two, William Collins (1721-1759) wasperhaps the more gifted poet. His exquisite "Ode to Evening" is without arival in its own field, and his brief elegy beginning, "How sleep thebrave, " is a worthy commemoration of a soldier's death and a nation'sgratitude. It has, says Andrew Lang, the magic of an elder day and of alltime. Thomas Gray (1716-1771) is more widely known than his fellow poet, largelybecause of one fortunate poem which "returned to men's bosoms" as if sureof its place and welcome. This is the "Elegy Written in a CountryChurchyard" (1750), which has been translated into all civilized tongues, and which is known, loved, quoted wherever English is spoken. [Illustration: STOKE POGES CHURCHYARD, SHOWING PART OF THE CHURCH ANDGRAY'S TOMB] [Sidenote: GRAY'S ELEGY] To criticize this favorite of a million readers seems almost ruthless, asif one were pulling a flower to pieces for the sake of giving it abotanical name. A pleasanter task is to explain, if one can, the immensepopularity of the "Elegy. " The theme is of profound interest to every manwho reveres the last resting place of his parents, to the nation whichcherishes every monument of its founders, and even to primitive peoples, like the Indians, who refuse to leave the place where their fathers areburied, and who make the grave a symbol of patriotism. With this greattheme our poet is in perfect sympathy. His attitude is simple and reverent;he treads softly, as if on holy ground. The natural setting or atmosphereof his poem, the peace of evening falling on the old churchyard at StokePoges, the curfew bell, the cessation of daily toil, the hush which fallsupon the twilight landscape like a summons to prayer, --all this is exactlyas it should be. Finally, Gray's craftsmanship, his choice of words, hissimple figures, his careful fitting of every line to its place and context, is as near perfection as human skill could make it. Other poems of Gray, which make his little book precious, are the fourodes: "To Spring, " "On a Distant Prospect of Eton College, " "The Progressof Poesy" and "The Bard, " the last named being a description of thedramatic end of an old Welsh minstrel, who chants a wild prophecy as hegoes to his death. These romantic odes, together with certain translationswhich Gray made from Norse mythology, mark the end of "classic" dominationin English poetry. * * * * * OLIVER GOLDSMITH (1728-1774) Most versatile of eighteenth-century writers was "poor Noll, " a mostimprovident kind of man in all worldly ways, but so skillful with his penthat Johnson wrote a sincere epitaph to the effect that Goldsmith attemptedevery form of literature, and adorned everything which he attempted. Theform of his verse suggests the formal school, and his polished coupletsrival those of Pope; but there the resemblance ceases. In his tendernessand humor, in his homely subjects and the warm human sympathy with which hedescribes them, Goldsmith belongs to the new romantic school of poetry. LIFE. The life of Goldsmith has inspired many pens; but the subject, far from being exhausted, is still awaiting the right biographer. The poet's youthful escapades in the Irish country, his classical education at Trinity College, Dublin, and his vagabond studies among gypsies and peddlers, his childish attempts at various professions, his wanderings over Europe, his shifts and makeshifts to earn a living in London, his tilts with Johnson at the Literary Club, his love of gorgeous raiment, his indiscriminate charity, his poverty, his simplicity, his success in the art of writing and his total failure in the art of living, --such kaleidoscopic elements make a brief biography impossible. The character of the man appears in a single incident. Landing one day on the Continent with a flute, a spare shirt and a guinea as his sole outward possessions, the guinea went for a feast and a game of cards at the nearest inn, and the shirt to the first beggar that asked for it. There remained only the flute, and with that Goldsmith fared forth confidently, like the gleeman of old with his harp, delighted at seeing the world, utterly forgetful of the fact that he had crossed the Channel in search of a medical education. That aimless, happy-go-lucky journey was typical of Goldsmith's whole life of forty-odd years. Those who knew him loved but despaired of him. When he passed away (1774) Johnson summed up the feeling of the English literary world in the sentence, "He was a very great man, let not his frailties be remembered. " [Illustration: OLIVER GOLDSMITHAfter the portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds] GOLDSMITH'S PROSE AND VERSE. Among the forgotten works of Goldsmith we notewith interest several that he wrote for children: a fanciful _History ofEngland_, an entertaining but most unreliable _Animated Nature_, and probably also the tale of "Little Goody Twoshoes. " These were written(as were all his other works) to satisfy the demands of his landlady, or topay an old debt, or to buy a new cloak, --a plum-colored velvet cloak, wherewith to appear at the opera or to dazzle the Literary Club. From amonghis works we select four, as illustrative of Goldsmith's versatility. _The Citizen of the World_, a series of letters from an allegedChinese visitor, invites comparison with the essays of Addison or Steele. All three writers are satirical, all have a high moral purpose, all aremasters of a graceful style, but where the "Spectator" touches the surfaceof life, Goldsmith often goes deeper and probes the very spirit of theeighteenth century. Here is a paragraph from the first letter, in which thealleged visitor, who has heard much of the wealth and culture of London, sets down his first impressions: "From these circumstances in their buildings, and from the dismal looks of the inhabitants, I am induced to conclude that the nation is actually poor, and that, like the Persians, they make a splendid figure everywhere but at home. The proverb of Xixofou is, that a man's riches may be seen in his eyes if we judge of the English by this rule, there is not a poorer nation under the sun. " [Illustration: THE "CHESHIRE CHEESE, " LONDON, SHOWING DR. JOHNSON'S FAVORITESEAT The tavern, which still stands, was the favorite haunt of both Johnsonand Goldsmith] [Sidenote: THE DESERTED VILLAGE] _The Deserted Village_ (1770) is the best remembered of Goldsmith'spoems, or perhaps one should say "verses" in deference to critics likeMatthew Arnold who classify the work with Pope's _Essay on Man_, as arimed dissertation rather than a true poem. To compare the two works just mentioned is to discover how far Goldsmith isfrom his formal model. In Pope's "Essay" we find common sense, moral maximsand some alleged philosophy, but no emotion, no romance, no men or women. The "Village, " on the other hand, is romantic even in desolation; itawakens our interest, our sympathy; and it gives us two characters, theParson and the Schoolmaster, who live in our memories with the best ofChaucer's creations. Moreover, it makes the commonplace life of man idealand beautiful, and so appeals to readers of widely different tastes ornationalities. Of the many ambitious poems written in the eighteenthcentury, the two most widely read (aside from the songs of Burns) areGoldsmith's "Village, " which portrays the life of simple country people, and Gray's "Elegy, " which laments their death. [Illustration: CANONBURY TOWER (LONDON)Goldsmith lived here when he wrote the "Vicar of Wakefield"] [Sidenote: VICAR OF WAKEFIELD] Goldsmith's one novel, _The Vicar of Wakefield_ (1766), has been wellcalled "the Prince Charming" of our early works of fiction. This work has athreefold distinction: its style alone is enough to make it pleasantreading; as a story it retains much of its original charm, after a centuryand a half of proving; by its moral purity it offered the best kind ofrebuke to the vulgar tendency of the early English novel, and influencedsubsequent fiction in the direction of cleanness and decency. The story is that of a certain vicar, or clergyman, Dr. Primrose and hisfamily, who pass through heavy trials and misfortunes. These might crush orembitter an ordinary man, but they only serve to make the Vicar's love forhis children, his trust in God, his tenderness for humanity, shine out moreclearly, like star's after a tempest. Mingled with these affecting trialsare many droll situations which probably reflect something of the author'spersonal escapades; for Goldsmith was the son of a clergyman, and broughthimself and his father into his tale. As a novel, that is, a reflection ofhuman life in the form of a story, it contains many weaknesses; but despiteits faults of moralizing and sentimentality, the impression which the storyleaves is one of "sweetness and light. " Swinburne says that, of all novelshe had seen rise and fall in three generations, _The Vicar ofWakefield_ alone had retained the same high level in the opinion of itsreaders. [Sidenote: SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER] Another notable work is Goldsmith's comedy _She Stoops to Conquer_. Thedate of that comedy (1773) recalls the fact that, though it has been playedfor nearly a century and a half, during which a thousand popular plays havebeen forgotten, it is still a prime favorite on the amateur stage. Perhapsthe only other comedies of which the same can be said with approximatetruth are _The Rivals_ (1775) and _The School for Scandal_ (1777)of Richard Brinsley Sheridan. The plot of _She Stoops to Conquer_ is said to have been suggested byone of Goldsmith's queer adventures. He arrived one day at a village, riding a borrowed nag, and with the air of a lordly traveler asked astranger to direct him "to the best house in the place. " The strangermisunderstood, or else was a rare wag, for he showed the way to the abodeof a wealthy gentleman. There Goldsmith made himself at home, ordered theservants about, invited his host to share a bottle of wine, --in short, madea great fool of himself. Evidently the host was also a wag, for he let thejoke run on till the victim was ready to ride away. [Footnote: There issome doubt as to the source of Goldsmith's plot. It may have been suggestedby an earlier French comedy by Marivaux. ] From some such crazy escapade Goldsmith made his comedy of manners, alively, rollicking comedy of topsy-turvy scenes, all hinging upon theincident of mistaking a private house for a public inn. We have called_She Stoops to Conquer_ a comedy of eighteenth-century manners, butour continued interest in its absurdities would seem to indicate that it isa comedy of human nature in all ages. * * * * * ROBERT BURNS (1759-1796) Burns is everywhere acclaimed the poet of Scotland, and for two goodreasons: because he reflects better than any other the emotions of theScottish people, and because his book is a summary of the best verse of hisnative land. Practically all his songs, such as "Bonnie Boon" and "AuldLang Syne, " are late echoes of much older verses; his more ambitious poemsborrow their ideas, their satire or sentiment, their form even, fromFerguson, Allan Ramsay and other poets, all of whom aimed (as Scott aimedin "Lochinvar") to preserve the work of unnamed minstrels whose lines hadbeen repeated in Highlands or Lowlands for two centuries. Burns may beregarded, therefore, as a treasury of all that is best in Scottish song. His genius was to take this old material, dear to the heart of the native, and give it final expression. [Illustration: ROBERT BURNSAfter Alexander Nasmyth] LIFE. The life of Burns is one to discourage a biographer who does not relish the alternative of either concealing the facts or apologizing for his subject. We shall record here only a few personal matters which may help us to understand Burns's poetry. Perhaps the most potent influence in his life was that which came from his labor in the field. He was born in a clay biggin, or cottage, in the parish of Alloway, near the little town of Ayr. Auld Ayr, wham neer a town surpasses For honest men and bonnie lasses. His father was a poor crofter, a hard working, God fearing man of the Covenanter type, who labored unceasingly to earn a living from the soil of a rented farm. The children went barefoot in all seasons, almost from the time they could walk they were expected to labor and at thirteen Bobbie was doing a man's work at the plow or the reaping. The toil was severe, the reward, at best, was to escape dire poverty or disgraceful debt, but there was yet a nobility in the life which is finely reflected in "The Cotter's Saturday Night, " a poem which ranks with Whittier's "Snow Bound" among the best that labor has ever inspired. [Illustration: "ELLISLAND" The hundred acre farm near Dumfries where Burns worked as a farmer. The happiest days of his life were spent here, 1787-1791] [Sidenote: THE ELEMENT OF NATURE] As a farmer's boy Burns worked in the open, in close contact with nature, and the result is evident in all his verse. Sunshine or storm, bird song or winter wind, the flowers, the stars, the dew of the morning, --open Burns where you will, and you are face to face with these elemental realities. Sometimes his reflection of nature is exquisitely tender, as in "To a Mouse" or "To a Mountain Daisy"; but for the most part he regards nature not sentimentally, like Gray, or religiously, like Wordsworth and Bryant, but in a breezy, companionable way which suggests the song of "Under the Greenwood Tree" in _As You Like It_. [Sidenote: HIS EDUCATION] Another influence in Burns's life came from his elementary education. There were no ancient classics studied in the school which he attended, --fortunately, perhaps, for his best work is free from the outworn classical allusions which decorate the bulk of eighteenth-century verse. In the evening he listened to tales from Scottish history, which stirred him deeply and made him live in a present world rather than in the misty region of Greek mythology. One result of this education was the downright honesty of Burns's poems. Here is no echo from a vanished world of gods and goddesses, but the voice of a man, living, working, feeling joy or sorrow in the presence of everyday nature and humanity. For another formative influence Burns was indebted to Betty Davidson, a relative and an inmate of the household, who carried such a stock of old wives' tales as would scare any child into fits on a dark night. Hear Burns speak of her: "She had, I suppose, the largest collection in the country of tales and songs concerning devils, ghosts, fairies, brownies, witches, warlocks, spunkies, kelpies, elf-candles, dead-lights, wraiths, apparitions, cantrips, giants, enchanted towers, dragons, and other trumpery. This cultivated the latent seeds of poetry, but had so strong an effect upon my imagination that to this hour, in my nocturnal rambles, I sometimes keep a sharp look-out in suspicious places. " Reflections of these grotesque superstitions appear in such poems as the "Address to the Deil" and "Tam o' Shanter. " The latter is commonly named as one of the few original works of Burns, but it is probably a retelling of some old witch-tale of Betty Davidson. [Sidenote: EVIL ELEMENTS] The evil influence in Burns's life may be only suggested. It leads first to the tavern, to roistering and dissipation, to entanglements in vulgar love affairs; then swiftly to the loss of a splendid poetic gift, to hopeless debts, to degrading poverty, to an untimely death. Burns had his chance, if ever poet had it, after the publication of his first book (the famous Kilmarnock edition of 1786) when he was called in triumph to Edinburgh. There he sold another edition of his poems for a sum that seemed fabulous to a poor crofter; whereupon he bought a farm and married his Jean Armour. He was acclaimed throughout the length and breadth of his native land, his poems were read by the wise and by the ignorant, he was the poet of Scotland, and the nation, proud of its gifted son, stood ready to honor and follow him. But the old habits were too strong, and Burns took the downhill road. To this element of dissipation we owe his occasional bitterness, railing and coarseness, which make an expurgated edition of his poems essential to one who would enjoy the reading. [Illustration: THE VILLAGE OF TARBOLTON, NEAR WHICH BURNS LIVED WHEN ABOUT NINETEEN YEARS OLD] There is another element, often emphasized for its alleged influence on Burns's poetry. During his lifetime the political world was shaken by the American and French revolutions, democracy was in the air, and the watchwords "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity" inspired many a song besides the _Marseillaise_ and many a document besides the Declaration of Independence. That Burns was aware of this political commotion is true, but he was not much influenced by it. He was at home only in his own Scottish field, and even there his interests were limited, --not to be compared with those of Walter Scott, for example. When the Bastille was stormed, and the world stood aghast, Burns was too much engrossed in personal matters to be greatly moved by distant affairs in France. Not to the Revolution, therefore, but to his Scottish blood do we owe the thrilling "Scots Wha Hae, " one of the world's best battle songs, not to the new spirit of democracy abroad but to the old Covenanter spirit at home do we owe "A Man's a Man for a' That" with its assertion of elemental manhood. THE SONGS OF BURNS. From such an analysis of Burns's life one may forecasthis subject and his method. Living intensely in a small field, he mustdiscover that there are just two poetic subjects of abiding interest. Theseare Nature and Humanity, and of these Burns must write from first-handknowledge, simply, straightforwardly, and with sincerity. Moreover, asBurns lives in an intense way, reading himself rather than books, he mustdiscover that the ordinary man is more swayed by strong feeling than bylogical reasons. He will write, therefore, of the common emotions that liebetween the extremes of laughter and tears, and his appeal will be to theheart rather than to the head of his reader. [Illustration: AULD ALLOWAY KIRKMade famous by the poem of "Tam o'Shanter"] This emotional power of Burns, his masterful touch upon human heartstrings, is the first of his poetic qualities; and he has others which fairly forcethemselves upon the attention. For example, many of his lyrics ("Auld LangSyne, " "Banks o' Doon, " "Flow Gently, Sweet Afton, " "O Wert Thou in theCauld Blast") have been repeatedly set to music; and the reason is thatthey were written to music, that in such poems Burns was refashioning someold material to the tune of a Scottish song. There is a singing quality inhis poetry which not only makes it pleasant reading but which is apt to setthe words tripping to melody. For a specific example take this stanza from"Of a' the Airts, " a lyric which one can hardly read without making a tuneto match it: I see her in the dewy flow'rs, I see her sweet and fair; I hear her in the tunefu' birds, I hear her charm the air: There's not a bonie flow'r that springs By fountain, shaw or green, There's not a bonie bird that sings, But minds me o' my Jean. Sympathy is another marked characteristic of Burns, a wide, all-embracingsympathy that knows no limit save for hypocrites, at whom he pointed hiskeenest satire. His feeling for nature is reflected in "To a Mouse" and "Toa Daisy"; his comradeship with noble men appears in "The Cotter's SaturdayNight, " with riotous and bibulous men in "The Jolly Beggars, " withsmugglers and their ilk in "The Deil's Awa' with the Exciseman, " [Footnote:Burns was himself an exciseman; that is, a collector of taxes on alcoholicliquors. He wrote this song while watching a smuggler's craft, and waitingin the storm for officers to come and make an arrest. ] with patriots in"Bannockburn, " with men who mourn in "To Mary in Heaven, " and with alllovers in a score of famous lyrics. Side by side with Burns's sympathy (forSmiles live next door to Tears) appears his keen sense of humor, a humorthat is sometimes rollicking, as in "Contented wi' Little, " and again toobroad for decency. For the most part, however, Burns contents himself withdry, quiet sarcasm delivered with an air of great seriousness: Ah, gentle dames, it gars me greet To think how mony counsels sweet, How mony lengthened sage advices The husband frae the wife despises! WHY BURNS IS READ. Such qualities, appearing on almost every page ofBurns's little book of poetry, show how widely he differs from the formalschool of Pope and Dryden. They labor to compose poetry, while Burns givesthe impression of singing, as naturally as a child sings from a full heart. Again, most eighteenth-century poets wrote for the favored few, but Burnswrote for all his neighbors. His first book was bought farmers, plowboys, milkmaids, --by every Lowlander who could scrape together three shillings tobuy a treasure. Then scholars got hold of it, taking it from humble hands, and Burns was called to Edinburgh to prepare a larger edition of his songs. For a half century Scotland kept him to herself, [Footnote: Up to 1850Burns was rarely mentioned in treatises on English literature. One reasonfor his late recognition was that the Lowland vocabulary employed in mostof his poems was only half intelligible to the ordinary English reader]then his work went wide in the world, to be read again by plain men andwomen, by sailors on the sea, by soldiers round the campfire, by farmers, mechanics, tradesmen, who in their new homes in Australia or America warmedthemselves at the divine fire which was kindled, long ago, in the littleclay biggin at Alloway. [Illustration: BURNS'S MAUSOLEUM] [Sidenote: THE GENIUS OF BURNS] If one should ask, Why this world wide welcome to Burns, the while Poperemains a mark for literary criticism? the answer is that Burns has a mostextraordinary power of touching the hearts of common men. He is one of themost democratic of poets, he takes for his subject a simple experience--afamily gathering at eventide, a fair, a merrymaking, a joy, a grief, thefinding of a flower, the love of a lad for a lass--and with rare simplicityreflects the emotion that such an experience awakens. Seen through thepoet's eyes, this simple emotion becomes radiant and lovely, a thing not ofearth but of heaven. That is the genius of Burns, to ennoble human feeling, to reveal some hidden beauty in a commonplace experience. The luminousworld of fine thought and fine emotion which we associate with the name ofpoetry he opened not to scholars alone but to all humble folk who toil andendure. As a shoemaker critic once said, "Burns confirms my formersuspicion that the world was made for me as well as for Cæsar. " * * * * * MINOR POETS OF ROMANTICISM There were other poets who aided in the romantic revival, and among themWilliam Cowper (1731-1800) is one of the most notable. His most ambitiousworks, such as _The Task_ and the translation of Homer into blankverse, have fallen into neglect, and he is known to modern readers chieflyby a few familiar hymns and by the ballad of "John Gilpin. " [Illustration: WILLIAM COWPERFrom the rare engraving by W Blake (1802) After the painting by TLawrence, R A (1793)] Less gifted but more popular than Cowper was James Macpherson (1736-1796), who made a sensation that spread rapidly over Europe and America with his_Fingal_ (1762) and other works of the same kind, --wildly heroic poemswhich, he alleged, were translations from Celtic manuscripts written by anancient bard named Ossian. Another and better literary forgery appeared ina series of ballads called _The Rowley Papers_, dealing with medievalthemes. These were written by "the marvelous boy" Thomas Chatterton(1752-1770), who professed to have found the poems in a chest of oldmanuscripts. The success of these forgeries, especially of the "Ossian"poems, is an indication of the awakened interest in medieval poetry andlegend which characterized the whole romantic movement. In this connection, Thomas Percy (1729-1811) did a notable work when hepublished, after years of research, his _Reliques of Ancient EnglishPoetry_ (1765). This was a collection of old ballads, which profoundlyinfluenced Walter Scott, and which established a foundation for all laterworks of balladry. Another interesting figure in the romantic revival is William Blake(1757-1827), a strange, mystic child, a veritable John o' Dreams, whom somecall madman because of his huge, chaotic, unintelligible poems, but whomothers regard as the supreme poetical genius of the eighteenth century. Hisonly readable works are the boyish _Poetical Sketches_ (1783) and twolater volumes called _Songs of Innocence_ and _Songs ofExperience_ (1794). Even these contain much to make us question Blake'ssanity; but they contain also a few lyrics that might have been written byan elf rather than a man, --beautiful, elusive lyrics that haunt us like astrain of gypsy music, a memory of childhood, a bird song in the night: Can the eagle see what is in the pit, Or wilt thou go ask the mole? Can wisdom be put in a silver rod, Or love in a golden bowl? In the witchery of these lyrics eighteenth-century poetry appearscommonplace; but they attracted no attention, even "Holy Thursday, " thesweetest song of poor children ever written, passing unnoticed. That didnot trouble Blake, however, who cared nothing for rewards. He was achildlike soul, well content To see the world in a grain of sand, And a heaven in a wild flower; Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, And eternity in an hour. * * * * * THE EARLY ENGLISH NOVEL An important literary event of the eighteenth century was the appearance ofthe modern novel. This invention, generally credited to the English, differs radically from the old romance, which was known to all civilizedpeoples. Walter Scott made the following distinction between the two typesof fiction: the romance is a story in which our interest centers inmarvelous incidents, brought to pass by extraordinary or superhumancharacters; the novel is a story which is more natural, more in harmonywith our experience of life. Such a definition, though faulty, is valuablein that it points to the element of imagination as the distinguishing markbetween the romance and the true novel. [Sidenote: THE ROMANCE] Take, for example, the romances of Arthur or Sindbad or the Green Knight. Here are heroes of more than human endurance, ladies of surpassingloveliness, giants, dragons, enchanters, marvelous adventures in the landof imagination. Such fanciful stories, valuable as a reflection of theideals of different races, reached their highest point in the Middle Ages, when they were used to convey the ideals of chivalry and knightly duty. They grew more fantastic as they ran to seed, till in the Elizabethan agethey had degenerated into picaresque stories (from _picaro_, "arogue") which recounted the adventures not of a noble knight but of somescoundrel or outcast. They were finally laughed out of literature innumerous burlesques, of which the most famous is _Don Quixote_ (1605). In the humor of this story, in the hero's fighting windmills and meeting somany adventures that he had no time to breathe, we have an excellentcriticism not of chivalry, as is sometimes alleged, but of extravagantpopular romances on the subject. [Footnote: _Don Quixote_ is commonlynamed as a type of extravagant humor, but from another viewpoint it is asad book, intensely sad. For it recounts the experience of a man who had aknightly heart and who believed the world to be governed by knightlyideals, but who went forth to find a world filled with vulgarity andvillainy. ] [Sidenote: THE NOVEL] Compare now these old romances with _Ivanhoe_ or _RobinsonCrusoe_ or _Lorna Doone_ or _A Tale of Two Cities_. In each ofthe last-named novels one may find three elements: a story, a study, and anexercise of the creative imagination. A modern work of fiction must stillhave a good story, if anybody is to read it; must contain also a study orobservation of humanity, not of superhuman heroes but of men and women whowork or play or worship in close relationship to their fellows. Finally, the story and the study must be fused by the imagination, which selects orcreates various scenes, characters, incidents, and which orders or arrangesits materials so as to make a harmonious work that appeals to our sense oftruth and beauty; in other words, a work of art. Such is the real novel, a well-told story in tune with human experience, holding true to life, exercising fancy but keeping it under control, arousing thought as well as feeling, and appealing to our intellect as wellas to our imagination. [Footnote: This convenient division of prose fictioninto romances and novels is open to challenge. Some critics use the name"novel" for any work of prose fiction. They divide novels into two classes, stories (or short stories) and romances. The story relates simple ordetached incidents; the romance deals with life in complex relations, dominated by strong emotions, especially by the emotion of love. Other critics arrange prose fiction in the following classes: novels ofadventure (Robinson Crusoe, The Last of the Mohicans), historical novels(Ivanhoe, The Spy), romantic novels (Lorna Doone, The Heart of Midlothian), novels of manners (Cranford, Pride and Prejudice), novels of personality(Silas Marner, The Scarlet Letter), novels of purpose (Oliver Twist, UncleTom's Cabin). Still another classification arranges fiction under two heads, romance andrealism. In the romance, which portrays unusual incidents or characters, wesee the ideal, the poetic side of humanity; in the realistic novel, dealingwith ordinary men and women, the prosaic element of life is emphasized. ] DEFOE (1661-1731). Among the forerunners of the modern novel is Daniel Foe, author of _Robinson Crusoe_, who began to call himself "Defoe" afterhe attained fame. He produced an amazing variety of wares: newspapers, magazines, ghost stories, biographies, journals, memoirs, satires, picaresque romances, essays on religion, reform, trade, projects, --in allmore than two hundred works. These were written in a picturesque style andwith such a wealth of detail that, though barefaced inventions for the mostpart, they passed for veracious chronicles. One critic, thinking of thevividly realistic _Journal of the Plague Year_ and _Memoirs of aCavalier_, says that "Defoe wrote history, but invented the facts";another declares that "the one little art of which Defoe was past masterwas the art of forging a story and imposing it on the world as truth. " Thelong list of his works ends with a _History of the Devil_, in 1726. [Illustration: DANIEL DEFOE] Foe's career was an extraordinary one. By nature and training he seems to have preferred devious ways to straight, and to have concealed his chief motive whether he appeared as reformer or politician, tradesman or writer, police-spy or friend of outcasts. His education, which he picked up from men and circumstance, was more varied than any university could have given him. Perhaps the chief factor in this practical education was his ability to turn every experience to profitable account. As a journalist he invented the modern magazine (his _Review_ appeared in 1704, five years before Steele's _Tatler_); also he projected the interview, the editorial, the "scoop, " and other features which still figure in our newspapers. As a hired pamphleteer, writing satires against Whigs or Tories, he learned so many political secrets that when one party fell he was the best possible man to be employed by the other. While sitting in the stocks (in punishment for writing a satirical pamphlet that set Tories and Churchmen by the ears) he made such a hit with his doggerel verses against the authorities that crowds came to the pillory to cheer him and to buy his poem. While in durance vile, in the old Newgate Prison, he mingled freely with all sorts of criminals (there were no separate cells in those days), won their secrets, and used them to advantage in his picaresque romances. He learned also so much of the shady side of London life that no sooner was he released than he was employed as a secret service agent, or spy, by the government which had jailed him. [Illustration: CUPOLA HOUSE Defoe's residence at Bury] It is as difficult to find the real Foe amidst such devious trails as to determine where a caribou is from the maze of footprints which he leaves behind him. He seems to have been untiring in his effort to secure better treatment of outcast folk, he speaks of himself with apparent sincerity, as having received his message from the Divine Spirit, but the impression which he made upon the upper classes was reflected by Swift, who called him "a grave, dogmatical rogue". For many years he was a popular hero, trusted not only by the poor but by the criminal classes (ordinarily keen judges of honesty in other men), until his secret connection with the government became known. Then suspicion fell upon him, his popularity was destroyed and he fled from London. The last few years of his life were spent in hiding from real or imaginary enemies. [Sidenote: ROBINSON CRUSOE] Defoe was approaching his sixtieth year when he wrote _RobinsonCrusoe_ (1719), a story which has been read through out the civilizedworld, and which, after two centuries of life, is still young and vigorous. The first charm of the book is in its moving adventures, which aresurprising enough to carry us through the moralizing passages. These alsohave their value; for who ever read them without asking, What would I havedone or thought or felt under such circumstances? The work of society isnow so comfortably divided that one seldom dreams of being his ownmechanic, farmer, hunter, herdsman, cook and tailor, as Crusoe was. Thinking of his experience we are brought face to face with our dependenceon others, with our debt to the countless, unnamed men whose labor madecivilization possible. We understand also the pioneers, who in the far, lonely places of the earth have won a home and country from the wilderness. When the adventures are duly appreciated we discover another charm of_Robinson Crusoe_, namely, its intense reality. Defoe had thatexperience of many projects, and that vivid imagination, which enabled himto put himself in the place of his hero, [Footnote: The basis of_Robinson Crusoe_ was the experience of an English sailor, AlexanderSelkirk, or Selcraig, who was marooned on the lonely island of JuanFernandez, off the coast of Chile. There he lived in solitude for the spaceof five years before he was rescued. When Selkirk returned to England(1709) an account of his adventures appeared in the public press. ] toanticipate his needs, his feelings, his labors and triumph. That Crusoe washeroic none will deny; yet his heroism was of a different kind from thatwhich we meet in the old romances. Here was no knight "without fear andwithout reproach, " but a plain man with his strength and weakness. Hedespaired like other men; but instead of giving way to despair he drew up alist of his blessings and afflictions, "like debtor and creditor, " found areasonable balance in his favor, and straightway conquered himself, --whichis the first task of all real heroes. Again, he had horrible fears; he beathis breast, cried out as one in mortal terror; then "I thought that woulddo little good, so I began to make a raft. " So he overcame his fears, as heovercame the difficulties of the place, by setting himself to do alone whata whole race of men had done before him. _Robinson Crusoe_ istherefore history as well as fiction; its subject is not Alexander Selkirkbut Homo Sapiens; its lesson is the everlasting triumph of will and work. RICHARDSON. One morning in 1740 the readers of London found a new work forsale in the bookshops. It was made up of alleged letters from a girl to herparents, a sentimental girl who opened her heart freely, explaining itshopes, fears, griefs, temptations, and especially its moral sensibilities. Such a work of fiction was unique at that time. Delighted readers waitedfor another and yet another volume of the same story, till more than a yearhad passed and _Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded_ reached its happy ending. [Sidenote: THE FIRST NOVEL] The book made a sensation in England; it was speedily translated, andrepeated its triumph on the other side of the Channel. Comparatively fewpeople could read it now without being bored, but it is famous in thehistory of literature as the first English novel; that is, a story of ahuman life under stress of emotion, told by one who understood the tastesof his own age, and who strove to keep his work true to human nature in allages. The author of _Pamela_, Samuel Richardson (1689--1761), was a veryproper person, well satisfied with himself, who conducted a modest businessas printer and bookseller. For years he had practiced writing, and hadoften been employed by sentimental young women who came to him for modellove letters. Hence the extraordinary knowledge of feminine feelings whichRichardson displayed; hence also the epistolary form in which his novelswere written. His aim in all his work was to teach morality and correctdeportment. His strength was in his power to analyze and portray emotions. His weakness lay in his vanity, which led him to shun masculine society andto foregather at tea tables with women who flattered him. Led by the success of _Pamela_, which portrayed the feelings of aservant girl, the author began another series of letters which ended in theeight-volume novel _Clarissa, or The History of a Young Lady_ (1748). The story appeared in installments, which were awaited with feverishimpatience till the agony drew to an end, and the heroine died amid thesobs of ten thousand readers. Yet the story had power, and the centralfigure of Clarissa was impressive in its pathos and tragedy. The novelwould still be readable if it were stripped of the stilted conversationsand sentimental gush in which Richardson delighted; but that would leaveprecious little of the story. FIELDING. In vigorous contrast with the prim and priggish Richardson isHenry Fielding (1707-1754), a big, jovial, reckless man, full of animalspirits, who was ready to mitigate any man's troubles or forget his own bymeans of a punch bowl or a venison potpie. He was noble born, but seems tohave been thrown on the world to shift for himself. After an excellenteducation he studied law, and was for some years a police magistrate, inwhich position he increased his large knowledge of the seamy side of life. He had a pen for vigorous writing, and after squandering two modestfortunes (his own and his wife's) he proceeded to earn his living bywriting buffooneries for the stage. Then appeared Richardson's _Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded_, and in ridiculing its sentimental heroine Fieldingfound his vocation as a novelist. [Sidenote: BURLESQUE OF RICHARDSON] He began _Joseph Andrews_ (1742) as a joke, by taking for his hero analleged brother of Pamela, who was also virtuous but whose reward was to bekicked out of doors. Then the story took to the open road, among the innsand highways of an age when traveling in rural England was almost asadventurous as campaigning in Flanders. In the joy of his story Fieldingsoon forgot his burlesque of Richardson, and attempted what he called arealistic novel; that is, a story of real life. The morality and decorumwhich Richardson exalted appeared to Fielding as hypocrisy; so he devotedhimself to a portrayal of men and manners as he found them. Undoubtedly there were plenty of good men and manners at that time, butFielding had a vagabond taste that delighted in rough scenes, and of thesealso eighteenth-century England could furnish an abundance. Hence his_Joseph_ Andrews is a picture not of English society, as is oftenalleged, but only of the least significant part of society. The same istrue of _Tom Jones_ (1749), which is the author's most vigorous work, and of _Amelia_ (1751), in which, though he portrays one good woman, he repeats many of the questionable incidents of his earlier works. There is power in all these novels, the power of keen observation, of roughhumor, of downright sincerity; but unhappily the power often runs to wastein long speeches to the reader, in descriptions of brutal or degradingscenes, and in a wholly unnecessary coarseness of expression. INFLUENCE OF THE EARLY NOVELS. The idea of the modern novel seems to havebeen developed by several English authors, each of whom, like pioneers in anew country, left his stamp on subsequent works in the same field. Richardson's governing motive may be summed up in the word "sensibility, "which means "delicacy of feeling, " and which was a fashion, almost afetish, in eighteenth-century society. Because it was deemed essential todisplay proper or decorous feeling on all occasions, Richardson's heroineswere always analyzing their emotions; they talked like a book of etiquette;they indulged in tears, fainting, transports of joy, paroxysms of grief, apparently striving to make themselves as unlike a real woman as possible. It is astonishing how far and wide this fad of sensibility spread throughthe literary world, and how many gushing heroines of English and Americanfiction during the next seventy-five years were modeled on Pamela orClarissa. In view of this artificial fashion, the influence of Fielding was like therush of crisp air into a hot house. His aim was realistic, that is, toportray real people in their accustomed ways. Unfortunately his aim wasspoiled by the idea that to be realistic one must go to the gutter formaterial. And then appeared Goldsmith, too much influenced by the fad ofsensibility, but aiming to depict human life as governed by high ideals, and helping to cleanse the English novel from brutality and indecency. [Sidenote: THREEFOLD INFLUENCE] There were other early novelists, a host of them, but in Richardson, Fielding and Goldsmith we have enough. Richardson emphasized the analysisof human feeling or motive, and that of itself was excellent; but hisexaggerated sentimentality set a bad fashion which our novelists werealmost a century in overcoming. Fielding laid stress on realism, and thathis influence was effective is shown in the work of his disciple Thackeray, who could be realistic without being coarse. And Goldsmith made allsubsequent novelists his debtors by exalting that purity of domestic lifeto which every home worthy of the name forever strives or aspires. If it be asked, What novels of the early type ought one to read? the answeris simple. Unless you want to curdle your blood by a tale of mystery andhorror (in which case Mrs. Radcliffe's _Mysteries of Udolpho_ willserve the purpose) there are only two that young readers will findsatisfactory: the realistic _Robinson Crusoe_ by Defoe, and theromantic _Vicar of Wakefield_ by Goldsmith. * * * * * SUMMARY. What we call eighteenth-century literature appeared between two great political upheavals, the English Revolution of 1688 and the French Revolution of 1789. Some of the chief characteristics of that literature--such as the emphasis on form, the union of poetry with politics, the prevalence of satire, the interest in historical subjects--have been accounted for, in part at least, in our summary of the history of the period. The writings of the century are here arranged in three main divisions: the reign of formalism (miscalled classicism), the revival of romantic poetry, and the development of the modern novel. Our study of the so-called classic period includes: (1) The meaning of classicism in literature. (2) The life and works of Pope, the leading poet of the age; of Swift, a master of satire; of Addison and Steele, the graceful essayists who originated the modern literary magazine. (3) The work of Dr. Johnson and his school; in which we have included, for convenience, Edmund Burke, most eloquent of English orators, and Gibbon the historian, famous for his _Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_. Our review of the romantic writers of the age covers: (1) The work of Collins and Gray, whose imaginative poems are in refreshing contrast to the formalism of Pope and his school. (2) The life and works of Goldsmith, poet, playwright, novelist; and of Burns, the greatest of Scottish song writers. (3) A glance at other poets, such as Cowper and Blake, who aided in the romantic revival. (4) The renewed interest in ballads and legends, which showed itself in Percy's _Reliques of Ancient English Poetry_, and in two famous forgeries, the _Ossian_ poems of Macpherson and _The Rowley Papers_ of the boy Chatterton. Our study of the novel includes: (1) The meaning of the modern novel, as distinct from the ancient romance. (2) A study of Defoe, author of _Robinson Crusoe_, who was a forerunner of the modern realistic novelist. (3) The works of Richardson and of Fielding, contrasting types of eighteenth-century story-tellers. (4) The influence of Richardson's sentimentality, of Fielding's realism, and of Goldsmith's moral purity on subsequent English fiction. SELECTIONS FOR READING. Typical selections are given in Manly, English Poetry and English Prose, Century Readings, and other miscellaneous collections. Important works of major writers are published in inexpensive editions for school use, a few of which are named below. Pope's poems, selected, in Standard English Classics, Pocket Classics, Riverside Literature, and other series. (See Texts, in General Bibliography. ) Selections from Swift's works, in Athenæum Press, Holt's English Readings, Clarendon Press. Gulliver's Travels, in Standard English Classics, in Ginn and Company's Classics for Children, in Carisbrooke Library, in Temple Classics. Selections from Addison and Steele, in Athenæum Press, Golden Treasury, Maynard's English Classics. Sir Roger de Coverley Papers, in Standard English Classics, Riverside Literature, Academy Classics. Chesterfield's Letters to his son, selected, in Ginn and Company's Classics for Children, and in Maynard's English Classics. Boswell's Life of Johnson, in Clarendon Press, Temple Classics, Everyman's Library. Burke's Speeches, selected, in Standard English Classics, Pocket Classics, English Readings. Selections from Gray, in Athenæum Press, Canterbury Poets, Riverside Literature. Goldsmith's Deserted Village and Vicar of Wakefield, in Standard English Classics, King's Classics; She Stoops to Conquer, in Pocket Classics, Belles Lettres Series, Cassell's National Library. Sheridan's The Rivals, in Athenæum Press, Camelot Series, Riverside Literature, Everyman's Library. Poems of Burns, selected, in Standard English Classics, Riverside Literature, Silver Classics. Defoe's Robinson Crusoe, school edition by Ginn and Company; the same in Everyman's Library, Pocket Classics. BIBLIOGRAPHY. For extensive manuals and texts see the General Bibliography. The following works deal chiefly with the eighteenth century. _HISTORY_. Morris, Age of Queen Anne and the Early Hanoverians (Epochs of Modern History Series); Sydney, England and the English in the Eighteenth Century; Susan Hale, Men and Manners in the Eighteenth Century; Ashton, Social Life in the Reign of Queen Anne; Thackeray, The Four Georges. _LITERATURE_. L. Stephen, English Literature in the Eighteenth Century; Perry, English Literature in the Eighteenth Century; Seccombe, The Age of Johnson; Dennis, The Age of Pope; Gosse, History of English Literature in the Eighteenth Century; Whitwell, Some Eighteenth-Century Men of Letters; Phelps, Beginnings of the English Romantic Movement; Beers, English Romanticism in the Eighteenth Century; Thackeray, English Humorists. _Pope_. Life, by Courthope; by L. Stephen (English Men of Letters Series). Essays, by Thackeray, in English Humorists; by L. Stephen, in Hours in a Library; by Lowell, in My Study Windows. _Swift_. Life, by Forster; by L. Stephen (E. M. Of L. ). Essays, by Thackeray, in English Humorists; by Dobson, in Eighteenth Century Vignettes. _Addison and Steele_. Life of Addison, by Courthope (E. M. Of L. ). Life of Steele, by Dobson. Essays by Macaulay, by Thackeray, by Dobson. _Johnson_. Life, by Boswell (for personal details); by L. Stephen (E. M. Of L. ). Hill, Dr. Johnson: his Friends and his Critics. Essays by Macaulay, by Thackeray, by L. Stephen. _Burke_. Life, by Morley (E. M. Of L. ), by Prior. Macknight, Life and Times of Burke. _Gibbon_. Life, by Morrison (E. M. Of L. ). Essays, by Birrell, in Collected Essays; by L. Stephen, in Studies of a Biographer; by Harrison, in Ruskin and Other Literary Estimates; by Sainte-Beuve, in English Portraits. _Gray_. Life, by Gosse. Essays by Lowell, M. Arnold, L. Stephen, Dobson. _Goldsmith_. Life, by Washington Irving, by Dobson (Great Writers Series), by Black (E. M. Of L. ), by Forster. Essays, by Macaulay; by Thackeray, in English Humorists; by Dobson, in Miscellanies. _Burns_. Life, by Shairp (E. M. Of L. ), by Blackie (Great Writers). Carlyle's Essay on Burns, in Standard English Classics and other school editions. Essays, by Stevenson, in Familiar Studies of Men and Books; by Hazlitt, in Lectures on the English Poets; by Henley, in Introduction to the Cambridge Edition of Burns. _The Novel. Raleigh, The English Novel; Cross, Development of the English Novel; Perry, A Study of Prose Fiction; Symonds, Introduction to the Study of English Fiction; Dawson, Makers of English Fiction. _Defoe_. Life, by Minto (E. M. Of L. ), by William Lee. Essay by L. Stephen, in Hours in a Library. _Richardson_. Life, by Thomson, by Dobson. Essays, by L. Stephen, in Hours in a Library; by Dobson, in Eighteenth Century Vignettes. _Fielding_. Life, by Dobson (E. M. Of L. ). Lawrence, Life and Times of Fielding. Essays by Lowell, L. Stephen, Dobson; Thackeray, in English Humorists; G. B. Smith, in Poets and Novelists. _FICTION_. Thackeray, Henry Esmond, and The Virginians; Scott, Guy Mannering, Rob Roy, Heart of Midlothian, Redgauntlet; Reade, Peg Woffington. CHAPTER VII THE EARLY NINETEENTH CENTURY Two voices are there; one is of the sea, One of the mountains; each a mighty voice: In both from age to age thou didst rejoice, They were thy chosen music, Liberty! Wordsworth, "Sonnet to Switzerland" The many changes recorded in the political and literary history ofnineteenth-century England may be grouped under two heads: the progress ofdemocracy in government, and the triumph of romanticism in literature. Bydemocracy we mean the assumption by common men of the responsibilities ofgovernment, with a consequent enlargement of human liberty. Romanticism, aswe use the term here, means simply that literature, like politics, hasbecome liberalized; that it is concerned with the common life of men, andthat the delights of literature, like the powers of government, are nolonger the possession of the few but of the many. HISTORICAL OUTLINE. To study either democracy or romanticism, the Whig party or the poetry of Wordsworth, is to discover how greatly England was influenced by matters that appeared beyond her borders. The famous Reform Bill (1832) which established manhood suffrage, the emancipation of the slaves in all British colonies, the hard-won freedom of the press, the plan of popular education, --these and numberless other reforms of the age may be regarded as part of a general movement, as the attempt to fulfill in England a promise made to the world by two events which occurred earlier and on foreign soil. These two events, which profoundly influenced English politics and literature, were the Declaration of Independence and the French Revolution. [Sidenote: TWO REVOLUTIONS] In the Declaration we read, "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. " Glorious words! But they were not new; they were old and familiar when Jefferson wrote them. The American Revolution, which led up to the Declaration, is especially significant in this: that it began as a struggle not for new privileges but for old rights. So the constructive character of that Revolution, which ended with a democracy and a noble constitution, was due largely to the fact that brave men stood ready to defend the old freedom, the old manhood, the old charters, "the good old cause" for which other brave men had lived or died through a thousand years. A little later, and influenced by the American triumph, came another uprising of a different kind. In France the unalienable rights of man had been forgotten during ages of tyranny and class privilege; so the French Revolution, shouting its watchwords of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, had no conception of that liberty and equality which were as ancient as the hills. Leaders and followers of the Revolution were clamoring for new privileges, new rights, new morals, new creeds. They acclaimed an "Age of Reason" as a modern and marvelous discovery; they dreamed not simply of a new society, but of a new man. A multitude of clubs or parties, some political, some literary or educational, some with a pretense of philosophy, sprang up as if by magic, all believing that they must soon enter the Kingdom of Heaven, but nearly all forgetful of the fact that to enter the Kingdom one must accept the old conditions, and pay the same old price. Partly because of this strange conception of liberty, as a new thing to be established by fiat, the terrible struggle in France ended in the ignoble military despotism of Napoleon. [Sidenote: EFFECT OF THE REVOLUTIONS] These two revolutions, one establishing and the other clamoring for the dignity of manhood, created a mighty stir throughout the civilized world. Following the French Revolution, most European nations were thrown into political ferment, and the object of all their agitation, rebellion, upheaval, was to obtain a greater measure of democracy by overturning every form of class or caste government. Thrones seemed to be tottering, and in terror of their houses Continental sovereigns entered into their Holy Alliance (1815) with the unholy object of joining forces to crush democracy wherever it appeared. THE REVOLUTION AND LITERATURE. The young writers of liberty-loving Englandfelt the stir, the _sursum_ of the age. Wordsworth, most sedate ofmen, saw in the French Revolution a glorious prophecy, and wrote withunwonted enthusiasm: Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, But to be young was very Heaven. Coleridge and Southey formed their grand scheme of a Pantisocracy, agovernment of perfect equality, on the banks of the Susquehanna. Scott(always a Tory, and therefore distrustful of change) reflected thedemocratic enthusiasm in a score of romances, the chief point of which wasthis: that almost every character was at heart a king, and spake rightkingly fashion. Byron won his popularity largely because he was anuncompromising rebel, and appealed to young rebels who were proclaiming thenecessity of a new human society. And Shelley, after himself rebelling atalmost every social law of his day, wrote his _Prometheus Unbound_, which is a vague but beautiful vision of humanity redeemed in some magicalway from all oppression and sorrow. All these and other writers of the age give the impression, as we read themnow, that they were gloriously expectant of a new day of liberty that wasabout to dawn on the world. Their romantic enthusiasm, so different fromthe cold formality of the age preceding, is a reflection, like a rosysunset glow, of the stirring scenes of revolution through which the worldhad just passed. * * * * * WILLIAM WORDSWORTH (1770-1850) There is but one way to know Wordsworth, and that way leads to his naturepoems. Though he lived in a revolutionary age, his life was singularlyuneventful. His letters are terribly prosaic; and his _Excursion_, inwhich he attempted an autobiography, has so many dull lines that few havepatience to read it. Though he asserted, finely, that there is but onegreat society on earth, "the noble living and the noble dead, " he held nocommunion with the great minds of the past or of the present. He lived inhis own solitary world, and his only real companion was nature. To knownature at first hand, and to reflect human thought or feeling in nature'spure presence, --this was his chief object. His field, therefore, is a smallone, but in that field he is the greatest master that England has thus farproduced. [Illustration: WILLIAM WORDSWORTH] LIFE. Wordsworth is as inseparably connected with the English Lake District as Burns with the Lowlands or Scott with the Border. A large part of the formative period of his life was spent out of doors amid beautiful scenery, where he felt the abounding life of nature streaming upon him in the sunshine, or booming in his ears with the steady roar of the March winds. He felt also (what sensitive spirits still feel) a living presence that met him in the loneliest wood, or spoke to him in the flowers, or preceded him over the wind-swept hills. He was one of those favored mortals who are surest of the Unseen. From school he would hurry away to his skating or bird-nesting or aimless roaming, and every new day afield was to him "One of those heavenly days that cannot die. " [Sidenote: WORDSWORTH AND THE REVOLUTION] From the Lake Region he went to Cambridge, but found little in college life to attract or hold him. Then, stirred by the promise of the Revolution, he went to France, where his help was eagerly sought by rival parties; for in that day every traveler from America or England, whether an astute Jefferson or a lamblike Wordsworth, was supposed to be, by virtue of his country, a master politician Wordsworth threw himself rather blindly into the Revolution, joined the Girondists (the ruling faction in 1792) and might have gone to the guillotine with the leaders of that party had not his friends brought him home by the simple expedient of cutting off his supply of money. Thus ended ingloriously the only adventure that ever quickened his placid life. For a time Wordsworth mourned over the failure of his plans, but his grief turned to bitterness when the Revolution passed over into the Reign of Terror and ended in the despotism of Napoleon. His country was now at war with France, and he followed his country, giving mild support to Burke and the Tory party. After a few uncertain years, during which he debated his calling in life, he resolved on two things: to be a poet, and to bring back to English poetry the romantic spirit and the naturalness of expression which had been displaced by the formal elegance of the age of Pope and Johnson. [Illustration: WORDSWORTH'S DESK IN HAWKSHEAD SCHOOL] For that resolution we are indebted partly to Coleridge, who had been attracted by some of Wordsworth's early poems, and who encouraged him to write more. From the association of these two men came the famous _Lyrical Ballads_ (1798), a book which marks the beginning of a new era in English poetry. To Wordsworth's sister Dorothy we are even more indebted. It was she who soothed Wordsworth's disappointment, reminded him of the world of nature in which alone he was at home, and quietly showed him where his power lay. As he says, in _The Prelude_ She whispered still that brightness would return, She, in the midst of all preserved me still A poet, made me seek beneath that name, And that alone, my office upon earth [Sidenote: PERSONAL TRAITS] The latter half of Wordsworth's life was passed in the Lake Region, at Grasmere and Rydal Mount for the most part, the continuity being broken by walking trips in Britain or on the Continent. A very quiet, uneventful life it was, but it revealed two qualities which are of interest to Wordsworth's readers. The first was his devotion to his art; the second was his granite steadfastness. His work was at first neglected, while the poems of Scott, Byron and Tennyson in succession attained immense popularity. The critics were nearly all against him; misunderstanding his best work and ridiculing the rest. The ground of their opposition was, that his theory of the utmost simplicity in poetry was wrong; their ridicule was made easier by the fact that Wordsworth produced as much bad work as good. Moreover, he took himself very seriously, had no humor, and, as visitors like Emerson found to their disappointment, was interested chiefly in himself and his own work. For was he not engaged in the greatest of all projects, an immense poem (_The Recluse_) which should reflect the universe in the life of one man, and that man William Wordsworth? Such self-satisfaction invited attack; even Lamb, the gentlest of critics, could hardly refrain from poking fun at it: "Wordsworth, the great poet, is coming to town; he is to have apartments in the Mansion House. He says he does not see much difficulty in writing like Shakespeare, if he had a mind to try it. It is clear that nothing is wanting but the mind. " [Sidenote: HIS TRIUMPH] Slowly but surely Wordsworth won recognition, not simply in being made Laureate, but in having his ideal of poetry vindicated. Poets in England and America began to follow him; the critics were silenced, if not convinced. While the popularity of Scott and Byron waned, the readers of Wordsworth increased steadily, finding him a poet not of the hour but of all time. "If a single man plant himself indomitably on his instincts, and there abide, " says Emerson, "the huge world will come around to him. " If the reading world has not yet come around to Wordsworth, that is perhaps not the poet's fault. WORDSWORTH: HIS THEME AND THEORY. The theory which Wordsworth and Coleridgeformulated was simply this: that poetry is the spontaneous overflow ofpowerful human feeling. Its only subjects are nature and human nature; itsonly object is to reflect the emotions awakened by our contemplation of theworld or of humanity; its language must be as direct and simple aspossible, such language as rises unbidden to the lips whenever the heart istouched. Though some of the world's best poets have taken a different view, Wordsworth maintained steadily that poetry must deal with common subjectsin the plainest language; that it must not attempt to describe, in elegantphrases, what a poet is supposed to feel about art or some other subjectselected for its poetic possibilities. [Sidenote: NATURAL VS. FORMAL POETRY] In the last contention Wordsworth was aiming at the formal school ofpoetry, and we may better understand him by a comparison. Read, forexample, his exquisite "Early Spring" ("I heard a thousand blended notes"). Here in twenty-four lines are more naturalness, more real feeling finelyexpressed, than you can find in the poems of Dryden, Johnson and Addisoncombined. Or take the best part of "The Campaign, " which made Addison'sfortune, and which was acclaimed the finest thing ever written: So when an angel by divine command With rising tempests shakes a guilty land, (Such as of late o'er pale Britannia past) Calm and serene he drives the furious blast; And, pleased th' Almighty's orders to perform, Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm. To know how artificial that famous simile is, read a few lines fromWordsworth's "On the Sea-Shore, " which lingers in our mind like a strain ofHandel's music: It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea: Listen! the mighty Being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder--everlastingly. If such comparisons interest the student, let him read Addison's "Letter toLord Halifax, " with its Apostrophe to Liberty, which was considered sublimein its day: O Liberty, thou goddess heavenly bright, Profuse of bliss, and pregnant with delight! Eternal pleasures in thy presence reign, And smiling Plenty leads thy wanton train; Eased of her load, Subjection grows more light, And Poverty looks cheerful in thy sight; Thou mak'st the gloomy face of nature gay, Giv'st beauty to the sun, and pleasure to the day. Place beside that the first four lines of Wordsworth's sonnet "ToSwitzerland" (quoted at the head of this chapter), or a stanza from his"Ode to Duty": Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear The Godhead's most benignant grace; Nor know we anything so fair As is the smile upon thy face: Flowers laugh before thee on their beds, And fragrance in thy footing treads; Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong, And the most ancient heavens, through thee, are fresh and strong. To follow such a comparison is to understand Wordsworth by sympathy; it isto understand also the difference between poetry and formal verse. THE POEMS OF WORDSWORTH. As the reading of literature is the main thing, the only word of criticism which remains is to direct the beginner; anddirection is especially necessary in dealing with Wordsworth, who wrotevoluminously, and who lacked both the critical judgment and the sense ofhumor to tell him what parts of his work were inferior or ridiculous: There's something in a flying horse, There's something in a huge balloon! To be sure; springs in the one, gas in the other; but if there wereanything more poetic in horse or balloon, Wordsworth did not discover it. There is something also in a cuckoo clock, or even in A household tub, one such as those Which women use to wash their clothes. Such banalities are to be found in the work of a poet who could produce theexquisite sonnet "On Westminster Bridge, " the finely simple "I WanderedLonely as a Cloud, " the stirring "Ode to Duty, " the tenderly reflective"Tintern Abbey, " and the magnificent "Intimations of Immortality, " whichEmerson (who was not a very safe judge) called "the high water mark ofpoetry in the nineteenth century. " These five poems may serve as the firstmeasure of Wordsworth's genius. [Sidenote: POEMS OF NATURE] A few of Wordsworth's best nature poems are: "Early Spring, " "Three YearsShe Grew, " "The Fountain, " "My Heart Leaps Up, " "The Tables Turned, " "To aCuckoo, " "To a Skylark" (the second poem, beginning, "Ethereal minstrel")and "Yarrow Revisited. " The spirit of all his nature poems is reflected in"Tintern Abbey, " which gives us two complementary views of nature, corresponding to Wordsworth's earlier and later experience. The first isthat of the boy, roaming foot-loose over the face of nature, finding, asColeridge said, "Rhythm in all thought, and joyance everywhere. " The secondis that of the man who returns to the scenes of his boyhood, finds them asbeautiful as ever, but pervaded now by a spiritual quality, --"somethingwhich defies analysis, undefined and ineffable, which must be felt andperceived by the soul. " It was this spiritual view of nature, as a reflection of the Divine, whichprofoundly influenced Bryant, Emerson and other American writers. Theessence of Wordsworth's teaching, in his nature poems, appears in the lasttwo lines of his "Skylark, " a bird that soars the more gladly to heavenbecause he must soon return with joy to his own nest: Type of the wise, who soar but never roam: True to the kindred points of heaven and home. [Sidenote: POEMS OF HUMBLE LIFE] Of the poems more closely associated with human life, a few the best are:"Michael, " "The Highland Reaper, " "The Leech Gatherers, " "Margaret" (in_The Excursion_), "Brougham Castle, " "The Happy Warrior, " "Peel Castlein a Storm, " "Three Years She Grew, " "She Dwelt among the Untrodden Ways"and "She was a Phantom of Delight. " In such poems we note two significantcharacteristics: that Wordsworth does not seek extraordinary characters, but is content to show the hidden beauty in the lives of plain men andwomen; and that his heroes and heroines dwell, as he said, where "laborstill preserves his rosy face. " They are natural men and women, and aretherefore simple and strong; the quiet light in their faces is reflectedfrom the face of the fields. In his emphasis on natural simplicity, virtue, beauty, Wordsworth has again been, as he desired, a teacher of multitudes. His moral teaching may be summed up in three lines from _TheExcursion_: The primal duties shine aloft like stars; The charities that soothe and heal and bless Are scattered at the feet of man like flowers. [Sidenote: THE SONNETS] In the number and fine quality of his sonnets Wordsworth has no superior inEnglish poetry. Simplicity, strength, deep thought, fine feeling, carefulworkmanship, --these qualities are present in measure more abundant than canbe found elsewhere in the poet's work: Bees that soar for bloom, High as the highest peak of Furness-fells, Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells. In these three lines from "On the Sonnet" (which should be read entire) isthe explanation why Wordsworth, who was often diffuse, found joy incompressing his whole poem into fourteen lines. A few other sonnets whichcan be heartily recommended are: "Westminster Bridge, " "The Seashore, " "TheWorld, " "Venetian Republic, " "To Sleep, " "Toussaint L'Ouverture, ""Afterthoughts, " "To Milton" (sometimes called "London, 1802") and thefarewell to Scott when he sailed in search of health, beginning, "A troublenot of clouds or weeping rain. " Not until one has learned to appreciate Wordsworth at his best will it besafe to attempt _The Prelude, or the Growth of a Poet's Mind_. Mostpeople grow weary of this poem, which is too long; but a few read it withpleasure for its portrayal of Wordsworth's education at the hand of Nature, or for occasional good lines which lure us on like miners in search ofgold. _The Prelude_, though written at thirty-five, was not publishedtill after Wordsworth's death, and for this reason: he had planned animmense poem, dealing with Nature, Man and Society, which he called _TheRecluse_, and which he likened to a Gothic cathedral. His _Prelude_was the "ante-chapel" of this work; his miscellaneous odes, sonnets andnarrative poems were to be as so many "cells and oratories"; other parts ofthe structure were _The Home at Grasmere_ and _The Excursion_, which he may have intended as transepts, or as chapels. [Illustration: ST. OSWALD'S CHURCH, GRASMEREWordsworth's body was buried in the churchyard See _The Excursion_, Book V] This great work was left unfinished, and one may say of it, as of Spenser's_Faery Queen_, that it is better so. Like other poets of venerableyears Wordsworth wrote many verses that were better left in the inkpot; andit is a pity, in dealing with so beautiful and necessary a thing as poetry, that one should ever reach the point of saying, sadly but truthfully, "Enough is too much. " * * * * * COLERIDGE AND SOUTHEY The story of these two men is a commentary on the uncertainties of literaryfortune. Both won greater reward and reputation than fell to the lot ofWordsworth; but while the fame of the latter poet mounts steadily with theyears, the former have become, as it were, footnotes to the greatcontemporary with whom they were associated, under the name of "LakePoets, " for half a glorious century. [Illustration: SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE] SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE (1772-1834). The tragedy _Remorse_, whichColeridge wrote, is as nothing compared with the tragedy of his own life. He was a man of superb natural gifts, of vast literary culture, to whosegenius the writers of that age--Wordsworth, Hazlitt, Lamb, De Quincey, Shelley, Landor, Southey--nearly all bear witness. He might well have beena great poet, or critic, or philosopher, or teacher; but he lacked the willpower to direct his gifts to any definite end. His irresolution becamepitiful weakness when he began to indulge in the drug habit, which soonmade a slave of him. Thereafter he impressed all who met him with a senseof loss and inexpressible sorrow. [Sidenote: LIFE OF COLERIDGE] Coleridge began to read at three years of age; at five he had gone through the Bible and the Arabian Nights; at thirty he was perhaps the most widely read man of his generation in the fields of literature and philosophy. He was a student in a famous charity school in London when he met Charles Lamb, who records his memories of the boy and the place in his charming essay of "Christ's Hospital. " At college he was one of a band of enthusiasts inspired by the French Revolution, and with Southey he formed a plan to establish in America a world-reforming Pantisocracy, or communistic settlement, where all should be brothers and equals, and where a little manual work was to be tempered by much play, poetry and culture. Europeans had queer ideas of America in those days. This beautiful plan failed, because the reformers did not have money enough to cross the ocean and stake out their Paradise. [Illustration: THE COLERIDGE COTTAGE, NETHER STOWEY, IN SOMERSETSHIRE] The next important association of Coleridge was with Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy, in Somerset, where the three friends planned and published the _Lyrical Ballads_ of 1798. In this work Wordsworth attempted to portray the charm of common things, and Coleridge to give reality to a world of dreams and fantasies. Witness the two most original poems in the book, "Tintern Abbey" and "The Ancient Mariner. " During the latter part of his life Coleridge won fame by his lectures on English poetry and German philosophy, and still greater fame by his conversations, --brilliant, heaven-scaling monologues, which brought together a company of young enthusiasts. And presently these disciples of Coleridge were spreading abroad a new idealistic philosophy, which crossed the ocean, was welcomed by Emerson and a host of young writers or reformers, and appeared in American literature as Transcendentalism. [Sidenote: STORIES OF COLERIDGE] Others who heard the conversations were impressed in a somewhat different way. Keats met Coleridge on the road, one day, and listened dumbfounded to an ecstatic discourse on poetry, nightingales, the origin of sensation, dreams (four kinds), consciousness, creeds, ghost stories, --"he broached a thousand matters" while the poets were walking a space of two miles. Walter Scott, meeting Coleridge at a dinner, listened with his head in a whirl to a monologue on fairies, the classics, ancient mysteries, visions, ecstasies, the psychology of poetry, the poetry of metaphysics. "Zounds!" says Scott, "I was never so bethumped with words. " Charles Lamb, hurrying to his work, encountered Coleridge and was drawn aside to a quiet garden. There the poet took Lamb by a button of his coat, closed his eyes, and began to discourse, his right hand waving to the rhythm of the flowing words. No sooner was Coleridge well started than Lamb slyly took out his penknife, cut off the button, and escaped unobserved. Some hours later, as he passed the garden on his return, Lamb heard a voice speaking most musically; he turned aside in wonder, and there stood Coleridge, his eyes closed, his left hand holding the button, his right hand waving, "still talking like an angel. " Such are the stories, true or apocryphal, of Coleridge's conversations. Their bewildering quality appears, somewhat dimmed, in his prose works, which have been finely compared with the flight of an eagle on set wings, sweeping in wide circles, balancing, soaring, mounting on the winds. But we must note this difference: that the eagle keeps his keen eye on the distant earth, and always knows just where he is; while Coleridge sees only the wonders of Cloudland, and appears to be hopelessly lost. [Sidenote: HIS PROSE AND POETRY] The chief prose works of Coleridge are his _Biographia Literaria_ (abrilliant patchwork of poetry and metaphysics), _Aids to Reflection_, _Letters and Table Talk_ (the most readable of his works), and_Lectures and Notes on Shakespeare_. These all contain fine gold, butthe treasure is for those doughty miners the critics rather than forreaders who go to literature for recreation. Among the best of hismiscellaneous poems (and Coleridge at his best has few superiors) are"Youth and Age, " "Love Poems, " "Hymn before Sunrise, " "Ode to the DepartingYear, " and the pathetic "Ode to Dejection, " which is a reflection of thepoet's saddened but ever hopeful life. Two other poems, highly recommended by most critics, are the fragments"Kubla Khan" and "Christabel"; but in dealing with these the reader may dowell to form his own judgment. Both fragments contain beautiful lines, butas a whole they are wandering, disjointed, inconsequent, --mere sketches, they seem, of some weird dream of mystery or terror which Coleridge istrying in vain to remember. [Sidenote: THE ANCIENT MARINER] The most popular of Coleridge's works is his imperishable "Rime of theAncient Mariner, " a wildly improbable poem of icebound or tropic seas, ofthirst-killed sailors, of a phantom ship sailed by a crew of ghosts, --allportrayed in the vivid, picturesque style of the old ballad. When the"Mariner" first appeared it was dismissed as a cock-and-bull story; yetsomehow readers went back to it, again and again, as if fascinated. It waspassed on to the next generation; and still we read it, and pass it on. Forthis grotesque tale differs from all others of its kind in that its lineshave been quoted for over a hundred years as a reflection of some profoundhuman experience. That is the genius of the work: it takes the mostfantastic illusions and makes them appear as real as any sober journeyrecorded in a sailor's log book. [Footnote: In connection with the "AncientMariner" one should read the legends of "The Flying Dutchman" and "TheWandering Jew. " Poe's story "A Manuscript Found in a Bottle" is based onthese legends and on Coleridge's poem. ] At the present time our enjoyment of the "Mariner" is somewhat hampered bythe critical commentaries which have fastened upon the poem, like barnacleson an old ship. It has been studied as a type of the romantic ballad, as amoral lesson, as a tract against cruelty to animals, as a model of collegeEnglish. But that is no way to abuse a poet's fancy! To appreciate the"Mariner" as the author intended, one should carry it off to the hammock ororchard; there to have freedom of soul to enjoy a well-spun yarn, agorgeous flight of imagination, a poem which illustrates Coleridge'sdefinition of poetry as "the bloom and the fragrance of all humanknowledge, thoughts, emotions, language. " It broadens one's sympathy, aswell as one's horizon, to accompany this ancient sailor through scenes ofterror and desolation: O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been Alone on a wide, wide sea: So lonely 't was, that God himself Scarce seemed there to be. In the midst of such scenes come blessed memories of a real world, of thebeauty of unappreciated things, such as the "sweet jargoning" of birds: And now 'twas like all instruments, Now like a lonely flute; And now it is an angel's song, That makes the heavens be mute. It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune. Whoever is not satisfied with that for its own sake, without moral oranalysis, has missed the chief interest of all good poetry. ROBERT SOUTHEY. In contrast with the irresolution of Coleridge is thesteadfastness of Southey (1774-1843), a man of strong character, ofenormous industry. For fifty years he worked steadily, day and half thenight, turning out lyrics, ballads, epics, histories, biographies, translations, reviews, --an immense amount of stuff, filling endlessvolumes. Kind nature made up for Southey's small talent by giving him agreat opinion of it, and he believed firmly that his work was as immortalas the _Iliad_. [Illustration: ROBERT SOUTHEY] With the exception of a few short poems, such as the "Battle of Blenheim, ""Lodore, " "The Inchcape Rock" and "Father William" (parodied in thenonsense of _Alice in Wonderland_), the mass of Southey's work isalready forgotten. Deserving of mention, however, are his _PeninsularWar_ and his _Life of Nelson_, both written in a straightforwardstyle, portraying patriotism without the usual sham, and a first-classfighting man without brag or bluster. Curious readers may also be attractedby the epics of Southey (such as _Madoc_, the story of a Welsh princewho anticipated Columbus), which contain plenty of the marvelous adventuresthat give interest to the romances of Jules Verne and the yarns of RiderHaggard. It as Southey's habit to work by the clock, turning out chapters as anotherman might dig potatoes. One day, as he plodded along, a fairy must havewhispered in his car; for he suddenly produced a little story, a gem, atreasure of a story, and hid it away in a jungle of chapters in a bookcalled _The Doctor_. Somebody soon discovered the treasure; indeed, one might as well try to conceal a lighted candle as to hide a good story;and now it is the most famous work to be found in Southey's hundred volumesof prose and verse. Few professors could give you any informationconcerning _The Doctor_, but almost any child will tell you all about"The Three Bears. " The happy fate of this little nursery tale mightindicate that the final judges of literature are not always or often thelearned critics. * * * * * THE REVOLUTIONARY POETS The above title is often applied to Byron and Shelley, and for two reasons, because they were themselves rebellious of heart, and because they voicedthe rebellion of numerous other young enthusiasts who, disappointed by thefailure of the French Revolution to bring in the promised age of happiness, were ready to cry out against the existing humdrum order of society. Bothpoets were sadly lacking in mental or moral balance, and finding no chancein England to wage heroic Warfare against political tyranny, as the Frenchhad done, they proceeded in rather head long fashion to an attack on wellestablished customs in society, and especially did they strike out wildlyagainst "the monster Public Opinion. " Because the "monster" was strongerthan they were, and more nearly right, their rebellion ended in tragedy. [Illustration: GRETA HALL (IN THE LAKE REGION)Where Southey lived, 1803-1839] LIFE OF BYRON. In the life of George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824), is so much that call for apology or silence that one is glad to review his career in briefest outline. Of his family, noble in name but in nothing else, the least said the better. He was born in London, but spent his childhood in Aberdeen, under the alternate care or negligence of his erratic mother. At ten he fell heir to a title, to the family seat of Newstead Abbey, and to estates yielding an income of some £1400 per year, --a large income for a poet, but as nothing to a lord accustomed to make ducks and drakes of his money. In school and college his conduct was rather wild, and his taste fantastic For example, he kept a bulldog and a bear in his rooms, and read romances instead of books recommended by the faculty. He tells us that he detested poetry; yet he wrote numerous poems which show plainly that he not only read but copied some of the poets. [Footnote: These poems (revised and published as _Hours of Idleness_) were savagely criticized in the _Edinburgh Review_. Byron answered with his satiric _English Bards and Scotch Reviewers_, which ridiculed not only his Scottish critics but also Wordsworth, Scott, --in fact, most of the English poets, with the exception of Pope, whom he praised as the only poet ancient or modern who was not a barbarian. ] [Sidenote: A LITERARY LION] At twenty-one Byron entered the House of Lords, and almost immediately thereafter set sail for Lisbon and the Levant. On his return he published the first two cantos of _Childe Harold's Pilgrimage_, which made him famous. Though he affected to despise his triumph, he followed it up shrewdly by publishing _The Giaour_, _The Corsair_ and _Lara_, in which the same mysterious hero of his first work reappears, under different disguises, amid romantic surroundings. The vigor of these poems attracted many readers, and when it was whispered about that the author was recounting his own adventures, Byron became the center of literary interest. At home he was a social lion; abroad he was acclaimed the greatest of British poets. But his life tended more and more to shock the English sense of decency; and when his wife (whom he had married for her money) abruptly left him, public opinion made its power felt. Byron's popularity waned; his vanity was wounded; he left his country, vowing never to return. Also he railed against what he called British hypocrisy. [Illustration: LORD BYRON After the portrait by T. Phillips] In Geneva he first met Shelley, admired him, was greatly helped by him, and then grossly abused his hospitality. After a scandalous career in Italy he went to help the Greeks in their fight for independence, but died of fever before he reached the battle line. THE POETRY OF BYRON. There is one little song of Byron which serves well asthe measure of his poetic talent. It is found in _Don Juan_, and itbegins as follows: 'T is sweet to hear At midnight on the blue and moonlit deep The song and oar of Adria's gondolier, By distance mellow'd, o'er the waters sweep; 'T is sweet to see the evening star appear; 'T is sweet to listen, as the night-winds creep From leaf to leaf; 't is sweet to view on high The rainbow, based on ocean, span the sky. 'T is sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark Bay deep-mouthed welcome as we draw near home; 'T is sweet to know there is an eye will mark Our coming, and look brighter when we come; 'T is sweet to be awaken'd by the lark, Or lulled by falling waters; sweet the hum Of bees, the voice of girls, the song of birds, The lisp of children, and their earliest words. That is not great poetry, and may not be compared with a sonnet ofWordsworth; but it is good, honest sentiment expressed in such a melodiousway that we like to read it, and feel better after the reading. In the nextstanza, however, Byron grows commonplace and ends with: Sweet is revenge, especially to women, Pillage to soldiers, prize-money to seamen. And that is bad sentiment and worse rime, without any resemblance topoetry. The remaining stanzas are mere drivel, unworthy of the poet'stalent or of the reader's patience. It is so with a large part of Byron's work; it often begins well, andusually has some vivid description of nature, or some gallant passage inswinging verse, which stirs us like martial music; then the poem falls toearth like a stone, and presently appears some wretched pun or jest orscurrility. Our present remedy lies in a book of selections, in which wecan enjoy the poetry without being unpleasantly reminded of the author'sbesetting sins of flippancy and bad taste. [Sidenote: MANFRED] Of the longer poems of Byron, which took all Europe by storm, only three orfour are memorable. _Manfred_ (1817) is a dramatic poem, in which theauthor's pride, his theatric posing, his talent for rhythmic expression, are all seen at their worst or best. The mysterious hero of the poem livesin a gloomy castle under the high Alps, but he is seldom found under roof. Instead he wanders amidst storms and glaciers, holding communion withpowers of darkness, forever voicing his rebellion, his boundless pride, hisbottomless remorse. Nobody knows what the rebellion and the remorse are allabout. Some readers may tire of the shadowy hero's egoism, but few willfail to be impressed by the vigor of the verse, or by the splendidreflection of picturesque scenes. And here and there is a lyric that seemsto set itself to music. Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains, They crowned him long ago On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, With a diadem of snow [Illustration: NEWSTEAD ABBEY AND BYRON OAK] _Cain_ (1821) is another dramatic poem, reflecting the rebellion ofanother hero, or rather the same hero, who appears this time as the elderson of Adam. After murdering his brother, the hero takes guidance ofLucifer and explores hell; where, instead of repentance, he finds occasionto hate almost everything that is dear to God or man. The drama is a kindof gloomy parody of Milton's _Paradise Lost_, as _Manfred_ is aparody of Goethe's _Faust_. Both dramas are interesting, aside fromtheir poetic passages, as examples of the so-called Titan literature, towhich we shall presently refer in our study of Shelley's _Prometheus_. [Sidenote: CHILDE HAROLD] The most readable work of Byron is _Childe Harold's Pilgrimage_, abrilliant narrative poem, which reflects the impressions of anothermisanthropic hero in presence of the romantic scenery of the Continent. Itwas the publication of the first two cantos of this poem in 1812, that madeByron the leading figure in English poetry, and these cantos are stillwidely read as a kind of poetic guidebook. To many readers, however, thethird and fourth cantos are more sincere and more pleasurable. The mostmemorable parts of _Childe Harold_ are the "Farewell" in the firstcanto, "Waterloo" in the third, and "Lake Leman, " "Venice, " "Rome, " "TheColiseum", "The Dying Gladiator" and "The Ocean" in the fourth. When onehas read these magnificent passages he has the best of which Byron wascapable. We have called _Childe Harold_ the most readable of Byron'sworks, but those who like a story will probably be more interested in_Mazeppa_ and _The Prisoner of Chillon_. [Illustration: THE CASTLE OF CHILLON] [Sidenote: THE BYRONIC HERO] One significant quality of these long poems is that they are intenselypersonal, voicing one man's remorse or rebellion, and perpetually repeatinghis "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity!" They are concerned with the samehero (who is Byron under various disguises) and they picture him as aproud, mysterious stranger, carelessly generous, fiendishly wicked, profoundly melancholy, irresistibly fascinating to women. Byron is creditedwith the invention of this hero, ever since called Byronic; but in truththe melodramatic outcast was a popular character in fiction long beforeByron adopted him, gave him a new dress and called him Manfred or Don Juan. A score of romances (such as Mrs. Radcliffe's _The Italian_ inEngland, and Charles Brockden Brown's _Wieland_ in America) had usedthe same hero to add horror to a grotesque tale; Scott modified himsomewhat, as the Templar in _Ivanhoe_, for example; and Byron made himmore real by giving him the revolutionary spirit, by employing him to voicethe rebellion against social customs which many young enthusiasts felt sostrongly in the early part of the nineteenth century. [Sidenote: TWO VIEWS OF BYRON] The vigor of this stage hero, his rebellious spirit, his picturesqueadventures, the gaudy tinsel (mistaken for gold) in which he wasdressed, --all this made a tremendous impression in that romantic age. Goethe called Byron "the prince of modern poetry, the most talented andimpressive figure which the literary world has ever produced"; and thisunbalanced judgment was shared by other critics on the Continent, whereByron is still regarded as one of the greatest of English poets. Swinburne, on the other hand, can hardly find words strong enough toexpress his contempt for the "blare and brassiness" of Byron; but that alsois an exaggeration. Though Byron is no longer a popular hero, and thoughhis work is more rhetorical than poetical, we may still gladly acknowledgethe swinging rhythm, the martial dash and vigor of his best verse. Also, remembering the Revolution, we may understand the dazzling impression whichhe made upon the poets of his day. When the news came from Greece that hismeteoric career was ended, the young Tennyson wept passionately and wentout to carve on a stone, "Byron is dead, " as if poetry had perished withhim. Even the coldly critical Matthew Arnold was deeply moved to write: When Byron's eyes were closed in death We bowed our head, and held our breath. He taught us little, but our soul Had _felt_ him like the thunder roll. LIFE OF SHELLEY. The career of Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822) is, in comparison with that of Byron, as a will-o'-the-wisp to a meteor. Byron was of the earth earthy; he fed upon coarse food, shady adventures, scandal, the limelight; but Shelley Seemed nourished upon starbeams, and the stuff Of rainbows and the tempest and the foam. He was a delicate child, shy, sensitive, elflike, who wandered through the woods near his home, in Sussex, on the lookout for sprites and hobgoblins. His reading was of the wildest kind; and when he began the study of chemistry he was forever putting together things that made horrible smells or explosions, in expectation that the genii of the _Arabian Nights_ would rise from the smoke of his test tube. [Sidenote: A YOUNG REBEL] At Eton the boy promptly rebelled against the brutal fagging system, then tolerated in all English schools. He was presently in hot water, and the name "Mad Shelley, " which the boys gave him, followed him through life. He had been in the university (Oxford) hardly two years when his head was turned by some book of shallow philosophy, and he printed a rattle-brained tract called "The Necessity of Atheism. " This got him into such trouble with the Dons that he was expelled for insubordination. [Sidenote: THE WIND AND THE WHIRLWIND] Forthwith Shelley published more tracts of a more rebellious kind. His sister Helen put them into the hands of her girl friend, Harriet Westbrook, who showed her belief in revolutionary theories by running away from school and parental discipline and coming to Shelley for "protection. " These two social rebels, both in the green-apple stage (their combined age was thirty-five), were presently married; not that either of them believed in marriage, but because they were compelled by "Anarch Custom. " After some two years of a wandering, will-o'-the-wisp life, Shelley and his wife were estranged and separated. The young poet then met a certain William Godwin, known at that time as a novelist and evolutionary philosopher, and showed his appreciation of Godwin's radical teaching by running away with his daughter Mary, aged seventeen. The first wife, tired of liberalism, drowned herself, and Shelley was plunged into remorse at the tragedy. The right to care for his children was denied him, as an improper person, and he was practically driven out of England by force of that public opinion which he had so frequently outraged or defied. [Illustration: PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY] Life is a good teacher, though stern in its reckoning, and in Italy life taught Shelley that the rights and beliefs of other men were no less sacred than his own. He was a strange combination of hot head and kind heart, the one filled with wild social theories, the other with compassion for humanity. He was immensely generous with his friends, and tender to the point of tears at the thought of suffering men, --not real men, such as he met in the streets (even the beggars in Italy are cheerful), but idealized men, with mysterious sorrows, whom he met in the clouds. While in England his weak head had its foolish way, and his early poems, such as _Queen Mab_, are violent declamations. In Italy his heart had its day, and his later poems, such as _Adonais_ and _Prometheus Unbound_, are rhapsodies ennobled by Shelley's love of beauty and by his unquenchable hope that a bright day of justice must soon dawn upon the world. He was drowned (1822) while sailing his boat off the Italian coast, before he had reached the age of thirty years. THE POETRY OF SHELLEY. In the longer poems of Shelley there are twoprominent elements, and two others less conspicuous but more important. Thefirst element is revolt. The poet was violently opposed to the existingorder of society, and lost no opportunity to express his hatred of Tyranny, which was Shelley's name for what sober men called law and order. Feedinghis spirit of revolution were numerous anarchistic theories, called the newphilosophy, which had this curious quality: that they hotly denied the oldfaith, law, morality, as other men formulated such matters, and ferventlybelieved any quack who appeared with a new nostrum warranted to cure allsocial disorders. The second obvious element in Shelley's poetry is his love of beauty, notthe common beauty of nature or humanity which Wordsworth celebrated, but astrange "supernal" beauty with no "earthly" quality or reality. His bestlines leave a vague impression of something beautiful and lovely, but weknow not what it is. Less conspicuous in Shelley's poems are the sense of personal loss or griefwhich pervades them, and the exquisite melody of certain words which heused for their emotional effect rather than to convey any definite meaning. Like Byron he sang chiefly of his own feelings, his rage or despair, hissorrow or loneliness. He reflected his idea of the origin and motive oflyric poesy in the lines: Most wretched men Are cradled into poetry by wrong; They learn in suffering what they teach in song, -- an idea which Poe adopted in its entirety, and which Heine expressed in asentimental lyric, telling how from his great grief he made his littlesongs: Aus meinen groszen Schmerzen Mach' ich die kleinen Lieder. Hardly another English poet uses words so musically as Shelley (witness"The Cloud" and "The Skylark"), and here again his idea of verbal melodywas carried to an extreme by Poe, in whose poetry words are used not somuch to express ideas as to awaken vague emotions. [Sidenote: ALASTOR] All the above-named qualities appear in _Alastor_ (the Spirit ofSolitude), which is less interesting as a poem than as a study of Shelley. In this poem we may skip the revolt, which is of no consequence, and followthe poet in his search for a supernally lovely maiden who shall satisfy hislove for ideal beauty. To find her he goes, not among human habitations, but to gloomy forests, dizzy cliffs, raging torrents, tempest-blownseashore, --to every place where a maiden in her senses would not be. Suchplaces, terrible or picturesque, are but symbols of the poet's soul in itssuffering and loneliness. He does not find his maiden (and herein we readthe poet's first confession that he has failed in life, that the world istoo strong for him); but he sees the setting moon, and somehow that palecomforter brings him peace with death. [Sidenote: PROMETHEUS] In _Prometheus Unbound_ Shelley uses the old myth of the Titan whorebelled against the tyranny of the gods, and who was punished by beingchained to a rock. [Footnote: The original tragedy of _PrometheusBound_ was written by Æschylus, a famous old Greek dramatist. The samepoet wrote also _Prometheus Unbound_, but the latter drama has beenlost. Shelley borrowed the idea of his poem from this lost drama. ] In thispoem Prometheus (man) is represented as being tortured by Jove (law orcustom) until he is released by Demogorgon (progress or necessity);whereupon he marries Asia (love or goodness), and stars and moon break outinto a happy song of redemption. Obviously there is no reality or human interest in such a fantasy. The onlypleasurable parts of the poem are its detached passages of great melody orbeauty; and the chief value of the work is as a modern example of Titanliterature. Many poets have at various times represented mankind in theperson of a Titan, that is, a man written large, colossal in his courage orpower or suffering: Æschylus in _Prometheus_, Marlowe in_Tamburlaine_, Milton in Lucifer, of _Paradise Lost_, Goethe in_Faust_, Byron in _Manfred_, Shelley in _PrometheusUnbound_. The Greek Titan is resigned, uncomplaining, knowing himself tobe a victim of Fate, which may not be opposed; Marlowe's Titan is bombasticand violent; Milton's is ambitious, proud, revengeful; Goethe's is culturedand philosophical; Byron's is gloomy, rebellious, theatrical. So all thesepoets portray each his own bent of mind, and something also of the temperof the age, in the character of his Titan. The significance of Shelley'spoem is in this: that his Titan is patient and hopeful, trusting in thespirit of Love to redeem mankind from all evil. Herein Shelley is farremoved from the caviling temper of his fellow rebel Byron. He celebrates agolden age not of the past but of the future, when the dream of justiceinspired by the French Revolution shall have become a glorious reality. [Sidenote: HIS BEST POEMS] These longer poems of Shelley are read by the few; they are too vague, withtoo little meaning or message, for ordinary readers who like to understandas well as to enjoy poetry. To such readers the only interesting works ofShelley are a few shorter poems: "The Cloud, " "To a Skylark, " "Ode to theWest Wind, " "Indian Serenade, " "A Lament, " "When the Lamp is Lighted" andsome parts of _Adonais_ (a beautiful elegy in memory of Keats), suchas the passage beginning, "Go thou to Rome. " For splendor of imaginationand for melody of expression these poems have few peers and no superiors inEnglish literature. To read them is to discover that Shelley was at timesso sensitive, so responsive to every harmony of nature, that he seemed likethe poet of Alastor, A fragile lute, on whose harmonious strings The breath of Heaven did wander. The breath of heaven is constant, but lutes and strings are variablematters of human arrangement. When Shelley's lute was tuned to nature itbrought forth aerial melody; when he strained its strings to voice somesocial rebellion or anarchistic theory it produced wild discord. * * * * * JOHN KEATS (1795-1821) A thing of beauty is a joy forever: Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness, but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams and health and quiet breathing. The above lines, from _Endymion_, reflect the ideal of the youngsinger whom we rank with the best poets of the nineteenth century. Unlikeother romanticists of that day, he seems to have lived for poetry alone andto have loved it for its own sake, as we love the first spring flowers. Hiswork was shamefully treated by reviewers; it was neglected by the public;but still he wrote, trying to make each line perfect, in the spirit ofthose medieval workmen who put their hearts into a carving that would reston some lofty spire far above the eyes of men. To reverence beauty whereverhe found it, and then in gratitude to produce a new work of beauty whichshould live forever, --that was Keats's only aim. It is the more wonderfulin view of his humble origin, his painful experience, his tragic end. LIFE. Only twenty-five years of life, which included seven years of uncongenial tasks, and three of writing, and three of wandering in search of health, --that sums up the story of Keats. He was born in London; he was the son of a hostler; his home was over the stable; his playground was the dirty street. The family prospered, moved to a better locality, and the children were sent to a good school. Then the parents died, and at fifteen Keats was bound out to a surgeon and apothecary. For four years he worked as an apprentice, and for three years more in a hospital; then, for his heart was never in the work, he laid aside his surgeon's kit, resolving never to touch it again. [Sidenote: TWO POETIC IDEALS] Since childhood he had been a reader, a dreamer, but not till a volume of Spenser's _Faery Queen_ was put into his hands did he turn with intense eagerness to poetry. The influence of that volume is seen in the somewhat monotonous sweetness of his early work. Next he explored the classics (he had read Virgil in the original, but he knew no Greek), and the joy he found in Chapman's translation of Homer is reflected in a noble sonnet. From that time on he was influenced by two ideals which he found in Greek and medieval literature, the one with its emphasis on form, the other with its rich and varied coloring. [Illustration: JOHN KEATS] During the next three years Keats published three small volumes, his entire life's work. These were brutally criticized by literary magazines; they met with ridicule at the hands of Byron, with indifference on the part of Scott and Wordsworth. The pathetic legend that the poet's life was shortened by this abuse is still repeated, but there is little truth in it. Keats held manfully to his course, having more weighty things than criticism to think about. He was conscious that his time was short; he was in love with his Fannie Brawne, but separated from her by illness and poverty; and, like the American poet Lanier, he faced death across the table as he wrote. To throw off the consumption which had fastened upon him he tried to live in the open, making walking trips in the Lake Region; but he met with rough fare and returned from each trip weaker than before. He turned at last to Italy, dreading the voyage and what lay beyond. Night fell as the ship put to sea; the evening star shone clear through the storm clouds, and Keats sent his farewell to life and love and poetry in the sonnet beginning: Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art. He died soon after his arrival in Rome, in 1821. Shelley, who had hailed Keats as a genius, and who had sent a generous invitation to come and share his home, commemorated the poet's death and the world's loss in _Adonais_, which ranks with Milton's _Lycidas_, Tennyson's _In Memoriam_ and Emerson's _Threnody_ among the great elegiac poems of our literature. THE WORK OF KEATS. The first small volume of Keats (_Poems_, 1817)seems now like an experiment. The part of that experiment which we cherishabove all others is the sonnet "On Chapman's Homer, " which should be readentire for its note of joy and for its fine expression of the influence ofclassic poetry. The second volume, _Endymion_, may be regarded as apromise. There is little reality in the rambling poem which gives title tothe volume (the story of a shepherd beloved of a moon-goddess), but thebold imagery of the work, its Spenserian melody, its passages of rarebeauty, --all these speak of a true poet who has not yet quite found himselfor his subject. A third volume, _Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St. Agnesand Other Poems_ (1820), is in every sense a fulfillment, for itcontains a large proportion of excellent poetry, fresh, vital, melodious, which improves with years, and which carries on its face the stamp ofpermanency. [Sidenote: HIS BEST POEMS] The contents of this little volume may be arranged, not very accurately, inthree classes, In the first are certain poems that by their perfection ofform show the Greek or classic spirit. Best known of these poems are thefragment "Hyperion, " with its Milton-like nobility of style, and "Lamia, "which is the story of an enchantress whom love transforms into a beautifulwoman, but who quickly vanishes because of her lover's too greatcuriosity, --a parable, perhaps, of the futility of science and philosophy, as Keats regarded them. Of the poems of the second class, which reflect old medieval legends, "ThePot of Basil, " "The Eve of St. Agnes" and "La Belle Dame sans Merci" arepraised by poets and critics alike. "St. Agnes, " which reflects a vaguelonging rather than a story, is the best known; but "La Belle Dame" mayappeal to some readers as the most moving of Keats's poems. The essence ofall old metrical romances is preserved in a few lines, which have an addedpersonal interest from the fact that they may reveal something of thepoet's sad love story. In the third class are a few sonnets and miscellaneous poems, all permeatedby the sense of beauty, showing in every line the genius of Keats and hisexquisite workmanship. The sonnets "On the Sea, " "When I have Fears, " "Onthe Grasshopper and Cricket" and "To Sleep"; the fragment beginning "In adrear-nighted December"; the marvelous odes "On a Grecian Urn, " "To aNightingale" and "To Autumn, " in which he combines the simplicity of theold classics with the romance and magic of medieval writers, --there are noworks in English of a similar kind that make stronger appeal to our idealof poetry and of verbal melody. Into the three stanzas of "Autumn, " forexample, Keats has compressed the vague feelings of beauty, of melancholy, of immortal aspiration, which come to sensitive souls in the "season ofmists and mellow fruitfulness. " It may be compared, or rather contrasted, with another poem on the same subject which voices the despair in the heartof the French poet Verlaine, who hears "the sobbing of the violins ofautumn": Les sanglots longs Des violons De l'automne Blessent mon coeur D'une langueur Monotone. KEATS: AN ESSAY OF CRITICISM. Beyond recommending a few of his poems fortheir beauty, there is really so little to be said of Keats that criticsare at their wit's end to express their appreciation. So we read of Keats's"pure aestheticism, " his "copious perfection, " his "idyllic visualization, "his "haunting poignancy of feeling, " his "subtle felicities of diction, "his "tone color, " and more to the same effect. Such criticisms aredoubtless well meant, but they are harder to follow than Keats's"Endymion"; and that is no short or easy road of poesy. Perhaps by tryingmore familiar ways we may better understand Keats, why he appeals sostrongly to poets, and why he is so seldom read by other people. [Sidenote: THE SENSE OF BEAUTY] The first characteristic of the man was his love for every beautiful thinghe saw or heard. Sometimes the object which fascinated him was thewidespread sea or a solitary star; sometimes it was the work of man, theproduct of his heart and brain attuned, such as a passage from Homer, alegend of the Middle Ages, a vase of pure lines amid the rubbish of amuseum, like a bird call or the scent of violets in a city street. Whateverthe object that aroused his sense of beauty, he turned aside to stay withit a while, as on the byways of Europe you will sometimes see a man laydown his burden and bare his head before a shrine that beckons him to pray. With this reverence for beauty Keats had other and rarer qualities: thepower to express what he felt, the imagination which gave him beautifulfigures, and the taste which enabled him to choose the finest words, themost melodious phrases, wherewith to reflect his thought or mood oremotion. Such was the power of Keats, to be simple and reverent in the presence ofbeauty, and to give his feeling poetic or imaginative expression. Inrespect of such power he probably had no peer in English literature. Hislimitations were twofold: he looked too exclusively on the physical side ofbeauty, and he lived too far removed from the common, wholesome life ofmen. [Sidenote: SENSE AND SOUL] To illustrate our criticism: that man whom we saw by the wayside shrineacknowledged the presence of some spiritual beauty and truth, the beauty ofholiness, the ineffable loveliness of God. So the man who trains a child, or gives thanks for a friend, or remembers his mother, is always at heart alover of beauty, --the moral beauty of character, of comradeship, ofself-sacrifice. But the poetry of Keats deals largely with outward matters, with form, color, melody, odors, with what is called "sensuous" beautybecause it delights our human senses. Such beauty is good, but it is notsupreme. Moreover, the artist who would appeal widely to men must bysympathy understand their whole life, their mirth as well as their sorrow, their days of labor, their hours of play, their moments of worship. ButKeats, living apart with his ideal of beauty, like a hermit in his cell, was able to understand and to voice only one of the profound interests ofhumanity. For this reason, and because of the deep note of sadness whichsounds through all his work like the monotone of the sea, his exquisitepoems have never had any general appreciation. Like Spenser, who was hisfirst master, he is a poet's poet. * * * * * MINOR POETS OF ROMANTICISM In the early nineteenth century the Literary Annuals appeared, took rootand flourished mightily in England and America. These annuals (such avigorous crop should have been called hardy annuals) were collections ofcontemporary prose or verse that appeared once a year under suchsentimental names as "Friendship's Offering, " "The Token" and "TheGarland. " That they were sold in large numbers on both sides of theAtlantic speaks of the growing popular interest in literature. Moreover, they served an excellent purpose at a time when books and libraries wereless accessible than they are now. They satisfied the need of ordinaryreaders for poetry and romance; they often made known to the world atalented author, who found in public approval that sweet encouragementwhich critics denied him; they made it unlikely that henceforth "some mute, inglorious Milton" should remain either mute or inglorious; and they notonly preserved the best work of minor poets but, what is much better, theygave it a wide reading. Thanks to such collections, from which every newspaper filled its Poet'sCorner, good poems which else might have hid their little light under abushel--Campbell's "Hohenlinden, " Mrs. Hemans' "Landing of the PilgrimFathers, " Hunt's "Abou ben Adhem, " Hood's "The Song of the Shirt, " and manyothers--are now as widely known as are the best works of Wordsworth orByron. [Illustration: LEIGH HUNT] We can name only a few poets of the age, leaving the reader to formacquaintance with their songs in an anthology. Especially worthy ofremembrance are: Thomas Campbell, who greatly influenced the American poetsHalleck and Drake; Thomas Moore, whose _Irish Melodies_ have anattractive singing quality; James Hogg (The Ettrick Shepherd); John Keble, author of _The Christian Year_; Thomas Hood; Felicia Hemans; and LeighHunt, whose encouragement of Keats is as memorable as his "Abou ben Adhem"or "The Glove and the Lions. " There are other poets of equal rank withthose we have ventured to name, and their melodious quality is such that amodern critic has spoken of them, in terms commonly applied to theElizabethans, as "a nest of singing birds"; which would be an excellentfigure if we could forget the fact that birds in a nest never sing. Theirwork is perhaps less imaginative (and certainly less fantastic) than thatof Elizabethan singers, but it comes nearer to present life and reality. One of the least known of these minor poets, Thomas Beddoes, was gifted ina way to remind us of the strange genius of Blake. He wrote not much, hislife being too broken and disappointed; but running through his scantyverse is a thread of the pure gold of poetry. In a single stanza of his"Dream Pedlary" he has reflected the spirit of the whole romantic movement: If there were dreams to sell, What would you buy? Some cost a passing bell, Some a light sigh That shakes from Life's fresh crown Only a rose leaf down. If there were dreams to sell, Merry and sad to tell, And the crier rang the bell, What would you buy? * * * * * THE WORK OF WALTER SCOTT (1771-1832) To read Scott is to read Scotland. Of no other modern author can it sofreely be said that he gave to literature a whole country, its scenery, itspeople, its history and traditions, its ideals of faith and courage andloyalty. That is a large achievement, but that is not all. It was Scott, more thanany other author, who brought poetry and romance home to ordinary readers;and with romance came pleasure, wholesome and refreshing as a drink from aliving spring. When he began to write, the novel was in a sadstate, --sentimental, sensational, fantastic, devoted to what Charles Lambdescribed as wildly improbable events and to characters that belong neitherto this world nor to any other conceivable one. When his work was done, thenovel had been raised to its present position as the most powerful literaryinfluence that bears upon the human mind. Among novelists, therefore, Scottdeserves his title of "the first of the modern race of giants. " LIFE. To his family, descendants of the old Borderers, Scott owed that intensely patriotic quality which glows in all his work. He is said to have borne strong resemblance to his grandfather, "Old Bardie Scott, " an unbending clansman who vowed never to cut his beard till a Stuart prince came back to the throne. The clansmen were now citizens of the Empire, but their loyalty to hereditary chiefs is reflected in Scott's reverence for everything pertaining to rank or royalty. [Sidenote: FIRST IMPRESSIONS] He was born (1771) in Edinburgh, but his early associations were all of the open country. Some illness had left him lame of foot, and with the hope of a cure he was sent to relatives at Sandy Knowe. There in the heart of the Border he spent his days on the hills with the shepherds, listening to Scottish legends. At bedtime his grandmother told him tales of the clans; and when he could read for himself he learned by heart Percy's _Reliques of Ancient Poetry_. So the scenes which he loved because of their wild beauty became sacred because of their historical association. Even in that early day his heart had framed the sentiment which found expression in his _Lay of the Last Minstrel_: Breathes there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said: This is my own, my native land? [Sidenote: WORK AND PLAY] At school, and at college at Edinburgh, the boy's heart was never in his books, unless perchance they contained something of the tradition of Scotland. After college he worked in his father's law office, became an advocate, and for twenty years followed the law. His vacations were spent "making raids, " as he said, into the Highlands, adding to his enormous store of old tales and ballads. A companion on one of these trips gives us a picture of the man: "Eh me, sic an endless fund o' humour and drollery as he had wi' him! Never ten yards but we were either laughing or roaring and singing. Whenever we stopped, how brawlie he suited himsel' to everybody! He aye did as the lave did; never made himsel' the great man, or took ony airs in the company. " This boyish delight in roaming, in new scenes, in new people met frankly under the open sky, is characteristic of Scott's poems and novels, which never move freely until they are out of doors. The vigor of these works may be partially accounted for by the fact that Scott was a hard worker and a hearty player, --a capital combination. [Sidenote: HIS POEMS] He was past thirty when he began to write. [Footnote: This refers to original composition. In 1796 Scott published some translations of German romantic ballads, and in 1802 his _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_. The latter was a collection of old ballads, to some of which Scott gave a more modern form. ] By that time he had been appointed Clerk of Sessions, and also Sheriff of Selkirkshire (he took that hangman's job, and kept it even after he had won fame, just for the money there was in it); and these offices, together with his wife's dowry, provided a comfortable income. When his first poem, _The Lay of the Last Minstrel_ (1805), met with immense success he gladly gave up the law, and wrote _Marmion_ (1808) and _The Lady of the Lake_ (1810). These increased his good fortune; but his later poems were of inferior quality, and met with a cool reception. Meanwhile Byron had appeared to dazzle the reading public. Scott recognized the greater poetic genius of the author of _Childe Harold_, and sought another field where he was safe from all rivals. [Illustration: WALTER SCOTT] [Sidenote: FIRST ROMANCES] Rummaging in a cabinet one day after some fishing tackle, he found a manuscript long neglected and forgotten. Instead of going fishing Scott read his manuscript, was fascinated by it, and presently began to write in headlong fashion. In three weeks he added sixty-five chapters to his old romance, and published it as _Waverley_ (1814) without signing his name. Then he went away on another "raid" to the Highlands. When he returned, at the end of the summer, he learned that his book had made a tremendous sensation, and that Fame, hat in hand, had been waiting at his door for some weeks. In the next ten years Scott won his name of "the Wizard of the North, " for it seemed that only magic could produce stories of such quality in such numbers: _Guy Mannering_, _Rob Roy_, _Old Mortality_, _Redgauntlet_, _Heart of Midlothian_, portraying the deathless romance of Scotland; and _Ivanhoe_, _Kenilworth_, _The Talisman_ and other novels which changed dull history to a drama of fascinating characters. Not only England but the Continent hailed this magnificent work with delight. Money and fame poured in upon the author. Fortune appeared for once "with both hands full. " Then the crash came. To understand the calamity one must remember that Scott regarded literature not as an art but as a profitable business; that he aimed to be not a great writer but a lord of high degree. He had been made a baronet, and was childishly proud of the title; his work and his vast earnings were devoted to the dream of a feudal house which should endure through the centuries and look back to Sir Walter as its noble founder. While living modestly on his income at Ashestiel he had used the earnings of his poems to buy a rough farm at Clarty Hole, on the Tweed, and had changed its unromantic name to Abbotsford. More land was rapidly added and "improved" to make a lordly estate; then came the building of a castle, where Scott entertained lavishly, as lavishly as any laird or chieftain of the olden time, offering to all visitors "the honors of Scotland. " [Illustration: ABBOTSFORD] Enormous sums were spent on this bubble, and still more money was needed. To increase his income Scott went into secret partnership with his publishers, indulged in speculative ventures, ran the firm upon the shoals, drew large sums in advance of his earnings. Suddenly came a business panic; the publishing firm failed miserably, and at fifty five Scott, having too much honest pride to take advantage of the bankruptcy laws, found himself facing a debt of more than a hundred thousand pounds. [Sidenote: HIS LAST YEARS] His last years were spent in an heroic struggle to retrieve his lost fortunes. He wrote more novels, but without much zest or inspiration; he undertook other works, such as the voluminous _Life of Napoleon_, for which he was hardly fitted, but which brought him money in large measure. In four years he had repaid the greater part of his debt, but mind and body were breaking under the strain. When the end came, in 1832, he had literally worked himself to death. The murmur of the Tweed over its shallows, music that he had loved since childhood, was the last earthly sound of which he was conscious. The house of Abbotsford, for which he had planned and toiled, went into strange hands, and the noble family which he had hoped to found died out within a few years. Only his work remains, and that endures the wear of time and the tooth of criticism. THE POEMS OF SCOTT. Three good poems of Scott are _Marmion_, _TheLay of the Last Minstrel_ and _The Lady of the Lake_; three others, not so good, are _Rokeby_, _Vision of Don Roderick_ and _Lordof the Isles_. Among these _The Lady of the Lake_ is such afavorite that, if one were to question the tourists who annually visit theTrossachs, a surprisingly large number of them would probably confess thatthey were led not so much by love of natural beauty as by desire to visit"Fair Ellen's Isle" and other scenes which Scott has immortalized in verse. We may as well admit frankly that even the best of these poems is notfirst-class; that it shows careless workmanship, and is lacking in thefiner elements of beauty and imagination. But Scott did not aim to create awork of beauty; his purpose was to tell a good story, and in that hesucceeded. His _Lady of the Lake_, for example, has at least twovirtues: it holds the reader's attention; and it fulfills the first law ofpoetry, which is to give pleasure. [Sidenote: QUALITY OF THE POEMS] Another charm of the poems, for young readers especially, is that they aresimple, vigorous, easily understood. Their rapid action and flying verseshow hardly a trace of conscious effort. Reading them is like sweepingdownstream with a good current, no labor required save for steering, andattention free for what awaits us around the next bend. When the bend ispassed, Scott has always something new and interesting: charming scenery, heroic adventure, picturesque incidents (such as the flight of the FieryCross to summon the clans), interesting fragments of folklore, andoccasionally a ballad like "Lochinvar, " or a song like "Bonnie Dundee, "which stays with us as a happy memory long after the poem is forgotten. A secondary reason for the success of these poems was that they satisfied afashion, very popular in Scott's day, which we have not yet outgrown. Thatfashion was to attribute chivalrous virtues to outlaws and other merry men, who in their own day and generation were imprisoned or hanged, and whodeserved their fate. Robin Hood's gang, for example, or the Raiders of theBorder, were in fact a tough lot of thieves and cutthroats; but when theyappeared in romantic literature they must of course appeal to ladies; soScott made them fine, dashing, manly fellows, sacrificing to the fashion ofthe hour the truth of history and humanity. As Andrew Lang says: "In their own days the Border Riders were regarded as public nuisances by statesmen, who attempted to educate them by means of the gibbet. But now they were the delight of fine ladies, contending who should be most extravagant in encomium. A blessing on such fine ladies, who know what is good when they see it!" [Footnote: Quoted in Nicoll and Seccombe, _A History of English Literature_, Vol. Ill, p. 957. ] SCOTT'S NOVELS. To appreciate the value of Scott's work one should readsome of the novels that were fashionable in his day, --silly, sentimentalnovels, portraying the "sensibilities" of imaginary ladies. [Footnote: InAmerica, Cooper's first romance, _Precaution_ (1820), was of thisartificial type. After Scott's outdoor romances appeared, Cooper discoveredhis talent, and wrote _The Spy_ and the Leather-Stocking tales. MariaEdgeworth and Jane Austen began to improve or naturalize the English novelbefore Scott attempted it. ] That Scott was influenced by this inane fashionappears plainly in some of his characters, his fine ladies especially, whopose and sentimentalize till we are mortally weary of them; but thisinfluence passed when he discovered his real power, which was to portraymen and women in vigorous action. _Waverley_, _Rob Roy_, _Ivanhoe_, _Redgauntlet_, --such stories of brave adventure werelike the winds of the North, bringing to novel-readers the tang of the seaand the earth and the heather. They braced their readers for life, madethem feel their kinship with nature and humanity. Incidentally, theyannounced that two new types of fiction, the outdoor romance and thehistorical novel, had appeared with power to influence the work of Cooper, Thackeray, Dickens and a host of minor novelists. [Illustration: THE GREAT WINDOW (MELROSE ABBEY)] [Sidenote: GROUPS OF STORIES] The most convenient way of dealing with Scott's works is to arrange them in three groups. In the first are the novels of Scotland: _Waverley_, dealing with the loyalty of the clans to the Pretender; _Old Mortality_, with the faith and struggles of the Covenanters; _Redgauntlet_, with the plots of the Jacobites; _The Abbot_ and _The Monastery_, with the traditions concerning Mary Queen of Scots; _Guy Mannering, The Antiquary_ and _The Heart of Midlothian_, with private life and humble Scottish characters. In the second group are the novels which reveal the romance of English history: _Ivanhoe_, dealing with Saxon and Norman in the stormy days when Richard Lionheart returned to his kingdom; _Kenilworth_, with the intrigues of Elizabeth's Court; _The Fortunes of Nigel_, with London life in the days of Charles First; _Woodstock_, with Cromwell's iron age; _Peveril of the Peak_, with the conflict between Puritan and Cavalier during the Restoration period. In the third group are the novels which take us to foreign lands: _Quentin Durward_, showing us the French court as dominated by the cunning of Louis Eleventh, and _The Talisman_, dealing with the Third Crusade. In the above list we have named not all but only the best of Scott's novels. They differ superficially, in scenes or incidents; they are all alike in motive, which is to tell a tale of adventure that shall be true to human nature, no matter what liberties it may take with the facts of history. [Sidenote: QUALITY OF THE NOVELS] In all these novels the faults are almost as numerous as the virtues; butwhile the faults appear small, having little influence on the final result, the virtues are big, manly, wholesome, --such virtues as only the greatestwriters of fiction possess. Probably all Scott's faults spring from onefundamental weakness: he never had a high ideal of his own art. He wrote tomake money, and was inclined to regard his day's labor as "so muchscribbling. " Hence his style is frequently slovenly, lacking vigor andconcentration; his characters talk too much, apparently to fill space; hecaters to the romantic fashion (and at the same time indulges his Toryprejudice) by enlarging on the somewhat imaginary virtues of knights, nobles, feudal or royal institutions, and so presents a one-sided view ofhistory. On the other hand, Scott strove to be true to the great movements ofhistory, and to the moral forces which, in the end, prevail in all humanactivity. His sympathies were broad; he mingled in comradeship with allclasses of society, saw the best in each; and from his observation andsympathy came an enormous number of characters, high or low, good or bad, grave or ridiculous, but nearly all natural and human, because drawn fromlife and experience. [Sidenote: SCENE AND INCIDENT] Another of Scott's literary virtues is his love of wild nature, which ledhim to depict many grand or gloomy scenes, partly for their own sake, butlargely because they formed a fitting background for human action. Thus, _The Talisman_ opens with a pen picture of a solitary Crusader movingacross a sun-scorched desert towards a distant island of green. Every linein that description points to action, to the rush of a horseman from theoasis, to the fierce trial of arms before the enemies speak truce and drinktogether from the same spring. Many another of Scott's descriptions of wildnature is followed by some gallant adventure, which we enjoy the morebecause we imagine that adventures ought to occur (though they seldom do)amid romantic surroundings. [Illustration: SCOTT'S TOMB IN DRYBURGH ABBEY] WHAT TO READ. At least one novel in each group should be read; but if it beasked, Which one? the answer is as much a matter of taste as of judgment. Of the novels dealing with Scottish life, _Waverley_, which wasScott's first attempt, is still an excellent measure of his story-tellinggenius; but there is more adventurous interest in _Old Mortality_ or_Rob Roy_; and in _The Heart of Midlothian_ (regarded by many asthe finest of Scott's works) one feels closer to nature and human nature, and especially to the heart of Scotland. _Ivanhoe_ is perhaps the bestof the romances of English history; and of stories dealing with adventurein strange lands, _The Talisman_ will probably appeal strongest toyoung readers, and _Quentin Durward_ to their elders. To these may beadded _The Antiquary_, which is a good story, and which has an elementof personal interest in that it gives us glimpses of Scott himself, surrounded by old armor, old legends, old costumes, --mute testimonies tothe dreams and deeds of yesterday's men and women. Such novels should be read once for the story, as Scott intended; and then, if one should grow weary of modern-problem novels, they may be read againfor their wholesome, bracing atmosphere, for their tenderness and wisdom, for their wide horizons, for their joy of climbing to heights where we lookout upon a glorious Present, and a yet more glorious Past that is not deadbut living. * * * * * OTHER FICTION WRITERS Of the work of Walter Scott we have already spoken. When such a geniusappears, dominating his age, we think of him as a great inventor, and so hewas; but like most other inventors his trail had been blazed, his wayprepared by others who had gone before him. His first romance, _Waverley_, shows the influence of earlier historical romances, suchas Jane Porter's _Thaddeus of Warsaw_ and _Scottish Chiefs_; inhis later work he acknowledged his indebtedness to Maria Edgeworth, whose_Castle Rackrent_ had aroused enthusiasm at the beginning of thenineteenth century. In brief, the romantic movement greatly encouragedfiction writing, and Scott did excellently what many others were doingwell. Two things are noticeable as we review the fiction of this period: thefirst, that nearly all the successful writers were women; [Footnote: Thelist includes: Fanny Burney, Ann Radcliffe, Jane Porter, Maria Edgeworth, Susan Ferrier, Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan), Mary Brunton, Hannah More, Mary Russell Mitford, --all of whom were famous in their day, and each ofwhom produced at least one "best seller"] the second, that of these writersonly one, the most neglected by her own generation, holds a secure place inthe hearts of present-day readers. If it be asked why Jane Austen's worksendure while others are forgotten, the answer is that almost any trainedwriter can produce a modern romance, but it takes a genius to write anovel. [Footnote: The difference between the modern romance and the novelis evident in the works of Scott and Miss Austen. Scott takes an unusualsubject, he calls up kings, nobles, chieftains, clansmen, robber barons, --ahost of picturesque characters; he uses his imagination freely, and makes astory for the story's sake. Miss Austen takes an ordinary country village, observes its people as through a microscope, and portrays them to the life. She is not interested in making a thrilling story, but in showing us menand women as they are; and our interest is held by the verity of herportrayal. (For a different distinction between romance and novel, see "THEEARLY ENGLISH NOVEL" above, Chapter VI. )] [Illustration: MRS. HANNAH MORE] JANE AUSTEN. The rare genius of Miss Austen (1775-1817) was as a forestflower during her lifetime. While Fanny Burney, Jane Porter and MariaEdgeworth were widely acclaimed, this little woman remained almost unknown, following no school of fiction, writing for her own pleasure, anddestroying whatever did not satisfy her own sense of fitness. If she hadany theory of fiction, it was simply this: to use no incident but such ashad occurred before her eyes, to describe no scene that was not familiar, and to portray only such characters as she knew intimately, their speech, dress, manner, and the motives that governed their action. If unconsciouslyshe followed any rule of expression, it was that of Cowper, who said thatto touch and retouch is the secret of almost all good writing. To hertheory and rule she added personal charm, intelligence, wit, genius of ahigh order. Neglected by her own generation, she has now an ever-wideningcircle of readers, and is ranked by critics among the five or six greatestwriters of English fiction. [Sidenote: HER LIFE] Jane Austen's life was short and extremely placid. She was born (1775) in a little Hampshire village; she spent her entire life in one country parish or another, varying the scene by an occasional summer at the watering-place of Bath, which was not very exciting. Her father was an easy-going clergyman who read Pope, avoided politics, and left preaching to his curate. She was one of a large family of children, who were brought up to regard elegance of manner as a cardinal virtue, and vulgarity of any kind as the epitome of the seven deadly sins. Her two brothers entered the navy; hence the flutter in her books whenever a naval officer comes on a furlough to his native village. She spent her life in homely, pleasant duties, and did her writing while the chatter of family life went on around her. Her only characters were visitors who came to the rectory, or who gathered around the tea-table in a neighbor's house. They were absolutely unconscious of the keen scrutiny to which they were subjected; no one whispered to them, "A chiel's amang ye, takin' notes"; and so they had no suspicion that they were being transferred into books. The first three of Miss Austen's novels were written at Steventon, among her innocent subjects, but her precious manuscripts went begging in vain for a publisher. [Footnote: _Northanger Abbey_, _Pride and Prejudice_ and _Sense and Sensibility_ were written between 1796 and 1799, when Jane Austen had just passed her twenty-first year. Her first novel was bought by a publisher who neglected to print it. The second could not be sold till after the third was published, in 1811. ] The last three, reflecting as in a glass the manners of another parish, were written at Chawton, near Winchester. Then the good work suddenly began to flag. The same disease that, a little later, was to call halt to Keats's poetry of beauty now made an end of Miss Austen's portrayal of everyday life. When she died (1817) she was only forty-two years old, and her heart was still that of a young girl. A stained-glass window in beautiful old Winchester Cathedral speaks eloquently of her life and work. [Sidenote: NOVELS AND CHARACTERS] If we must recommend one of Miss Austen's novels, perhaps _Pride andPrejudice_ is the most typical; but there is very little to justify thischoice when the alternative is _Northanger Abbey_, or _Emma_, or_Sense and Sensibility_, or _Persuasion_, or _MansfieldPark_. All are good; the most definite stricture that one can safelymake is that _Mansfield Park_ is not so good as the others. Four ofthe novels are confined to country parishes; but in _Northanger Abbey_and _Persuasion_ the horizon is broadened to include a watering place, whither genteel folk went "to take the air. " The characters of all these novels are: first, the members of five or sixfamilies, with their relatives, who try to escape individual boredom bygregariousness; and second, more of the same kind assembled at a local fairor sociable. Here you meet a dull country squire or two, a feeble-mindedbaronet, a curate laboriously upholding the burden of his dignity, a doctortrying to hide his emptiness of mind by looking occupied, an uncomfortablemale person in tow of his wife, maiden aunts, fond mammas with theirawkward daughters, chatterboxes, poor relations, spoiled children, --acharacteristic gathering. All these, except the spoiled children, talk withperfect propriety about the weather. If in the course of a long dayanything witty is said, it is an accident, a phenomenon; conversationhalts, and everybody looks at the speaker as if he must have had "a rush ofbrains to the head. " [Sidenote: HER SMALL FIELD] Such is Jane Austen's little field, an eddy of life revolving endlesslyaround small parish interests. Her subjects are not even the whole parish, but only "the quality, " whom the favored ones may meet at Mrs. B'safternoon at home. They read proper novels, knit wristlets, discuss feversand their remedies, raise their eyebrows at gossip, connive at matrimony, and take tea. The workers of the world enter not here; neither do men ofideas, nor social rebels, nor the wicked, nor the happily unworthy poor;and the parish is blessed in having no reformers. In this barren field, hopeless to romancers like Scott, there never wassuch another explorer as Jane Austen. Her demure observation is marvelouslykeen; sometimes it is mischievous, or even a bit malicious, but alwayssparkling with wit or running over with good humor. Almost alone in thatromantic age she had no story to tell, and needed none. She had never metany heroes or heroines. Plots, adventures, villains, persecuted innocence, skeletons in closets, --all the ordinary machinery of fiction seemed to herabsurd and unnecessary. She was content to portray the life that she knewbest, and found it so interesting that, a century later, we share herenthusiasm. And that is the genius of Miss Austen, to interest us not by aromantic story but by the truth of her observation and by the fidelity ofher portrayal of human nature, especially of feminine nature. [Sidenote: INFLUENCE ON ENGLISH FICTION] There is one more thing to note in connection with Miss Austen's work;namely, her wholesome influence on the English novel. In _NorthangerAbbey_ and in _Sense and Sensibility_ she satirizes the popularromances of the period, with their Byronic heroes, melodramatic horrors andperpetual harping on some pale heroine's sensibilities. Her satire isperhaps the best that has been written on the subject, so delicate, soflashing, so keen, that a critic compares it to the exploit of Saladin (in_The Talisman_) who could not with his sword hack through an ironmace, as Richard did, but who accomplished the more difficult feat ofslicing a gossamer veil as it floated in the air. Such satire was not lost; yet it was Miss Austen's example rather than herprecept which put to shame the sentimental romances of her day, and whichinfluenced subsequent English fiction in the direction of truth andnaturalness. Young people still prefer romance and adventure as portrayedby Scott and his followers, and that is as it should be; but anincreasingly large number of mature readers (especially those who areinterested in human nature) find a greater charm in the novel of charactersand manners, as exemplified by Jane Austen. * * * * * THE CRITICS AND ESSAYISTS From the seventeenth to the nineteenth century (or from Shakespeare toWordsworth) England was preparing a great literature; and then appearedwriters whose business or pleasure it was to appreciate that literature, topoint out its virtues or its defects, to explain by what principle this orthat work was permanent, and to share their enjoyment of good prose andpoetry with others, --in a word, the critics. In the list of such writers, who give us literature at second hand, thenames of Leigh Hunt, William Hazlitt, Walter Savage Landor, Charles Lamband Thomas De Quincey are written large. The two last-named are selectedfor special study, not because of their superior critical ability (forHazlitt was probably a better critic than either), but because of a fewessays in which these men left us an appreciation of life, as they saw itfor themselves at first hand. CHARLES LAMB (1775-1834). There is a little book called _Essays ofElia_ which stands out from all other prose works of the age. If weexamine this book to discover the source of its charm, we find it pervadedby a winsome "human" quality which makes us want to know the man who wroteit. In this respect Charles Lamb differs from certain of hiscontemporaries. Wordsworth was too solitary, Coleridge and De Quincey toounbalanced, Shelley too visionary and Keats too aloof to awaken a feelingof personal allegiance; but the essays of Lamb reveal two qualities which, like fine gold, are current among readers of all ages. These are sympathyand humor. By the one we enter understandingly into life, while the otherkeeps us from taking life too tragically. [Illustration: CHARLES LAMB. From the engraving by S. Aslent Edwards] [Sidenote: HIS LIFE] Lamb was born (1775) in the midst of London, and never felt at home anywhere else. London is a world in itself, and of all its corners there were only three that Lamb found comfortable. The first was the modest little home where he lived with his gifted sister Mary, reading with her through the long evenings, or tenderly caring for her during a period of insanity; the second was the commercial house where he toiled as a clerk; the third was the busy street which lay between home and work, --a street forever ebbing and flowing with a great tide of human life that affected Lamb profoundly, mysteriously, as Wordsworth was affected by the hills or the sea. The boy's education began at Christ's Hospital, where he met Coleridge and entered with him into a lifelong friendship. At fifteen he left school to help support his family; and for the next thirty-three years he was a clerk, first in the South Sea House, then in the East India Company. Rather late in life he began to write, his prime object being to earn a little extra money, which he sadly needed. Then the Company, influenced partly by his faithful service and partly by his growing reputation, retired him on a pension. Most eagerly, like a boy out of school, he welcomed his release, intending to do great things with his pen; but curiously enough he wrote less, and less excellently, than before. His decline began with his hour of liberty. For a time, in order that his invalid sister might have quiet, he lived outside the city, at Islington and Enfield; but he missed the work, the street, the crowd, and especially did he miss his old habits. He had no feeling for nature, nor for any art except that which he found in old books. "I hate the country, " he wrote; and the cause of his dislike was that, not knowing what to do with himself, he grew weary of a day that was "all day long. " [Illustration: EAST INDIA HOUSE, LONDONWhere Charles Lamb worked for many years. From an engraving byM. Tombleson, after a drawing made by Thomas H Shepherd in 1829] The earlier works of Lamb (some poems, a romance and a drama) are of littleinterest except to critics. The first book that brought him anyconsiderable recognition was the _Tales from Shakespeare_. This was asummary of the stories used by Shakespeare in his plays, and was largelythe work of Mary Lamb, who had a talent for writing children's books. Thecharm of the _Tales_ lies in the fact that the Lambs were so familiarwith old literature that they reproduced the stories in a style which mighthave done credit to a writer in the days of Elizabeth. The book is stillwidely read, and is as good as any other if one wants that kind of book. But the chief thing in _Macbeth_ or _The Tempest_ is the poetry, not the tale or the plot; and even if one wants only the story, why not getit from Shakespeare himself? Another and better book by Lamb of the samegeneral kind is _Specimens of English Dramatic Poets Contemporary withShakespeare_. In this book he saves us a deal of unprofitable reading bygathering together the best of the Elizabethan dramas, to which he addssome admirable notes of criticism or interpretation. [Illustration: MARY LAMBAfter the portrait by F. S. Cary] [Sidenote: ESSAYS OF ELIA] Most memorable of Lamb's works are the essays which he contributed for manyyears to the London magazines, and which he collected under the titles_Essays of Elia_ (1823) and _Last Essays of Elia_ (1830). [Footnote: The name "Elia" (pronounced ee'-li-ä) was a pseudonym, takenfrom an old Italian clerk (Ellia) in the South Sea House. When "Elia"appears in the _Essays_ he is Charles Lamb himself; "Cousin Bridget"is sister Mary, and "John Elia" is a brother. The last-named was a selfishkind of person, who seems to have lived for himself, letting Charles takeall the care of the family. ] To the question, Which of these essays shouldbe read? the answer given must depend largely upon personal taste. They areall good; they all contain both a reflection and a criticism of life, asLamb viewed it by light of his personal experience. A good way to read theessays, therefore, is to consider them as somewhat autobiographical, and touse them for making acquaintance with the author at various periods of hislife. For example, "My Relations" and "Mackery End" acquaint us with Lamb'sfamily and descent; "Old Benchers of the Inner Temple" with his earlysurroundings; "Witches and Other Night-fears" with his sensitive childhood;"Recollections of Christ's Hospital" and "Christ's Hospital Five-and-thirtyYears Ago" with his school days and comradeship with Coleridge; "The SouthSea House" with his daily work; "Old China" with his home life; "TheSuperannuated Man" with his feelings when he was retired on a pension; andfinally, "Character of the Late Elia, " in which Lamb whimsically writes hisown obituary. If these call for too much reading at first, then one may select three orfour typical essays: "Dream Children, " notable for its exquisite pathos;"Dissertation on Roast Pig, " famous for its peculiar humor; and "Praise ofChimney Sweepers, " of which it is enough to say that it is just likeCharles Lamb. To these one other should be added, "Imperfect Sympathies, "or "A Chapter on Ears, " or "Mrs. Battle's Opinions on Whist, " in order toappreciate how pleasantly Lamb could write on small matters of noconsequence. Still another good way of reading (which need not beemphasized, since everybody favors it) is to open the _Essays_ here orthere till we find something that interests us, --a method which allowsevery reader the explorer's joy of discovery. To read such essays is to understand the spell they have cast on successivegenerations of readers. They are, first of all, very personal; they begin, as a rule, with some pleasant trifle that interests the author; then, almost before we are aware, they broaden into an essay of life itself, anessay illuminated by the steady light of Lamb's sympathy or by the flashesof his whimsical humor. Next, we note in the _Essays_ their air ofliterary culture, which is due to Lamb's wide reading, and to the excellenttaste with which he selected his old authors, --Sidney, Brown, Burton, Fuller, Walton and Jeremy Taylor. Often it was the quaintness of theseauthors, their conceits or oddities, that charmed him. These odditiesreappear in his own style to such an extent that even when he speaks alarge truth, as he often does, he is apt to give the impression of being alittle harebrained. Yet if you examine his queer idea or his merry jest, you may find that it contains more cardinal virtue than many a sober moraltreatise. [Illustration: THE LAMB BUILDING, INNER TEMPLE, LONDON] On the whole _Elia_ is the quintessence of modern essay-writing fromAddison to Stevenson. There are probably no better works of the same kindin our literature. Some critics aver that there are none others so good. THOMAS DE QUINCEY (1785-1859). It used to be said in a college classroomthat what De Quincey wrote was seldom important and always doubtful, butthat we ought to read him for his style; which means, as you might say, that caviar is a stomach-upsetting food, but we ought to eat a little of itbecause it comes in a pretty box. To this criticism, which reflects a prevalent opinion, we may take someexceptions. For example, what De Quincey has to say of Style, though itwere written in style-defying German, is of value to everyone who wouldteach that impossible subject. What he says or implies in "Levana" (thegoddess who performed "the earliest office of ennobling kindness" for anewborn child, lifting him from the ground, where he was first laid, andpresenting his forehead to the stars of heaven) has potency to awaken twoof the great faculties of humanity, the power to think and the power toimagine. Again, many people are fascinated by dreams, those mysteriousfantasies which carry us away on swift wings to meet strange experiences;and what De Quincey has to say of dreams, though doubtful as a dreamitself, has never been rivaled. To a few mature minds, therefore, DeQuincey is interesting entirely apart from his dazzling style andinimitable rhetoric. [Illustration: THOMAS DE QUINCEY From an engraving by C. H. Jeens] To do justice to De Quincey's erratic, storm-tossed life; to record his precocious youth, his marvelous achievements in school or college, his wanderings amid lonely mountains or more lonely city streets, his drug habits with their gorgeous dreams and terrible depressions, his timidity, his courtesy, his soul-solitude, his uncanny genius, --all that is impossible in a brief summary. Let it suffice, then, to record: that he resembled his friend Coleridge, both in his character and in his vast learning; that he studied in profound seclusion for twenty years; then for forty years more, during which time his brain was more or less beclouded by opium, he poured out a flood of magazine articles, which he collected later in fourteen chaotic volumes. These deal with an astonishing variety of subjects, and cover almost every phase of mental activity from portraying a nightmare to building a philosophical system. If he had any dominating interest in his strange life, it was the study of literature. [Sidenote: TYPICAL WORKS] The historian can but name a few characteristic works of De Quincey, without recommending any of them to readers. To those interested in DeQuincey's personality his _Confessions of an English Opium-Eater_ willbe illuminating. This book astonished Londoners in 1821, and may wellastonish a Bushman in the year 2000. It records his wandering life, and thealternate transport or suffering which resulted from his drug habits. Thismay be followed by his _Suspiria de Profundis_ (Sighs from theDepths), which describes, as well as such a thing could be done, thephantoms born of opium dreams. There are too many of the latter, and thereader may well be satisfied with the wonderful "Dream Fugue" in _TheEnglish Mail Coach_. [Illustration: DOVE COTTAGE, GRASMEREHere both Wordsworth and De Quincey resided] As an illustration of De Quincey's review of history, one should try_Joan of Arc_ or _The Revolt of the Tartars_, which are nothistorical studies but romantic dreams inspired by reading history. In thecritical field, "The Knocking at the Gate in _Macbeth_, " "Wordsworth'sPoetry" and the "Essay on Style" are immensely suggestive. As an example ofingenious humor "Murder Considered as One of the Fine Arts" is oftenrecommended; but it has this serious fault, that it is not humorous. For aconcrete example of De Quincey's matter and manner there is nothing betterthan "Levana or Our Ladies of Sorrow" (from the _Suspiria_), with its_mater lachrymarum_ Our Lady of Tears, _mater suspiriorum_ OurLady of Sighs, and that strange phantom, forbidding and terrible, _matertenebrarum_ Our Lady of Darkness. [Sidenote: DE QUINCEY'S STYLE] The style of all these works is indescribable. One may exhaust the wholelist of adjectives--chanting, rhythmic, cadenced, harmonious, impassioned--that have been applied to it, and yet leave much to say. Therefore we note only these prosaic elements: that the style reflects DeQuincey's powers of logical analysis and of brilliant imagination; that itis pervaded by a tremendous mental excitement, though one does not knowwhat the stir is all about; and that the impression produced by thisnervous, impassioned style is usually spoiled by digressions, byhairsplitting, and by something elusive, intangible, to which we can giveno name, but which blurs the author's vision as a drifting fog obscures afamiliar landscape. Notwithstanding such strictures, De Quincey's style is still, as when itfirst appeared, a thing to marvel at, revealing as it does the grace, theharmony, the wide range and the minute precision of our English speech. * * * * * SUMMARY. The early nineteenth century is notable for the rapid progress of democracy in English government, and for the triumph of romanticism in English literature. The most influential factor of the age was the French Revolution, with its watchwords of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity. English writers felt the stir of the times, and were inspired by the dream of a new human society ruled by justice and love. In their writing they revolted from the formal standards of the age of Pope, followed their own genius rather than set rules, and wrote with feeling and imagination of the two great subjects of nature and humanity. Such was the contrast in politics and literature with the preceding century that the whole period is sometimes called the age of revolution. Our study of the literature of the period includes: (1) The poets Wordsworth and Coleridge, who did not so much originate as give direction to the romantic revival. (2) Byron and Shelley, often called revolutionary poets. (3) The poet Keats, whose works are famous for their sense of beauty and for their almost perfect workmanship. (4) A review of the minor poets of romanticism, Campbell, Moore, Hood, Beddoes, Hunt, and Felicia Hemans. (5) The life and works of Walter Scott, romantic poet and novelist. (6) A glance at the fiction writers of the period, and a study of the works of Jane Austen. (7) The critics and essayists, of whom we selected these two as the most typical: Charles Lamb, famous for his _Essays of Elia_; and De Quincey, notable for his brilliant style, his analysis of dreams, and his endeavor to make a science of literary criticism. SELECTIONS FOR READING. For general reference such anthologies as Manly's English Poetry and English Prose are useful. The works of major authors are available in various school editions, prepared especially for class use. A few of these handy editions are named below; others are listed in the General Bibliography. Best poems of Wordsworth and of Coleridge in Athenæum Press Series. Briefer selections from Wordsworth in Golden Treasury, Cassell's National Library, Maynard's English Classics. Coleridge's Ancient Mariner in Standard English Classics, Pocket Classics. Selections from Coleridge and Campbell in one volume of Riverside Literature. Scott's Lady of the Lake and Ivanhoe in Standard English Classics; Marmion and The Talisman in Pocket Classics; Lay of the Last Minstrel and Quentin Durward in Lake English Classics; the same and other works of Scott in various other school editions. Selected poems of Byron in Standard English Classics, English Readings. Best poems of Shelley in Athenæum Press; briefer selections in Belles Lettres, Golden Treasury, English Classics. Selections from Keats in Athenæum Press, Muses Library, Riverside Literature. Lamb's Essays of Elia in Lake English Classics; selected essays in Standard English Classics, Temple Classics, Camelot Series. Tales from Shakespeare in Ginn and Company's Classics for Children. Selections from De Quincey, a representative collection, in Athenæum Press; English Mail Coach and Joan of Arc in Standard English Classics, English Readings; Confessions of an Opium Eater in Temple Classics, Everyman's Library; Revolt of the Tartars in Lake Classics, Silver Classics. Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice in Pocket Classics; the same and other novels in Everyman's Library. BIBLIOGRAPHY. Extended works in English history and literature are listed in the General Bibliography. The following works are valuable in a study of the early nineteenth century and the romantic movement. _HISTORY_. Morris, Age of Queen Anne and the Early Hanoverians; McCarthy, The Epoch of Reform (Epochs of Modern History Series); Cheyne, Industrial and Social History of England; Hassall, Making of the British Empire; Trevelyan, Early Life of Charles James Fox. _LITERATURE_. Saintsbury, History of Nineteenth Century Literature, Beers, English Romanticism in the Nineteenth Century; Symons, The Romantic Movement in English Poetry; Dowden, French Revolution and English Literature; Hancock, French Revolution and The English Poets; Masson, Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats and Other Essays; De Quincey, Literary Reminiscences. _Wordsworth_. Life, by Myers (English Men of Letters Series), by Raleigh. Herford, The Age of Wordsworth; Rannie, Wordsworth and his Circle; Sneath, Wordsworth, Poet of Nature and Poet of Man. Essays, by Lowell, in Among My Books; by M. Arnold, in Essays in Criticism; by Pater, in Appreciations; by L. Stephen, in Hours in a Library; by Hutton, in Literary Essays; by Bagehot, in Literary Studies. _Coleridge_. Life, by Traill (E. M. Of L. ), by Hall Caine (Great Writers Series). Brandl, Coleridge and the English Romantic Movement. Essays, by Woodberry, in Makers of Literature; by Shairp, in Studies in Poetry and Philosophy; by Forster, in Great Teachers; by Dowden, in New Studies. _Scott_. Life, by Hutton (E. M. Of L. ), by Lockhart (5 vols. ), by Yonge (Great Writers), by Saintsbury, by Hudson, by Andrew Lang. Jack, Essay on the Novel as Illustrated by Scott and Miss Austen. Essays, by Stevenson, in Memories and Portraits; by Swinburne, in Studies in Prose and Poetry; by Hazlitt, in The Spirit of the Age; by Saintsbury, in Essays in English Literature. _Byron_. Life, by Noel (Great Writers), by Nicol (E. M. Of L. ). Hunt, Lord Byron and his Contemporaries. Essays by Macaulay, M. Arnold, Hazlitt, Swinburne. _Shelley_. Life, by Symonds (E. M. Of L. ), by Shairp, by Dowden, by W. M. Rossetti. Salt, A Shelley Primer. Essays by Dowden, Woodberry, M. Arnold, Bagehot, Forster, Hutton, L. Stephen. _Keats_. Life, by Colvin (E. M. Of L. ), by Rossetti, by Hancock. H. C. Shelley, Keats and his Circle; Masson, Wordsworth and Other Essays. Essays by De Quincey, Lowell, M. Arnold, Swinburne. _Charles Lamb_. Life, by Ainger (E. M. Of L. ), by Lucas. Fitzgerald, Charles Lamb; Talfourd, Memoirs of Charles Lamb. Essays by Woodberry, Pater, De Quincey. _De Quincey_. Life, by Masson (E. M. Of L. ), by Page. Hogg, De Quincey and his Friends; Findlay, Personal Recollections of De Quincey. Essays by Saintsbury, Masson, L. Stephen. _Jane Austen_. Life, by Malden, by Goldwin Smith, by Adams. Austen-Leigh, Memoir of Jane Austen; Mitton, Jane Austen and her Times; Hill, Jane Austen, her Home and her Friends; Jack, Essay on the Novel as Illustrated by Scott and Miss Austen. Essay by Howells, in Heroines of Fiction. CHAPTER VIII THE VICTORIAN AGE (1837-1901) The current sweeps the Old World, The current sweeps the New; The wind will blow, the dawn will glow, Ere thou hast sailed them through. Kingsley, "A Myth" HISTORICAL OUTLINE. Amid the many changes which make the reign of Victoria the most progressive in English history, one may discover three tendencies which have profoundly affected our present life and literature. The first is political and democratic: it may be said to have begun with the Reform Bill of 1832; it is still in progress, and its evident end is to deliver the government of England into the hands of the common people. In earlier ages we witnessed a government which laid stress on royalty and class privilege, the spirit of which was clarioned by Shakespeare in the lines: Not all the water in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm from an anointed king. In the Victorian or modern age the divine right of kings is as obsolete as a suit of armor; the privileges of royalty and nobility are either curbed or abolished, and ordinary men by their representatives in the House of Commons are the real rulers of England. With a change in government comes a corresponding change in literature. In former ages literature was almost as exclusive as politics; it was largely in the hands of the few; it was supported by princely patrons; it reflected the taste of the upper classes. Now the masses of men begin to be educated, begin to think for themselves, and a host of periodicals appear in answer to their demand for reading matter. Poets, novelists, essayists, historians, --all serious writers feel the inspiration of a great audience, and their works have a thousand readers where formerly they had but one. In a word, English government, society and literature have all become more democratic. This is the most significant feature of modern history. [Sidenote: THE SCIENTIFIC SPIRIT] The second tendency may be summed up in the word "scientific. " At the basis of this tendency is man's desire to know the truth, if possible the whole truth of life; and it sets no limits to the exploring spirit, whether in the heavens above or the earth beneath or the waters under the earth. From star-dust in infinite space (which we hope to measure) to fossils on the bed of an ocean which is no longer unfathomed, nothing is too great or too small to attract man, to fascinate him, to influence his thought, his life, his literature. Darwin's _Origin of Species_ (1859), which laid the foundation for a general theory of evolution, is one of the most famous books of the age, and of the world. Associated with Darwin were Wallace, Lyell, Huxley, Tyndall and many others, whose essays are, in their own way, quite as significant as the poems of Tennyson or the novels of Dickens. It would be quite as erroneous to allege that modern science began with these men as to assume that it began with the Chinese or with Roger Bacon; the most that can be said truthfully is, that the scientific spirit which they reflected began to dominate our thought, to influence even our poetry and fiction, even as the voyages of Drake and Magellan furnished a mighty and mysterious background for the play of human life on the Elizabethan stage. The Elizabethans looked upon an enlarging visible world, and the wonder of it is reflected in their prose and poetry; the Victorians overran that world almost from pole to pole, then turned their attention to an unexplored world of invisible forces, and their best literature thrills again with the grandeur of the universe in which men live. [Sidenote: IMPERIALISM] A third tendency of the Victorian age in England is expressed by the word "imperialism. " In earlier ages the work of planting English colonies had been well done; in the Victorian age the scattered colonies increased mightily in wealth and power, and were closely federated into a world-wide Empire of people speaking the same noble speech, following the same high ideals of justice and liberty. The literature of the period reflects the wide horizons of the Empire. Among historical writers, Parkman the American was one of the first and best to reflect the imperial spirit. In such works as _A Half-Century of Conflict_ and _Montcalm and Wolfe_ he portrayed the conflict not of one nation against another but rather of two antagonistic types of civilization: the military and feudal system of France against the democratic institutions of the Anglo-Saxons. Among the explorers, Mungo Park had anticipated the Victorians in his _Travels in the Interior of Africa_ (1799), a wonderful book which set England to dreaming great dreams; but not until the heroic Livingstone's _Missionary Travels and Research in South Africa, The Zambesi and its Tributaries_ and _Last Journals_ [Footnote: In connection with Livingstone's works, Stanley's _How I Found Livingstone_ (1872) should also be read. Livingstone died in Africa in 1873, and his _Journals_ were edited by another hand. For a summary of his work and its continuation see _Livingstone and the Exploration of Central Africa_ (London, 1897). ] appeared was the veil lifted from the Dark Continent. Beside such works should be placed numerous stirring journals of exploration in Canada, in India, in Australia, in tropical or frozen seas, --wherever in the round world the colonizing genius of England saw opportunity to extend the boundaries and institutions of the Empire. Macaulay's _Warren Hastings_, Edwin Arnold's _Indian Idylls_, Kipling's _Soldiers Three_, --a few such works must be read if we are to appreciate the imperial spirit of modern English history and literature. * * * * * I. POETS OF THE VICTORIAN AGE ALFRED TENNYSON (1809-1892) Though the Victorian age is notable for the quality and variety of itsprose works, its dominant figure for years was the poet Tennyson. He alone, of all that brilliant group of Victorian writers, seemed to speak not forhimself but for his age and nation; and the nation, grown weary of Byronicrebellion, and finding its joy or sorrow expressed with almost faultlesstaste by one whose life was noble, gave to Tennyson a whole-souledallegiance such as few poets have ever won. In 1850 he was made Laureate tosucceed Wordsworth, receiving, as he said, This laurel, greener from the brow Of him that uttered nothing base; and from that time on he steadily adhered to his purpose, which was to knowhis people and to be their spokesman. Of all the poets who have been calledto the Laureateship, he is probably the only one of whom it can truthfullybe said that he understood his high office and was worthy of it. LIFE. When we attempt a biography of a person we assume unconsciously that he was a public man; but that is precisely what Tennyson refused to be. He lived a retired life of thoughtfulness, of communion with nature, of friendships too sacred for the world's gaze, a life blameless in conduct, unswerving in its loyalty to noble ideals. From boyhood to old age he wrote poetry, and in that poetry alone, not in biography or letters or essays of criticism, do we ever touch the real man. [Illustration: TENNYSON'S BIRTHPLACE, SOMERSBY RECTORY, LINCOLNSHIRE] Tennyson was the son of a cultured clergyman, and was born in the rectory of Somersby, Lincolnshire, in 1809, the same year that saw the birth of Lincoln and Darwin. Like Milton he devoted himself to poetry at an early age; in his resolve he was strengthened by his mother; and from it he never departed. The influences of his early life, the quiet beauty of the English landscape, the surge and mystery of the surrounding sea, the emphasis on domestic virtues, the pride and love of an Englishman for his country and his country's history, --these are everywhere reflected in the poet's work. His education was largely a matter of reading under his father's direction. He had a short experience of the grammar school at Louth, which he hated forever after. He entered Cambridge, and formed a circle of rare friends ("apostles" they called themselves) who afterwards became famous; but he left college without taking a degree, probably because he was too poor to continue his course. Not till 1850 did he earn enough by his work to establish a home of his own. Then he leased a house at Farringford, Isle of Wight, which we have ever since associated with Tennyson's name. But his real place is the Heart of England. [Sidenote: A POET AND HIS CRITICS] His first book (a boyish piece of work, undertaken with his brother Charles) appeared under the title _Poems by Two Brothers_ (1827). In 1830, and again in 1832, he published a small volume containing such poems as "The Palace of Art, " "The Lotos-Eaters, " "The Lady of Shalott" and "The Miller's Daughter"; but the critics of the age, overlooking the poet's youth and its promise, treated the volumes unmercifully. Tennyson, always sensitive to criticism, was sensible enough to see that the critics had ground for their opinions, if not for their harshness; and for ten long years, while he labored to perfect his art, his name did not again appear in print. There was another reason for his silence. In 1833 his dearest friend, Arthur Hallam, died suddenly in Vienna, and it was years before Tennyson began to recover from the blow. His first expression of grief is seen in the lyric beginning, "Break, break, break, " which contains the memorable stanza: And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But O for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still! Then he began that series of elegies for his friend which appeared, seventeen years later, as _In Memoriam_. [Sidenote: HE WINS AND HOLDS HIS PLACE] Influenced by his friends, Tennyson broke his long silence with a volume containing "Morte d'Arthur, " "Locksley Hall, " "Sir Galahad, " "Lady Clare" and a few more poems which have never lost their power over readers; but it must have commanded attention had it contained only "Ulysses, " that magnificent appeal to manhood, reflecting the indomitable spirit of all those restless explorers who dared unknown lands or seas to make wide the foundations of imperial England. It was a wonderful volume, and almost its first effect was to raise the hidden Tennyson to the foremost place in English letters. Whatever he wrote thereafter was sure of a wide reading. Critics, workingmen, scientists, reformers, theologians, --all recognized the power of the poet to give melodious expression to their thought or feeling. Yet he remained averse to everything that savored of popularity, devoting himself as in earlier days to poetry alone. As a critic writes, "Tennyson never forgot that the poet's work was to convince the world of love and beauty; that he was born to do that work, and do it worthily. " There are two poems which are especially significant in view of this steadfast purpose. The first is "Merlin and the Gleam, " which reflects Tennyson's lifelong devotion to his art; the other is "Crossing the Bar, " which was his farewell and hail to life when the end came in 1892. WORKS OF TENNYSON. There is a wide variety in Tennyson's work: legend, romance, battle song, nature, classic and medieval heroes, problems ofsociety, questions of science, the answer of faith, --almost everything thatcould interest an alert Victorian mind found some expression in his poetry. It ranges in subject from a thrush song to a religious philosophy, in formfrom the simplest love lyric to the labored historical drama. [Sidenote: TYPICAL SHORT POEMS] Of the shorter poems of Tennyson there are a few which should be known toevery student: first, because they are typical of the man who stands formodern English poetry; and second, because one is constantly meetingreferences to these poems in books or magazines or even newspapers. Amongsuch representative poems are: "The Lotos-Eaters, " a dream picturecharacterized by a beauty and verbal melody that recall Spenser's work;"Locksley Hall" and "Locksley Hall Sixty Years After, " the one a romancethrobbing with youth and hope, the other representing the same hero grownold, despondent and a little carping, but still holding fast to his ideals;"Sir Galahad, " a medieval romance of purity; "Ulysses, " an epitome ofexploration in all ages; "The Revenge, " a stirring war song; "Rizpah, " adramatic portrayal of a mother's grief for a wayward son; "Romney'sRemorse, " a character study of Tennyson's later years; and a few shorterpoems, such as "The Higher Pantheism, " "Flower in the Crannied Wall, ""Wages" and "The Making of Man, " which reflect the poet's mood before theproblems of science and of faith. [Illustration: ALFRED TENNYSON] To these should be added a few typical patriotic pieces, which showTennyson speaking as Poet Laureate for his country: "Ode on the Death ofWellington, " "Charge of the Light Brigade, " "Defense of Lucknow, " "Handsall Round, " and the imperial appeal of "Britons, Hold Your Own" or, as itis tamely called, "Opening of the Indian and Colonial Exposition. " Thebeginner may also be reminded of certain famous little melodies, such asthe "Bugle Song, " "Sweet and Low, " "Tears, " "The Brook, " "Far, Far, Away"and "Crossing the Bar, " which are among the most perfect that England hasproduced. And, as showing Tennyson's extraordinary power of youthfulfeeling, at least one lyric of his old age should be read, such as "TheThrostle" (a song that will appeal especially to all bird lovers), beginning: "Summer is coming, summer is coming, I know it, I know it, I know it; Light again, leaf again, life again, love again"-- Yes, my wild little poet! Here Tennyson is so merged in his subject as to produce the impression thatthe lyric must have been written not by an aged poet but by the birdhimself. Reading the poem one seems to hear the brown thrasher on a twig ofthe wild-apple tree, pouring his heart out over the thicket which his matehas just chosen for a nesting place. [Sidenote: IDYLLS OF THE KING] Of the longer works of Tennyson the most notable is the _Idylls of theKing_, a series of twelve poems retelling part of the story of Arthurand his knights. Tennyson seems to have worked at this poem in haphazardfashion, writing the end first, then a fragment here or there, at intervalsduring half a century. Finally he welded his material into its presentform, making it a kind of allegory of human life, in which man's animalnature fights with his spiritual aspirations. As Tennyson wrote, in his"Finale" to Queen Victoria: Accept this old, imperfect tale, New-old, and shadowing Sense at war with Soul. The beginner will do well to forget the allegory and read the poem for itssustained beauty of expression and for its reflection of the modern idealof honor. For, though Malory and Tennyson tell the same story, there isthis significant difference between the _Morte d' Arthur_ and the_Idylls of the King_: one is thoroughly medieval, and the other almostas thoroughly modern. Malory in simple prose makes his story the expressionof chivalry in the Middle Ages; his heroes are true to their own time andplace. Tennyson in melodious blank verse changes his material freely so asto make it a reflection of a nineteenth-century gentleman disguised in asuit of armor and some old knightly raiment. One may add that some readers cleave to Tennyson, while others greatlyprefer Malory. There is little or no comparison between the two, andselections from both should be read, if only to understand how this oldromance of Arthur has appealed to writers of different times. In making aselection from the _Idylls_ (the length of the poem is ratherforbidding) it is well to begin with the twelfth book, "The Passing ofArthur, " which was first to be written, and which reflects the noble spiritof the entire work. In _The Princess: a Medley_ the poet attempts the difficult task ofcombining an old romantic story with a modern social problem; and he doesnot succeed very well in harmonizing his incongruous materials. [Sidenote: THE PRINCESS] The story is, briefly, of a princess who in youth is betrothed to a prince. When she reaches what is called the age of discretion (doubtless because that age is so frequently marked by indiscretions) she rebels against the idea of marriage, and founds a college, herself the principal, devoted to the higher education of women. The prince, a gallant blade, and a few of his followers disguise themselves as girls and enter the school. When an unruly masculine tongue betrays him he is cast out with maledictions on his head. His father comes with an army, and makes war against the father of the princess. The prince joins blithely in the fight, is sore wounded, and is carried to the woman's college as to a hospital. The princess nurses him, listens to his love tale, and the story ends in the good old-fashioned way. There are many beautiful passages in _The Princess_, and had Tennysonbeen content to tell the romantic story his work would have had somepleasant suggestion of Shakespeare's _As You Like It_; but the socialproblem spoils the work, as a moralizing intruder spoils a bit of innocentfun. Tennyson is either too serious or not serious enough; he does not knowthe answer to his own problem, and is not quite sincere in dealing with itor in coming to his lame and impotent conclusion. Few readers now attemptthe three thousand lines of _The Princess_, but content themselveswith a few lyrics, such as "Ask Me No More, " "O Swallow Flying South, ""Tears, " "Bugle Song" and "Sweet and Low, " which are familiar songs in manyhouseholds that remember not whence they came. [Footnote: The abovecriticism of _The Princess_ applies, in some measure, to Tennyson's_Maud: a Monodrama_, a story of passionate love and loss and sorrow. Tennyson wrote also several dramatic works, such as _Harold_, _Becket_ and _Queen Mary_, in which he attempted to fill some ofthe gaps in Shakespeare's list of chronicle plays. ] [Sidenote: ENGLISH IDYLS] More consistent than _The Princess_ is a group of poems reflecting thelife and ideals of simple people, to which Tennyson gave the general nameof _English Idyls_. The longest and in some respects the best of theseis "Enoch Arden, " a romance which was once very popular, but which is nowin danger of being shelved because the modern reader prefers his romance inprose form. Certain of the famous poems which we have already named areclassed among these English idyls; but more typical of Tennyson's purposein writing them are "Dora, " "The Gardener's Daughter" and "Aylmer's Field, "in which he turns from ancient heroes to sing the romance of present-daylife. [Illustration: SUMMERHOUSE AT FARRINGFORDHere Tennyson wrote "Enoch Arden"] Among mature readers, who have met the sorrows of life or pondered itsproblems, the most admired of Tennyson's work is _In Memoriam_ (1850), an elegy inspired by the death of Arthur Hallam. As a memorial poem itinvites comparison with others, with Milton's "Lycidas, " or Shelley's"Adonais, " or Gray's "Elegy in a Country Churchyard. " Without going deeplyinto the comparison we may note this difference: that Tennyson's work ismore personal and sympathetic than any of the others. Milton had only aslight acquaintance with his human subject (Edward King) and wrote his poemas a memorial for the college rather than for the man; Shelley had nevermet Keats, whose early death he commemorates; Gray voiced an impersonalmelancholy in the presence of the unknown dead; but Tennyson had lost hisdearest friend, and wrote to solace his own grief and to keep alive abeautiful memory. Then, as he wrote, came the thought of other men andwomen mourning their dead; his view broadened with his sympathy, and hewrote other lyrics in the same strain to reflect the doubt or fear ofhumanity and its deathless faith even in the shadow of death. It is this combination of personal and universal elements which makes _InMemoriam_ remarkable. The only other elegy to which we may liken it isEmerson's "Threnody, " written after the death of his little boy. But whereTennyson offers an elaborate wreath and a polished monument, Emerson iscontent with a rugged block of granite and a spray of nature's evergreen. [Sidenote: PLAN OF THE POEM] _In Memoriam_ occupied Tennyson at intervals for many years, and though he attempted to give it unity before its publication in 1850, it is still rather fragmentary. Moreover, it is too long; for the poet never lived who could write a hundred and thirty-one lyrics upon the same subject, in the same manner, without growing monotonous. There are three more or less distinct parts of the work, [Footnote: Tennyson divided _In Memoriam_ into nine sections. Various attempts have recently been made to organize the poem and to make a philosophy of it, but these are ingenious rather than convincing. ] corresponding to three successive Christmas seasons. The first part (extending to poem 30) is concerned with grief and doubt; the second (to poem 78) exhibits a calm, serious questioning of the problem of faith; the third introduces a great hope amid tender memories or regrets, and ends (poem 106) with that splendid outlook on a new year and a new life, "Ring Out Wild Bells. " This was followed by a few more lyrics of mounting faith, inspired by the thought that divine love rules the world and that our human love is immortal and cannot die. The work ends, rather incongruously, with a marriage hymn for Tennyson's sister. The spirit of _In Memoriam_ is well reflected in the "Proem" or introductory hymn, "Strong Son of God, Immortal Love"; its message is epitomized in the last three lines: One God, one law, one element, And one far-off divine event To which the whole creation moves. THE QUALITY OF TENNYSON. The charm of Tennyson is twofold. As the voice ofthe Victorian Age, reflecting its thought or feeling or culture, itsintellectual quest, its moral endeavor, its passion for social justice, herepresents to us the spirit of modern poetry; that is, poetry which comesclose to our own life, to the aims, hopes, endeavors of the men and womenof to-day. With this modern quality Tennyson has the secret of all oldpoetry, which is to be eternally young. He looked out upon a world fromwhich the first wonder of creation had not vanished, where the sunrise wasstill "a glorious birth, " and where love, truth, beauty, all inspiringrealities, were still waiting with divine patience to reveal themselves tohuman eyes. There are other charms in Tennyson: his romantic spirit, his love ofnature, his sense of verbal melody, his almost perfect workmanship; butthese the reader must find and appreciate for himself. The sum of ourcriticism is that Tennyson is a poet to have handy on the table for thepleasure of an idle hour. He is also (and this is a better test) anexcellent poet to put in your pocket when you go on a journey. So shall yoube sure of traveling in good company. * * * * * ROBERT BROWNING (1812-1889) In their lifelong devotion to a single purpose the two chief poets of theVictorian Age are much alike; in most other respects they are men ofcontrasts. Tennyson looked like a poet, Browning like a business man. Tennyson was a solitary singer, never in better company than when alone;Browning was a city man, who must have the excitement of society. Tennyson's field was the nation, its traditions, heroes, problems, ideals;but Browning seldom went beyond the individual man, and his purpose was toplay Columbus to some obscure human soul. Tennyson was at times rathernarrowly British; Browning was a cosmopolitan who dealt broadly withhumanity. Tennyson was the poet of youth, and will always be read by theyoung in heart; Browning was the philosopher, the psychologist, the poet ofmature years and of a few cultivated readers. LIFE. Browning portrays so many different human types as to make us marvel, but we may partly understand his wide range of character-studies by remembering he was an Englishman with some Celtic and German ancestors, and with a trace of Creole (Spanish-Negro) blood. He was born and grew up at Camberwell, a suburb of London, and the early home of Ruskin. His father was a Bank-of-England clerk, a prosperous man and fond of books, who encouraged his boy to read and to let education follow the lead of fancy. Before Browning was twenty years old, father and son had a serious talk which ended in a kind of bargain: the boy was to live a life of culture, and the father was to take care of all financial matters, --an arrangement which suited them both very well. [Illustration: ROBERT BROWNING] Since boyhood Browning had been writing romantic verses, influenced first by Byron, then by Shelley, then by Keats. His first published works, _Pauline_ and _Paracelsus_, were what he called soul-studies, the one of a visionary, "a star-treader" (its hero was Shelley), the other of a medieval astrologer somewhat like Faust. These two works, if one had the patience of a puzzle-worker to read them, would be found typical of all the longer poems that Browning produced in his sixty years of writing. These early works were not read, were not even criticized; and it was not till 1846 that Browning became famous, not because of his books but because he eloped with Elizabeth Barrett, who was then the most popular poet in England. [Footnote: The fame of Miss Barrett in mid century was above that of Tennyson or Browning. She had been for a long time an invalid. Her father, a tyrannical kind of person, insisted on her keeping her room, and expected her to die properly there. He had no personal objection to Browning, but flouted the idea of his famous daughter marrying with anybody. ] The two went to Florence, discovered that they were "made for each other, " and in mutual helpfulness did their best work. They lived at "Casa Guidi, " a house made famous by the fact that Browning's _Men and Women_ and Mrs. Browning's _Sonnets from the Portuguese_ were written there. [Illustration: MRS. BROWNING'S TOMB IN THE PROTESTANT CEMETERY AT FLORENCE] [Sidenote: THE BROWNING CULT] This happy period of work was broken by Mrs. Browning's death in 1861. Browning returned to England with his son, and to forget his loss he labored with unusual care on _The Ring and the Book_ (1868), his bulkiest work. The rest of his life was spent largely in London and in Venice. Fame came to him tardily, and with some unfortunate results. He became known as a poet to be likened unto Shakespeare, but more analytical, calling for a superior intelligence on the part of his readers, and presently a multitude of Browning clubs sprang up in England and America. Delighted with his popularity among the elect, Browning seems to have cultivated his talent for obscurity, or it may be that his natural eccentricity of style increased with age, as did Wordsworth's prosiness. Whatever the cause, his work grew steadily worse until a succession of grammar defying volumes threatened to separate all but a few devotees from their love of Browning. He died in Venice in 1889. On the day of his death appeared in London his last book, _Asolando_. The "Epilogue" to that volume is a splendid finale to a robust life. One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, Never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, Sleep to wake Tennyson's "Crossing the Bar" is a beautiful swan song; but Browning's last poem is a bugle call, and it sounds not "taps" but the "reveille. " BROWNING'S DRAMATIC QUALITY. Nearly all the works of Browning are dramaticin spirit, and are commonly dramatic also in form. Sometimes he writes adrama for the stage, such as _A Blot in the 'Scutcheon_, _Colombe'sBirthday_ and _In a Balcony_, --dramas without much action, butpacked with thought in a way that would have delighted the Schoolmen. Moreoften his work takes the form of a dramatic monologue, such as "My LastDuchess" and "The Bishop Orders his Tomb, " in which one person speaks and, like Peter, his speech bewrayeth him; for he reveals very plainly the kindof man he is. Occasionally Browning tries to sing like another poet, buteven here his dramatic instinct is strong. He takes some crisis, someunexpected meeting or parting of the ways of life, and proceeds to show thehero's character by the way he faces the situation, or talks about it. Sowhen he attempts even a love song, such as "The Last Ride Together, " or aballad, such as "The Pied Piper, " he regards his subject from an unusualviewpoint and produces what he calls a dramatic lyric. [Sidenote: ACTION VS. THOUGHT] There are at least two ways in which Browning's work differs from that ofother dramatists. When a trained playwright produces a drama his rule is, "Action, more action, and still more action. " Moreover, he stands aside inorder to permit his characters to reveal their quality by their own speechor action. For example, Shakespeare's plays are filled with movement, andhe never tells you what he thinks of Portia or Rosalind or Macbeth, or whatought to become of them. He does not need to tell. But Browning often haltshis story to inform you how this or that situation should be met, or whatmust come out of it. His theory is that it is not action but thought whichdetermines human character; for a man may be doing what appears to be abrave or generous deed, yet be craven or selfish at heart; or he may beengaged in some apparently sinful proceeding in obedience to a motive thatwe would acclaim as noble if the whole truth were known "It is the soul andits thoughts that make the man, " says Browning, "little else is worthy ofstudy. " So he calls most of his works soul studies. If we label them nowdramas, or dramatic monologues, or dramatic lyrics (the threeclassifications of his works), we are to remember that Browning is the onedramatist who deals with thoughts or motives rather than with action. [Illustration: THE PALAZZO REZZONICO BROWNING'S HOME IN VENICE] WHAT TO READ. One should begin with the simplest of Browning's works, andpreferably with those in which he shows some regard for verbal melody. Asromantic love is his favorite theme, it is perhaps well to begin with a fewof the love lyrics "My Star, " "By the Fireside, " "Evelyn Hope, " andespecially "The Last Ride Together". To these may be added some of thesongs that brighten the obscurity of his longer pieces, such as "I Send myHeart, " "Oh Love--No Love" and "There's a Woman Like a Dewdrop". Next inorder are the ballads, "The Pied Piper, " "Hervé Riel" and "How they Broughtthe Good News"; and then a few miscellaneous short poems, such as "HomeThoughts from Abroad, " "Prospice, " "The Boy and the Angel" and "Up at aVilla--Down in the City. " [Sidenote: DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES] The above poems are named not because they are particularly fine examplesof their kind, but by way of introduction to a poet who is rather hard toread. When these are known, and are found not so obscure as we feared, thenwill be the time to attempt some of Browning's dramatic monologues. Ofthese there is a large variety, portraying many different types ofcharacter, but we shall name only a few. "Andrea del Sarto" is a study ofthe great Italian painter, "the perfect painter, " whose love for a prettybut shallow woman was as a millstone about his neck. "My Last Duchess" is apowerfully drawn outline of a vain and selfish nobleman. "Abt Vogler" is astudy of the soul of a musician. "Rabbi ben Ezra, " one of the most typicalof Browning's works, is the word of an old man who faces death, as he hadfaced life, with magnificent courage. "An Epistle" relates the strangeexperience of Karshish, an Arab physician, as recorded in a letter to hismaster Abib. Karshish meets Lazarus (him who was raised from the dead) and, regarding him as a patient, describes his symptoms, --such symptoms as a manmight have who must live on earth after having looked on heaven. Thephysician's half-scoffing words show how his habitual skepticism is shakenby a glimpse of the unseen world. He concludes, but his doubt is strongerthan his conclusion, that Lazarus must be a madman: "And thou must love me who have died for thee. " The madman saith He said so: it is strange! [Sidenote: SAUL] Another poem belonging to the same group (published under the general titleof _Men and Women_) is "Saul, " which finely illustrates the methodthat makes Browning different from other poets. He would select somefamiliar event, the brief record of which is preserved in history, and say, "Here we see merely the deed, the outward act or circumstance of life: nowlet us get acquainted with these men or women by showing that they thoughtand felt precisely as we do under similar conditions. " In "Saul" hereproduces the scene recorded in the sixteenth chapter of the first Book ofSamuel, where the king is "troubled by an evil spirit" and the young Davidcomes to play the harp before him. Saul is represented as thedisillusioned, the despairing man who has lost all interest in life, andDavid as the embodiment of youthful enthusiasm. The poem is a remarkableportrayal of the ancient scene and characters; but it is something greaterthan that; it is a splendid song of the fullness and joy of a brave, forward-looking life inspired by noble ideals. It is also one of the bestanswers ever given to the question, Is life worth living? The length of thepoem, however, and its many difficult or digressive passages are apt torepel the beginner unless he have the advantage of an abridged version. [Sidenote: PIPPA PASSES] Of the longer works of Browning, only _Pippa Passes_ can berecommended with any confidence that it will give pleasure to the reader. Other works, such as _The Ring and the Book_, [Footnote: _The Ringand the Book_ is remarkable for other things than its inordinate length. In it Browning tells how he found an old book containing the record of amurder trial in Rome, --a horrible story of a certain Count Guido, who in ajealous rage killed his beautiful young wife. That is the only storyelement of the poem, and it is told, with many irritating digressions, atthe beginning. The rest of the work is devoted to "soul studies, " thesubjects being nine different characters who rehearse the same story, eachfor his own justification. Thus, Guido gives his view of the matter, andPompilia the wife gives hers. "Half Rome, " siding with Guido, ispersonified to tell one tale, and then "The Other Half" has its say. Finaljudgment rests with the Pope, an impressive figure, who upholds thedecision of the civil judges. Altogether it is a remarkable piece of work;but it would have been more remarkable, better in every way, if fifteenthousand of its twenty thousand lines had been left in the inkpot. ] aredoubtless more famous; but reading them is like solving a puzzle: a fewenjoy the matter, and therefore count it pleasure, but to the majority itis a task to be undertaken as mental discipline. _Pippa_ is the story of a working girl, a silk weaver of Asolo, who has a precious holiday and goes forth to enjoy it, wishing she could share her happiness with others, especially with the great people of her town. But the great live in another world, she thinks, a world far removed from that of the poor little working girl; so she puts the wish out of her head, and goes on her way singing: The year's at the spring, And day's at the morn; Morning's at seven; The hillside's dew-pearled; The lark's on the wing; The snail's on the thorn: God's in his heaven-- All's right with the world! It happens that her songs come, in succession, to the ears of the four greatest people in Asolo at moments when they are facing a terrible crisis, when a straw may turn them one way or the other, to do evil or to do good. In each case the song and the pure heart of the singer turn the scale in the right direction; but Pippa knows nothing of her influence. She enjoys her holiday and goes to bed still happy, still singing, quite ignorant of the wonder she has accomplished. [Illustration: PIAZZA OF SAN LORENZO, FLORENCEWhere Browning bought the book in which he found the story of"The Ring and the Book"] A mere story-teller would have brought Pippa and the rescued ones together, making an affecting scene with rewards, in the romantic manner; butBrowning is content to depict a bit of ordinary human life, which is dailyfilled with deeds worthy to be written in a book of gold, but of which onlythe Recording Angel takes any notice. A CRITICISM OF BROWNING. Comparatively few people appreciate the force, thedaring, the vitality of Browning, and those who know him best are leastinclined to formulate a favorable criticism. They know too well the faultsof their hero, his whims, crotchets, digressions, garrulity; his disjointedideas, like rich plums in a poor pudding; his ejaculatory style, as of aman of second thoughts; his wing-bound fancy, which hops around his subjectlike a grasshopper instead of soaring steadily over it like an eagle. Manyof his lines are rather gritty: Irks care the crop-full bird? Frets doubt the maw-crammed beast? and half his blank verse is neither prose nor poetry: What, you, Sir, come too? (Just the man I'd meet. ) Be ruled by me and have a care o' the crowd: This way, while fresh folk go and get their gaze: I'll tell you like a book and save your shins. Fie, what a roaring day we've had! Whose fault? Lorenzo in Lucina, --here's a church! Instead of criticism, therefore, his admirers offer this word of advice:Try to like Browning; in other words, try to understand him. He is not"easy"; he is not to be read for relaxation after dinner, but in themorning and in a straight-backed chair, with eyes clear and intellect atattention. If you so read him, you must soon discover that he has somethingof courage and cheer which no other poet can give you in such full measure. If you read nothing else, try at least "Rabbi ben Ezra, " and after thereading reflect that the optimism of this poem colors everything that theauthor wrote. For Browning differs from all other poets in this: that theyhave their moods of doubt or despondency, but he has no weary days ormelancholy hours. They sing at times in the twilight, but Browning is theherald of the sunrise. Always and everywhere he represents "the will tolive, " to live bravely, confidently here; then forward still with cheerfulhearts to immortality: Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made: Our times are in his hand Who saith, "A whole I planned, Youth shows but half: trust God: see all, nor be afraid!" * * * * * OTHER VICTORIAN POETS ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING (1806-1861). Among the lesser poets of the agethe most famous was Elizabeth Barrett, who eloped in romantic fashion withBrowning in 1846. Her early volumes, written while she was an invalid, seemnow a little feverish, but a few of her poems of childhood, such as"Hector" and "Little Ellie, " have still their admirers. Later she becameinterested in social problems, and reflected the passion of the age forreform in such poems as "The Cry of the Children, " a protest against childlabor which once vied in interest with Hood's famous "Song of the Shirt. "Also she wrote _Aurora Leigh_, a popular novel in verse, having forits subject a hero who was a social reformer. Then Miss Barrett marriedRobert Browning after a rather emotional and sentimental courtship, asreflected in certain extravagant pages of the Browning _Letters_. [Illustration: ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING] [Sidenote: SONNETS] In her new-found happiness she produced her most enduring work, the_Sonnets from the Portuguese_ (1850). This is a collection of lovesongs, so personal and intimate that the author thought perhaps to disguisethem by calling them "From the Portuguese. " In reality their source was nofurther distant than her own heart, and their hero was seen across thebreakfast table every morning. They reflect Mrs. Browning's love for herhusband, and those who read them should read also Browning's answer in "OneWord More. " Some of the sonnets ("I Thought How Once" and "How Do I LoveThee, " for example) are very fine, and deserve their high place among lovepoems; but others, being too intimate, raise a question of taste in showingone's heart throbs to the public. Some readers may question whether many ofthe _Sonnets_ and most of the _Letters_ had not better been leftexclusively to those for whom they were intended. MATTHEW ARNOLD (1822-1888). The work of this poet (a son of Dr. Arnold ofRugby, made famous by _Tom Brown's Schooldays_) is in strong contrastto that of the Brownings, to the robust optimism of the one and to theemotionalism of the other. He was a man of two distinct moods: in hispoetry he reflected the doubt or despair of those whose faith had beenshaken by the alleged discoveries of science; in prose he became almostlight-hearted as he bantered middle-class Englishmen for their old-fogyprejudices, or tried to awaken them to the joys of culture. In both moodshe was coldly intellectual, appealing to the head rather than to the heartof his readers; and it is still a question whether his poetry or hiscriticism will be longest remembered. [Sidenote: THE POET OF OXFORD] Arnold is called the poet of Oxford, as Holmes is of Harvard, and those whoknow the beautiful old college town will best appreciate certain verses inwhich he reflects the quiet loveliness of a scene that has impressed somany students, century after century. To general readers one may safelyrecommend Arnold's elegies written in memory of the poet Clough, such as"Thyrsis" and "The Scholar Gypsy"; certain poems reflecting the religiousdoubts of the age, such as "Dover Beach, " "Morality" and "The Future"; thelove lyrics entitled "Switzerland"; and a few miscellaneous poems, such as"Resignation, " "The Forsaken Merman, " "The Last Word, " and "Geist's Grave. " To these some critics would add the long narrative poem "Sohrab andRustum, " which is one of the models set before students of "collegeEnglish. " The reasons for the choice are not quite obvious; for the story, which is taken from the Persian _Shah Namah_, or Book of Kings, israther coldly told, and the blank verse is far from melodious. In reading these poems of Arnold his own motives should be borne in mind. He tried to write on classic lines, repressing the emotions, holding to asevere, unimpassioned style; and he proceeded on the assumption that poetryis "a criticism of life. " It is not quite clear what he meant by hisdefinition, but he was certainly on the wrong trail. Poetry is the naturallanguage of man in moments of strong or deep feeling; it is the expressionof life, of life at high tide or low tide; when it turns to criticism itloses its chief charm, as a flower loses its beauty and fragrance in thehands of a botanist. Some poets, however (Lucretius among the ancients, Pope among the moderns, for example), have taken a different view of thematter. [Illustration: MATTHEW ARNOLD] [Sidenote: THE LITERARY CRITIC] Arnold's chief prose works were written, curiously enough, after he wasappointed professor of poetry at Oxford. There he proceeded, in a sincerebut somewhat toplofty way to enlighten the British public on the subject ofculture. For years he was a kind of dictator of literary taste, and he isstill known as a master of criticism; but to examine his prose is todiscover that it is notable for its even style and occasional goodexpressions, such as "sweetness and light, " rather than for itsilluminating ideas. For example, in _Literature and Dogma_ and other books in which Arnoldattempted to solve the problems of the age, he was apt to make largetheories from a small knowledge of his subject. So in his _Study ofCeltic Literature_ (an interesting book, by the way) he wrote withsurprising confidence for one who had no first-hand acquaintance with hismaterial, and led his readers pleasantly astray in the flowery fields ofCeltic poetry. Moreover, he had one favorite method of criticism, which wasto take the bad lines of one poet and compare them with the good lines ofanother, --a method which would make Shakespeare a sorry figure if hehappened to be on the wrong side of the comparison. [Sidenote: WHAT TO READ] In brief, Arnold is always a stimulating and at times a provoking critic;he stirs our thought, disturbs our pet prejudices, challenges ouropposition; but he is not a very reliable guide in any field. What oneshould read of his prose depends largely on one's personal taste. The essay_On Translating Homer_ is perhaps his most famous work, but fewreaders are really interested in the question of hexameters. _Culture andAnarchy_ is his best plea for a combination of the moral andintellectual or, as he calls them, the Hebrew and Greek elements in ourhuman education. Among the best of the shorter works are "Emerson" in_Discourses in America_, and "Wordsworth, " "Byron" and "The Study ofPoetry" in _Essays in Criticism_. THE PRE-RAPHAELITES. In the middle of the nineteenth century, or in 1848 tobe specific, a number of English poets and painters banded themselvestogether as a Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. [Footnote: The name was usedearlier by some German artists, who worked together in Rome with thepurpose of restoring art to the medieval simplicity and purity which, aswas alleged, it possessed before the time of the Italian painter Raphael. The most famous artists of the English brotherhood were John EverettMillais and William Holman Hunt. ] They aimed to make all art more simple, sincere, religious, and to restore "the sense of wonder, reverence and awe"which, they believed, had been lost since medieval times. Their sinceritywas unquestioned; their influence, though small, was almost wholly good;but unfortunately they were, as Morris said, like men born out of dueseason. They lived too much apart from their own age and from the greatstream of common life out of which superior art proceeds. For there wasnever a great book or a great picture that was not in the best senserepresentative, that did not draw its greatness from the common ideals ofthe age in which it was produced. [Illustration: THE MANOR HOUSE OF WILLIAM MORRIS] [Sidenote: ROSSETTI] The first poet among the Pre-Raphaelites was Dante Gabriel Rossetti(1828-1882), the son of an exiled Italian writer. Like others of the grouphe was both painter and poet, and seemed to be always trying to put intohis verse the rich coloring which belonged on canvas. Perhaps the mostromantic episode of his life was, that upon the death of his wife (thebeautiful model, Lizzie Siddal, who appears in Millais' picture "Ophelia")he buried his poetry with her. After some years his friends persuaded himthat his poems belonged to the living, and he exhumed and published them(_Poems_, 1870). His most notable volume, _Ballads and Sonnets_, appeared eleven years later. The ballads are nearly all weird, uncanny, butwith something in them of the witchery of Coleridge's "Ancient Mariner. "The sonnets under the general title of "The House of Life" are devoted tothe poet's lost love, and rank with Mrs. Browning's _From thePortuguese_. [Illustration: WILLIAM MORRISFrom a photograph by Walker and Cockerell] William Morris (1834-1896) has been called by his admirers the most Homericof English poets. The phrase was probably applied to him because of his_Sigurd the Volsung_, in which he uses the material of an oldIcelandic saga. There is a captivating vigor and swing in this poem, but itlacks the poetic imagination of an earlier work, _The Defence ofGuenevere, _ in which Morris retells in a new way some of the fadingmedieval romances. His best-known work in poetry [Footnote: Some readerswill be more interested in Morris's prose romances, _The House of theWolfings_, _The Roots of the Mountains_ and _The Story of theGlittering Plain_] is _The Earthly Paradise_, a collection oftwenty-four stories strung together on a plan somewhat resembling that ofthe _Canterbury Tales_. A band of mariners are cast away on an islandinhabited by a superior race of men, and to while away the time the seamenand their hosts exchange stories. Some of these are from classic sources, others from Norse legends or hero tales. The stories are gracefully told, in very good verse; but in reading them one has the impression thatsomething essential is lacking, some touch, it may be, of present life andreality. For the island is but another Cloudland, and the characters areshadowy creatures having souls but no bodies; or else, as some may find, having the appearance of bodies and no souls whatever. Indeed, in readingthe greater part of Pre-Raphaelite literature, one is reminded of Morris'sestimate of himself, in the Prelude to _The Earthly Paradise_: Dreamer of dreams, born out of my due time, Why should I strive to set the crooked straight? Let it suffice me that my murmuring rhyme Beats with light wing against the ivory gate, Telling a tale not too importunate To those who in the sleepy region stay, Lulled by the singer of an empty day. ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE (1837-1909). This voluminous writer, born in theyear of Victoria's accession, is yet so close to our own day that it isdifficult to think of him as part of an age that is gone. As a poet he wasa master of verbal melody, and had such a command of verse forms that hewon his title of "inventor of harmonies. " As a critic he showed a wideknowledge of English and French literature, a discriminating taste, and anenthusiasm which bubbled over in eulogy of those whom he liked, and whichemptied vials of wrath upon Byron, Carlyle and others who fell under hisdispleasure. His criticisms are written in an extravagant, almost atorrential, style; at times his prose falls into a chanting rhythm soattractive in itself as to make us overlook the fact that the praise andcensure which he dispenses with prodigal liberality are too personal to bequite trustworthy. [Sidenote: HIS POETRY] We are still too near Swinburne to judge him accurately, and his place inthe long history of English poetry is yet to be determined. We note hereonly two characteristics which may or may not be evident to other readers. In the first place, with his marvelous command of meter and melody, Swinburne has a fatal fluency of speech which tends to bury his thought ina mass of jingling verbiage. As we read we seem to hear the question, "Whatreadest thou, Hamlet?" and again the Dane makes answer, "Words, words, words. " Again, like the Pre-Raphaelites with whom he was at one timeassociated, Swinburne lived too much apart from the tide of common life. Hewrote for the chosen few, and in the mass of his verse one must search longfor a passage of which one may say, This goes home to the hearts of men, and abides there in the treasure-house of all good poetry. Among the longer works of Swinburne his masterpiece is the lyrical drama_Atalanta in Calydon_. If one would merely sample the flavor of thepoet, such minor works as "Itylus" and the fine sea pieces, "Off Shore, ""By the North Sea" and "A Forsaken Garden" may be recommended. Nor shouldwe overlook what, to many, is Swinburne's best quality; namely, his love ofchildren, as reflected in such poems as "The Salt of the Earth" and "AChild's Laughter. " Among the best of his prose works are his _WilliamBlake_, _Essays and Studies_, _Miscellanies_ and _Studies inProse and Verse_. SONGS IN MANY KEYS. In calling attention to the above-named poets, we havemerely indicated a few who seem to be chief; but the judgment is a personalone, and subject to challenge. The American critic Stedman, in his_Victorian Anthology_, recognizes two hundred and fifty singers; ofthese eighty are represented by five or more poems; and of the eighty a feware given higher places than those we have selected as typical. There aremany readers who prefer the _Goblin Market_ of Christina Rossetti toanything produced by her gifted brother, who place Jean Ingelow aboveElizabeth Barrett, who find more pleasure in Edwin Arnold's _Light ofAsia_ than in all the poems of Matthew Arnold, and who cannot beinterested in even the best of Pre-Raphaelite verse because of itsunreality. Many men, many minds! Time has not yet recorded its verdict onthe Victorians, and until there is some settled criticism which shallexpress the judgment of several generations of men, the best plan for thebeginner is to make acquaintance with all the minor poets in an anthologyor book of selections. It may even be a mistake to call any of these poetsminor; for he who has written one song that lives in the hearts of men hasproduced a work more enduring than the pyramids. * * * * * II. THE VICTORIAN NOVELISTS CHARLES DICKENS (1812-1870) [Illustration: CHARLES DICKENS] Among the Victorian novelists were two men who were frequent rivals in therace for fame and fortune. Thackeray, well born and well bred, withartistic tastes and literary culture, looked doubtfully at the bustlinglife around him, found his inspiration in a past age, and tried to upholdthe best traditions of English literature. Dickens, with little educationand less interest in literary culture, looked with joy upon the strugglefor democracy, and with an observation that was almost microscopic saw allits picturesque details of speech and character and incident. He was theeye of the mighty Victorian age, as Tennyson was its ear, and Browning itspsychologist, and Carlyle its chronic grumbler. LIFE. In the childhood of Dickens one may see a forecast of his entire career. His father, a good-natured but shiftless man (caricatured as Mr. Micawber in _David Copperfield_), was a clerk in the Navy Pay Office, at Portsmouth. There Dickens was born in 1812. The father's salary was £80 per year, enough at that time to warrant living in middle-class comfort rather than in the poverty of the lower classes, with whom Dickens is commonly associated. The mother was a sentimental woman, whom Dickens, with questionable taste, has caricatured as Mrs. Micawber and again as Mrs. Nickleby. Both parents were somewhat neglectful of their children, and uncommonly fond of creature comforts, especially of good dinners and a bowl of punch. Though there is nothing in such a family to explain Dickens's character, there is much to throw light on the characters that appear in his novels. [Sidenote: THE STAGE] The boy himself was far from robust. Having no taste for sports, he amused himself by reading romances or by listening to his nurse's tales, --beautiful tales, he thought, which "almost scared him into fits. " His elfish fancy in childhood is probably reflected in Pip, of _Great Expectations_. He had a strong dramatic instinct to act a story, or sing a song, or imitate a neighbor's speech, and the father used to amuse his friends by putting little Charles on a chair and encouraging him to mimicry, --a dangerous proceeding, though it happened to turn out well in the case of Dickens. This stagey tendency increased as the boy grew older. He had a passion for private theatricals, and when he wrote a good story was not satisfied till he had read it in public. When _Pickwick_ appeared (1837) the young man, till then an unknown reporter, was brought before an immense audience which included a large part of England and America. Thereafter he was never satisfied unless he was in the public eye; his career was a succession of theatrical incidents, of big successes, big lecture tours, big audiences, --always the footlights, till he lay at last between the pale wax tapers. But we are far ahead of our story. [Sidenote: THE LONDON STREETS] When Dickens was nine years old his family moved to London. There the father fell into debt, and by the brutal laws of the period was thrown into prison. The boy went to work in the cellar of a blacking factory, and there began that intimate acquaintance with lowly characters which he used later to such advantage. He has described his bitter experience so often (in _David Copperfield_ for instance) that the biographer may well pass over it. We note only this significant fact: that wherever Dickens went he had an instinct for exploration like that of a farm dog, which will not rest in a place till he has first examined all the neighborhood, putting his nose into every likely or unlikely spot that may shelter friend or enemy. So Dickens used his spare hours in roaming the byways of London by night, so he gained his marvelous knowledge of that foreign land called The Street, with its flitting life of gamins and nondescripts, through which we pass daily as through an unknown country. [Sidenote: THE SCRAMBLE FOR PLACE] A small inheritance brought the father from prison, the family was again united, and for two years the boy attended the academy which he has held up to the laughter and scorn of two continents. There the genius of Dickens seemed suddenly to awaken. He studied little, being given to pranks and theatricals, but he discovered within him an immense ambition, an imperious will to win a place and a name in the great world, and a hopeful temper that must carry him over or under all obstacles. [Illustration: GADSHILL PLACE, NEAR ROCHESTER The last residence of Dickens] No sooner was his discovery made than he left school and entered a law office, where he picked up enough knowledge to make court practices forever ridiculous, in _Bleak House_ and other stories. He studied shorthand and quickly mastered it; then undertook to report parliamentary speeches (a good training in oratory) and presently began a prosperous career as a reporter. This had two advantages; it developed his natural taste for odd people and picturesque incidents, and it brought him close to the great reading public. To please that public, to humor its whims and prejudices, its love for fun and tears and sentimentality, was thereafter the ruling motive in Dickens's life. [Sidenote: LITERARY VENTURES] His first literary success came with some short stories contributed to the magazines, which appeared in book form as _Sketches by Boz_ (1835). A publisher marked these sketches, engaged Dickens to write the text or letterpress for some comic pictures, and the result was _Pickwick_, which took England and America by storm. Then followed _Oliver Twist_, _Nicholas Nickleby_, _Old Curiosity Shop_, --a flood of works that made readers rub their eyes, wondering if such a fountain of laughter and tears were inexhaustible. There is little else to record except this: that from the time of his first triumph Dickens held his place as the most popular writer in English. With his novels he was not satisfied, but wrote a history of England, and edited various popular magazines, such as _Household Words_. Also he gave public readings, reveling in the applause, the lionizing, which greeted him wherever he went. He earned much money; he bought the place "Gadshill, " near Rochester, which he had coveted since childhood; but he was a free spender, and his great income was less than his fancied need. To increase his revenue he "toured" the States in a series of readings from his own works, and capitalized his experience in _American Notes_ and parts of _Martin Chuzzlewit_. A question of taste must arise even now in connection with these works. Dickens had gone to a foreign country for just two things, money and applause; he received both in full measure; then he bit the friendly hand which had given him what he wanted. [Footnote: The chief source of Dickens's irritation was the money loss resulting from the "pirating" of his stories. There was no international copyright in those days; the works of any popular writer were freely appropriated by foreign publishers. This custom was wrong, undoubtedly, but it had been in use for centuries. Scott's novels had been pirated the same way; and until Cooper got to windward of the pirates (by arranging for foreign copyrights) his work was stolen freely in England and on the Continent. But Dickens saw only his own grievance, and even at public dinners was apt to make his hosts uncomfortable by proclaiming his rights or denouncing their moral standards. Moreover, he had a vast conceit of himself, and, like most visitors of a week, thought he knew America like a book. It was as if he looked once at the welter cast ashore by mighty Lake Superior in a storm, and said, "What a dirty sea!"] Thackeray, who followed him to America, had a finer sense of the laws of hospitality and good breeding. [Sidenote: THE PRICE OF POPULARITY] In 1844 Dickens resolved to make both ends meet, and carried out his resolve with promptness and precision. To decrease expenses he went to the Continent, and lived there, hungry for the footlights, till a series of stories ending with _Dombey and Son_ put his finances on a secure basis. Then he returned to London, wrote more novels, and saved a fortune for his descendants, who promptly spent it. Evidently it was a family trait. More and more he lived on his nerves, grew imperious, exacting, till he separated from his wife and made wreck of domestic happiness. The self-esteem of which he made comedy in his novels was for him a tragedy. Also he resumed the public readings, with their false glory and nervous wear and tear, which finally brought him to the grave. [Illustration: DICKEN'S BIRTHPLACE, LANDPORT, PORTSEA] He died, worn out by his own exertions, in 1870. He had steadily refused titles and decorations, but a grateful nation laid his body to rest in the Poets' Corner at Westminster Abbey. It is doubtful whether he would have accepted this honor, which was forced upon him, for he had declared proudly that by his works alone he would live in the memory of his countrymen. WORKS OF DICKENS. In the early stories of Dickens is a promise of all therest. His first work was called _Sketches by Boz_, and "Boz" wasinvented by some little girl (was it in _The Vicar of Wakefield?_) whocould not say "Moses"; also it was a pet name for a small brother ofDickens. There was, therefore, something childlike in this first title, andchildhood was to enter very largely into the novelist's work. He couldhardly finish a story without bringing a child into it; not an ordinarychild, to make us smile, but a wistful or pathetic child whose sorrows, since we cannot help them, are apt to make our hearts ache. [Sidenote: THE PATHETIC ELEMENT] Dickens is charged with exaggerating the woes of his children, and thecharge is true; but he had a very human reason for his method. In the firstplace, the pathetic quality of his children is due to this simple fact, that they bear the burden and the care of age. And burdens which men orwomen accept for themselves without complaint seem all wrong, and arewrong, when laid upon a child's innocent shoulders. Again, Dickens soughtto show us our error in thinking, as most grown-ups do, that childishtroubles are of small account. So they are, to us; but to the child theyare desperately real. Later in life we learn that troubles are notpermanent, and so give them their proper place; but in childhood a troubleis the whole world; and a very hopeless world it is while it lasts. Dickensknew and loved children, as he knew the public whom he made to cry with hisLittle Nell and Tiny Tim; and he had discovered that tears are the key tomany a heart at which reason knocks in vain. [Sidenote: PICKWICKIAN HUMOR] The second work, _Pickwick, _ written in a harum-scarum way, is evenmore typical of Dickens in its spirit of fun and laughter. He had beenengaged, as we have noted, to furnish a text for some comic drawings, thusreversing the usual order of illustration. The pictures were intended topoke fun at a club of sportsmen; and Dickens, who knew nothing of sport, bravely set out with Mr. Winkle on his rook-shooting. Then, while the storywas appearing in monthly numbers, the illustrator committed suicide;Dickens was left with Mr. Pickwick on his hands, and that innocent oldgentleman promptly ran away with the author. Not being in the leastadventurous, Mr. Pickwick was precisely the person for whom adventures werelying in wait; but with his chivalrous heart within him, and Sam Weller onguard outside, he was not to be trifled with by cabman or constable. Sothese two took to the open road, and to the inns where punch, good cheerand the unexpected were awaiting them. Never was such another book! It isnot a novel; it is a medley of fun and drollery resulting from high animalspirits. [Sidenote: THE MOTIVE OF HORROR] In his next novel, _Oliver Twist_, the author makes a new departure byusing the motive of horror. One of his heroes is an unfortunate child, butwhen our sympathies for the little fellow are stretched to the point oftears, Dickens turns over a page and relieves us by Pickwickian laughter. Also he has his usual medley of picturesque characters and incidents, butthe shadow of Fagin is over them all. One cannot go into any house in thebook, and lock the door and draw the shades, without feeling that somewherein the outer darkness this horrible creature is prowling. The horror whichFagin inspires is never morbid; for Dickens with his healthy spirit couldnot err in this direction. It is a boyish, melodramatic horror, such asimmature minds seek in "movies, " dime novels, secret societies, detectivestories and "thrillers" at the circus. In the fourth work, _Nicholas Nickleby_, Dickens shows that he isnearing the limit of his invention so far as plot is concerned. In thisnovel he seems to rest a bit by writing an old-fashioned romance, with itshero and villain and moral ending. But if you study this or any subsequentwork of Dickens, you are apt to find the four elements already noted;namely, an unfortunate child, humorous interludes, a grotesque or horriblecreature who serves as a foil to virtue or innocence, and a medley ofcharacters good or bad that might be transferred without change to anyother story. The most interesting thing about Dickens's men and women isthat they are human enough to make themselves at home anywhere. WHAT TO READ. Whether one wants to study the method of Dickens or to enjoyhis works, there is hardly a better plan for the beginner than to read insuccession _Pickwick_, _Oliver Twist_ and _NicholasNickleby_, which are as the seed plot out of which grow all his stories. For the rest, the reader must follow his own fancy. If one must choose asingle work, perhaps _Copperfield_ is the most typical. "Of all mybooks, " said Dickens, "I like this the best; like many parents I have myfavorite child, and his name is David Copperfield. " Some of the heroines ofthis book are rather stagey, but the Peggotys, Betsy Trotwood, Mrs. Gummidge, the Micawbers, --all these are unrivaled. "There is no writingagainst such power, " said Thackeray, who was himself writing_Pendennis_ while Dickens was at work on his masterpiece. [Illustration: YARD OF REINDEER INN, DANBURYThe scene of the races, in _Old Curiosity Shop_] [Sidenote: TALE OF TWO CITIES] Opinion is divided on the matter of _A Tale of Two Cities_. Somecritics regard it as the finest of Dickens's work, revealing as it does hispowers of description and of character-drawing without his usualexaggeration. Other critics, who regard the exaggeration of Dickens as hismost characteristic quality, see in _Two Cities_ only an evidence ofhis weakening power. It has perhaps this advantage over other works of theauthor, that of them we remember only the extraordinary scenes orcharacters, while the entire story of _Two Cities_ remains with us asa finished and impressive thing. But there is also this disadvantage, thatthe story ends and is done with, while _Pickwick_ goes on forever. Wemay lose sight of the heroes, but we have the conviction, as Chestertonsays, that they are still on the road of adventure, that Mr. Pickwick issomewhere drinking punch or making a speech, and that Sam Weller may stepout from behind the next stable and ask with a droll wink what we are up tonow. It is hardly necessary to add that our reading of Dickens must not enduntil we are familiar with some of his Yuletide stories, in which he gladlyfollowed the lead of Washington Irving. The best of all his short storiesis _A Christmas Carol_, which one must read but not criticize. At bestit is a farce, but a glorious, care-lifting, heart-warming farce. Wouldthere were more of the same kind! A CRITICISM OF DICKENS. The first quality of Dickens is his extravaganthumor. This was due to the fact that he was alive, so thoroughly, consciously alive that his vitality overflowed like a spring. Here, in aword, is the secret of that bubbling spirit of prodigality which occasionsthe criticism that Dickens produced not characters but caricatures. [Sidenote: HIS EXAGGERATION] The criticism is true; but it proclaims the strength of the novelist ratherthan his weakness. Indeed, it is in the very exaggeration of Dickens thathis astonishing creative power is most clearly manifest. There is somethingprimal, stupendous, in his grotesque characters which reminds us of theuncouth monsters that nature created in her sportive moods. Some readers, meeting with Bunsby, are reminded of a walrus; and who ever saw a walruswithout thinking of the creature as nature's Bunsby? So with Quilp, Toots, Squeers, Pumblechook; so with giraffes, baboons, dodoes, dromedaries, --allare freaks from the æsthetic viewpoint, but think of the overflowing energyimplied in creating them! The same sense of prodigality characterized Dickens even in his sobermoods, when he portrayed hundreds of human characters, and not a dead ordull person among them. To be sure they are all exaggerated; they weep toocopiously, eat or drink too intemperately, laugh too uproariously fornormal men; but to criticize their superabundant vitality is to criticizeBeowulf or Ulysses or Hiawatha; nay, it is to criticize life itself, whichat high tide is wont to overflow in heroics or absurdity. The exuberance ofPickwick, Micawber, Pecksniff, Sairey Gamp, Sam Weller and a host of othersis perhaps the most normal thing about them; it is as the rattling of asafety valve, which speaks not of stagnant water but of a full head ofsteam. For Dickens deals with life, and you can exaggerate life as much asyou please, since there is no end to either its wisdom or foolishness. Nothing but a question can be added to the silent simplicity of death. [Illustration: THE GATEHOUSE AT ROCHESTER, NEAR DICKENS'S HOME] [Sidenote: HIS MOTIVE AND METHOD] Aside from his purpose of portraying life as he saw it, in all its strangecomplexity, Dickens had a twofold object in writing. He was a radicaldemocrat, and he aimed to show the immense hopefulness and compassion ofDemocracy on its upward way to liberty. He was also a reformer, with aprofound respect for the poor, but no respect whatever for ancient laws orinstitutions that stood in the way of justice. The influence of his novelsin establishing better schools, prisons, workhouses, is beyond measure; butwe are not so much interested in his reforms as in his method, which wasunique. He aimed to make men understand the oppressed, and to make alaughing stock of the oppressors; and he succeeded as no other had everdone in making literature a power in the land. Thus, the man or the lawthat stands defiantly against public opinion is beaten the moment you makethat man or that law look like a joke; and Dickens made a huge joke of theparish beadle (as Mr. Bumble) and of many another meddlesome Britishinstitution. Moreover, he was master of this paradox: that to cure miseryyou must meet it with a merry heart, --this is on the principle that whatthe poor need is not charity but comradeship. By showing that humble folkmight be as poor as the Cratchits and yet have the medicine of mirth, thedivine gift of laughter, he made men rejoice with the poor even while theyrelieved the poverty. [Sidenote: HIS FAULTS] As for the shortcomings of Dickens, they are so apparent that he who runsmay read. We may say of him, as of Shakespeare, that his taste isquestionable, that he is too fond of a mere show, that his style is oftenmelodramatic, that there is hardly a fault in the whole critical categoryof which he is not habitually guilty. But we may say of him also that he isnever petty or mean or morbid or unclean; and he could not be dull if hetried. His faults, if you analyze them, spring from precisely the samesource as his virtues; that is, from his abundant vitality, from his excessof life and animal spirits. So we pardon, nay, we rejoice over him as overa boy who must throw a handspring or raise a _whillilew_ when hebreaks loose from school. For Dickens, when he started his triumphalprogress with _Pickwick_, had a glorious sense of taking his cue fromlife and of breaking loose from literary traditions. In comparison withRuskin or Thackeray he is not a good writer, but something more--asplendidly great writer. If you would limit or define his greatness, tryfirst to marshal his array of characters, characters so vital and humanthat we can hardly think of them as fictitious or imaginary creatures; thenremember the millions of men and women to whom he has given pure andlasting pleasure. * * * * * WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY (1811-1863) [Illustration: WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAYFrom a drawing by Samuel Laurence] In fiction Thackeray stands to Dickens as Hamilton to Jefferson in thefield of politics. The radical difference between the novelists isexemplified in their attitude toward the public. Thackeray, who lived amongthe privileged classes, spoke of "this great stupid public, " and thoughtthat the only way to get a hearing from the common people was to "take themby the ears. " He was a true Hamiltonian. Dickens had an immense sympathyfor the common people, a profound respect for their elemental virtues; andin writing for them he was, as it were, the Jefferson, the triumphantdemocrat of English letters. Thackeray was intellectual; he looked at menwith critical eyes, and was a realist and a pessimist. Dickens wasemotional; he looked at men with kindled imagination, judged them by thedreams they cherished in their hearts, and was a romanticist and anoptimist. Both men were humorists; but where Thackeray was delicatelysatirical, causing us a momentary smile, Dickens was broadly comic orfarcical, winning us by hearty laughter. LIFE. To one who has been trained, like Dickens, in the school of hardship it seems the most natural thing in the world to pass over into a state of affluence. It is another matter to fare sumptuously every day till luxurious habits are formed, and then be cast suddenly on one's own resources, face to face with the unexpected monster of bread and butter. This was Thackeray's experience, and it colored all his work. A second important matter is that Thackeray had a great tenderness for children, a longing for home and homely comforts; but as a child he was sent far from his home in India, and was thrown among young barbarians in various schools, one of which, the "Charterhouse, " was called the "Slaughterhouse" in the boy's letters to his mother. "There are three hundred and seventy boys in this school, " wrote; "I wish there were only three hundred and sixty-nine!" He married for love, and with great joy began housekeeping; then a terrible accident happened, his wife was taken to an insane asylum, and for the rest of his life Thackeray was a wanderer amid the empty splendors of clubs and hotels. These two experiences did not break Thackeray, but they bowed him. They help to explain the languor, the melancholy, the gentle pessimism, as if life had no more sunrises, of which we are vaguely conscious in reading _The Virginians_ or _The Newcomes_. [Sidenote: EARLY YEARS] Thackeray was born (1811) in Calcutta, of a family of English "nabobs" who had accumulated wealth and influence as factors or civil officers. At the death of his father, who was a judge in Bengal, the child was sent to England to be educated. Here is a significant incident of the journey: "Our ship touched at an island, where my black servant took me a walk over rocks and hills till we passed a garden, where we saw a man walking. 'That is Bonaparte, ' said the black; 'he eats three sheep every day, and all the children he can lay hands on. '" Napoleon was then safely imprisoned at St. Helena; but his shadow, as of a terrible ogre, was still dark over Europe. Thackeray's education, at the Charterhouse School and at Cambridge, was neither a happy nor a profitable experience, as we judge from his unflattering picture of English school life in _Pendennis_. He had a strongly artistic bent, and after leaving college studied art in Germany and France. Presently he lost his fortune by gambling and bad investments, and was confronted by the necessity of earning his living. He tried the law, but gave it up because, as he said, it had no soul. He tried illustrating, having a small talent for comic drawings, and sought various civil appointments in vain. As a last resource he turned to the magazines, wrote satires, sketches of travel, burlesques of popular novelists, and, fighting all the time against his habit of idleness, slowly but surely won his way. [Sidenote: LITERARY LABOR] His first notable work, _Vanity Fair_ (1847), won a few readers' and the critics' judgment that it was "a book written by a gentleman for gentlemen" was the foundation of Thackeray's reputation as a writer for the upper classes. Other notable novels followed, _Henry Esmond_, _Pendennis_, _The Newcomes_, _The Virginians_, and two series of literary and historical essays called _English Humorists_ and _The Four Georges_. The latter were delivered as lectures in a successful tour of England and America. Needless to say, Thackeray hated lecturing and publicity; he was driven to his "dollar-hunting" by necessity. In 1860 his fame was firmly established, and he won his first financial success by taking charge of the _Cornhill Magazine_, which prospered greatly in his hands. He did not long enjoy his new-found comfort, for he died in 1863. His early sketches had been satirical in spirit, his first novels largely so; but his last novels and his Cornhill essays were written in a different spirit, --not kinder, for Thackeray's heart was always right, but broader, wiser, more patient of human nature, and more hopeful. In view of these later works some critics declare that Thackeray's best novel was never written. His stories were produced not joyously but laboriously, to earn his living; and when leisure came at last, then came death also, and the work was over. WORKS OF THACKERAY. It would be flying in the face of all the critics tosuggest that the beginner might do well to postpone the famous novels ofThackeray, and to meet the author at his best, or cheerfulest, in suchforgotten works as the _Book of Ballads_ and _The Rose and theRing_. The latter is a kind of fairy story, with a poor little goodprincess, a rich little bad princess, a witch of a godmother, and suchvillainous characters as Hedzoff and Gruffanuff. It was written for somechildren whom Thackeray loved, and is almost the only book of his whichleaves the impression that the author found any real pleasure in writingit. [Sidenote: HENRY ESMOND] If one must begin with a novel, then _Henry Esmond_ (1852) is thebook. This is an historical novel; the scene is laid in the eighteenthcentury, during the reign of Queen Anne; and it differs from most otherhistorical novels in this important respect: the author knows his groundthoroughly, is familiar not only with political events but with thethoughts, ideals, books, even the literary style of the age which hedescribes. The hero of the novel, Colonel Esmond, is represented as tellinghis own story; he speaks as a gentleman spoke in those days, telling usabout the politicians, soldiers, ladies and literary men of his time, withfrank exposure of their manners or morals. As a realistic portrayal of anage gone by, not only of its thoughts but of the very language in whichthose thoughts were expressed, _Esmond_ is the most remarkable novelof its kind in our language. It is a prodigy of realism, and it is writtenin a charming prose style. One must add frankly that _Esmond_ is not an inspiring work, that theatmosphere is gloomy, and the plot a disappointment. The hero, after tenyears of devotion to a woman, ends his romance by happily marrying with hermother. Any reader could have told him that this is what he ought to havedone, or tried to do, in the beginning; but Thackeray's heroes will nevertake the reader's good advice. In this respect they are quite human. [Sidenote: VANITY FAIR] The two social satires of Thackeray are _Vanity Fair_ (1847) and_The History of Arthur Pendennis_ (1849). The former takes its titlefrom that fair described in _Pilgrim's Progress_, where all sorts ofcheats are exposed for sale; and Thackeray makes his novel a moralizingexposition of the shams of society. The slight action of the story revolvesabout two unlovely heroines, the unprincipled Becky Sharp and the spinelessAmelia. We call them both unlovely, though Thackeray tries hard to make usadmire his tearful Amelia and to detest his more interesting Becky. Meetingthese two contrasting characters is a variety of fools and snobs, mostlywell-drawn, all carefully analyzed to show the weakness or villainy that isin them. One interesting but unnoticed thing about these minor characters is thatthey all have their life-size prototypes in the novels of Dickens. Thackeray's characters, as he explains in his preface, are "mere puppets, "who must move when he pulls the strings. Dickens does not have to explainthat his characters are men and women who do very much as they please. Thatis, perhaps, the chief difference between the two novelists. [Sidenote: PENDENNIS] _Pendennis_ is a more readable novel than _Vanity Fair_ in thisrespect, that its interest centers in one character rather than in avariety of knaves or fools. Thackeray takes a youthful hero, follows himthrough school and later life, and shows the steady degeneration of a manwho is governed not by vicious but by selfish impulses. From beginning toend _Pendennis_ is a penetrating ethical study (like George Eliot's_Romola_), and the story is often interrupted while we listen to theauthor's moralizing. To some readers this is an offense; to others it is apleasure, since it makes them better acquainted with the mind and heart ofThackeray, the gentlest of Victorian moralists. [Sidenote: AFTERTHOUGHTS] The last notable works of Thackeray are like afterthoughts. _TheVirginians_ continues the story of Colonel Esmond, and _TheNewcomes_ recounts the later fortunes of Arthur Pendennis. _TheVirginians_ has two or three splendid scenes, and some critics regard_The Newcomes_ as the finest expression of the author's genius; butboth works, which appeared in the leisurely form of monthly instalments, are too languid in action for sustained interest. We grow acquainted withcertain characters, and are heartily glad when they make their exit;perhaps someone else will come, some adventurer from the road or the inn, to relieve the dullness. The door opens, and in comes the bore again totake another leave. That is realism, undoubtedly; and Laura Pendennis is asrealistic as the mumps, which one may catch a second time. The atmosphereof both novels--indeed, of all Thackeray's greater works, with theexception of _English Humorists_ and _The Four Georges_--israther depressing. One gets the impression that life among "the quality" isa dreary experience, hardly worth the effort of living. [Illustration: CHARTERHOUSE SCHOOL After a rare engraving by J. Rogers from the drawing made by Thomas H. Shepherd at the time Thackeray was a student there] THACKERAY: A CRITICISM. It is significant that Thackeray's first workappeared in a college leaflet called "The Snob, " and that it showed atalent for satire. In his earlier stories he plainly followed his naturalbent, for his _Vanity Fair_, _Barry Lyndon_ (a story of ascoundrelly adventurer) and several minor works are all satires on thegeneral snobbery of society. This tendency of the author reached a climaxin 1848, when he wrote _The Book of Snobs. _ It is still anentertaining book, witty, and with a kind of merciless fairness about itscruel passages; yet some readers will remember what the author himself saidlater, that he was something of a snob himself to write such a book. Thechief trouble with the half of his work is that he was so obsessed with theidea of snobbery that he did injustice to humanity, or rather to hiscountrymen; for Thackeray was very English, and interest in his charactersdepends largely on familiarity with the life he describes. His pictures ofEnglish servants, for instance, are wonderfully deft, though one might wishthat he had drawn them with a more sympathetic pencil. [Sidenote: THE PERSONAL ELEMENT] In the later part of his life the essential kindness of the man came to thesurface, but still was he hampered by his experience and his philosophy. His experience was that life is too big to be grasped, too mysterious to beunderstood; therefore he faced life doubtfully, with a mixture of timidityand respect, as in _Henry Esmond_. His philosophy was that everyperson is at heart an egoist, is selfish in spite of himself; therefore isevery man or woman unhappy, because selfishness is the eternal enemy ofhappiness. This is the lesson written large in _Pendennis_. He livedin the small world of his own class, while the great world of Dickens--theworld of the common people, with their sympathy, their eternal hopefulness, their enjoyment of whatever good they find in life--passed unnoticedoutside his club windows. He conceived it to be the business of a novelistto view the world with his own eyes, to describe it as he saw it; and itwas not his fault that his world was a small one. Fate was answerable forthat. So far as he went, Thackeray did his work admirably, portraying thefew virtues and the many shams of his set with candor and sincerity. Thoughhe used satire freely (and satire is a two-edged weapon), his object wasnever malicious or vindictive but corrective; he aimed to win or drive mento virtue by exposing the native ugliness of vice. The result of his effort may be summed up as follows: Thackeray is anovelist for the few who can enjoy his accurate but petty views of society, and his cultivated prose style. He is not very cheerful; he does not seekthe blue flower that grows in every field, or the gold that is at everyrainbow's end, or the romance that hides in every human heart whether ofrich or poor. Therefore are the young not conspicuous among his followers. * * * * * MARY ANN EVANS, "GEORGE ELIOT" (1819-1880) More than other Victorian story-tellers George Eliot regarded her work withgreat seriousness as a means of public instruction. Her purpose was to showthat human life is effective only as it follows its sense of duty, and thatsociety is as much in need of the moral law as of daily bread. Othernovelists moralized more or less, Thackeray especially; but George Eliotmade the teaching of morality her chief business. LIFE. In the work as in the face of George Eliot there is a certain masculine quality which is apt to mislead one who reads _Adam Bede_ or studies a portrait of the author. Even those who knew her well, and who tried to express the charm of her personality, seem to have overlooked the fact that they were describing a woman. For example, a friend wrote: "Everything in her aspect and presence was in keeping with the bent of her soul. The deeply lined face, the too marked and massive features, were united with an air of delicate refinement, which in one way was the more impressive, because it seemed to proceed so entirely from within. Nay, the inward beauty would sometimes quite transform the outward harshness; there would be moments when the thin hands that entwined themselves in their eagerness, the earnest figure that bowed forward to speak and hear, the deep gaze moving from one face to another with a grave appeal, --all these seemed the transparent symbols that showed the presence of a wise, benignant soul. " [Sidenote: A CLINGING VINE] That is very good, but somehow it is not feminine. So the impression has gone forth that George Eliot was a "strong-minded" woman; but that is far from the truth. One might emphasize her affectionate nature, her timidity, her lack of confidence in her own judgment; but the essence of the matter is this, that so dependent was she on masculine support that she was always idealizing some man, and looking up to him as a superior being. In short, she was one of "the clinging kind. " Though some may regard this as traditional nonsense, it was nevertheless the most characteristic quality of the woman with whom we are dealing. [Sidenote: HER GIRLHOOD] Mary Ann Evans, or Marian as she was called, was born (1819) and spent her childhood in Shakespeare's county of Warwickshire. Her father (whose portrait she has faintly drawn in the characters of Adam Bede and Caleb Garth) was a strong, quiet man, a farmer and land agent, who made a companion of his daughter rather than of his son, the two being described more or less faithfully in the characters of Maggie and Tom Tulliver in _The Mill on the Floss_. At twelve years of age she was sent to a boarding school; at fifteen her mother died, and she was brought home to manage her father's house. The rest of her education--which included music and a reading knowledge of German, Italian and Greek--was obtained by solitary study at intervals of rest from domestic work. That the intervals were neither long nor frequent may be inferred from the fact that her work included not only her father's accounts and the thousand duties of housekeeping but also the managing of a poultry yard, the making of butter, and other farm or dairy matters which at that time were left wholly to women. [Illustration: GEORGE ELIOT From a portrait painted in Rome by M. D'Albert Durade, and now in Geneva] The first marked change in her life came at the age of twenty-two, when the household removed to Coventry, and Miss Evans was there brought in contact with the family of a wealthy ribbon-maker named Bray. He was a man of some culture, and the atmosphere of his house, with its numerous guests, was decidedly skeptical. To Miss Evans, brought up in a home ruled by early Methodist ideals of piety, the change was a little startling. Soon she was listening to glib evolutionary theories that settled everything from an earthworm to a cosmos; next she was eagerly reading such unbaked works as Bray's _Philosophy of Necessity_ and the essays of certain young scientists who, without knowledge of either philosophy or religion, were cocksure of their ability to provide "modern" substitutes for both at an hour's notice. Miss Evans went over rather impulsively to the crude skepticism of her friends; then, finding no soul or comfort in their theories, she invented for herself a creed of duty and morality, without however tracing either to its origin. She was naturally a religious woman, and there is no evidence that she found her new creed very satisfactory. Indeed, her melancholy and the gloom of her novels are both traceable to the loss of her early religious ideals. [Sidenote: HER UNION WITH LEWES] A trip abroad (1849) was followed by some editorial work on _The Westminster Review_, then the organ of the freethinkers. This in turn led to her association with Herbert Spencer, John Stuart Mill and other liberals, and to her union with George Henry Lewes in 1854. Of that union little need be said except this: though it lacked the law and the sacrament, it seems to have been in other respects a fair covenant which was honestly kept by both parties. [Footnote: Lewes was separated from his first wife, from whom he was unable to obtain a legal divorce. This was the only obstacle to a regular marriage, and after facing the obstacle for a time the couple decided to ignore it. The moral element in George Eliot's works is due largely, no doubt, to her own moral sense; but it was greatly influenced by the fact that, in her union with Lewes, she had placed herself in a false position and was morally on the defensive against society. ] Encouraged by Lewes she began to write fiction. Her first attempt, "Amos Barton, " was an excellent short story, and in 1859 she produced her first novel, _Adam Bede_, being then about forty years old. The great success of this work had the unusual effect of discouraging the author. She despaired of her ability, and began to agonize, as she said, over her work; but her material was not yet exhausted, and in _The Mill on the Floss_ and _Silas Marner_ she repeated her triumph. [Sidenote: ON A PEDESTAL] The rest of her life seems a matter of growth or of atrophy, according to your point of view. She grew more scientific, as she fancied, but she lost the freshness and inspiration of her earlier novels. The reason seems to be that her head was turned by her fame as a moralist and exponent of culture; so she forgot that she "was born to please, " and attempted something else for which she had no particular ability: an historical novel in _Romola_, a drama in _The Spanish Gypsy_, a theory of social reform in _Felix Holt_, a study of the Hebrew race in _Daniel Deronda_, a book of elephantine gambols in _The Opinions of Theophrastus Such_. More and more she "agonized" over these works, and though each of them contained some scene or passage of rare power, it was evident even to her admirers that the pleasing novelist of the earlier days had been sacrificed to the moral philosopher. [Sidenote: SHE RENEWS HER YOUTH] The death of Lewes (1878) made an end, as she believed, of all earthly happiness. For twenty-four years he had been husband, friend and literary adviser, encouraging her talent, shielding her from every hostile criticism. Left suddenly alone in the world, she felt like an abandoned child; her writing stopped, and her letters echoed the old gleeman's song, "All is gone, both life and light. " Then she surprised everybody by marrying an American banker, many years her junior, who had been an intimate friend of the Lewes household. Once more she found the world "intensely interesting, " for at sixty she was the same clinging vine, the same hero-worshiper, as at sixteen. The marriage occurred in 1880, and her death the same year. An elaborate biography, interesting but too fulsome, was written by her husband, John Walter Cross. WORKS. George Eliot's first works in fiction were the magazine storieswhich she published later as _Scenes of Clerical Life_ (1858). Thesewere produced comparatively late in life, and they indicate bothoriginality and maturity, as if the author had a message of her own, andhad pondered it well before writing it. That message, as reflected in "AmosBarton" and "Janet's Repentance, " may be summarized in four cardinalprinciples: that duty is the supreme law of life; that the humblest life isas interesting as the most exalted, since both are subject to the same law;that our daily choices have deep moral significance, since they all reacton character and their total result is either happiness or misery; and thatthere is no possible escape from the reward or punishment that is due toone's individual action. Such is the message of the author's first work. In its stern insistence onthe moral quality of life and of every human action, it distinguishesGeorge Eliot from all other fiction writers of the period. [Sidenote: HER BEST NOVELS] In her first three novels she repeats the same message with more detail, and with a gleam of humor here and there to light up the gloomy places. _Adam Bede_ (1859) has been called a story of early Methodism, but inreality it is a story of moral principles which work their inevitable endsamong simple country people. The same may be said of _The Mill on theFloss_ (1860) and of _Silas Marner_ (1861). The former is asinteresting to readers of George Eliot as _Copperfield_ is to readersof Dickens, because much of it is a reflection of a personal experience;but the latter work, having more unity, more story interest and morecheerfulness, is a better novel with which to begin our acquaintance withthe author. [Illustration: GRIFF HOUSE, GEORGE ELIOT'S EARLY HOME IN WARWICKSHIRE] The scene of all these novels is laid in the country; the characters aretrue to life, and move naturally in an almost perfect setting. One secretof their success is that they deal with people whom the author knew well, and with scenes in which she was as much at home as Dickens was in theLondon streets. Each of the novels, notwithstanding its faulty ormelancholy conclusion, leaves an impression so powerful that we gladly, andperhaps uncritically, place it among the great literary works of theVictorian era. [Sidenote: LATER WORKS] Of the later novels one cannot speak so confidently. They move some criticsto enthusiasm, and put others to sleep. Thus, _Daniel Deronda_ hassome excellent passages, and Gwendolen is perhaps the best-drawn of allGeorge Eliot's characters; but for many readers the novel is spoiled byscientific jargon, by essay writing on the Jews and other matters of whichthe author knew little or nothing at first hand. In _Middlemarch_ shereturned to the scenes with which she was familiar and produced a novelwhich some critics rank very high, while others point to its superfluousessays and its proneness to moralizing instead of telling a story. [Sidenote: ROMOLA] _Romola_ is another labored novel, a study of Italy during theRenaissance, and a profound ethical lesson. If you can read this workwithout criticizing its Italian views, you may find in the characters ofTito and Romola, one selfish and the other generous, the best example ofGeorge Eliot's moral method, which is to show the cumulative effect oncharacter of everyday choices or actions. You will find also a good story, one of the best that the author told. But if you read _Romola_ as anhistorical novel, with some knowledge of Italy and the Renaissance, you maydecide that George Eliot--though she slaved at this novel until, as shesaid, it made an old woman of her--did not understand the people or thecountry which she tried to describe. She portrayed life not as she had seenand known and loved it, but as she found it reflected at second hand in theworks of other writers. THE QUALITY OF GEORGE ELIOT. Of the moral quality of George Eliot we havealready said enough. To our summary of her method this should be added, that she tried to make each of her characters not individual but typical. In other words, if Tito came finally to grief, and Adam arrived at a stateof gloomy satisfaction (there is no real happiness in George Eliot'sworld), it was not because Tito and Adam lived in different times orcircumstances, but because both were subject to the same eternal laws. Eachmust have gone to his own place whether he lived in wealth or poverty, inFlorence or England, in the fifteenth or the nineteenth century. The morallaw is universal and unchanging; it has no favorites, and makes noexceptions. It is more like the old Greek conception of Nemesis, or theAnglo-Saxon conception of Wyrd, or Fate, than anything else you will findin modern fiction. [Sidenote: FATE AND SELF-SACRIFICE] In this last respect George Eliot again differs radically from hercontemporaries. In her gloomy view of life as an unanswerable puzzle she islike Thackeray; but where Thackeray offers a cultured resignation, agentlemanly making the best of a bad case, George Eliot advocatesself-sacrifice for the good of others. In her portrayal of weak or sinfulcharacters she is quite as compassionate as Dickens, and more thoughtfullycharitable; for where Dickens sometimes makes light of misery, and relievesit by the easy expedient of good dinners and all-around comfort for saintsand sinners, George Eliot remembers the broken moral law and the sufferingof the innocent for the guilty. Behind every one of her characters thatdoes wrong follows an avenging fate, waiting the moment to exact the fullpenalty; and before every character that does right hovers a vision ofsacrifice and redemption. Her real philosophy, therefore, was quite different from that which herscientific friends formulated for her, and was not modern but ancient asthe hills. On the one hand, she never quite freed herself from the oldpagan conception of Nemesis, or Fate; on the other, her early Methodisttraining entered deep into her soul and made her mindful of the Cross thatforever towers above humanity. * * * * * OTHER VICTORIAN NOVELISTS We have followed literary custom rather than individual judgment instudying Dickens, Thackeray and George Eliot as the typical Victoriannovelists. On Dickens, as the most original genius of the age, most peopleare agreed; but the rank of the other two is open to question. There arecritics besides Swinburne who regard Charlotte Brontë as a greater geniusthan George Eliot; and many uncritical readers find more pleasure or profitin the Barchester novels of Anthony Trollope than in anything written byThackeray. It may even be that the three or four leading novels of the agewere none of them written by the novelists in question; but it is stillessential to know their works if only for these reasons: that they greatlyinfluenced other story-tellers of the period, and that they furnish us astandard by which to judge all modern fiction. To treat the many Victorian novelists adequately would in itself require avolume. We shall note here only a few leading figures, naming in each casea novel or two which may serve as an invitation to a better acquaintancewith their authors. [Illustration: CHARLOTTE BRONTË] The Brontë sisters, Charlotte and Emily, made a tremendous sensation inEngland when, from their retirement, they sent out certain works of suchpassionate intensity that readers who had long been familiar with novelswere startled into renewed attention. Reading these works now we recognizethe genius of the writers, but we recognize also a morbid, unwholesomequality, which is a reflection not of English life but of the personal andunhappy temperament of two girls who looked on life first as a gorgeousromance and then as a gloomy tragedy. Charlotte Brontë (1816-1855) was perhaps the more gifted of the twosisters, and her best-known works are _Jane Eyre_ and _Villette_. The date of the latter novel (1853) was made noteworthy by the masterpieceof another woman novelist, Mrs. Elizabeth Gaskell (1810-1865), who was theexact opposite of the Brontë sisters, --serene, well-balanced, and with afund of delicious humor. All these qualities and more appeared in_Cranford_ (1853), a series of sketches of country life (firstcontributed to Dickens's _Household Words_) which together form one ofthe most charming stories produced during the Victorian era. The sameauthor wrote a few other novels and an admirable _Life of CharlotteBrontë_. [Sidenote: CHARLES READE] Charles Reade (1814-1884) was a follower of Dickens in his earlier novels, such as _Peg Woffington_; but he made one notable departure when hewrote _The Cloister and the Hearth_ (1861). This is a story of studentlife and vagabond life in Europe, in the stirring times that followed theinvention of printing. The action moves rapidly; many different charactersappear; the scene shifts from Holland across Europe to Italy, and backagain; adventures of a startling kind meet the hero at every stage of hisfoot journey. It is a stirring tale, remarkably well told; so much willevery uncritical reader gladly acknowledge. Moreover, there are criticswho, after studying _The Cloister and the Hearth_, rank it with thebest historical novels in all literature. [Illustration: MRS. ELIZABETH GASKELLFrom the portrait by George Richmond, R. A. ] [Sidenote: TROLLOPE] Anthony Trollope (1815-1882) began as a follower of Thackeray, but in theimmense range of his characters and incidents he soon outstripped hismaster. Perhaps his best work is _Barchester Towers_ (1857), one of aseries of novels which picture with marvelous fidelity the life of acathedral town in England. Another novelist who followed Thackeray, and then changed his allegiance toDickens, was Bulwer Lytton (1803-1873). He was essentially an imitator, afollower of the market, and before Thackeray and Dickens were famous he hadfollowed almost every important English novelist from Mrs. Radcliffe toWalter Scott. Two of his historical novels, _Rienzi_ and _The LastDays of Pompeii_, may be mildly recommended. The rest are of the popularand somewhat trashy kind; critics jeer at them, and the public buys them inlarge numbers. One of the most charming books of the Victorian age was produced by RichardBlackmore (1825-1900). He wrote several novels, some of them of excellentquality, but they were all overshadowed by his beautiful old romance of_Lorna Doone_ (1869). It is hard to overpraise such a story, wholesomeand sweet as a breath from the moors, and the critic's praise will beunnecessary if the reader only opens the book. It should be read, with_Cranford_, if one reads nothing else of Victorian fiction. [Illustration: RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE] Two other notable romances of a vanished age came from the hand of CharlesKingsley (1819-1875). He produced many works in poetry and prose, but hisfame now rests upon _Hypatia_, _Westward Ho!_ and a few storiesfor children. _Hypatia_ (1853) is an interesting novel dealing withthe conflict of pagan and Christian ideals in the early centuries. _Westward Ho!_ (1855) is a stirring narrative of seafaring andadventure in the days of Elizabeth. It has been described as a "stunning"boys' book, and it would prove an absorbing story for any reader who likesadventure were it not marred by one serious fault. The author's personalbeliefs and his desire to glorify certain Elizabethan adventurers lead himto pronounce judgment of a somewhat wholesale kind. He treats one religiousparty of the period to a golden halo, and the other to a lash of scorpions;and this is apt to alienate many readers who else would gladly follow SirAmyas Leigh on his gallant ventures in the New World or on the SpanishMain. Kingsley had a rare talent for writing for children (his heart nevergrew old), and his _Heroes_ and _Water Babies_ are still widelyread as bedtime stories. Of the later Victorian novelists, chief among them being Meredith, Hardyand Stevenson, little may be said here, as they are much too near us tojudge of their true place in the long perspective of English literature. Meredith, with the analytical temper and the disconnected style ofBrowning, is for mature readers, not for young people. Hardy has decidedpower, but is too hopelessly pessimistic for anybody's comfort, --except inhis earlier works, which have a romantic charm that brightens the obscurityof his later philosophy. [Illustration: ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSONFrom a photograph] [Sidenote: STEVENSON] In Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894) we have the spirit of romancepersonified. His novels, such as _Kidnapped_ and _David Balfour_, are stories of adventure written in a very attractive style; but he is morewidely known, among young people at least, by his charming _Child'sGarden of Verses_ and his _Treasure Island_ (1883). This last is akind of dime-novel of pirates and buried treasure. If one is to readstories of that kind, there is no better place to begin than with thismasterpiece of Stevenson. Other works by the same versatile author are thenovels, _Master of Ballantrae_, _Weir of Hermiston_ and _Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_; various collections of essays, such as_Virginibus Puerisque_ and _Familiar Studies of Men and Books_;and some rather thin sketches of journeying called _An Inland Voyage_and _Travels with a Donkey_. The cheery spirit of Stevenson, who bravely fought a losing battle withdisease, is evident in everything he wrote; and it was the author's spirit, quite as much as his romantic tales or fine prose style, that won for him alarge and enthusiastic following. Of all the later Victorians he seems, atthe present time, to have the widest circle of cultivated readers and toexercise the strongest influence on our writers of fiction. * * * * * III. VICTORIAN ESSAYISTS AND HISTORIANS There is rich reading in Victorian essays, which reflect not only thepractical affairs of the age but also the ideals that inspire every greatmovement whether in history or literature. For example, the intensereligious interests of the period, the growth of the Nonconformists orIndependents, the Oxford movement, which aimed to define the historicposition of the English Church, the chill of doubt and the glow of renewedfaith in face of the apparent conflict between the old religion and the newscience, --all these were brilliantly reflected by excellent writers, amongwhom Martineau, Newman and Maurice stand out prominently. The deep thought, the serene spirit and the fine style of these men are unsurpassed inVictorian prose. Somewhat apart from their age stood a remarkable group ofhistorians--Hallam, Freeman, Green, Gardiner, Symonds and others no lesspraiseworthy--who changed the whole conception of history from a record ofpolitical or military events to a profound study of human society in allits activities. In another typical group were the critics, Pater, Bagehot, Hutton, Leslie Stephen, who have given deeper meaning and enlarged pleasureto the study of literature. In a fourth group were the scientists--Darwin, Wallace, Lyell, Mivart, Tyndall, Mill, Spencer, Huxley, and theirfollowers--some of whom aimed not simply to increase our knowledge but touse the essay, as others used the novel, to portray some new scene in theold comedy of human life. Darwin was a great and, therefore, a modest man;but some of his disciples were sadly lacking in humor. Spencer and Millespecially wrote with colossal self-confidence, as if the world no longerwore its veil of mystery. They remind us, curiously, that while poetryendures forever, nothing on earth is more subject to change and error thanso-called scientific truth. [Sidenote: TYPICAL WRITERS] It is impossible in a small volume to do justice to so many writers, reflecting nature or humanity from various angles, and sometimes insistingthat a particular angle was the only one from which a true view could beobtained. Some rigorous selection is necessary; and we name here forspecial study Macaulay, Carlyle, Ruskin, who are commonly regarded as thetypical Victorian essayists. This selection does not mean, however, thatsome other group might not be quite as representative of their age andnation. Our chosen authors stand not for Victorian thought but only forcertain interesting phases thereof. Macaulay, the busy man of affairs, voiced the pride of his generation in British traditions. Carlyle livedaloof, grumbling at democracy, denouncing its shams, calling it torepentance. Ruskin, a child of fortune, was absorbed in art till the burdenof the world oppressed him; whereupon he gave his money to the cause ofsocial reform and went himself among the poor to share with them whateverwealth of spirit he possessed. These three men, utterly unlike incharacter, were as one in their endeavor to make modern literature a powerwherewith to uplift humanity. They illustrate, better even than poets ornovelists, the characteristic moral earnestness of the Victorian era. * * * * * THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY (1800-1859) To many readers the life of Macaulay is more interesting than any of hisbooks. For the details of that brilliantly successful life, which fairlywon and richly deserved its success, the student is referred to Trevelyan'sfine biography. We record here only such personal matters as may help toexplain the exuberant spirit of Macaulay's literary work. [Illustration: THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY] LIFE. One notes first of all the man's inheritance. The Norse element predominated in him, for the name Macaulay (son of Aulay) is a late form of the Scandinavian _Olafson_. His mother was a brilliant woman of Quaker descent; his father, at one time governor of the Sierra Leone Colony in Africa, was a business man who gained a fortune in trade, and who spent the whole of it in helping to free the slaves. In consequence, when Macaulay left college he faced the immediate problem of supporting himself and his family, a hard matter, which he handled not only with his customary success but also with characteristic enthusiasm. Next we note Macaulay's personal endowment, his gift of rapid reading, his marvelous memory which suggests Coleridge and Cotton Mather. He read everything from Plato to the trashiest novel, and after reading a book could recall practically the whole of it after a lapse of twenty years. To this photographic memory we are indebted for the wealth of quotation, allusion and anecdote which brightens almost every page of his writings. [Sidenote: HIS BRILLIANT CAREER] After a brilliant career at college Macaulay began the study of law. At twenty-five he jumped into prominence by a magazine essay on Milton, and after that his progress was uninterrupted. He was repeatedly elected to Parliament; he was appointed legal adviser to the Supreme Council of India, in which position he acquired the knowledge that appears in his essays on Clive and Hastings; he became Secretary for War, and was elevated to the peerage as Baron Macaulay of Rothley. It was said of him at that time that he was "the only man whom England ever made a lord for the power of his pen. " [Sidenote: HIS RECREATION] The last thing we note, because it was to Macaulay of least moment, is his literary work. With the exception of the _History of England_ his writing was done at spare moments, as a relaxation from what he considered more important labors. In this respect, of writing for pleasure in the midst of practical affairs, he resembles the Elizabethan rather than the Victorian authors. While at work on his masterpiece Macaulay suddenly faltered, worn out by too much work. He died on Christmas Day (1859) and was buried in the place which he liked best to visit, the Poets' Corner of Westminster Abbey. From the day on which he attracted notice by his Milton essay he had never once lost his hold on the attention of England. Gladstone summed up the matter in oratorical fashion when he said, "Full-orbed Macaulay was seen above the horizon; and full-orbed, after thirty-five years of constantly emitted splendor, he sank below it. " But Macaulay's final comment, "Well, I have had a happy life, " is more suggestive of the man and his work. WORKS OF MACAULAY. Macaulay's poems, which he regarded as of noconsequence, are practically all in the ballad style. Among them arevarious narratives from French or English history, such as "The Battle ofIvry" and "The Armada, " and a few others which made a popular little bookwhen they were published as _Lays of Ancient Rome_ (1842). The primefavorite not only of the _Lays_ but of all Macaulay's works is"Horatius Cocles, " or "Horatius at the Bridge. " Those who read its stirringlines should know that Macaulay intended it not as a modern ballad but asan example of ancient methods of teaching history. According to Niebuhr theearly history of Rome was written in the form of popular ballads; andMacaulay attempted to reproduce a few of these historical documents in theheroic style that roused a Roman audience of long ago to pride and love ofcountry. [Sidenote: THE ESSAYS] The essays of Macaulay appeared in the magazines of that day; but thoughofficial England acclaimed their brilliancy and flooded their author withinvitations to dine, nobody seemed to think of them as food for ordinaryreaders till a Philadelphia publisher collected a few of them into a book, which sold in America like a good novel. That was in 1841, and not till twoyears had passed did a London publisher gain courage to issue the_Critical and Historical Essays_, a book which vindicated the taste ofreaders of that day by becoming immensely popular. The charm of such a book is evident in the very first essay, on Milton. Here is no critic, airing his rules or making his dry talk palatable by afew quotations; here is a live man pleading for another man whom heconsiders one of the greatest figures in history. Macaulay may be mistaken, possibly, but he is going to make you doff your hat to a hero before he isdone; so he speaks eloquently not only of Milton but of the classics onwhich Milton fed, of the ideals and struggles of his age, of theCommonwealth and the Restoration, --of everything which may catch yourattention and then focus it on one Titanic figure battling like Samsonamong the Philistines. It may be that your sympathies are with thePhilistines rather than with Samson; but presently you stop objecting andare carried along by the author's eloquence as by a torrent. His style isthe combined style of novelist and public speaker, the one striving to makehis characters real, the other bound to make his subject interesting. That is Macaulay's way in all his essays. They are seldom wholly right intheir judgments; they are so often one-sided that the author declared inlater life he would burn them all if he could; but they are all splendid, all worth reading, not simply for their matter but for their style and forthe wealth of allusion with which Macaulay makes his subject vital andinteresting. Among the best of the literary essays are those on Bunyan, Addison, Bacon, Johnson, Goldsmith and Byron; among the historical essaysone may sample Macaulay's variety in Lord Clive, Frederick the Great, Machiavelli and Mirabeau. Careful readers may note a difference between these literary and historicalessays. Those on Bunyan, Johnson and Goldsmith, for example (writtenoriginally for the _Encyclopaedia Britannica_), are more finished andmore careful of statement than others in which the author talks freely, sharing without measure or restraint "the heaped-up treasures of hismemory. " [Sidenote: HISTORY OF ENGLAND] Macaulay began to write his _History of England_ with the declarationthat he would cover the century and a half following the accession of JamesII (1685), and that he would make his story as interesting as any novel. Only the latter promise was fulfilled. His five volumes, the labor of morethan a decade, cover only sixteen years of English history; but these arepictured with such minuteness and such splendor that we can hardly imagineanyone brave enough to attempt to finish the record in a single lifetime. Of this masterpiece of Macaulay we may confidently say three things: thatfor many years it was the most popular historical work in our language;that by its brilliant style and absorbing interest it deserved itspopularity, as literature if not as history; and that, though it containsits share of error and more than its share of Whig partisanship, it hasprobably as few serious faults as any other history which attempts to coverthe immense field of the political, social and intellectual life of anation. Read, for example, one of the introductory chapters (the third isexcellent) which draws such a picture of England in the days of the Stuartsas no other historian has ever attempted. When you have finished thatchapter, with its wealth of picturesque detail, you may be content to readMacaulay simply for the pleasure he gives you, and go to some otherhistorian for accurate information. * * * * * THOMAS CARLYLE (1795-1881) There is little harmony of opinion concerning Carlyle, criticism of the manbeing divided between praise and disparagement. If you are to read only oneof his works, it is perhaps advisable to avoid all biographies at first andto let the _Essay on Burns_ or _Heroes and Hero Worship_ make itsown impression. But if you intend to read more widely, some knowledge ofCarlyle's personal history is essential in order to furnish the grain ofsalt with which most of his opinions must be taken. [Illustration: THOMAS CARLYLEFrom engraving by Sartain from a daguerrotype] LIFE. In the village of Ecclefechan Carlyle was born in 1795, the year before Burns's death. His father was a stone-mason, an honest man of caustic tongue; his mother, judged by her son's account, was one of nature's noblewomen. The love of his mother and a proud respect for his father were the two sentiments in Carlyle that went with him unchanged through a troubled and oft-complaining life. [Sidenote: HIS WRESTLINGS] Of his tearful school days in Annandale and of his wretched years at Edinburgh University we have glimpses in _Sartor Resartus_. In the chapters of the same book entitled "The Everlasting Nay" and "The Everlasting Yea" is a picture of the conflict between doubt and faith in the stormy years when Carlyle was finding himself. He taught school, and hated it; he abandoned the ministry, for which his parents had intended him; he resolved on a literary life, and did hack work to earn his bread. All the while he wrestled with his gloomy temper or with the petty demons of dyspepsia, which he was wont to magnify into giant doubts and despairs. [Sidenote: CARLYLE AND EMERSON] In 1826 he married Jane Welsh, and went to live in a house she had inherited at Craigenputtock, or Hill of the Hawks. There on a lonely moorland farm he spent six or seven years, writing books which few cared to read; and there Emerson appeared one day ("He came and went like an angel, " said the Carlyles) with the heartening news that the neglected writings were winning a great audience in America. The letters of Carlyle and Emerson, as edited by Charles Eliot Norton, are among the pleasantest results of Carlyle's whole career. [Sidenote: MRS. CARLYLE] Carlyle's wife was a brilliant but nervous woman with literary gifts of her own. She had always received attention; she expected and probably deserved admiration; but so did Carlyle, who expected also to be made the center of all solicitude when he called heaven and earth to witness against democracy, crowing roosters, weak tea and other grievous afflictions. After her death (in London, 1866) he was plunged into deepest grief. In his _Reminiscences_ and _Letters_ he fairly deifies his wife, calling her his queen, his star, his light and joy of life, and portrays a companionship as of two mortals in a Paradise without a serpent. All that is doubtless as it should be, in a romance; but the unfortunate publication of Mrs. Carlyle's letters and journals introduced a jarring note of reality. A jungle of controversial writings has since grown up around the domestic relations of the Carlyles, --impertinent, deplorable writings, which serve no purpose but to make us cry, "Enough, let them rest in peace!" Both had sharp tongues, and probably both were often sorry. [Sidenote: WORK IN LONDON] From the moors the Carlyles went to London and settled for the remainder of their lives in a house in Cheyne Row, in the suburb of Chelsea. There Carlyle slowly won recognition, his success being founded on his _French Revolution_. Invitations began to pour in upon him; great men visited and praised him, and his fame spread as "the sage of Chelsea. " Then followed his _Cromwell_ and _Frederick the Great_, the latter completed after years of complaining labor which made wreck of home happiness. And then came a period of unusual irritation, to which we owe, in part at least, Carlyle's railings against progress and his deplorable criticism of England's great men and women, --poor little Browning, animalcular De Quincey, rabbit-brained Newman, sawdustish Mill, chattering George Eliot, ghastly-shrieky Shelley, once-enough Lamb, stinted-scanty Wordsworth, poor thin fool Darwin and his book (_The Origin of Species_, of which Carlyle confessed he never read a page) which was wonderful as an example of the stupidity of mankind. Such criticisms were reserved for Carlyle's private memoirs. The world knew him only by his books, and revered him as a great and good man. He died in 1881, and of the thousand notices which appeared in English or American periodicals of that year there is hardly one that does not overflow with praise. [Illustration: CARLYLE'S HOUSE, CHEYNE ROW, CHELSEA, LONDON] In the home at Chelsea were numerous letters and journals which Carlyle committed to his friend Froude the historian. The publication of these private papers raised a storm of protest. Admirers of Carlyle, shocked at the revelation of another side to their hero, denounced Froude for his disloyalty and malice; whereupon the literary world divided into two camps, the Jane Carlyleists and the Thomas Carlyleists, as they are still called. That Froude showed poor taste is evident; but we must acquit him of all malice. Private papers had been given him with the charge to publish them if he saw fit; and from them he attempted to draw not a flattering but a truthful portrait of Carlyle, who had always preached the doctrine that a man must speak truth as he sees it. Nor will Carlyle suffer in the long run from being deprived of a halo which he never deserved. Already the crustiness of the man begins to grow dim in the distance; it is his rugged earnestness that will be longest remembered. WORKS OF CARLYLE. The beginner will do well to make acquaintance withCarlyle in some of the minor essays, which are less original but morepleasing than his labored works. Among the best essays are those on Goethe(who was Carlyle's first master), Signs of the Times, Novalis, andespecially Scott and Burns. With Scott he was not in sympathy, and thoughhe tried as a Scotsman to be "loyal to kith and clan, " a strong touch ofprejudice mars his work. With Burns he succeeded better, and his picture ofthe plowboy genius in misfortune is one of the best we have on the subject. This _Essay on Burns_ is also notable as the best example of Carlyle'searly style, before he compounded the strange mixture which appeared in hislater books. [Sidenote: HEROES AND HERO WORSHIP] The most readable of Carlyle's longer works is _Heroes and HeroWorship_ (1840), which deals with certain leaders in the fields ofreligion, poetry, war and politics. It is an interesting study to comparethis work with the _Representative Men_ of Emerson. The latter looksupon the world as governed by ideals, which belong not to individuals butto humanity. When some man appears in whom the common ideal is writtenlarge, other men follow him because they see in him a truth which theyrevere in their own souls. So the leader is always in the highest sense arepresentative of his race. But Carlyle will have nothing of suchdemocracy; to him common men are stupid or helpless and must be governedfrom without. Occasionally, when humanity is in the Slough of Despond, appears a hero, a superman, and proceeds by his own force to drag or drivehis subjects to a higher level. When the hero dies, humanity must halt andpray heaven to send another master. It is evident before one has read much of _Heroes_ that Carlyle is atheart a force-worshiper. To him history means the biography of a fewheroes, and heroism is a matter of power, not of physical or moral courage. The hero may have the rugged courage of a Cromwell, or he may be aneasy-living poet like Shakespeare, or a ruthless despot like Napoleon, oran epitome of all meanness like Rousseau; but if he shows superior force ofany kind, that is the hallmark of his heroism, and before such an onehumanity should bow down. Of real history, therefore, you will learnnothing from _Heroes_; neither will you get any trustworthyinformation concerning Odin, Mahomet and the rest of Carlyle's oddlyconsorted characters. One does not read the book for facts but for a newview of old matters. With hero-worshipers especially it ranks very highamong the thought-provoking books of the past century. [Sidenote: THE FRENCH REVOLUTION] Of the historical works [Footnote: These include _Oliver Cromwell'sLetters and Speeches_ (1850) and _History of Frederick the Great_(1858). ] of Carlyle the most famous is _The French Revolution_ (1837). On this work Carlyle spent much heart-breaking labor, and the story of thefirst volume shows that the author, who made himself miserable over pettymatters, could be patient in face of a real misfortune. [Footnote: Themanuscript of the first volume was submitted to Carlyle's friend Mill (himof the "sawdustish" mind) for criticism. Mill lent it to a lady, who lostit. When he appeared "white as a ghost" to confess his carelessness, theCarlyles did their best to make light of it. Yet it was a terrible blow tothem; for aside from the wearisome labor of doing the work over again, theywere counting on the sale of the book to pay for their daily bread. ]Moreover, it furnishes a striking example of Carlyle's method, which wasnot historical in the modern sense, but essentially pictorial or dramatic. He selected a few dramatic scenes, such as the storming of the Bastille, and painted them in flaming colors. Also he was strong in drawingportraits, and his portrayal of Robespierre, Danton and other actors in theterrible drama is astonishingly vigorous, though seldom accurate. His chiefpurpose in drawing all these pictures and portraits was to prove that ordercan never come out of chaos save by the iron grip of a governing hand. Hence, if you want to learn the real history of the French Revolution, youmust seek elsewhere; but if you want an impression of it, an impressionthat burns its way into the mind, you will hardly find the equal ofCarlyle's book in any language. Of Carlyle's miscellaneous works one must speak with some hesitation. As anexpression of what some call his prophetic mood, and others his ranting, one who has patience might try _Shooting Niagara_ or the _Latter DayPamphlets_. A reflection of his doctrine of honest work as the cure forsocial ills is found in _Past and Present_; and for a summary of hisphilosophy there is nothing quite so good as his early _SartorResartus_ (1834). [Sidenote: SARTOR RESARTUS] The last-named work is called philosophy only by courtesy. The title means"the tailor retailored, " or "the patcher repatched, " and the book professedto be "a complete Resartus philosophy of clothes. " Since everything wearsclothes of some kind (the soul wears a body, and the body garments; earthputs forth grass, and the firmament stars; ideas clothe themselves inwords; society puts on fashions and habits), it can be seen that Carlylefelt free to bring in any subject he pleased; and so he did. Moreover, inorder to have liberty of style, he represented himself to be the editor notthe author of _Sartor_. The alleged author was a German professor, Diogenes Teufelsdroeckh, an odd stick, half genius, half madman, whosechaotic notes Carlyle professed to arrange with a running commentary of hisown. In consequence of this overlabored plan _Sartor_ has no plan at all. It is a jumble of thoughts, notions, attacks on shams, scraps of Germanphilosophy, --everything that Carlyle wrote about during his seven-yearssojourn on his moorland farm. The only valuable things in _Sartor_ area few autobiographical chapters, such as "The Everlasting Yea, " and certainpassages dealing with night, the stars, the yearnings of humanity, thesplendors of earth and heaven. Note this picture of Teufelsdroeckh standingalone at the North Cape, "looking like a little belfry": "Silence as of death, for Midnight, even in the Arctic latitudes, has its character: nothing but the granite cliffs ruddy-tinged, the peaceable gurgle of that slow-heaving Polar Ocean, over which in the utmost North the great Sun hangs low and lazy, as if he too were slumbering. Yet is his cloud-couch wrought of crimson and cloth-of-gold; yet does his light stream over the mirror of waters, like a tremulous fire-pillar shooting downwards to the abyss, and hide itself under my feet. In such moments Solitude also is invaluable; for who would speak, or be looked on, when behind him lies all Europe and Africa, fast asleep, except the watchmen; and before him the silent Immensity and Palace of the Eternal, whereof our Sun is but a porch-lamp?" The book has several such passages, written in a psalmodic style, appealingto elemental feeling, to our sense of wonder or reverence before themystery of life and death. It is a pity that we have no edition of_Sartor_ which does justice to its golden nuggets by the simpleexpedient of sifting out the mass of rubbish in which the gold is hidden. The central doctrines of the book are the suppression of self, orselfishness, and the value of honest work in contrast with the evil ofmammon-worship. A CRITICISM OF CARLYLE. Except in his literary essays Carlyle's"rumfustianish growlery of style, " as he called it, is so uneven that nodescription will apply to it. In moments of emotion he uses a chantingprose that is like primitive poetry. Sometimes he forgets Thomas Carlyle, keeps his eye on his subject, and describes it in vivid, picturesque words;then, when he has nothing to say, he thinks of himself and tries to holdyou by his manner, by his ranting or dogmatism. In one mood he is a poet, in another a painter, in a third a stump speaker. In all moods he must haveyour ear, but he succeeds better in getting than in holding it. It has beensaid that his prose is on a level with Browning's verse, but a bettercomparison may be drawn between Carlyle and Walt Whitman. Of each of thesewriters the best that can be said is that his style was his own, that itserved his purpose, and that it is not to be imitated. [Sidenote: HIS TWO SIDES] In formulating any summary of Carlyle the critic must remember that he isdealing with a man of two sides, one prejudiced, dogmatic, jealous ofrivals, the other roughly sincere. On either side Carlyle is a man ofcontradictions. For an odious dead despot like Frederick, who happens toplease him, he turns criticism into eulogy; and for a living poet likeWordsworth he tempers praise by spiteful criticism. [Footnote: Carlyle'spraise of Wordsworth's "fine, wholesome rusticity" is often quoted, butonly in part. If you read the whole passage (in _Reminiscences_) youwill find the effect of Carlyle's praise wholly spoiled by a heartlessdissection of a poet, with whom, as Carlyle confessed, he had very slightacquaintance. ] He writes a score of letters to show that his grief is toodeep for words. He is voluble on "the infinite virtue of silence. " Heproclaims to-day that he "will write no word on any subject till he hasstudied it to the bottom, " and to-morrow will pronounce judgment on Americaor science or some other matter of which he knows nothing. In all thisCarlyle sees no inconsistency; he is sincere in either role, of prophet orstump speaker, and even thinks that humor is one of his prime qualities. [Illustration: ARCH HOME, ECCLEFECHANThe birthplace of Carlyle] Another matter to remember is Carlyle's constant motive rather than hisconstant mistakes. He had the gloomy conviction that he was ordained to cryout against the shams of society; and as most modern things appeared to himas shams, he had to be very busy. Moreover, he had an eye like a hawk forthe small failings of men, especially of living men, but was almost blindto their large virtues. This hawklike vision, which ignores all largematters in a swoop on some petty object, accounts for two things: for themarvelous detail of Carlyle's portraits, and for his merciless criticism ofthe faults of society in general, and of the Victorian age in particular. Such a writer invites both applause and opposition, and in Carlyle's casethe one is as hearty as the other. The only point on which critics arefairly well agreed is that his rugged independence of mind and hispicturesque style appealed powerfully to a small circle of readers inEngland and to a large circle in America. It is doubtful whether any otheressayist, with the possible exception of the serene and hopeful Emerson, had a more stimulating influence on the thought of the latter half of thenineteenth century. * * * * * JOHN RUSKIN (1819-1900) The prose of Ruskin is a treasure house. Nature portrayed as everyman'sHoly Land; descriptions of mountain or landscape, and more beautifuldescriptions of leaf or lichen or the glint of light on a breaking wave;appreciations of literature, and finer appreciations of life itself;startling views of art, and more revolutionary views of that frightfulwaste of human life and labor which we call political economy, --all theseand many more impressions of nature, art and human society are eloquentlyrecorded in the ten thousand pages which are the work of Ruskin's hand. If you would know the secret that binds all his work together, it may beexpressed in two words, sensitiveness and sincerity. From childhood Ruskinwas extremely sensitive to both beauty and ugliness. The beauty of theworld and of all noble things that ever were accomplished in the worldaffected him like music; but he shrank, as if from a blow, from allsordidness and evil, from the mammon-worship of trade, from the cloud ofsmoke that hung over a factory district as if trying to shield from the eyeof heaven so much needless poverty and aimless toil below. So Ruskin was aman halting between two opinions: the artist in him was forever troubled bythe reformer seeking to make the crooked places of life straight and itsrough places plain. He made as many mistakes as another man; in his pagesyou may light upon error or vagary; but you will find nothing to make youdoubt his entire sincerity, his desire to speak truth, his passion forhelping his fellow men. LIFE. The early training of Ruskin may explain both the strength and the weakness of his work. His father was a wealthy wine merchant, his mother a devout woman with puritanic ideas of duty. Both parents were of Scottish and, as Ruskin boasted, of plebeian descent. They had but one child, and in training him they used a strange mixture of severity and coddling, of wisdom and nonsense. The young Ruskin was kept apart from other boys and from the sports which breed a modesty of one's own opinion; his time, work and lonely play were minutely regulated; the slightest infringement of rules brought the stern discipline of rod or reproof. On the other hand he was given the best pictures and the best books; he was taken on luxurious journeys through England and the Continent; he was furnished with tutors for any study to which he turned his mind. When he went up to Oxford, at seventeen, he knew many things which are Greek to the ordinary boy, but was ignorant of almost everything that a boy knows, and that a man finds useful in dealing with the world. [Illustration: JOHN RUSKIN From a photograph by Elliott and Fry] [Sidenote: TRAINING AND ITS RESULTS] There were several results of this early discipline. One was Ruskin's devotion to art, which came from his familiarity with pictures and galleries; another was his minute study of natural objects, which were to him in place of toys; a third was his habit of "speaking his mind" on every subject; a fourth was his rhythmic prose style, which came largely from his daily habit of memorizing the Bible. Still another result of his lonely magnificence, in which he was deprived of boys' society, was that his affection went out on a flood tide of romance to the first attractive girl he met. So he loved, and was laughed at, and was desperately unhappy. Then he married, not the woman of his choice, but one whom his parents picked out for him. The tastes of the couple were hopelessly different; the end was estrangement, with humiliation and sorrow for Ruskin. [Sidenote: TWENTY YEARS OF ART] At twenty-four he produced his first important work, _Modern Painters_ (1843), which he began as a defense of the neglected artist Turner. This controversial book led Ruskin to a deeper study of his subject, which resulted in four more volumes on modern painting. Before these were completed he had "fairly created a new literature of art" by his _Seven Lamps of Architecture_ and _Stones of Venice_. He was appointed professor of fine arts at Oxford; he gave several series of lectures which appeared later as _Lectures on Architecture and Painting_, _Michael Angelo and Tintoret_, _Val d'Arno_ and _The Art of England_. By this time he was renowned as an art critic; but his theories were strongly opposed and he was continually in hot water. In his zeal to defend Turner or Millais or Burne-Jones he was rather slashing in his criticism of other artists. The libel suit brought against him by Whistler, whom he described as a coxcomb who flung a pot of paint in the face of the public, is still talked about in England. The jury (fancy a jury wrestling with a question of art!) found Ruskin guilty, and decided that he should pay for the artist's damaged reputation the sum of one farthing. Whistler ever afterwards wore the coin on his watch chain. [Sidenote: RUSKIN THE REFORMER] It was about the year 1860 that Ruskin came under the influence of Carlyle, and then began the effort at social reform which made wreck of fame and hope and peace of mind. Carlyle had merely preached of manual work; but Ruskin, wholehearted in whatever he did, went out to mend roads and do other useful tasks to show his belief in the doctrine. Carlyle railed against the industrial system of England; but Ruskin devoted his fortune to remedying its evils. He established model tenements; he founded libraries and centers of recreation for workingmen; he took women and children out of factories and set them to spinning or weaving in their own homes; he founded St. George's Guild, a well-housed community which combined work with education, and which shared profits fairly among the workers. England at first rubbed its eyes at these reforms, then shrugged its shoulders as at a harmless kind of madman. But Ruskin had the temper of a crusader; his sword was out against what was even then called "vested interests, " and presently his theories aroused a tempest of opposition. Thackeray, who as editor of the _Cornhill Magazine_ had gladly published Ruskin's first economic essays, was forced by the clamor of readers to discontinue the series. [Footnote: While these essays were appearing, there was published (1864) a textbook of English literature. It spoke well of Ruskin's books of art, but added, "Of late he has lost his way and has written things--papers in the _Cornhill_ chiefly--which are not likely to add to his fame as a writer or to his character as a man of common sense" (Collier, _History of English Literature_, p. 512). ] To this reform period belong _Unto This Last_ and other books dealing with political economy, and also _Sesame and Lilies_, _Crown of Wild Olive_ and _Ethics of the Dust_, which were written chiefly for young people. [Sidenote: END OF THE CRUSADE] For twenty years this crusade continued; then, worn out and misunderstood by both capitalists and workingmen, Ruskin retired (1879) to a small estate called "Brantwood" in the Lake District, His fortune had been spent in his attempt to improve labor conditions, and he lived now upon the modest income from his books. Before he died, in 1900, his friend Charles Eliot Norton persuaded him to write the story of his early life in _Præterita_. The title is strange, but the book itself is, with one exception, the most interesting of Ruskin's works. WORKS OF RUSKIN. The works of Ruskin fall naturally into three classes, which are called criticisms of art, industry and life, but which are, infact, profound studies of the origin and meaning of art on the one hand, and of the infinite value of human life on the other. The most popular of his art criticisms are _St. Mark's Rest_ and_Mornings in Florence_, which are widely used as guidebooks, and whichmay be postponed until the happy time when, in Venice or Florence, one mayread them to best advantage. Meanwhile, in _Seven Lamps ofArchitecture_ or _Stones of Venice_ or the first two volumes of_Modern Painters_, one may grow acquainted with Ruskin's theory ofart. [Sidenote: HIS THEORY OF ART] His fundamental principle was summarized by Pope in the line, "All natureis but art unknown to thee. " That nature is the artist's source ofinspiration, that art at its best can but copy some natural beauty, andthat the copy should be preceded by careful and loving study of theoriginal, --this was the sum of his early teaching. Next, Ruskin lookedwithin the soul of the artist and announced that true art has a spiritualmotive, that it springs from the noblest ideals of life, that the moralvalue of any people may be read in the pictures or buildings which theyproduced. A third principle was that the best works of art, reflecting asthey do the ideals of a community, should belong to the people, not to afew collectors; and a fourth exalted the usefulness of art in increasingnot only the pleasure but the power of life. So Ruskin urged that art betaught in all schools and workshops, and that every man be encouraged toput the stamp of beauty as well as of utility upon the work of his hands;so also he formulated a plan to abolish factories, and by a system of handlabor to give every worker the chance and the joy of self-expression. [Sidenote: THEORY OF ECONOMICS] In his theory of economics Ruskin was even more revolutionary. He wroteseveral works on the subject, but the sum of his teaching may be found in_Unto This Last_; and the sum is that political economy is merelycommercial economy; that it aims to increase trade and wealth at theexpense of men and morals. "There is no wealth but life, " announced Ruskin, "life including all its power of love, of joy and of admiration. " And withminute exactness he outlined a plan for making the nation wealthy, not bymore factories and ships, but by increasing the health and happiness ofhuman beings. Three quarters of a century earlier Thomas Jefferson, in America, hadpleaded for the same ideal of national wealth, and had characterized therace of the nations for commercial supremacy as a contagion of insanity. Jefferson was called a demagogue, Ruskin a madman; but both men wereprofoundly right in estimating the wealth of a nation by its store ofhappiness for home consumption rather than by its store of goods forexport. They were misunderstood because they were too far in advance oftheir age to speak its trade language. They belong not to the past orpresent, but to the future. [Sidenote: FOR YOUNG READERS] If but one work of Ruskin is to be read, let it be _Sesame and Lilies_(1865), which is one of the books that no intelligent reader can afford toneglect. The first chapter, "Of Kings' Treasuries, " is a noble essay on thesubject of reading. The second, "Of Queens' Gardens, " is a study of woman'slife and education, a study which may appear old-fashioned now, but whichhas so much of truth and beauty that it must again, like Colonialfurniture, become our best fashion. These two essays [Footnote: A thirdessay, "The Mystery of Life, " was added to _Sesame and Lilies_. It isa sad, despairing monologue, and the book might be better off without it. ]contain Ruskin's best thought on books and womanly character, and also anoutline of his teaching on nature, art and society. If we read _Sesameand Lilies_ in connection with two other little books, _Crown of WildOlive_, which treats of work, trade and war, and _Ethics of theDust_, which deals with housekeeping, we shall have the best that Ruskinproduced for his younger disciples. THE QUALITY OF RUSKIN. To the sensitiveness and sincerity of Ruskin we havealready called attention. There is a third quality which appearsfrequently, and which we call pedagogical insistence, because the authorseems to labor under the impression that he must drive something into one'shead. This insistent note is apt to offend readers until they learn of Ruskin'smotive and experience. He lived in a commercial age, an age that seemed tohim blind to the beauty of the world; and the purpose of his whole lifewas, as he said, to help those who, having eyes, see not. His aim was high, his effort heroic; but for all his pains he was called a visionary, a manwith a dream book. Yet he was always exact and specific. He would say, "Goto a certain spot at a certain hour, look in a certain direction, and suchand such beauties shall ye see. " And people would go, and wag their heads, and declare that no such prospect as Ruskin described was visible to mortaleyes. [Footnote: For example, Ruskin gave in _Fors Clavigera_ adescription of a beautiful view from a bridge over the Ettrick, inScotland. Some people have sought that view in vain, and a recent criticinsists that it is invisible (Andrew Lang, _History of EnglishLiterature_, p. 592). In Venice or Florence you may still meet travelerswith one of Ruskin's books in hand, peering about for the beauty which hesays is apparent from such and such a spot and which every traveler oughtto see. ] Naturally Ruskin, with his dogmatic temper, grew impatient of suchblindness; hence the increasing note of insistence, of scolding even, towhich critics have called attention. But we can forgive much in a writerwho, with marvelously clear vision, sought only to point out the beauty ofnature and the moral dignity of humanity. [Sidenote: Ruskin's Style] The beauty of Ruskin's style, its musical rhythm or cadence, its wealth offigure and allusion, its brilliant coloring, like a landscape of hisfavorite artist Turner, --all this is a source of pleasure to the reader, entirely aside from the subject matter. Read, for example, the descriptionof St. Mark's Cathedral in _Stones of Venice_, or the reflectedglories of nature in _Præterita_, or the contrast between Salisburytowers and Giotto's campanile in _Seven Lamps of Architecture_, andsee there descriptive eloquence at its best. That this superb eloquence wasdevoted not to personal or party ends, but to winning men to the love ofbeauty and truth and right living, is the secret of Ruskin's high place inEnglish letters and of his enduring influence on English life. * * * * * SUMMARY. The age of Victoria (1837-1901) approaches our own so closely that it is still difficult to form an accurate judgment of its history or literature. In a review of the history of the age we noted three factors, democracy, science, imperialism, which have profoundly influenced English letters from 1850 to the present time. Our study of Victorian literature includes (1) The life and works of the two greater poets of the age, Tennyson and Browning. (2) The work of Elizabeth Barrett, Matthew Arnold, Rossetti, Morris and Swinburne, who were selected from the two hundred representive poets of the period. (3) The life and the chief works of the major novelists, Dickens, Thackeray and George Eliot. (4) A review of some other novelists of the age, the Brontë Sisters, Mrs. Gaskell, Anthony Trollope, Blackmore, Kingsley, Meredith, Hardy and Stevenson. (5) The typical essayists and historians, Macaulay, Carlyle, Ruskin, with a review of other typical groups of writers in the fields of religion, history and science. SELECTIONS FOR READING. Typical selections from all authors named in the text are found in Manly, English Poetry, English Prose; Pancoast, Standard English Poems, Standard English Prose; and several other collections, which are especially useful in a study of the minor writers. The works of the major authors may be read to much better advantage in various inexpensive editions prepared for school use. Only a few such editions are named below for each author, but a fairly complete list is given under Texts in the General Bibliography. Tennyson's selected minor poems, Idylls of the King, The Princess and In Memoriam, in Standard English Classics, Riverside Literature, Pocket Classics, Silver Classics. A good volume containing the best of Tennyson's poems in Athenæum Press Series. Browning and Mrs. Browning, selected poems in Standard English Classics, Lake Classics, English Readings, Belles Lettres Series. Matthew Arnold, selected poems in Golden Treasury Series, Maynard's English Classics; Sohrab and Rustum in Standard English Classics; prose selections in English Readings, Academy Classics. Dickens, Tale of Two Cities, David Copperfield, Christmas Carol in Standard English Classics, Lake Classics; other novels in Everyman's Library. Thackeray, Henry Esmond in Standard English Classics, Pocket Classics; English Humorists in Lake Classics, English Readings; other works in Everyman's Library. George Eliot, Silas Marner, in Standard English Classics, Riverside Literature; Mill on the Floss and other novels in Everyman's Library. Blackmore's Lorna Doone and Mrs. Gaskell's Cranford in Standard English Classics. Reade's Cloister and the Hearth, Kingsley's Westward Ho and Hypatia in Everyman's Library. Macaulay, selected essays in Standard English Classics, Riverside Literature, Lake Classics. Carlyle, Essay on Burns in Standard English Classics, Academy Classics; Heroes and Hero Worship in Athenæum Press, Pocket Classics; French Revolution in Everyman's Library. Ruskin, Sesame and Lilies and selected essays and letters in Standard English Classics; selections from Ruskin's art books in Riverside Literature; other works in Everyman's Library. BIBLIOGRAPHY. The works named below are selected from a large list dealing with the Victorian age chiefly. For more extended works see the General Bibliography. _HISTORY_. McCarthy, History of Our Own Times and The Epoch of Reform. Oman, England in the Nineteenth Century; Lee, Queen Victoria; Bryce, Studies in Contemporary Biography. _LITERATURE_. Saintsbury, History of Nineteenth Century Literature; Harrison, Studies in Early Victorian Literature; Mrs. Oliphant, Literary History of England in the Nineteenth Century; Walker, The Age of Tennyson; Morley, Literature of the Age of Victoria; Stedman, Victorian Poets; Brownell, Victorian Prose Masters. _Tennyson_. Life, by Lyall (English Men of Letters Series), by Horton; Alfred Lord Tennyson, a Memoir by his Son. Napier, Homes and Haunts of Tennyson; Andrew Lang, Alfred Tennyson; Dixon, A Tennyson Primer; Sneath, The Mind of Tennyson; Van Dyke, The Poetry of Tennyson. Essays by Harrison, in Tennyson, Ruskin, Mill and Other Literary Estimates; by Stedman, in Victorian Poets; by Hutton, in Literary Essays; by Dowden, in Studies in Literature; by Forster, in Great Teachers; by Gates, in Studies and Appreciations. _Browning_. Life, by Sharp (Great Writers Series), by Chesterton (E. M. Of L. ). Alexander, Introduction to Browning (Ginn and Company); Corson, Introduction to the Study of Browning; Phelps, Browning: How to Know Him; Symonds, Introduction to the Study of Browning; Brooke, Poetry of Robert Browning; Harrington, Browning Studies. Essays by Stedman, Dowden, Hutton, Forster. _Dickens_. Life, by Forster, by Ward (E. M. Of L. ), by Marzials. Gissing, Charles Dickens; Chesterton, Charles Dickens; Kitton, Novels of Dickens. Essays by Harrison, Bagehot; A. Lang, in Gadshill edition of Dickens's works. _Thackeray_. Life, by Merivale and Marzials, by Trollope (E. M. Of L. ). Crowe, Homes and Haunts of Thackeray. Essays, by Brownell, in English Prose Masters; by Lilly, in Four English Humorists; by Harrison, in Studies in Early Victorian Literature; by Scudder, in Social Ideals in English Letters. _George Eliot_. Life, by L. Stephen (E. M. Of L. ), by O. Browning, by Cross. Cooke, George Eliot: a Critical Study of her Life and Writings. Essays by Brownell, Harrison, Dowden, Hutton. _Macaulay_. Life, by Trevelyan, by Morrison (E. M. Of L. ). Essays by L. Stephen, Bagehot, Saintsbury, Harrison, M. Arnold. _Carlyle_. Life, by Garnett, by Nichol (E. M. Of L. ), by Froude. Carlyle's Letters and Reminiscences, edited by Norton. Craig, The Making of Carlyle. Essays by Lowell, Brownell, Hutton, Harrison. _Ruskin_. Life, by Harrison (E. M. Of L. ), by Collingwood. Ruskin's Præterita (autobiography). Mather, Ruskin, his Life and Teaching; Cooke, Studies in Ruskin; Waldstein, The Work of John Ruskin; W. M. Rossetti, Ruskin, Rossetti and Pre-Raphaelitism. Essays by Brownell, Saintsbury, Forster, Harrison. * * * * * GENERAL BIBLIOGRAPHY Books dealing with individual authors and with special periods of English literature are listed in the various chapter endings of this history. Following are some of the best works for general reference, for extended study and for supplementary reading. _HISTORY_. A brief, trustworthy textbook of history, such as Cheyney's Short History of England (Ginn and Company) or Gardiner's Student's History (Longmans), should always be at hand in studying English literature. More detailed works are Traill, Social England, 6 vols. (Putnam); Bright, History of England, 5 vols. (Longmans); Green, History of the English People, 4 vols. (Harper); Green, Short History of the English People, revised edition, 1 vol. (American Book Co. ); latest revision of Green's Short History, with appendix of recent events to 1900, in Everyman's Library (Putnam); Kendall, Source Book of English History (Macmillan); Colby, Selections from the Sources of English History (Longmans); Lingard, History of England, to 1688, 10 vols. (a standard Catholic history). Mitchell, English Lands, Letters and Kings, 5 vols. (Scribner), a series of pleasant essays of history and literature. _LITERARY HISTORY_. Cambridge History of English Literature, to be completed in 14 vols. (Putnam), by different authors, not always in harmony; Channels of English Literature (Button) treats of epic, drama, history, essay, novel and other types, each in a separate volume; Jusserand, Literary History of the English People, to 1650, 2 vols. (Putnam), a fascinating record; Ten Brink, English Literature, to 1550, 3 vols. (Holt), good material, clumsy style; Taine, English Literature, 2 vols. (Holt), brilliant but not trustworthy; Handbooks of English Literature, 9 vols. (Macmillan); Garnett and Gosse, Illustrated History of English Literature, 4 bulky volumes (Macmillan), good for pictures; Nicoll and Seccombe, History of English Literature, from Chaucer to end of Victorian era, 3 vols. (Dodd); Morley, English Writers, to 1650, 11 vols. (Cassell); Chambers, Cyclopedia of English Literature, 3 vols. (Lippincott). _BIOGRAPHY_. Dictionary of National Biography, 63 vols. (Macmillan). English Men of Letters, a volume to each author (Macmillan); briefer series of the same kind are Great Writers (Scribner), Beacon Biographies (Houghton), Westminster Biographies (Small). Allibone, Dictionary of Authors, 5 vols. (Lippincott). Hinchman and Gummere, Lives of Great English Writers (Houghton), offers thirty-eight biographies in a single volume. _LITERARY TYPES_. Courthope, History of English Poetry, 4 vols. (Macmillan); Gummere, Handbook of Poetics (Ginn and Company); Stedman, Nature and Elements of Poetry (Houghton); Saintsbury, History of English Prosody (Macmillan); Alden, Specimens of English Verse (Holt). Steenstrup, The Mediæval Popular Ballad, translated from the Danish by Edward Cox (Ginn and Company); Gummere, The Popular Ballad (Houghton). Ward, History of Dramatic Literature, to 1714, 3 vols. (Macmillan); Caffin, Appreciation of the Drama (Baker). Raleigh, The English Novel (Scribner); Hamilton, Materials and Methods of Fiction (Baker); Cross, Development of the English Novel (Macmillan); Perry, Study of Prose Fiction (Houghton). Saintsbury, History of Criticism, 3 vols. (Dodd); Gayley and Scott, Introduction to Methods and Materials of Literary Criticism (Ginn and Company); Winchester, Principles of Criticism (Macmillan); Worsfold, Principles of Criticism (Longmans); Moulton, Library of Literary Criticism, 8 vols. (Malkan). _ESSAYS OF LITERATURE_. Bagehot, Literary Studies; Hazlitt, Lectures on the English poets; Lowell, Literary Essays; Mackail, Springs of Helicon (English poets from Chaucer to Milton); Minto, Characteristics of English Poets (Chaucer to Elizabethan dramatists); Matthew Arnold, Essays in Criticism; Leslie Stephen, Hours in a Library; Stevenson, Familiar Studies of Men and Books; Birrell, Obiter Dicta; Hales, Folia Litteraria; Walter Pater, Appreciations; Woodberry, Makers of Literature; Dowden, Studies in Literature and Transcripts and Studies; Gates, Studies in Appreciation; Harrison, The Choice of Books; Bates, Talks on the Study of Literature. _COLLECTIONS OF POETRY AND PROSE_. Manly, English Poetry, English Prose, 2 vols. , containing selections from all important English authors (Ginn and Company); Newcomer and Andrews, Twelve Centuries of English Poetry and Prose (Scott); Century Readings in English Literature (Century Co. ); Pancoast, Standard English Poetry, Standard English Prose, 2 vols. (Holt); Leading English Poets from Chaucer to Browning (Houghton); Oxford Book of English Verse. Oxford Treasury of English Literature, 3 vols. (Clarendon Press); Ward, English Poets, 4 vols. , and Craik, English Prose Selections, 5 vols. (Macmillan); Morley, Library of English Literature, 5 vols. (Cassell). _LANGUAGE_. Lounsbury, History of the English Language (Holt); Emerson, Brief History of the English Language (Macmillan); Welsh, Development of English Language and Literature (Scott); Bradley, Making of English (Macmillan); Greenough and Kittredge, Words and their Ways in English Speech (Macmillan); Anderson, Study of English Words (American Book Co. ). _MISCELLANEOUS_. Classic Myths in English Literature (Ginn and Company); Ryland, Chronological Outlines of English Literature, names and dates only (Macmillan); Raleigh, Style (Longmans); Brewer, Reader's Handbook (Lippincott); Hutton, Literary Landmarks of London (Harper); Boynton, London in English Literature (University of Chicago Press); Dalbiac, Dictionary of English Quotations (Macmillan); Bartlett, Familiar Quotations (Little); Walsh, International Encyclopedia of Quotations (Winston). _SCHOOL TEXTS_. [Footnote: The chief works of English and American literature are now widely published in inexpensive editions prepared especially for classroom use. Descriptive catalogues of these handy little editions are issued by the various educational publishers. ] Standard English Classics and Athenæum Press Series (Ginn and Company); Riverside Literature (Houghton); Pocket Classics, Golden Treasury Series (Macmillan); Lake Classics (Scott); Silver Classics (Silver); Longmans' English Classics (Longmans); English Readings (Holt); Maynard's English Classics (Merrill); Caxton Classics (Scribner); Belles Lettres Series (Heath); King's Classics (Luce); Canterbury Classics (Rand); Academy Classics (Allyn); Cambridge Literature (Sanborn); Student's Series (Sibley); Camelot Series (Simmons); Carisbrooke Library (Routledge); World's Classics (Clarendon Press); Lakeside Classics (Ainsworth); Standard Literature (University Publishing Company); Eclectic English Classics (American Book Co. ); Cassell's National Library (Cassell); Everyman's Library (Button); Morley's Universal Library (Routledge); Bohn Library (Macmillan); Little Masterpieces (Doubleday); Handy Volume Classics (Crowell); Arthurian Romances (Nutt); New Mediæval Library (Duffield); Arber's English Reprints (Macmillan); Mermaid Dramatists (Scribner); Temple Dramatists (Macmillan); Home and School Library, a series of texts prepared for young readers (Ginn and Company). * * * * * OUTLINES OF AMERICAN LITERATURE CHAPTER I THE PIONEERS AND NATION-BUILDERS 'Twas glory once to be a Roman: She makes it glory now to be a man. Bayard Taylor, "America" We have this double interest in early American literature, that it is ourown and unlike any other. The literatures of Europe began with wonder talesof a golden age, with stories of fairy ships, of kings akin to gods, ofheroes who ventured into enchanted regions and there waged battle withdragons or the powers of darkness. American literature began withhistorical records, with letters of love and friendship, with diaries orjournals of exploration, with elegiac poems lamenting the death of belovedleaders or hearth companions, --in a word, with the chronicles of humanexperience. In this respect, of recording the facts and the truth of lifeas men and women fronted life bravely in the New World, our earlyliterature differs radically from that of any other great nation: it bringsus face to face not with myths or shadows but with our ancestors. TWO VIEWS OF THE PIONEERS. It has become almost a habit among historians todisparage early American literature, and nearly all our textbooks apologizefor it on the ground that the forefathers had no artistic feeling, theirsouls being oppressed by the gloom and rigor of Puritanism. Even as we read this apology our eyes rest contentedly upon a beautiful oldpiece of Colonial furniture, fashioned most artistically by the very menwho are pitied for their want of art. We remember also that the Puritansfurnished only one of several strong elements in early American life, andthat wherever the Puritan influence was strongest there books and literaryculture did most abound: their private libraries, for example, make our ownappear rather small and trashy by comparison. [Footnote: When Plymouthconsisted of a score of cabins and a meetinghouse it had at least twoexcellent libraries. Bradford had over three hundred books, and Brewsterfour hundred, consisting of works of poetry, philosophy, science, devotion, and miscellanies covering the entire field of human knowledge. In view ofthe scarcity of books in 1620, one of these collections, which were commonin all the New England settlements, was equivalent to a modern library ofthirty or forty thousand volumes. ] Cotton Mather, disciplined in thestrictest of Puritan homes, wrote his poems in Greek, conducted a largeforeign correspondence in Latin, read enormously, published four hundredworks, and in thousands of citations proved himself intimate with theworld's books of poetry and history, science and religion. That the leadersof the colonies, south and north, were masters of an excellent prose styleis evident from their own records; that their style was influenced by theirfamiliarity with the best literature appears in many ways, --in the immensecollection of books in Byrd's mansion in Virginia, for instance, or in theabundant quotations that are found in nearly all Colonial writings. Beforeentering college (and there was never another land with so few people andso many colleges as Colonial America) boys of fourteen passed a classicalexamination which few graduates would now care to face; and the men of ourearly legislatures produced state papers which for force of reasoning andlucidity of expression have never been surpassed. [Sidenote: THE QUESTION OF ART] Again, our whole conception of American art may be modified by theseconsiderations: that it requires more genius to build a free state than tomake a sonnet, and the Colonists were mighty state-builders; that a ship isa beautiful object, and American ships with their graceful lines andtowering clouds of canvas were once famous the world over; thatarchitecture is a noble art, and Colonial architecture still charms us byits beauty and utility after three hundred years of experimental building. "Art" is a great word, and we use it too narrowly when we apply it to anode of Shelley or a mutilated statue of Praxiteles, but are silent before aColonial church or a free commonwealth or the Constitution of the UnitedStates. [Illustration: ENTRANCE TO "WESTOVER, " HOME OF WILLIAM BYRD] Instead of an apology for our early literature, therefore, we offer thispossible explanation: that our forefathers, who set their faces to one ofthe most heroic tasks ever undertaken by man, were too busy with greatdeeds inspired by the ideal of liberty to find leisure for the epic ordrama in which the deeds and the ideal should be worthily reflected. Theyleft that work of commemoration to others, and they are still waitingpatiently for their poet. Meanwhile we read the straightforward recordwhich they left as their only literary memorial, not as we read theimaginative story of Beowulf or Ulysses, but for the clear light of truthwhich it sheds upon the fathers and mothers of a great nation. * * * * * THE COLONIAL PERIOD (1607-1765) The Colonial period extends from the first English settlement at Jamestownto the Stamp Act and other measures of "taxation without representation"which tended to unite the colonies and arouse the sleeping spirit ofnationality. During this century and a half the Elizabethan dramatistsproduced their best work; Milton, Bunyan, Dryden and a score of lesserwriters were adding to the wealth of English literature; but not a singlenoteworthy volume crossed the Atlantic to reflect in Europe the lyric ofthe wilderness, the drama of the commonwealth, the epic of democracy. Suchbooks as were written here dealt largely with matters of religion, government and exploration; and we shall hardly read these books withsympathy, and therefore with understanding, unless we remember two facts:that the Colonists, grown weary of ancient tyranny, were determined towrite a new page in the world's history; and that they reverently believedGod had called them to make that new page record the triumph of freedom andmanhood. Hence the historical impulse and the moral or religious bent ofnearly all our early writers. [Illustration: PLYMOUTH IN 1662. BRADFORD'S HOUSE ON RIGHT] ANNALISTS AND HISTORIANS. Of the fifty or more annalists of the period weselect two as typical of the rest. The first is William Bradford(_cir_. 1590-1657), a noble and learned man, at one time governor ofthe Plymouth Colony. In collaboration with Winslow he wrote a Journal ofthe _Mayflower's_ voyage (long known as _Mourt's Relation_), andhe continued this work independently by writing _Of PlimouthPlantation_, a ruggedly sincere history of the trials and triumph of thePilgrim Fathers. The second annalist is William Byrd (1674-1744), who, acentury after Bradford, wrote his _History of the Dividing Line_ andtwo other breezy Journals that depict with equal ease and gayety thesouthern society of the early days and the march or campfire scenes of anexploring party in the wilderness. [Illustration: WILLIAM BYRD] These two writers unconsciously reflected two distinct influences inColonial literature, which are epitomized in the words "Puritan" and"Cavalier. " Bradford, though a Pilgrim (not a Puritan), was profoundlyinfluenced by the puritanic spirit of his age, with its militantindependence, its zeal for liberty and righteousness, its confidence in thedivine guidance of human affairs. When he wrote his history, therefore, hewas in the mood of one to whom the Lord had said, as to Abraham, "Get theeout of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father's house; andI will make of thee a great nation. " Byrd, though born and bred indemocratic Virginia, had in him something of the aristocrat. He reminds usof the gay Cavaliers who left England to escape the stern discipline ofCromwell and the triumphant Puritans. When he looked forth upon his goodlyplantation, or upon the wilderness with its teeming game, he saw them notwith the eyes of prophet or evangelist, but as one who remembered that itwas written, "And God saw everything that he had made; and behold it wasvery good. " So he wrote his Journal in an entertaining way, making the bestof misfortune, cracking a joke at difficulty or danger, and was wellcontent to reflect this pleasant world without taking it upon hisconscience to criticize or reform it. The same two types of Cavalier and Puritan appear constantly in our own andother literatures as representative of two world-views, two philosophies. Chaucer and Langland were early examples in English poetry, the one withhis _Canterbury Tales_, the other with his _Piers Plowman_; andever since then the same two classes of writers have been reflecting thesame life from two different angles. They are not English or American buthuman types; they appear in every age and in every free nation. COLONIAL POETRY. There were several recognized poets in Colonial days, andeven the annalists and theologians had a rhyming fancy which often brokeloose from the bounds of prose. The quantity of Colonial verse is thereforerespectable, but the quality of it suffered from two causes: first, thewriters overlooked the feeling of their own hearts (the true source oflyric poetry) and wrote of Indian wars, theology and other unpoeticmatters; second, they wrote poetry not for its own sake but to teach moralor religious lessons. [Footnote: The above criticism applies only to poetrywritten in English for ordinary readers. At that time many college menwrote poetry in Greek and Latin, and the quality of it compares favorablywith similar poetry written in England during the same period. Severalspecimens of this "scholars' poetry" are preserved in Mather's_Magnalia_; and there is one remarkable poem, in Greek, which waswritten in Harvard College by an Indian (one of Eliot's "boys") who a fewyears earlier had been a whooping savage. ] Thus, the most widely read poemof the period was _The Day of Doom_, which aimed frankly to recallsinners from their evil ways by holding before their eyes the terrors ofthe last judgment. It was written by Michael Wigglesworth in 1662. Thisman, who lived a heroic but melancholy life, had a vein of true poetry inhim, as when he wrote his "Dear New England, Dearest Land to Me, " and fromhis bed of suffering sent out the call to his people: Cheer on, brave souls, my heart is with you all. But he was too much absorbed in stern theological dogmas to find the beautyof life or the gold of poesie; and his masterpiece, once prized by animmense circle of readers, seems now a grotesque affair, which might appeareven horrible were it not rendered harmless by its jigging, Yankee-Doodleversification. The most extravagantly praised versifier of the age, and the first to win areputation in England as well as in America, was Anne Bradstreet(1612-1672), who wrote a book of poems that a London publisher proudlyissued under the title of _The Tenth Muse_ (1650). The best ofColonial poets was Thomas Godfrey of Philadelphia (1736-1763), whose_Juvenile Poems, with the Prince of Parthia, a Tragedy_ contained afew lyrics, odes and pastorals that were different in form and spirit fromanything hitherto attempted on this side of the Atlantic. This slendervolume was published in 1765, soon after Godfrey's untimely death. With itsevident love of beauty and its carefulness of poetic form, it marks thebeginning here of artistic literature; that is, literature which waswritten to please readers rather than to teach history or moral lessons. NATURE AND HUMAN NATURE. In the literature of the world the two subjects ofabiding poetic interest are nature and human nature; but as these subjectsappear in Colonial records they are uniformly prosaic, and the reason isvery simple. Before nature can be the theme of poets she must assume herwinsome mood, must "soothe and heal and bless" the human heart after theclamor of politics, the weariness of trade, the cruel strife of society. Toread Wordsworth's "Tintern Abbey" or Bryant's "To a Waterfowl" is tounderstand the above criticism. But the nature which the Colonists firstlooked upon seemed wild and strange and often terrible. Their somberforests were vast, mysterious, forbidding; and they knew not what perilslurked in them or beyond them. The new climate might give them sunshine orhealing rain, but was quite as likely to strike their houses withthunderbolts or harrow their harvests with a cyclone. Meanwhile maraudingcrows pulled up their precious corn; fierce owls with tufted heads preyedupon their poultry; bears and eagles harried their flocks; the winter wailof the wolf pack or the scream of a hungry panther, sounding through icy, echoless woods, made them shiver in their cabins and draw nearer theblazing fire of pine knots on the hearth. [Illustration: NEW AMSTERDAM (NEW YORK) IN 1663] We can understand, therefore, why there was little poetry of nature inColonial literature, and why, instead of sonnets to moonbeams ornightingales, we meet quaint and fascinating studies of natural orunnatural history. Such are Josselyn's _New England's RaritiesDiscovered_ and the first part of William Wood's _New England'sProspect_; and such are many chapters of Byrd's _Dividing Line_ andother annals that deal with plant or animal life, --books that we now readwith pleasure, since the nature that was once wild and strange has becomein our eyes familiar and dear. As for the second subject of poetic interest, human nature, the Colonistshad as much of that as any other people; but human nature as it revealeditself in religious controversy, or became a burden in the immigrants thatwere unloaded on our shores for the relief of Europe or the enrichment ofthe early transportation companies, as Bradford and Beverley both tellus, --this furnished a vital subject not for poetry but for prose andprotest. [Sidenote: THE INDIANS] The Indians especially, "the wild men" as they were called, slipping out ofthe shadows or vanishing into mysterious distances, were a source ofanxiety and endless speculation to the early settlers. European writerslike Rousseau, who had never seen an Indian or heard a war-whoop, had beenindustrious in idealizing the savages, attributing to them all manner ofnoble virtues; and the sentimental attitude of these foreign writers wasreflected here, after the eastern Indians had well-nigh vanished, in suchstories as Mrs. Morton's _Quabi, or The Virtues of Nature_, a romancein verse which was published in 1790. In the same romantic strain areCooper's _Last of the Mohicans_, Helen Hunt's _Ramona_ and someof the early poems of Freneau and Whittier. The Colonists, on the other hand, had no poetic illusions about thesavages. Their enjoyment of this phase of human nature was hardly possibleso long as they had to proceed warily on a forest trail, their eyes keenfor the first glimpse of a hideously painted face, their ears alert for thetwang of a bowstring or the hiss of a feathered arrow. Their deep butpractical interest in the Indians found expression in scores of books, which fall roughly into three groups. In the first are the scholarly worksof the heroic John Eliot, "the apostle to the Indians"; of Daniel Gookinalso, and of a few others who made careful studies of the language andcustoms of the various Indian tribes. In the second group are the startlingexperiences of men and women who were carried away by the savages, leavingslaughtered children and burning homes behind them. Such are MaryRowlandson's _The Sovereignty and Goodness of God_ and John Williams's_The Redeemed Captive_, both famous in their day, and still of livelyinterest. In the third group are the fighting stories, such as John Mason's_History of the Pequot War_. The adventures and hairbreadth escapesrecorded as sober facts in these narratives were an excellent substitutefor fiction during the Colonial period. Moreover, they furnished a motiveand method for the Indian tales and Wild West stories which have sinceappeared as the sands of the sea for multitude. RELIGIOUS WRITERS. A very large part of our early writings is devoted toreligious subjects, and for an excellent reason; namely, that large numbersof the Colonists came to America to escape religious strife or persecutionat home. In the New World they sought religious peace as well as freedom ofworship, and were determined to secure it not only for themselves but fortheir children's children. Hence in nearly all their writings the religiousmotive was uppermost. Hardly were they settled here, however, when theywere rudely disturbed by agitators who fomented discord by preaching eachhis own pet doctrine or heresy. Presently arose a score of controversialwriters; and then Anne Hutchinson, Roger Williams and the early Quakerswere disciplined or banished, not because of their faith (for the fact isthat all the colonies contained men of widely different beliefs who livedpeaceably together), but because these unbalanced reformers wereobstinately bent upon stirring up strife in a community which had crossedthree thousand miles of ocean in search of peace. Of the theological writers we again select two, not because they weretypical, --for it is hard to determine who, among the hundred writers thatfronted the burning question of religious tolerance, were representative oftheir age, --but simply because they towered head and shoulders above theircontemporaries. These are Cotton Mather and Jonathan Edwards; the one themost busy man of his age in politics, religion, education and allphilanthropic endeavor; the other a profound thinker, who was in the worldbut not of it, and who devoted the great powers of his mind to suchproblems as the freedom of the human will and the origin of the religiousimpulse in humanity. [Illustration: COTTON MATHER] [Sidenote: COTTON MATHER] Cotton Mather (1663-1728) is commonly known by his _Wonders of theInvisible World_, which dealt with the matter of demons and witchcraft;but that is one of the least of his four hundred works, and it has given awrong impression of the author and of the age in which he lived. His chiefwork is the _Magnalia Christi Americana, or the Ecclesiastical History ofNew England_ (1702), which is a strange jumble of patriotism andpedantry, of wisdom and foolishness, written in the fantastic style ofRobert Burton's _Anatomy of Melancholy_. The most interesting andvaluable parts of this chaotic work are the second and third books, whichgive us the life stories of Bradford, Winthrop, Eliot, Phipps and manyother heroic worthies who helped mightily in laying the foundation of theAmerican republic. [Illustration: JONATHAN EDWARDS] The most famous works of Jonathan Edwards (1703-1758) are the so-called_Freedom of the Will_ and the _Treatise Concerning the ReligiousAffections_; but these are hard reading, not to be lightly undertaken. It is from the author's minor and neglected works that one receives theimpression that he was a very great and noble man, shackled by a terribletheology. By his scholarship, his rare sincerity, his love of truth, hisoriginal mind and his transparent style of writing he exercised probably agreater influence at home and abroad than any other writer of the colonialera. In Whittier's poem "The Preacher" there is a tribute to the tenderhumanity of Edwards, following this picture of his stern thinking: In the church of the wilderness Edwards wrought, Shaping his creed at the forge of thought; And with Thor's own hammer welded and bent The iron links of his argument, Which strove to grasp in its mighty span The purpose of God and the fate of man. * * * * * THE REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD (1765-1800) The literary period included in the above term is, in general, the latterhalf of the eighteenth century; more particularly it extends from the StampAct (1765), which united the colonies in opposition to Britain's policy oftaxation, to the adoption of the Constitution (1787) and the inaugurationof Washington as first president of the new nation. [Sidenote: PARTY LITERATURE] The writings of this stormy period reflect the temper of two very differentclasses who were engaged in constant literary Party warfare. In the tenseyears which preceded the Literature Revolution the American peopleseparated into two hostile parties: the Tories, or Loyalists, who supportedthe mother country; and the Whigs, or Patriots, who insisted on the rightof the colonies to manage their own affairs, and who furnished the armiesthat followed Washington in the War of Independence. Then, when America hadwon a place among the free nations of the world, her people were againdivided on the question of the Constitution. On the one side were theFederalists, who aimed at union in the strictest sense; that is, at astrongly centralized government with immense powers over all its parts. Onthe other side were the Anti-Federalists, or Antis, who distrusted themonarchical tendency of every centralized government since time began, andwho aimed to safeguard democracy by leaving the governing power as largelyas possible in the hands of the several states. It is necessary to havethese distinctions clearly in mind in reading Revolutionary literature, fora very large part of its prose and poetry reflects the antagonistic aims orideals of two parties which stood in constant and most bitter opposition. In general, the literature of the Revolution is dominated by political andpractical interests; it deals frankly with this present world, aims to findthe best way through its difficulties, and so appears in marked contrastwith the theological bent and pervasive "other worldliness" of Colonialwritings. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. Standing between the two eras, and marking thetransition from spiritual to practical interests, is Benjamin Franklin(1706-1790), a "self-made" man, who seems well content with his handiwork. During the latter part of his life and for a century after his death he washeld up to young Americans as a striking example of practical wisdom andworldly success. [Illustration: BENJAMIN FRANKLIN] The narrative of Franklin's patriotic service belongs to political ratherthan to literary history; for though his pen was busy for almost seventyyears, during which time he produced an immense amount of writing, his endwas always very practical rather than aesthetic; that is, he aimed toinstruct rather than to please his readers. Only one of his works is nowwidely known, the incomplete _Autobiography_, which is in the form ofa letter telling a straightforward story of Franklin's early life, of thedisadvantages under which he labored and the industry by which he overcamethem. For some reason the book has become a "classic" in our literature, and young Americans are urged to read it; though they often show anindependent taste by regarding it askance. As an example of what may beaccomplished by perseverance, and as a stimulus to industry in the prosaicmatter of getting a living, it doubtless has its value; but one will learnnothing of love or courtesy or reverence or loyalty to high ideals byreading it; neither will one find in its self-satisfied pages anyconception of the moral dignity of humanity or of the infinite value of thehuman soul. The chief trouble with the _Autobiography_ and most otherworks of Franklin is that in them mind and matter, character andreputation, virtue and prosperity, are for the most part hopelesslyconfounded. On the other hand, there is a sincerity, a plain directness of style in thewritings of Franklin which makes them pleasantly readable. Unlike someother apostles of "common sense" he is always courteous and of a friendlyspirit; he seems to respect the reader as well as himself and, even in hisargumentative or humorous passages, is almost invariably dignified inexpression. [Illustration: FRANKLIN'S SHOP] Other works of Franklin which were once popular are the maxims of his_Poor Richard's Almanac_, which appeared annually from 1732 to 1757. These maxims--such as "Light purse, heavy heart, " "Diligence is the motherof good luck, " "He who waits upon Fortune is never sure of a dinner, " "Godhelps them who help themselves, " "Honesty is the best policy, " and manyothers in a similar vein--were widely copied in Colonial and Europeanpublications; and to this day they give to Americans abroad a reputationfor "Yankee" shrewdness. The best of them were finally strung together inthe form of a discourse (the alleged speech of an old man at an auction, where people were complaining of the taxes), which under various titles, such as "The Way to Wealth" and "Father Abraham's Speech, " has beentranslated into every civilized language. Following is a brief selectionfrom which one may judge the spirit of the entire address: "It would be thought a hard government that should tax its people one tenth part of their time, to be employed in its service; but idleness taxes many of us much more; sloth, by bringing on diseases, absolutely shortens life. Sloth, like rust, consumes faster than labor wears, while 'The used key is always bright, ' as Poor Richard says. 'But dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of, ' as Poor Richard says. How much more than is necessary do we spend in sleep, forgetting that the sleeping fox catches no poultry, and that there will be sleeping enough in the grave, as Poor Richard says. If time be of all things the most precious, wasting time must be, as Poor Richard says, the greatest prodigality; since, as he elsewhere tells us, 'Lost time is never found again, ' and what we call time enough always proves little enough. Let us, then, be up and be doing, and doing to the purpose; so by diligence shall we do more with less perplexity. 'Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry, all easy'; and, 'He that riseth late must trot all day and shall scarce overtake his business at night'; while 'Laziness travels so slowly that Poverty soon overtakes him. ' 'Drive thy business, let not that drive thee'; and, 'Early to bed, and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise, ' as Poor Richard says. " REVOLUTIONARY POETRY. The poetry of the Revolution, an abundant but weedycrop, was badly influenced by two factors: by the political strife betweenPatriots and Loyalists, and by the slavish imitation of Pope and otherformalists who were then the models for nearly all versifiers on both sidesof the Atlantic. The former influence appears in numerous ballads ornarrative poems, which were as popular in the days of Washington as everthey were in the time of Robin Hood. Every important event of theRevolution was promptly celebrated in verse; but as the country was thensharply divided, almost every ballad had a Whig or a Tory twist to it. Inconsequence we must read two different collections, such as Moore's_Songs and Ballads of the American Revolution_ and Sargent's_Loyalist Poetry of the Revolution_, for supplementary views of thesame great struggle. [Sidenote: THE HARTFORD WITS] The influence of Pope and his school is especially noticeable in the workof a group of men called the Hartford Wits, who at the beginning of ournational life had the worthy ambition to create a national literature. Prominent among these so-called wits were Joel Barlow (1754-1812) andTimothy Dwight (1752-1817). In such ponderous works as Barlow's_Columbiad_ and Dwight's _Conquest of Canaan_, both written inmechanical rhymed couplets, we have a reflection not of the glories ofAmerican history, as the authors intended, but of two aspiring men who, without genius or humor, hoped by industry to produce poems that in size atleast should be worthy of a country that stretched between two oceans. More gifted than either of his fellow "wits" was John Trumbull (1750-1831), who had the instinct of a poet but who was led aside by the strife of Whigsand Tories into the barren field of political satire. His best-known workis _M'Fingal_ (1775), a burlesque poem in the doggerel style ofButler's _Hudibras_, which ridiculed a Tory squire and described hisbarbarous punishment at the hands of a riotous mob of Whigs. It was themost widely quoted poem of the entire Revolutionary period, and is stillinteresting as an example of rough humor and as a reflection of themilitant age in which it was produced. [Sidenote: FRENEAU] By far the best poet of the Revolution was Philip Freneau (1752-1832). Inhis early years he took Milton instead of Pope for his poetic master; then, as his independence increased, he sought the ancient source of all poetryin the feeling of the human heart in presence of nature or human nature. Insuch poems as "The House of Night, " "Indian Burying Ground, " "WildHoneysuckle, " "Eutaw Springs, " "Ruins of a Country Inn" and a few others inwhich he speaks from his own heart, he anticipated the work of Wordsworth, Coleridge and other leaders of what is now commonly known as the romanticrevival in English poetry. When the Revolution drew on apace Freneau abandoned his poetic dream andexercised a ferocious talent for satiric verse in lashing English generals, native Tories, royal proclamations and other matters far removed frompoetry. In later years he wrote much prose also, and being a radical andoutspoken democrat he became a thorn in the side of Washington and theFederal party. The bulk of his work, both prose and verse, is a red-pepperykind of commentary on the political history of the age in which he lived. [Illustration: PHILIP FRENEAU] ORATORS AND STATESMEN. For a full century, or from the Stamp Act to theCivil War, oratory was a potent influence in molding our national life; andunlike other influences, which grow by slow degrees, it sprang intovigorous life in the period of intense agitation that preceded theRevolution. Never before or since has the power of the spoken word beenmore manifest than during the years when questions of state were debated, not by kings or counselors behind closed doors, but by representative menin open assembly, by farmers and artisans in town halls fronting a villagegreen, by scholarly ministers in the pulpits of churches whose whitesteeples with their golden vanes spoke silently, ceaselessly, of God andFreedom as the two motives which had inspired the fathers to brave theperils of a savage wilderness. Among the most famous addresses of the age were the speech of James Otis inthe town hall at Boston (1761) and the "Liberty or Death" speech of PatrickHenry to the Virginia burgesses assembled in St. John's church in Richmond(1775). To compare these stirring appeals to patriotism with theparliamentary addresses of a brilliant contemporary, Edmund Burke, is tonote a striking difference between English and American oratory of theperiod, the one charming the ear by its eloquence, the other rousing thewill to action like a bugle call. [Illustration: THOMAS JEFFERSON] The statesmen of the Revolution, that glorious band whom Washington led, were also voluminous writers and masters of a clear, forceful style; but itwould probably surprise them now to find themselves included in a historyof literature. In truth, they hardly belong there; for they wrote not withany artistic impulse to create a work of beauty that should please theirreaders; their practical aim was to inculcate sound political principles orto move their readers to the right action. If we contrast them with certainof their British contemporaries, with Goldsmith and Burns for example, thetruth of the above criticism will be evident. Nevertheless, these statesmenproduced a body of so-called citizen literature, devoted to the principlesand duties of free government, which has never been rivaled in its ownfield and which is quite as remarkable in its own way as the nature poetryof Bryant or the romances of Cooper or any other purely literary workproduced in America. [Illustration: ALEXANDER HAMILTON] HAMILTON AND JEFFERSON. These two statesmen, who became bitter antagonistsduring the struggle over the Constitution, may be selected as typical ofall the rest. The story of their splendid services in the cause of libertycannot be told here; such men belong to history rather than to literature;but we may at least note that they deserve more careful and unprejudicedstudy than rival political parties have thus far given them. Their work hasa broad human interest which extends far beyond the borders of America, since they stand for two radically different conceptions of life, onearistocratic, the other democratic, which appear in every age and explainthe political and social divisions among free peoples. Hamilton (theFederalist) denied the right and the ability of common men to governthemselves; he was the champion of aristocracy, of class privilege, ofcentralized power in the hands of the few whom he deemed worthy by birth ortalent to govern a nation. The most significant trait of Jefferson (theAnti-Federalist) was his lifelong devotion to democracy. He believed incommon men, in their ability to choose the right and their purpose tofollow it, and he mightily opposed every tendency to aristocracy or classprivilege in America. In the struggle over the Constitution he was fearfulthat the United States government would become monarchical if given toomuch authority, and aimed to safeguard democracy by leaving the governingpower as largely as possible in the hands of the several states. To readerswho are not politicians the most interesting thing concerning these twoleaders is that Hamilton, the champion of aristocracy, was obscurely bornand appeared here as a stranger to make his own way by his own efforts;while Jefferson, the uncompromising democrat, came from an excellentVirginia family and was familiar from his youth with aristocratic society. [Illustration: MONTICELLO, THE HOME OF JEFFERSON IN VIRGINIAThe westward front] [Sidenote: TYPICAL WRITINGS] The best-known work of Hamilton (to which Madison and Jay contributedliberally) is _The Federalist_ (1787). This is a remarkable series ofessays supporting the Constitution and illuminating the principles of unionand federation. The one work of Jefferson which will make his nameremembered to all ages is the _Declaration of Independence_. Besidesthis document, which is less a state paper than a prose chant of freedom, he wrote a multitude of works, a part of which are now collected in tenlarge volumes. These are known only to historians; but the casual readerwill find many things of interest in Jefferson's _Letters_, in his_Autobiography_ and in his _Summary View of the Rights ofAmerica_ (1774). The last-named work gave Burke some information andinspiration for his famous oration "On Conciliation with America" and was apotent influence in uniting the colonies in their struggle forindependence. MISCELLANEOUS WORKS. In the miscellaneous works of the period may be foundmore pleasurable reading than in the portly volumes that contain the epicsof the Hartford Wits or the arguments of Revolutionary statesmen. As a typeof the forceful political pamphlet, a weapon widely used in England andAmerica in the eighteenth century, there is nothing equal to Thomas Paine's_Common Sense_ (1776) and _The Crisis_ (1776-1783). The formerhastened on the Declaration of Independence; the latter cheered the youngPatriots in their struggle to make that Declaration valid in the sight ofall nations. Jonathan Carver's _Travels through the Interior Parts ofNorth America_ (1778) is an excellent outdoor book dealing withpicturesque incidents of exploration in unknown wilds. The letters ofAbigail Adams, Eliza Wilkinson and Dolly Madison portray quiet scenes ofdomestic life and something of the brave, helpful spirit of the mothers ofthe Revolution. Crèvecoeur's _Letters from an American Farmer_ (1782)draws charming, almost idyllic, pictures of American life during theRevolutionary period, and incidentally calls attention to the "meltingpot, " in which people of various races are here fused into a common stock. This mongrel, melting-pot idea (a crazy notion) is supposed to be modern, and has lately occasioned some flighty dramas and novels; but that it is asold as unrestricted immigration appears plainly in one of Crèvecoeur'sfanciful sketches: "What then is the American, this new man? He is either a European or a descendant of a European; hence that strange mixture of blood, which you will find in no other country. I could point out to you a family whose grandfather was an Englishman, whose wife was Dutch, whose son married a French woman, and whose present four sons have now four wives of different nations. _He_ is an American who, leaving behind him all his ancient prejudices and manners, receives new ones from the new mode of life he has embraced, the new government he obeys, the new rank he holds. He becomes an American by being received in the broad lap of our great Alma Mater. "Here individuals of all nations are melted into a new race of men whose labours and posterity will one day cause great changes in the world. Americans are the western pilgrims, who are carrying along with them that great mass of arts, sciences, vigour and industry which began long since in the East; they will finish the great circle. The Americans were once scattered all over Europe; here they are incorporated into one of the finest systems of population which has ever appeared, and which hereafter will become distinct by the power of the different climate they inhabit. The American is a new man, who acts upon new principles; he must therefore entertain new ideas and form new opinions. From involuntary idleness, servile dependence, penury and useless labour he has passed to toils of a very different nature, rewarded by ample subsistence. This is an American. " Finally, there is the _Journal of John Woolman_ (1774), written by agentle member of the society of Friends, which records a spiritual ratherthan a worldly experience, and which in contrast with the general tumult ofRevolutionary literature is as a thrush song in the woods at twilight. Itis a book for those who can appreciate its charm of simplicity andsincerity; but the few who know it are inclined to prize it far above thesimilar work of Franklin, and to unite with Channing in calling it "thesweetest and purest autobiography in the English language. " BEGINNING OF AMERICAN FICTION. Those who imagine that American fictionbegan with Irving or Cooper or Poe, as is sometimes alleged, will beinterested to learn of Susanna Rowson (daughter of an English father and anAmerican mother), whose later stories, at least, belong to our literature. In 1790 she published _Charlotte Temple_, a romance that was immenselypopular in its own day and that has proved far more enduring than anymodern "best seller. " During the next century the book ran through morethan one hundred editions, the last appearing in 1905; and from first tolast it has had probably more readers than any novel of Scott or Cooper orDickens. The reception of this work indicates the widespread interest infiction here in the late eighteenth century. Moreover, as there were thentwo types of fiction in England, the sentimentalism of Richardson and therealism of Fielding, so in America the gushing romances of Mrs. Rowson wereopposed by the _Female Quixotism_ and other alleged realistic storiesof Tabitha Tenney. Both schools of fiction had here their authors and theirmultitudinous readers while Irving and Cooper were learning their alphabetand Poe was yet unborn. [Illustration: CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN] Into the crude but hopeful beginnings of American fiction we shall notenter, for the simple reason that our earliest romances are hardly worththe time or patience of any but historical students. At the close of theRevolutionary period, however, appeared a writer whom we may call with somejustice the first American novelist. This was Charles Brockden Brown(1771-1810), who is worthy to be remembered on three counts: he was thefirst in this country to follow literature as a profession; he choseAmerican rather than foreign heroes, and pictured them against an Americanbackground; and finally, his use of horrible or grotesque incidents wascopied by Poe, his Indian adventures suggested a fruitful theme to Cooper, and his minute analysis of motives and emotions was carried out in a moreartistic way by Hawthorne. Hence we may find in Brown's neglected workssomething of the material and the method of our three greatest writers offiction. [Sidenote: THE MOTIVE OF HORROR] The six romances of Brown are all dominated by the motive of horror, andare modeled on the so-called Gothic novel with its sentimental heroine, itsdiabolical villain, its ghastly mystery, its passages of prolonged agony. If we ask why an American writer should choose this bizarre type, theanswer is that agonizing stories were precisely what readers then wanted, and Brown depended upon his stories for his daily bread. At the presenttime a different kind of fiction is momentarily popular; yet if we beginone of Brown's bloodcurdling romances, the chances are that we shall finishit, since it appeals to that strange interest in morbid themes which leadsso many to read Poe or some other purveyor of horrors and mysteries. _Wieland_ (1798) is commonly regarded as the best of Brown's works, but is too grotesque and horrible to be recommended. _Edgar Huntley_(1801), with its Indian adventures depicted against a background of wildnature, is a little more wholesome, and may serve very well as a type ofthe romances that interested readers a century or more ago. * * * * * SUMMARY. The Colonial period covers the century and a half from the settlement of Jamestown, in 1607, to the Stamp Act of 1765. The literature of this early age shows two general characteristics, one historical, the other theological. The Colonists believed that they were chosen by God to establish a new nation of freemen; hence their tendency to write annals and to preserve every document that might be of use to the future republic. Moreover, they were for the most part religious men and women; they aimed to give their children sound education and godly character; hence their insistence on schools and universities (seven colleges were quickly founded in the wilderness) for the training of leaders of the people; hence also the religious note which sounds through nearly all their writing. In our review of the Colonial period we noted four classes of writers: (i) The annalists and historians, of whom Bradford and Byrd were selected as typical of two classes of writers who appear constantly in our own and other literatures. (2) The poets, of whom Wigglesworth, Anne Bradstreet and Godfrey are the most notable. (3) A few characteristic books dealing with nature and the Indians, which served readers of those days in the place of fiction. (4) Theological writers, among whom Cotton Mather and Jonathan Edwards are the most conspicuous. The Revolutionary period extends from 1765 to the close of the century. A large part of the literature of this period deals, in the early years, with the strife of Loyalists and Patriots or, in the later years, with the word wars of Federalists and Anti-Federalists. These are the political parties into which America was divided by the Revolution and by the question of the Constitution. In general, Revolutionary writing has a practical bent in marked contrast with the theological spirit of Colonial writing. Our study of Revolutionary literature includes: (1) Benjamin Franklin who marks the transition from Colonial to Revolutionary times, from spiritual to worldly interests. (2) Revolutionary poetry, with its numerous ballads and political satires; the effort of the Hartford Wits to establish a national literature; and the work of Philip Freneau, who was a romantic poet at heart, but who was led aside by the strife of the age into political and satiric writing. (3) Orators and statesmen, of whom Otis and Henry, Hamilton and Jefferson were selected as typical. (4) Miscellaneous writers such as Paine, Crevecoeur, Carver, Abigail Adams and John Woolman who reflected the life of the times from various angles. (5) Charles Brockden Brown, and the beginning of American fiction. SELECTIONS FOR READING. Typical selections in Cairns, Selections from Early American Writers; Trent and Wells, Colonial Prose and Poetry; Stedman and Hutchinson, Library of American Literature, and other anthologies (see "Selections" in the General Bibliography). A convenient volume containing a few selections from every important American author is Calhoun and MacAlarney, Readings from American Literature (Ginn and Company). Bradford's Of Plimoth Plantation and John Smith's Settlement of Virginia, in Maynard's Historical Readings. Chronicles of the Pilgrims, in Everyman's Library. Various records of early American history and literature, in Old South Leaflets (Old South Meeting House, Boston). Franklin's Autobiography, in Standard English Classics, Holt's English Readings and several other school editions (see "Texts" in General Bibliography). Poor Richard's Almanac, in Riverside Literature. The Federalist and Letters from an American Farmer, in Everyman's Library. Woolman's Journal, in Macmillan's Pocket Classics. BIBLIOGRAPHY. For reference works covering the entire field of American history and literature see the General Bibliography. The following works deal with the Colonial and Revolutionary periods. _HISTORY_. Fisher, The Colonial Era; Thwaite, The Colonies; Fiske, Old Virginia and her Neighbors, Beginnings of New England, Dutch and Quaker Colonies in America. Winsor, Handbook of the Revolution; Sloane, French War and the Revolution; Fisher, Struggle for American Independence; Fiske, A Critical Period of American History; Hart, Formation of the Union. Studies of social life in Earle, Home Life in Colonial Days; Fisher, Men, Women and Manners of Colonial Times; Crawford, Romantic Days in the Early Republic. _LITERATURE_. Tyler, History of American Literature, 1607-1765, and Literary History of the Revolution; Sears, American Literature of the Colonial and National Periods; Marble, Heralds of American Literature (a few Revolutionary authors); Patterson, Spirit of the American Revolution as Revealed in the Poetry of the Period; Loshe, The Early American Novel (includes a study of Charles Brockden Brown). Life of Franklin, by Bigelow, 3 vols. , by Parton, 2 vols. , by McMaster, by Morse, etc. Lives of other Colonial and Revolutionary worthies in American Statesmen, Makers of America, Cyclopedia of American Biography, etc. (see "Biography" in General Bibliography). _FICTION_. A few historical novels dealing with Colonial times are: Cooper, Satanstoe, The Red Rover; Kennedy, Rob of the Bowl; Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter; Motley, Merry Mount; Cooke, The Virginia Comedians; Carruthers, Cavaliers of Virginia; Austin, Standish of Standish; Barr, The Black Shilling; Mary Johnston, To Have and to Hold. Novels with a Revolutionary setting are: Cooper, The Spy, The Pilot; Simms, The Partisan, Katherine Walton; Kennedy, Horseshoe Robinson; Winthrop, Edwin Brothertoft; Eggleston, A Carolina Cavalier; Maurice Thompson, Alice of Old Vincennes; Mitchell, Hugh Wynne; Churchill, Richard Carvel; Gertrude Atherton, The Conqueror. CHAPTER II LITERATURE OF THE NEW NATION (1800-1840) Behind him lay the gray Azores, Behind, the gates of Hercules; Before him not the ghost of shores, Before him only shoreless seas. The good mate said, "Now must we pray, For lo! the very stars are gone: Brave Admiral, speak; what shall I say?" "Why say, 'Sail on! sail on! and on!'" Joaquin Miller, "Columbus" HISTORICAL BACKGROUND. It was in the early part of the nineteenth century that America began to be counted among the great nations of the world, and it was precisely at that time that she produced her first national literature, a literature so broadly human that it appealed not only to the whole country but to readers beyond the sea. Irving, Cooper and Bryant are commonly regarded as the first notable New World writers; and we may better understand them and their enthusiastic young contemporaries if we remember that they "grew up with the country"; that they reflected life at a time when America, having won her independence and emerged from a long period of doubt and struggle, was taking her first confident steps in the sun and becoming splendidly conscious of her destiny as a leader among the world's free people. [Sidenote: NATIONAL ENTHUSIASM] Indeed, there was good reason for confidence in those early days; for never had a young nation looked forth upon a more heartening prospect. The primitive hamlets of Colonial days had been replaced by a multitude of substantial towns, the somber wilderness by a prosperous farming country. The power of a thousand rivers was turning the wheels of as many mills or factories, and to the natural wealth of America was added the increase of a mighty commerce with other nations. By the Louisiana Purchase and the acquisition of Florida her territory was vastly increased, and still her sturdy pioneers were pressing eagerly into more spacious lands beyond the Mississippi. Best of all, this enlarging nation, once a number of scattered colonies holding each to its own course, was now the Union; her people were as one in their patriotism, their loyalty, their intense conviction that the brave New World experiment in free government, once scoffed at as an idle dream, was destined to a glorious future. American democracy was not merely a success; it was an amazing triumph. Moreover, this democracy, supposed to be the weakest form of government, had already proved its power; it had sent its navy abroad to humble the insolent Barbary States, and had measured the temper of its soul and the strength of its arm in the second war with Great Britain. In fine, the New World had brought forth a hopeful young giant of a nation; and its hopefulness was reflected, with more of zeal than of art, in the prose and poetry of its literary men. Just as the enthusiastic Elizabethan spirit reflected itself in lyric or drama after the defeat of the Armada, so the American spirit seemed to exult in the romances of Cooper and Simms; in the verse of Pinckney, Halleck, Drake and Percival; in a multitude of national songs, such as "The American Flag, " Warren's Address, "Home Sweet Home" and "The Star-Spangled Banner. " We would not venture to liken one set of writings to the other, for we should be on the weak side of an Elizabethan comparison; we simply note that a great national enthusiasm was largely responsible for the sudden appearance of a new literature in the one land as in the other. LITERARY ENVIRONMENT. In the works of four writers, Irving, Cooper, Bryantand Poe, we have the best that the early national period produced; but weshall not appreciate these writers until we see them, like pines in a wood, lifting their heads over numerous companions, all drawing their nourishmentfrom the same soil and air. The growth of towns and cities in America hadled to a rapid increase of newspapers, magazines and annuals (collectionsof contemporary prose and verse), which called with increasing emphasis forpoems, stories, essays, light or "polite" literature. The rapid growth ofthe nation set men to singing the old psalm of _Sursum Corda_, andevery man and woman who felt the impulse added his story or his verse tothe national chorus. When the first attempt at a summary of Americanliterature was made in 1837, the author, Royal Robbins, found more than twothousand living writers demanding his attention. [Sidenote: KNICKERBOCKER SCHOOL] It was due, one must think, to geography rather than to any spirit ofsectionalism, to difficulty of travel between the larger towns rather thanto any difference of aim or motive, that the writers of this periodassociated themselves in a number of so-called schools or literary centers. New York, which now offered a better field for literary work than Boston orPhiladelphia, had its important group of writers called the KnickerbockerSchool, which included Fitz-Greene Halleck and Joseph Rodman Drake, bothpoets and cheerful satirists of New World society; the versatile NathanielParker Willis, writer of twenty volumes of poems, essays, stories andsketches of travel; and James Kirke Paulding, also a voluminous writer, whoworked with Irving in the _Salmagundi_ essays and whose historicalnovels, such as _The Dutchman's Fireside_ (1831), are still mildlyinteresting. [Footnote: Irving, Cooper and Bryant are sometimes classedamong the Knickerbockers; but the work of these major writers is nationalrather than local or sectional, and will be studied later in detail. ] [Sidenote: SOUTHERN WRITERS] In the South was another group of young writers, quite as able andenthusiastic as their northern contemporaries. Among these we noteespecially William Gilmore Simms (1806-1870), whose _Yemassee_, _Border Beagles_, _Katherine Walton_ and many other historicalromances of Colonial and Revolutionary days were of more than passinginterest. He was a high-minded and most industrious writer, who producedover forty volumes of poems, essays, biographies, histories and tales; buthe is now remembered chiefly by his novels, which won him the title of "theCooper of the South. " At least one of his historical romances should beread, partly for its own sake and partly for a comparison with Cooper'swork in the same field. Thus _The Yemassee_ (1835), dealing withfrontier life and Indian warfare, may be read in connection with Cooper's_The Deerslayer_ (1841), which has the same general theme; or _ThePartisan_ (1835), dealing with the bitter struggle of southern Whigs andTories during the Revolution, may well be compared with Cooper's _TheSpy_ (1821), which depicts the same struggle in a northern environment. [Illustration: WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS] Other notable writers of the South during this period were Richard HenryWilde the poet, now remembered by the song (from an unfinished opera)beginning, "My life is like the summer rose"; William Wirt, the essayistand biographer; and John Pendleton Kennedy, writer of essays and storieswhich contain many charming pictures of social life in Virginia andMaryland in the days "before the war. " [Sidenote: NEW ENGLAND AND THE WEST] In New England was still another group, who fortunately avoided the name ofany school. Sparks, Prescott, Ticknor, Story, Dana, --the very namesindicate how true was Boston to her old scholarly traditions. MeanwhileConnecticut had its popular poet in James Gates Percival; Maine had itsversatile John Neal; and all the northern states were reading the "goodygoody" books of Peter Parley (Samuel Goodrich), the somewhat Byronic_Zophiel_ and other emotional poems of Maria Gowen Brooks (whomSouthey called "Maria del Occidente"), and the historical romances ofCatherine Sedgwick and Sarah Morton. [Illustration: JOHN PENDLETON KENNEDY] The West also (everything beyond the Alleghenies was then the West) madeits voice heard in the new literature. Timothy Flint wrote a veryinteresting _Journal_ from his missionary experiences, and a highlycolored romance from his expansive imagination; and James Hall drew somevigorous and sympathetic pictures of frontier life in _Letters from theWest_, _Tales of the Border_ and _Wilderness and Warpath_. There are many other writers who won recognition before 1840, but those wehave named are more than enough; for each name is an invitation, andinvitations when numerous are simply bothersome. For example, the name ofCatherine Sedgwick invites us to read _Hope Leslie_ and _TheLinwoods_, both excellent in their day, and still interesting asexamples of the novels that won fame less than a century ago; or the nameof Kennedy leads us to _Swallow Barn_ (alluring title!) with itsbright pictures of Virginia life, and to _Horseshoe Robinson_, a crudebut stirring tale of Revolutionary heroism. The point in naming these minorwriters, once as popular as any present-day favorite, is simply this: thatthe major authors, whom we ordinarily study as typical of the age, were notisolated figures but part of a great romantic movement in literature; thatthey were influenced on the one hand by European letters, and on the otherby a host of native writers who were all intent on reflecting the expandinglife of America in the early part of the nineteenth century. * * * * * WASHINGTON IRVING (1783-1859) A very pleasant writer is Irving, a man of romantic and somewhatsentimental disposition, but sound of motive, careful of workmanship, invincibly cheerful of spirit. The genial quality of his work may be due tothe fact that from joyous boyhood to serene old age he did very much as hepleased, that he lived in what seemed to him an excellent world and wrotewith no other purpose than to make it happy. In summarizing his career anadmirer of Irving is reminded of what the Book of Proverbs says of wisdom:"Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace. " [Sidenote: THE MAN AND HIS TIMES] The historian sees another side of Irving's work. Should it be asked, "Whatdid he do that had not been as well or better done before him?" the firstanswer is that the importance of any man's work must be measured by the agein which he did it. A schoolboy now knows more about electricity than everFranklin learned; but that does not detract from our wonder at Franklin'skite. So the work of Irving seems impressive when viewed against the grayliterary dawn of a century ago. At that time America had done a mighty workfor the world politically, but had added little of value to the world'sliterature. She read and treasured the best books; but she made nocontribution to their number, and her literary impotence galled hersensitive spirit. As if to make up for her failure, the writers of theKnickerbocker, Charleston and other "schools" praised each other's workextravagantly; but no responsive echo came from overseas, where England'sterse criticism of our literary effort was expressed in the scornfulquestion, "Who reads an American book?" Irving answered that question effectively when his _Sketch Book_, _Bracebridge Hall_ and _Tales of a Traveller_ found a multitudeof delighted readers on both sides of the Atlantic. His graceful style washardly rivaled by any other writer of the period; and England, at a timewhen Scott and Byron were playing heroic parts, welcomed him heartily to aplace on the literary stage. Thus he united the English and the Americanreader in a common interest and, as it were, charmed away the sneer fromone face, the resentment from the other. He has been called "father of ourAmerican letters" for two reasons: because he was the first to win alasting literary reputation at home and abroad, and because of theformative influence which his graceful style and artistic purpose have eversince exerted upon our prose writers. [Illustration: WASHINGTON IRVING] LIFE. Two personal characteristics appear constantly in Irving's work: the first, that he was always a dreamer, a romance seeker; the second, that he was inclined to close his eyes to the heroic present and open them wide to the glories, real or imaginary, of the remote past. Though he lived in an American city in a day of mighty changes and discoveries, he was far less interested in the modern New York than in the ancient New Amsterdam; and though he was in Europe at the time of the Napoleonic wars, he apparently saw nothing of them, being then wholly absorbed in the battles of the long-vanished Moors. Only once, in his books of western exploration, did he seriously touch the vigorous life of his own times; and critics regard these books as the least important of all his works. [Sidenote: BOYHOOD] He was born in New York (1783) when the present colossal city was a provincial town that retained many of its quaint Dutch characteristics. Over all the straggling town, from the sunny Battery with its white-winged ships to the Harlem woods where was good squirrel shooting, Irving rambled at ease on many a day when the neighbors said he ought to have been at his books. He was the youngest of the family; his constitution was not rugged, and his gentle mother was indulgent. She would smile when he told of reading a smuggled copy of the _Arabian Nights_ in school, instead of his geography; she was silent when he slipped away from family prayers to climb out of his bedroom window and go to the theater, while his sterner father thought of him as sound asleep in his bed. Little harm came from these escapades, for Irving was a merry lad with no meanness in him; but his schooling was sadly neglected. His brothers had graduated from Columbia; but on the plea of delicate health he abandoned the idea of college, with a sigh in which there was perhaps as much satisfaction as regret. At sixteen he entered a law office, where he gave less time to studying Blackstone than to reading novels and writing skits for the newspapers. [Sidenote: FINDING HIMSELF] This happy indifference to work and learning, this disposition to linger on the sunny side of the street, went with Irving through life. Experimentally he joined his brothers, who were in the hardware trade; but when he seemed to be in danger of consumption they sent him to Europe, where he enjoyed himself greatly, and whence he returned perfectly well. Next he was sent on business to England; and there, when the Irving Brothers failed, their business having been ruined by the War of 1812, Irving manfully resolved to be no longer a burden on others and turned to literature for his support. With characteristic love of doing what he liked he refused a good editorial position (which Walter Scott obtained for him) and busied himself with his _Sketch Book_ (1820). This met with a generous welcome in England and America, and it was followed by the equally popular _Bracebridge Hall_ and _Tales of a Traveller_. By these three works Irving was assured not only of literary fame but, what was to him of more consequence, of his ability to earn his living. [Sidenote: LIFE ABROAD] Next we find him in Spain, whither he went with the purpose of translating Navarrete's _Voyages of Columbus_, a Spanish book, in which he saw a chance of profit from his countrymen's interest in the man who discovered America. Instead of translating another man's work, however, he wrote his own _Life and Times of Columbus_ (1828). The financial success of this book (which is still our most popular biography of the great explorer) enabled Irving to live comfortably in Spain, where he read diligently and accumulated the material for his later works on Spanish history. [Illustration: "SUNNYSIDE, " HOME OF IRVING] By this time Irving's growing literary fame had attracted the notice of American politicians, who rewarded him with an appointment as secretary of the legation at London. This pleasant office he held for two years, but was less interested in it than in the reception which English men of letters generously offered him. Then he apparently grew homesick, after an absence of seventeen years, and returned to his native land, where he was received with the honor due to a man who had silenced the galling question, "Who reads an American book?" [Sidenote: HIS MELLOW AUTUMN] The rest of Irving's long life was a continued triumph. Amazed at first, and then a little stunned by the growth, the hurry, the onward surge of his country, he settled back into the restful past, and was heard with the more pleasure by his countrymen because he seemed to speak to them from a vanished age. Once, inspired by the tide of life weeping into the West, he journeyed beyond the Mississippi and found material for his pioneering books; but an active life was far from his taste, and presently he built his house "Sunnyside" (appropriate name) at Tarrytown on the Hudson. There he spent the remainder of his days, with the exception of four years in which he served the nation as ambassador to Spain. This honor, urged upon him by Webster and President Tyler, was accepted with characteristic modesty not as a personal reward but as a tribute which America had been wont to offer to the profession of letters. CHIEF WORKS OF IRVING. A good way to form a general impression of Irving'sworks is to arrange them chronologically in five main groups. The first, consisting of the _Salmagundi_ essays, the _KnickerbockerHistory_ and a few other trifles, we may call the Oldstyle group, afterthe pseudonym assumed by the author. [Footnote: Ever since Revolutionarydays it had been the fashion for young American writers to use an assumedname. Irving appeared at different times as "Jonathan Oldstyle, " "DiedrichKnickerbocker" and "Geoffrey Crayon, Gent. "] The second or Sketch-Bookgroup includes the _Sketch Book_, _Bracebridge Hall_ and _Talesof a Traveller_. The third or Alhambra group, devoted to Spanish andMoorish themes, includes _The Conquest of Granada_, _Spanish Voyagesof Discovery_, _The Alhambra_ and certain similar works of a laterperiod, such as _Moorish Chronicles_ and _Legends of the Conquest ofSpain_. The fourth or Western group contains _A Tour on thePrairies_, _Astoria_ and _Adventures of Captain Bonneville_. The fifth or Sunnyside group is made up chiefly of biographies, _OliverGoldsmith_, _Mahomet and his Successors_ and _The Life ofWashington_. Besides these are some essays and stories assembled underthe titles of _Spanish Papers_ and _Wolfert's Roost_. The _Salmagundi_ papers and others of the Oldstyle group would havebeen forgotten long ago if anybody else had written them. In other words, our interest in them is due not to their intrinsic value (for they are all"small potatoes") but to the fact that their author became a famousliterary man. Most candid readers would probably apply this criticism alsoto the _Knickerbocker History_, had not that grotesque joke won anundeserved reputation as a work of humor. [Sidenote: KNICKERBOCKER HISTORY] The story of the Knickerbocker fabrication illustrates the happy-go-luckymethod of all Irving's earlier work. He had tired of his _Salmagundi_fooling and was looking for variety when his eyes lighted on Dr. Mitchill's_Picture of New York_, a grandiloquent work written by a prominentmember of the Historical Society. In a light-headed moment Irving and hisbrother Peter resolved to burlesque this history and, in the approvedfashion of that day, to begin with the foundation of the world. Then Peterwent to Europe on more important business, and Irving went on with his jokealone. He professed to have discovered the notes of a learned Dutchantiquarian who had recently disappeared, leaving a mass of manuscript andan unpaid board-bill behind him. After advertising in the newspapers forthe missing man, Irving served notice on the public that the profound valueof Knickerbocker's papers justified their publication, and that theproceeds of the book would be devoted to paying the board-bill. Thenappeared, in time to satisfy the aroused curiosity of the HistoricalSociety, to whom the book was solemnly dedicated, the _History of NewYork from the Beginning of the World to the End of the Dutch Dynasty, byDiedrich Knickerbocker_ (1809). This literary hoax made an instant sensation; it was denounced for itsscandalous irreverence by the members of the Historical Society, especiallyby those who had Dutch ancestors, but was received with roars of laughterby the rest of the population. Those who read it now (from curiosity, forits merriment has long since departed, leaving it dull as anythrice-repeated joke) are advised to skip the first two books, which arevery tedious fooling, and to be content with an abridged version of thestories of Wouter van Twiller, William the Testy and Peter the Headstrong. These are the names of real Dutch governors of New Amsterdam, and the datesgiven are exact dates; but there history ends and burlesque begins. Thecombination of fact and nonsense and the strain of gravity in whichabsurdities are related have led some critics to place the _KnickerbockerHistory_ first in time of the notable works of so-called American humor. That is doubtless a fair classification; but other critics assert that realhumor is as purely human as a smile or a tear, and has therefore nonational or racial limitations. [Sidenote: SKETCH BOOK] The _Sketch Book_, chief of the second group of writings, is perhapsthe best single work that Irving produced. We shall read it with betterunderstanding if we remember that it was the work of a young man who, having always done as he pleased, proceeds now to write of whateverpleasant matter is close at hand. Being in England at the time, henaturally finds most of his material there; and being youthful, romanticand sentimental, he colors everything with the hue of his own disposition. He begins by chatting of the journey and of the wide sea that separates himfrom home. He records his impressions of the beautiful English country, tells what he saw or felt during his visit to Stratford on Avon, and whathe dreamed in Westminster Abbey, a place hallowed by centuries of worshipand humanized by the presence of the great dead. He sheds a ready tear overa rural funeral, and tries to make us cry over the sorrows of a poor widow;then to relieve our feelings he pokes a bit of fun at John Bull. Somethingcalls his attention to Isaac Walton, and he writes a Waltonian kind ofsketch about a fisherman. In one chapter he comments on contemporaryliterature; then, as if not quite satisfied with what authors are doing, helays aside his record of present impressions, goes back in thought to hishome by the Hudson, and produces two stories of such humor, charm andoriginality that they make the rest of the book appear almost commonplace, as the careless sketches of a painter are forgotten in presence of hisinspired masterpiece. These two stories, the most pleasing that Irving ever wrote, are "Rip vanWinkle" and "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. " They should be read if one readsnothing else of the author's twenty volumes. [Illustration: RIP VAN WINKLE] [Sidenote: SPANISH THEMES] The works on Spanish themes appeal in different ways to different readers. One who knows his history will complain (and justly) that Irving issuperficial, that he is concerned with picturesque rather than withimportant incidents; but one who likes the romance of history, and whoreflects that romance plays an important part in the life of any people, will find the legends and chronicles of this Spanish group as interestingas fiction. We should remember, moreover, that in Irving's day the romanceof old Spain, familiar enough to European readers, was to most Americansstill fresh and wondrous. In emphasizing the romantic or picturesque sideof his subject he not only pleased his readers but broadened their horizon;he also influenced a whole generation of historians who, in contrast withthe scientific or prosaic historians of to-day, did not hesitate to add theelement of human interest to their narratives. [Sidenote: THE ALHAMBRA] The most widely read of all the works of the Spanish group is _TheAlhambra_ (1832). This is, on the surface, a collection ofsemihistorical essays and tales clustering around the ancient palace, inGranada, which was the last stronghold of the Moors in Europe; in realityit is a record of the impressions and dreams of a man who, finding himselfon historic ground, gives free rein to his imagination. At times, indeed, he seems to have his eye on his American readers, who were then in aromantic mood, rather than on the place or people he was describing. Thebook delighted its first critics, who called it "the Spanish Sketch Book";but though pleasant enough as a romantic dream of history, it hardlycompares in originality with its famous predecessor. [Sidenote: WESTERN STORIES] Except to those who like a brave tale of exploration, and who happily haveno academic interest in style, Irving's western books are of littleconsequence. In fact, they are often omitted from the list of his importantworks, though they have more adventurous interest than all the otherscombined. _A Tour on the Prairies_, which records a journey beyond theMississippi in the days when buffalo were the explorers' mainstay, is thebest written of the pioneer books; but the _Adventures of CaptainBonneville_, a story of wandering up and down the great West with plentyof adventures among Indians and "free trappers, " furnishes the mostexcitement. Unfortunately this journal, which vies in interest withParkman's _Oregon Trail_, cannot be credited to Irving, though itbears his name on the title-page. [Footnote: The _Adventures_ ischiefly the work of a Frenchman, a daring free-rover, who probably tried invain to get his work published. Irving bought the work for a thousanddollars, revised it slightly, gave it his name and sold it for seven oreight times what he paid for it. In _Astoria_, the third book of thewestern group, he sold his services to write up the records of the furhouse established by John Jacob Astor, and made a poor job of it. ] [Illustration: OLD DUTCH CHURCH, SLEEPY HOLLOWMentioned by Irving in "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"] [Sidenote: BIOGRAPHIES] Of the three biographies _Oliver Goldsmith_ (1849) is the best, probably because Irving had more sympathy and affinity with the author of"The Deserted Village" than with Mahomet or Washington. The _Life ofWashington_ (1855-1859) was plainly too large an undertaking forIrving's limited powers; but here again we must judge the work by thestandards of its own age and admit that it is vastly better than thepopular but fictitious biographies of Washington written by Weems and otherromancers. Even in Irving's day Washington was still regarded as a demigod;his name was always printed in capitals; and the rash novelist who dared tobring him into a story (as Cooper did in _The Spy_) was denounced forhis lack of reverence. In consequence of this false attitude practicallyall Washington's biographers (with the exception of the judicious Marshall)depicted him as a ponderously dignified creature, stilted, unlovely, unhuman, who must always appear with a halo around his head. Irving was toomuch influenced by this absurd fashion and by his lack of scholarship tomake a trustworthy book; but he gave at least a touch of naturalness andhumanity to our first president, and set a new biographical standard byattempting to write as an honest historian rather than as a merehero-worshiper. AN APPRECIATION OF IRVING. The three volumes of the Sketch-Book group andthe romantic _Alhambra_ furnish an excellent measure of Irving'sliterary talent. At first glance these books appear rather superficial, dealing with pleasant matters of no consequence; but on second thoughtpleasant matters are always of consequence, and Irving invariably displaystwo qualities, humor and sentiment, in which humanity is foreverinterested. His humor, at first crude and sometimes in doubtful taste (asin his _Knickerbocker History_) grew more refined, more winning in hislater works, until a thoughtful critic might welcome it, with its kindness, its culture, its smile in which is no cynicism and no bitterness, as a trueexample of "American" humor, --if indeed such a specialized product everexisted. His sentiment was for the most part tender, sincere and manly. Though it now seems somewhat exaggerated and at times dangerously near tosentimentality, that may not be altogether a fault; for the same criticismapplies to Longfellow, Dickens and, indeed, to most other writers who havewon an immense audience by frankly emphasizing, or even exaggerating, thehonest sentiments that plain men and women have always cherished both inlife and in literature. [Sidenote: STYLE OF IRVING] The style of Irving, with its suggestion of Goldsmith and Addison (who werehis first masters), is deserving of more unstinted praise. A "charming"style we call it; and the word, though indefinite, is expressive of thesatisfaction which Irving's manner affords his readers. One who seeks thesource of his charm may find it in this, that he cherished a high opinionof humanity, and that the friendliness, the sense of comradeship, which hefelt for his fellow men was reflected in his writing; unconsciously atfirst, perhaps, and then deliberately, by practice and cultivation. Inconsequence, we do not read Irving critically but sympathetically; forreaders are like children, or animals, in that they are instinctively drawnto an author who trusts and understands them. Thackeray, who gave cordial welcome to Irving, and who called him "thefirst ambassador whom the New World of letters sent to the Old, " was deeplyimpressed by the fact not that the young American had an excellent prosestyle but that "his gate was forever swinging to visitors. " That is anilluminating criticism; for we can understand the feeling of the men andwomen of a century ago who, having read the _Sketch Book_, were eagerto meet the man who had given them pleasure by writing it. In brief, thoughIrving wrote nothing of great import, though he entered not into the stressof life or scaled its heights or sounded its deeps, we still read him forthe sufficient but uncritical reason that we like him. In this respect, of winning our personal allegiance, Irving stands inmarked contrast to his greatest American contemporary, Cooper. We read theone because we are attracted to the man, the other for the tale he has totell. * * * * * WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT (1794-1878) Bryant has been called "the father of American song, " and the year 1821, when his first volume appeared, is recorded as the natal year of Americanpoetry. Many earlier singers had won local reputations, but he was thefirst who was honored in all the states and who attained by his poetryalone a dominating place in American letters. That was long ago; and times have changed, and poets with them. In anycollection of recent American verse one may find poems more imaginative ormore finely wrought than any that Bryant produced; but these later singersstand in a company and contribute to an already large collection, whileBryant stood alone and made a brave beginning of poetry that we mayhonestly call native and national. Before he won recognition by hisindependent work the best that our American singers thought they could dowas to copy some English original; but after 1821 they dared to bethemselves in poetry, as they had ever been in politics. They had thesuccessful Bryant for a model, and the young Longfellow was one of hispupils. Moreover, he stands the hard test of time, and seems to have nosuccessor. He is still our Puritan poet, --a little severe, perhaps, butAmerican to the core, --who reflects better than any other the rugged spiritof that puritanism which had so profoundly influenced our country duringthe early, formative days of the republic. [Illustration: WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT] LIFE. In the boyhood of Bryant we shall find the inspiration for all his enduring work. He was of Pilgrim stock, and was born (1794) in the little village of Cummington, in western Massachusetts. There, with the Berkshire Hills and the ancient forest forever in sight, he grew to man's stature, working on the farm or attending the district school by day, and reading before the open fire at night. His father was a physician, a scholarly man who directed his son's reading. His mother was a Puritan, one of those quiet, inspiring women who do their work cheerfully, as by God's grace, and who invariably add some sign or patent of nobility to their sons and daughters. There was also in the home a Puritan grandfather who led the family devotions every evening, and whose prayers with their rich phraseology of psalm or prophecy were "poems from beginning to end. " So said Bryant, who attributed to these prayers his earliest impulse to write poetry. Between these two influences, nature without and puritanism within, the poet grew up; in their shadow he lived and died; little else of consequence is reflected in the poems that are his best memorial. [Sidenote: THE CITIZEN] The visible life of Bryant lies almost entirely outside the realm of poesie. He as fitted for Williams by country ministers, as was customary in that day; but poverty compelled him to leave college after two brief terms. Then he studied law, and for nine or ten years practiced his profession doggedly, unwillingly, with many a protest at the chicanery he was forced to witness even in the sacred courts of justice. Grown weary of it at last, he went to New York, found work in a newspaper office, and after a few years' apprenticeship became editor of _The Evening Post_, a position which he held for more than half a century. His worldly affairs prospered; he became a "leading citizen" of New York, prominent in the social and literary affairs of a great city; he varied the routine of editorship by trips abroad, by literary or patriotic addresses, by cultivating a country estate at Long Island. In his later years, as a literary celebrity, he loaned his name rather too freely to popular histories, anthologies and gift books, which better serve their catchpenny purpose if some famous man can be induced to add "tone" to the rubbish. [Sidenote: THE POET] And Bryant's poetry? Ah, that was a thing forever apart from his daily life, an almost sacred thing, to be cherished in moments when, his day's work done, he was free to follow his spirit and give outlet to the feelings which, as a strong man and a Puritan, he was wont to restrain. He had begun to write poetry in childhood, when his father had taught him the value of brevity or compression and "the difference between poetic enthusiasm and fustian. " Therefore he wrote slowly, carefully, and allowed ample time for change of thought or diction. So his early "Thanatopsis" was hidden away for years till his father found and published it, and made Bryant famous in a day. All this at a time when English critics were exalting "sudden inspiration, " "sustained effort" and poems "done at one sitting. " Once Bryant had found himself (and the blank verse and simple four-line stanza which suited his talent) he seldom changed, and he never improved. His first little volume, _Poems_ (1821), contains some of his best work. In the next fifty years he added to the size but not to the quality of that volume; and there is little to indicate in such poems as "Thanatopsis" and "The Flood of Years" that the one was written by a boy of seventeen and the other by a sage of eighty. His love of poetry as a thing apart from life is indicated by the fact that in old age, to forget the grief occasioned by the death of his wife, he gave the greater part of six years to a metrical translation of the Greek poet Homer. That he never became a great poet or even fulfilled his early promise is due partly to his natural limitations, no doubt, but more largely to the fact that he gave his time and strength to other things. And a poet is like other men in that he cannot well serve two masters. THE POETRY OF BRYANT. Besides the translation of the _Iliad_ and the_Odyssey_ there are several volumes of prose to Bryant's credit, buthis fame now rests wholly on a single book of original poems. The best ofthese (the result of fifty years of writing, which could easily be printedon fifty pages) may be grouped in two main classes, poems of death andpoems of nature; outside of which are a few miscellaneous pieces, such as"The Antiquity of Freedom, " "Planting of the Apple Tree" and "The Poet, " inwhich he departs a little from his favorite themes. [Sidenote: POEMS OF DEATH] Bryant's poems on death reflect something of his Puritan training and ofhis personal experience while threatened with consumption; they are alsoindicative of the poetic fashion of his age, which was abnormally given tofunereal subjects and greatly influenced by such melancholy poems as Gray's"Elegy" and Young's "Night Thoughts. " He began his career with"Thanatopsis" (or "View of Death"), a boyhood piece which astonishedAmerica when it was published in 1817, and which has ever since been afavorite with readers. The idea of the poem, that the earth is a vastsepulcher of human life, was borrowed from other poets; but the statelyblank verse and the noble appreciation of nature are Bryant's own. Theymark, moreover, a new era in American poetry, an original era to replacethe long imitative period which had endured since Colonial times. Other andperhaps better poems in the same group are "The Death of the Flowers, " "TheReturn of Youth" and "Tree Burial, " in which Bryant goes beyond the paganview of death presented in his first work. That death had a strange fascination for Bryant is evident from hisreturning again and again to a subject which most young poets avoid. Itssomber shadow and unanswered question intrude upon nearly all of his naturepieces; so much so that even his "June" portrays that blithe, inspiringmonth of sunshine and bird song as an excellent time to die. It is fromsuch poems that one gets the curious idea that Bryant never was a boy, thathe was a graybeard at sixteen and never grew any younger. [Sidenote: POEMS OF NATURE] It is in his poems of nature that Bryant is at his best. Even here he isnever youthful, never the happy singer whose heart overflows to the call ofthe winds; he is rather the priest of nature, who offers a prayer or hymnof praise at her altar. And it may be that his noble "Forest Hymn" isnearer to a true expression of human feeling, certainly of primitive orelemental feeling, than Shelley's "Skylark" or Burns's "Mountain Daisy. "Thoreau in one of his critical epigrams declared it was not important thata poet should say any particular thing, but that he should speak in harmonywith nature; that "the tone of his voice is the main thing. " If that betrue, Bryant is one of our best poets. He is always in harmony with naturein her prevailing quiet mood; his voice is invariably gentle, subdued, merging into the murmur of trees or the flow of water, --much like Indianvoices, but as unlike as possible to the voices of those who go to naturefor a picnic or a camping excursion. Among the best of his nature poems are "To a Waterfowl" (his most perfectsingle work), "Forest Hymn, " "Hymn to the Sea, " "Summer Wind, " "NightJourney of a River, " "Autumn Woods, " "To a Fringed Gentian, " "Among theTrees, " "The Fountain" and "A Rain Dream. " To read such poems is tounderstand the fact, mentioned in our biography, that Bryant's poetry was athing apart from his daily life. His friends all speak of him as acompanionable man, receptive, responsive, abounding in cheerful anecdote, and with a certain "overflowing of strength" in mirth or kindly humor; butone finds absolutely nothing of this genial temper in his verse. There heseems to regard all such bubblings and overflowings as unseemly levity (lo!the Puritan), which he must lay aside in poetry as on entering a church. Heis, as we have said, the priest of nature, in whom reverence is uppermost;and he who reads aloud the "Forest Hymn, " with its solemn organ tone, hasan impression that it must be followed by the sublime invitation, "O come, let us worship and bow down; let us kneel before the Lord, our Maker. " [Illustration: BRYANT'S HOME, AT CUMMINGTON] [Sidenote: IN LIGHTER MOOD] Though Bryant is always serious, it is worthy of note that he is nevergloomy, that he entirely escapes the pessimism or despair which seizes uponmost poets in times of trouble. Moreover, he has a lighter mood, not gaybut serenely happy, which finds expression in such poems as "Evening Wind, ""Gladness of Nature" and especially "Robert of Lincoln. " The exuberance ofthe last-named, so unlike anything else in Bryant's book of verse, may beexplained on the assumption that not even a Puritan could pull a long facein presence of a bobolink. The intense Americanism of the poet appears innearly all his verse; and occasionally his patriotism rises to a propheticstrain, as in "The Prairie, " for example, written when he first saw whatwas then called "the great American desert. " It is said that the honeybeecrossed the Mississippi with the first settlers, and Bryant looks withkindled imagination on this little pioneer who Fills the savannas with his murmurings, And hides his sweets, as in the golden age, Within the hollow oak. I listen long To his domestic hum, and think I hear The sound of that advancing multitude Which soon shall fill these deserts. From the ground Comes up the laugh of children, the soft voice Of maidens, and the sweet and solemn hymn Of Sabbath worshippers. The low of herds Blends with the rustling of the heavy grain Over the dark brown furrows. All at once A fresher wind sweeps by, and breaks my dream, And I am in the wilderness alone. OUR PIONEER POET. From one point of view our first national poet is asummary of all preceding American verse and a prophecy of better things tocome. To be specific, practically all our early poetry shows theinclination to moralize, to sing a song and then add a lesson to it. Thisis commonly attributed to Puritan influence; but in truth it is a universalpoetic impulse, a tribute to the early office of the bard, who was thetribal historian and teacher as well as singer. This ancient didactic ormoralizing tendency is very strong in Bryant. To his first notable poem, "Thanatopsis, " he must add a final "So live"; and to his "Waterfowl" mustbe appended a verse which tells what steadfast lesson may be learned fromthe mutable phenomena of nature. Again, most of our Colonial and Revolutionary poetry was strongly (orweakly) imitative, and Bryant shows the habit of his American predecessors. The spiritual conception of nature revealed in some of his early poems is aNew World echo of Wordsworth; his somber poems of death indicate that hewas familiar with Gray and Young; his "Evening Wind" has some suggestion ofShelley; we suspect the influence of Scott's narrative poems in theneglected "Stella" and "Little People of the Snow. " But though influencedby English writers, the author of "Thanatopsis" was too independent toimitate them; and in his independence, with the hearty welcome which itreceived from the American public, we have a prophecy of the new poetry. [Sidenote: HIS ORIGINALITY] The originality and sturdy independence of Bryant are clearly shown in hischoice of subjects. In his early days poetry was formal and artificial, after the manner of the eighteenth century; the romantic movement hadhardly gained recognition in England; Burns was known only to his owncountrymen; Wordsworth was ridiculed or barely tolerated by the critics;and poets on both sides of the Atlantic were still writing of larks andnightingales, of moonlight in the vale, of love in a rose-covered cottage, of ivy-mantled towers, weeping willows, neglected graves, --a medley oftears and sentimentality. You will find all these and little else in _TheGarland_, _The Token_ and many other popular collections of theperiod; but you will find none of them in Bryant's first or last volume. From the beginning he wrote of Death and Nature; somewhat coldly, to besure, but with manly sincerity. Then he wrote of Freedom, the watchword ofAmerica, not as other singers had written of it but as a Puritan who hadlearned in bitter conflict the price of his heritage: O Freedom! thou art not, as poets dream, A fair young girl, with light and delicate limbs, And wavy tresses gushing from the cap With which the Roman master crowned his slave When he took off the gyves. A bearded man, Armed to the teeth, art thou; one mailéd hand Grasps the broad shield, and one the sword; thy brow, Glorious in beauty though it be, is scarred With tokens of old wars; thy massive limbs Are strong with struggling. He wrote without affectation of the Past, of Winter, of the North Star, ofthe Crowded Street, of the Yellow Violet and the Fringed Gentian. If thelast-named poems now appear too simple for our poetic taste, remember thatsimplicity is the hardest to acquire of all literary virtues, and that itwas the dominant quality of Bryant. Remember also that these modest flowersof which he wrote so modestly had for two hundred years brightened ourspring woods and autumn meadows, waiting patiently for the poet who shouldspeak our appreciation of their beauty. Another century has gone, and noother American poet has spoken so simply or so well of other neglectedtreasures: of the twin flower, for example, most fragrant of all blooms; orof that other welcome-nodding blossom, beloved of bumblebees, which somecall "wild columbine" and others "whippoorwill's shoes. " In a word, Bryant was and is our pioneer poet in the realm of nativeAmerican poetry. As Emerson said, he was our first original poet, and wasoriginal because he dared to be sincere. * * * * * JAMES FENIMORE COOPER (1789-1851) In point of time Cooper is the first notable American novelist. Judging bythe booksellers, no other has yet approached him in the sustained interestof his work or the number of his readers. [Sidenote: THE MAN] On first analysis we shall find little in Cooper to account for his abidingpopularity. The man himself was not exactly lovable; indeed, he had almosta genius for stirring up antagonism. As a writer he began without study orliterary training, and was stilted or slovenly in most of his work. He wasprone to moralize in the midst of an exciting narrative; he filledcountless pages with "wooden" dialogue; he could not portray a child or awoman or a gentleman, though he was confident that he had often done so toperfection. He did not even know Indians or woodcraft, though Indians andwoodcraft account for a large part of our interest in his forest romances. [Sidenote: THE STORYTELLER] One may enjoy a good story, however, without knowing or caring for itsauthor's peculiarities, and the vast majority of readers are happily notcritical but receptive. Hence if we separate the man from the author, andif we read _The Red Rover_ or _The Last of the Mohicans_ "justfor the story, " we shall discover the source of Cooper's power as a writer. First of all, he has a tale to tell, an epic tale of heroism and manlyvirtue. Then he appeals strongly to the pioneer spirit, which survives inall great nations, and he is a master at portraying wild nature as thebackground of human life. The vigor of elemental manhood, the call ofadventure, the lure of primeval forests, the surge and mystery of thesea, --these are written large in Cooper's best books. They make us forgethis faults of temper or of style, and they account in large measure for hispopularity with young readers of all nations; for he is one of the fewAmerican writers who belong not to any country but to humanity. At presenthe is read chiefly by boys; but half a century or more ago he had morereaders of all classes and climes than any other writer in the world. LIFE. The youthful experiences of Cooper furnished him with the material for his best romances. He was born (1789) in New Jersey; but while he was yet a child the family removed to central New York, where his father had acquired an immense tract of wild land, on which he founded the village that is still called Cooperstown. There on the frontier of civilization, where stood the primeval forest that had witnessed many a wild Indian raid, the novelist passed his boyhood amid the picturesque scenes which he was to immortalize in _The Pioneers_ and _The Deerslayer_. [Sidenote: HIS TRAINING] Cooper picked up a little "book learning" in a backwoods school and a little more in a minister's study at Albany. At thirteen he entered Yale; but he was a self-willed lad and was presently dismissed from college. A little later, after receiving some scant nautical training on a merchantman, he entered the navy as midshipman; but after a brief experience in the service he married and resigned his commission. That was in 1811, and the date is significant. It was just before the second war with Great Britain. The author who wrote so much and so vividly of battles, Indian raids and naval engagements never was within sight of such affairs, though the opportunity was present. In his romances we have the product of a vigorous imagination rather than of observation or experience. [Illustration: JAMES FENIMORE COOPER] His literary work seems now like the result of whim or accident. One day he flung down a novel that he was reading, declaring to his wife that he could write a better story himself. "Try it, " challenged his wife. "I will, " said Cooper; and the result was _Precaution_, a romance of English society. He was then a farmer in the Hudson valley, and his knowledge of foreign society was picked up, one must think, from silly novels on the subject. Strange to say, the story was so well received that the gratified author wrote another. This was _The Spy_ (1821), dealing with a Revolutionary hero who had once followed his dangerous calling in the very region in which Cooper was now living. The immense success of this book fairly drove its author into a career. He moved to New York City, and there quickly produced two more successful romances. Thus in four years an unknown man without literary training had become a famous writer, and had moreover produced four different types of fiction: the novel of society in _Precaution_, the historical romance in _The Spy_, and the adventurous romance of forest and of ocean in _The Pioneers_ and _The Pilot_. [Sidenote: YEARS OF STRIFE] Cooper now went abroad, as most famous authors do. His books, already translated into several European languages, had made him known, and he was welcomed in literary circles; but almost immediately he was drawn into squabbles, being naturally inclined that way. He began to write political tirades; and even his romances of the period (_The Bravo_, _The Heidenmauer_, _The Headsman_) were devoted to proclaiming the glories of democracy. Then he returned home and proceeded to set his countrymen by the ears (in such books as _Home as Found_) by writing too frankly of their crudity in contrast with the culture of Europe. Then followed long years of controversy and lawsuits, during which our newspapers used Cooper scandalously, and Cooper prosecuted and fined the newspapers. It is a sorry spectacle, of no interest except to those who would understand the bulk of Cooper's neglected works. He was an honest man, vigorous, straightforward, absolutely sincere; but he was prone to waste his strength and embitter his temper by trying to force his opinion on those who were well satisfied with their own. He had no humor, and had never pondered the wisdom of "Who drives fat oxen should himself be fat. " [Illustration: OTSEGO HALL, HOME OF COOPER] The last years of his life were spent mostly at the old home at Cooperstown, no longer a frontier settlement but a thriving village, from which Natty Bumppo and Chingachgook had long since departed. Before his death (1851) the fires of controversy had sunk to ashes; but Cooper never got over his resentment at the public, and with the idea of keeping forever aloof he commanded that none of his private papers be given to biographers. It is for lack of such personal letters and documents that no adequate life of Cooper has yet been written. COOPER'S WORKS. There are over sixty volumes of Cooper, but to read themall would savor of penance rather than of pleasure. Of his miscellaneouswritings only the _History of the Navy_ and _Lives of DistinguishedNaval Officers_ are worthy of remembrance. Of his thirty-two romancesthe half, at least, may be ignored; though critics may differ as to whethercertain books (_The Bravo_ and _Lionel Lincoln_, for example)should be placed in one half or the other. There remain as the measure ofCooper's genius some sixteen works of fiction, which fall naturally intothree groups: the historical novels, the tales of pioneer life, and theromances of the sea. [Sidenote: THE SPY] _The Spy_ was the first and probably the best of Cooper's historicalromances. Even his admirers must confess that it is crudely written, andthat our patriotic interest inclines us to overestimate a story whichthrows the glamor of romance over the Revolution. Yet this faulty taleattempts to do what very few histories have ever done fairly, namely, topresent both sides or parties of the fateful conflict; and its unusualsuccess in this difficult field may be explained by a bit of familyhistory. Cooper was by birth and training a stanch Whig, or Patriot; buthis wife, to whom he was devotedly attached, was the daughter of anunbending Tory, or Loyalist; and his divided allegiance is plainly apparentin his work. Ordinarily his personal antagonisms, his hatred of "Yankees, "Puritans and all politicians of the other party, are dragged into hisstories and spoil some of them; but in _The Spy_ he puts hisprejudices under restraint, tells his tale in an impersonal way, dealinghonestly with both Whigs and Tories, and so produces a work having thedouble interest of a good adventure story and a fair picture of one of theheroic ages of American history. Aside from its peculiar American interest, _The Spy_ has some originaland broadly human elements which have caused it, notwithstanding itsdreary, artificial style, to be highly appreciated in other countries, inSouth American countries especially. The secret of its appeal lies largelyin this, that in Harvey Birch, a brave man who serves his country withouthope or possibility of reward, Cooper has strongly portrayed a type of thehighest, the most unselfish patriotism. The other historical novels differ greatly in value. Prominent among themare _Mercedes of Castile_, dealing with Columbus and the discovery ofAmerica; _Satanstoe_ and _The Wept of Wish-Ton-Wish_, depictingColonial life in New York and New England respectively; and _LionelLincoln_, which is another story of the Revolution, more labored than_The Spy_ and of less sustained interest. [Sidenote: THE SEA STORIES] Cooper's first sea story, _The Pilot_ (1823), was haphazard enough inboth motive and method, [Footnote: The Waverley novels by "the greatunknown" were appearing at this time. Scott was supposed to be the authorof them, but there was much debate on the subject. One day in New York amember of Cooper's club argued that Scott could not possibly have written_The Pirate_ (which had just appeared), because the nautical skilldisplayed in the book was such as only a sailor could possess. Coopermaintained, on the contrary, that _The Pirate_ was the work of alandsman; and to prove it he declared that he would write a sea story as itshould be written; that is, with understanding as well as with imagination. _The Pilot_ was the result. ] but it gave pleasure to a multitude ofreaders, and it amazed critics by showing that the lonely sea could be aplace of romantic human interest. Cooper was thus the first modern novelistof the ocean; and to his influence we are partly indebted for the stirringtales of such writers as Herman Melville and Clark Russell. A part of theaction of _The Pilot_ takes place on land (the style and thecharacters of this part are wretchedly stilted), but the chief interest ofthe story lies in the adventures of an American privateer commanded by adisguised hero, who turns out to be John Paul Jones. Cooper could notportray such a character, and his effort to make the dashing young captainheroic by surrounding him with a fog of mystery is like his labored attemptto portray the character of Washington in _The Spy_. On the otherhand, he was thoroughly at home on a ship or among common sailors; his seapictures of gallant craft driven before the gale are magnificent; and LongTom Coffin is perhaps the most realistic and interesting of all hischaracters, not excepting even Leatherstocking. Another and better romance of the sea is _The Red Rover_ (1828). Inthis story the action takes place almost wholly on the deep, and its vividword pictures of an ocean smiling under the sunrise or lashed to fury bymidnight gales are unrivaled in any literature. Other notable books of thesame group are _The Water Witch_, _Afloat and Ashore_ and _Wingand Wing_. Some readers will prize these for their stories; but toothers they may appear tame in comparison with the superb descriptivepassages of _The Red Rover_. [Sidenote: LEATHERSTOCKING TALES] When Cooper published _The Pioneers_ (1823) he probably had nointention of writing a series of novels recounting the adventures of NattyBumppo, or Leatherstocking, and his Indian friend Chingachgook; otherwisehe would hardly have painted so shabby a picture of these two old heroes, neglected and despised in a land through which they had once moved asmasters. Readers were quick to see, however, that these old men had anadventurous past, and when they demanded the rest of the story Cooper wrotefour other romances, which are as so many acts in the stirring drama ofpioneer life. When these romances are read, therefore, they should be takenin logical sequence, beginning with _The Deerslayer_, which portraysthe two heroes as young men on their first war trail, and following inorder with _The Last of the Mohicans_, _The Pathfinder_, _ThePioneers_ and _The Prairie_. If one is to be omitted, let it be_The Pathfinder_, which is comparatively weak and dull; and if onlyone is to be read, _The Last of the Mohicans_ is an excellent choice. After nearly a century of novel writing, these five books remain our mostpopular romances of pioneer days, and Leatherstocking is still a wingédname, a name to conjure with, in most civilized countries. Meanwhile athousand similar works have come and gone and been forgotten. To examinethese later books, which attempt to satisfy the juvenile love of Indianstories, is to discover that they are modeled more or less closely on theoriginal work of the first American novelist. COOPER'S SCENES AND CHARACTERS. Even in his outdoor romances Cooper wasforever attempting to depict human society, especially polite society; butthat was the one subject he did not and could not understand. The sea inits grandeur and loneliness; the wild lakes, stretching away to misty, unknown shores or nestling like jewels in their evergreen setting; theforest with its dim trails, its subdued light, its rustlings, whisperings, hints of mystery or peril, --these are his proper scenes, and in them hemoves as if at ease in his environment. [Illustration: COOPER'S CAVEScene of Indian fight in _The Last of the Mohicans_] In his characters we soon discover the same contrast. If he paints a heroof history, he must put him on stilts to increase his stature. If heportrays a woman, he calls her a "female, " makes her a model of decorum, and bores us by her sentimental gabbing. If he describes a socialgathering, he instantly betrays his unfamiliarity with real society bytalking like a book of etiquette. But with rough men or manly men on landor sea, with half-mutinous crews of privateers or disciplined man-of-war'smen, with woodsmen, trappers, Indians, adventurous characters of the borderor the frontier, --with all these Cooper is at home, and in writing of themhe rises almost to the height of genius. [Sidenote: THE RETURN TO NATURE] If we seek the secret of this contrast, we shall find it partly in theauthor himself, partly in a popular, half-baked philosophy of the period. That philosophy was summed up in the words "the return to nature, " and italleged that all human virtues flow from solitude and all vices fromcivilization. Such a philosophy appealed strongly to Cooper, who wascontinually at odds with his fellows, who had been expelled from Yale, whohad engaged in many a bitter controversy, who had suffered abuse fromnewspapers, and who in every case was inclined to consider his opponents asblockheads. No matter in what society he found himself, in imagination hewas always back in the free but lawless atmosphere of the frontier villagein which his youth was spent. Hence he was well fitted to take the point ofview of Natty Bumppo (in _The Pioneers_), who looked with hostile eyesupon the greed and waste of civilization; hence he portrayed his uneducatedbackwoods hero as a brave and chivalrous gentleman, without guile or fearor selfishness, who owed everything to nature and nothing to society. Europe at that time was ready to welcome such a type with enthusiasm. Theworld will always make way for him, whether he appears as a hero of fictionor as a man among men. GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS. The faults of Cooper--his stilted style andslipshod English, his tedious moralizing, his artificial dialogue, hisstuffed gentlemen and inane "females, " his blunders in woodcraft--all theseare so easily discovered by a casual reader that the historian need notlinger over them. His virtues are more interesting, and the first of theseis that he has a story to tell. Ever since Anglo-Saxon days the"tale-bringer" has been a welcome guest, and that Cooper is a goodtale-bringer is evident from his continued popularity at home and abroad. He may not know much about the art of literature, or about psychology, orabout the rule that motives must be commensurate with actions; but he knowsa good story, and that, after all, is the main thing in a novel. Again, there is a love of manly action in Cooper and a robustness ofimagination which compel attention. He is rather slow in starting his tale;but he always sees a long trail ahead, and knows that every turn of thetrail will bring its surprise or adventure. It is only when we analyze andcompare his plots that we discover what a prodigal creative power he had. He wrote, let us say, seven or eight good stories; but he spoiled ten timesthat number by hasty or careless workmanship. In the neglected _Wept ofWish-Ton-Wish_, for example, there is enough wasted material to furnisha modern romancer or dramatist for half a lifetime. [Sidenote: DESCRIPTIVE POWER] Another fine quality of Cooper is his descriptive power, his astonishingvigor in depicting forest, sea, prairie, --all the grandeur of wild natureas a background of human heroism. His descriptions are seldom accurate, forhe was a careless observer and habitually made blunders; but he paintednature as on a vast canvas whereon details might be ignored, and hereproduced the total impression of nature in a way that few novelists haveever rivaled. It is this sustained power of creating a vast natural stageand peopling it with elemental men, the pioneers of a strong nation, thatlargely accounts for Cooper's secure place among the world's fictionwriters. [Sidenote: MORAL QUALITY] Finally, the moral quality of Cooper, his belief in manhood and womanhood, his cleanness of heart and of tongue, are all reflected in his heroes andheroines. Very often he depicts rough men in savage or brutal situations;but, unlike some modern realists, there is nothing brutal in his morals, and it is precisely where we might expect savagery or meanness that hissimple heroes appear as chivalrous gentlemen "without fear and withoutreproach. " That he was here splendidly true to nature and humanity isevident to one who has met his typical men (woodsmen, plainsmen, lumbermen, lonely trappers or timber-cruisers) in their own environment andexperienced their rare courtesy and hospitality. In a word, Cooper knewwhat virtue is, virtue of white man, virtue of Indian, and he makes us knowand respect it. Of a hundred strong scenes which he has vividly picturedthere is hardly one that does not leave a final impression as pure andwholesome as the breath of the woods or the sea. * * * * * EDGAR ALLAN POE (1809-1849) It is a pleasant task to estimate Irving or Bryant, but Poe offers a hardnut for criticism to crack. The historian is baffled by an author whosecretes himself in the shadow, or perplexed by conflicting biographies, orput on the defensive by the fact that any positive judgment or opinion ofPoe will almost certainly be challenged. At the outset, therefore, we are to assume that Poe is one of the mostdebatable figures in our literature. His life may be summed up as a pitifulstruggle for a little fame and a little bread. When he died few missed him, and his works were neglected. Following his recognition in Europe came arevival of interest here, during which Poe was absurdly overpraised and theAmerican people berated for their neglect of a genius. Then arose aliterary controversy which showed chiefly that our critics were poles apartin their points of view. Though the controversy has long endured, it hassettled nothing of importance; for one reader regards Poe as a literary_poseur_, a writer of melodious nonsense in verse and of grotesquehorrors in prose; while another exalts him as a double master of poetry andfiction, an artist without a peer in American letters. Somewhere between these extremes hides the truth; but we shall not hereattempt to decide whether it is nearer one side or the other. We notemerely that Poe is a writer for such mature readers as can appreciate hisuncanny talent. What he wrote of abiding interest or value to young peoplemight be printed in a very small book. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. Notwithstanding all that has been written about Poe, we do not and cannot know him as we know most other American authors, whose lives are as an open book. He was always a secretive person, "a lover of mystery and retreats, " and such accounts of his life as he gave out are not trustworthy. He came from a good Maryland family, but apparently from one of those offshoots that are not true to type. His father left the study of law to become a strolling actor, and presently married an English actress. It was while the father and mother were playing their parts in Boston that Edgar was born, in 1809. [Illustration: EDGAR ALLAN POE] Actors led a miserable life in those days, and the Poes were no exception. They died comfortless in Richmond; their three children were separated; and Edgar was adopted by John Allan, a wealthy tobacco merchant. It was in the luxurious Allan home that the boy began the drinking habits which were his bane ever afterwards. [Sidenote: POE'S SCHOOL DAYS] The Allans were abroad on business from 1815 to 1820, and during these years Edgar was at a private school in the suburbs of London. It was the master of that school who described the boy as a clever lad spoiled by too much pocket money. The prose tale "William Wilson" has some reflection of these school years, and, so far as known, it is the only work in which Poe introduced any of his familiar experiences. Soon after his return to Richmond the boy was sent to the University of Virginia, where his brilliant record as a student was marred by his tendency to dissipation. After the first year Mr. Allan, finding that the boy had run up a big gambling debt, took him from college and put him to work in the tobacco house. Whereupon Edgar, always resentful of criticism, quarreled with his foster father and drifted out into the world. He was then at eighteen, a young man of fine bearing, having the taste and manners of a gentleman, but he had no friend in the world, no heritage of hard work, no means of earning a living. [Illustration: WEST RANGE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA] [Sidenote: HIS WANDERINGS] Next we hear vaguely of Poe in Boston where he published a tiny volume, _Tamerlane and Other Poems, by a Bostonian_ (1827). Failing to win either fame or money by his poetry he enlisted in the army under an assumed name and served for about two years. Of his army life we know nothing, nor do we hear of him again until his foster father secured for him an appointment to the military academy at West Point. There Poe made an excellent beginning, but he soon neglected his work, was dismissed, and became an Ishmael again. After trying in vain to secure a political office he went to Baltimore, where he earned a bare living by writing for the newspapers. The popular but mythical account of his life (for which he himself is partly responsible) portrays him at this period in a Byronic rôle, fighting with the Greeks for their liberty. [Sidenote: FIRST SUCCESS] His literary career began in 1833 when his "Manuscript Found in a Bottle" won for him a prize offered by a weekly newspaper. The same "Manuscript" brought him to the attention of John Pendleton Kennedy, who secured for him a position on the staff of the _Southern Literary Messenger_. He then settled in Richmond, and in his grasp was every thing that the heart of a young author might desire. He had married his cousin, Virginia Clem, a beautiful young girl whom he idolized; he had a comfortable home and an assured position; Kennedy and other southern writers were his loyal friends; the _Messenger_ published his work and gave him a reputation in the literary world of America. Fortune stood smiling beside him, when he quarreled with his friends, left the Messenger and began once more his struggle with poverty and despair. [Sidenote: A LIFE OF FRAGMENTS] It would require a volume to describe the next few years, and we must pass hurriedly over them. His pen was now his only hope, and he used it diligently in an effort to win recognition and a living. He tried his fortune in different cities; he joined the staffs of various periodicals; he projected magazines of his own. In every project success was apparently within his reach when by some weakness or misfortune he let his chance slip away. He was living in Fordham (a suburb of New York, now called the Bronx) when he did his best work; but there his wife died, in need of the common comforts of life; and so destitute was the home that an appeal was made in the newspapers for charity. One has but to remember Poe's pride to understand how bitter was the cup from which he drank. After his wife's death came two frenzied years in which not even the memory of a great love kept him from unmanly wooing of other women; but Poe was then unbalanced and not wholly responsible for his action. At forty he became engaged to a widow in Richmond, who could offer him at least a home. Generous friends raised a fund to start him in life afresh; but a little later he was found unconscious amid sordid surroundings in Baltimore. He died there, in a hospital, before he was able to give any lucid account of his last wanderings. It was a pitiful end; but one who studies Poe at any part of his career has an impression of a perverse fate that dogs the man and that insists on an ending in accord with the rest of the story. THE POETRY OF POE. Most people read Poe's poetry for the melody that is init. To read it in any other way, to analyze or explain its message, is todissect a butterfly that changes in a moment from a delicate, livingcreature to a pinch of dust, bright colored but meaningless. It is not foranalysis, therefore, but simply for making Poe more intelligible that werecord certain facts or principles concerning his verse. [Sidenote: THEORY OF POETRY] Perhaps the first thing to note is that Poe is not the poet of smiles andtears, of joy and sorrow, as the great poets are, but the poet of a singlemood, --a dull, despairing mood without hope of comfort. Next, he had atheory (a strange theory in view of his mood) that the only object ofpoetry is to give pleasure, and that the pleasure of a poem depends largelyon melody, on sound rather than on sense. Finally, he believed that poetryshould deal with beauty alone, that poetic beauty is of a supernal orunearthly kind, and that such beauty is forever associated with melancholy. To Poe the most beautiful imaginable object was a beautiful woman; butsince her beauty must perish, the poet must assume a tragic or despairingattitude in face of it. Hence his succession of shadowy Helens, and hencehis wail of grief that he has lost or must soon lose them. [Sidenote: THE RAVEN] All these poetic theories, or delusions, appear in Poe's most widely knownwork, "The Raven, " which has given pleasure to a multitude of readers. Itis a unique poem, and its popularity is due partly to the fact that nobodycan tell what it means. To analyze it is to discover that it is extremelymelodious; that it reflects a gloomy mood; that at the root of its sorrowis the mysterious "lost Lenore"; and that, as in most of Poe's works, afantastic element is introduced, an "ungainly fowl" addressed withgrotesque dignity as "Sir, or Madame, " to divert attention from the factthat the poet's grief is not simple or human enough for tears: And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, _still_ is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted--nevermore! Equally characteristic of the author are "To One in Paradise, " "TheSleeper" and "Annabel Lee, "--all melodious, all in hopeless mood, allexpressive of the same abnormal idea of poetry. Other and perhaps betterpoems are "The Coliseum, " "Israfel, " and especially the second "To Helen, "beginning, "Helen, thy beauty is to me. " Young readers may well be content with a few such lyrics, leaving the bulkof Poe's poems to such as may find meaning in their vaporous images. As anexample, study these two stanzas from "Ulalume, " a work which some may findvery poetic and others somewhat lunatic: The skies they were ashen and sober; The leaves they were crispéd and sere-- The leaves they were withering and sere; It was night in the lonesome October Of my most immemorial year; It was hard by the dim lake of Auber, In the misty mid region of Weir-- It was down by the dank tarn of Auber, In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir. Here once, through an alley Titanic Of cypress, I roamed with my soul-- Of cypress, with Psyche, my soul. These were days when my heart was volcanic As the scoriac rivers that roll-- As the lavas that restlessly roll Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek, In the ultimate climes of the pole-- That groan as they roll down Mount Yaanek, In the realms of the boreal pole. This is melodious, to be sure, but otherwise it is mere word juggling, astringing together of names and rimes with a total effect of lugubriousnonsense. It is not to be denied that some critics find pleasure in"Ulalume"; but uncritical readers need not doubt their taste orintelligence if they prefer counting-out rimes, "The Jabberwock, " or othernonsense verses that are more frankly and joyously nonsensical. POE'S FICTION. Should it be asked why Poe's tales are nearly all of thebloodcurdling variety, the answer is that they are a triple reflection ofhimself, of the fantastic romanticism of his age, and of the taste ofreaders who were then abnormally fond of ghastly effects in fiction. Let usunderstand these elements clearly; for otherwise Poe's horrible storieswill give us nothing beyond the mere impression of horror. [Sidenote: THE MAN AND HIS TIMES] To begin with the personal element, Poe was naturally inclined tomorbidness. He had a childish fear of darkness and hobgoblins; he workedlargely "on his nerves"; he had an abnormal interest in graves, ghouls andthe terrors which preternatural subjects inspire in superstitious minds. Asa writer he had to earn his bread; and the fiction most in demand at thattime was of the "gothic" or _Mysteries of Udolpho_ kind, with itsdiabolical villain, its pallid heroine in a haunted room, its medley ofmystery and horror. [Footnote: As Richardson suggests, the popular novelsof Poe's day are nearly all alike in that they remind us of the fat boy in_Pickwick_, who "just wanted to make your flesh creep. " Jane Austen(and later, Scott and Cooper) had written against this morbid tendency, butstill the "gothic" novel had its thousands of shuddering readers on bothsides of the Atlantic. ] At the beginning of the century Charles BrockdenBrown had made a success of the "American gothic" (a story of horrormodified to suit American readers), and Poe carried on the work of Brownwith precisely the same end in view, namely, to please his audience. Heused the motive of horror partly because of his own taste and training, nodoubt, but more largely because he shrewdly "followed the market" infiction. Then as now there were many readers who enjoyed, as Stevensonsays, being "frightened out of their boots, " and to such readers heappealed. His individuality and, perhaps, his chief excellence as astory-writer lay in his use of strictly logical methods, in his ability tomake the most impossible yarn seem real by his reasonable way of tellingit. Moreover, he was a discoverer, an innovator, a maker of new types, since he was the first to introduce in his stories the blend of calm, logical science and wild fancy of a terrifying order; so he served as aninspiration as well as a point of departure for Jules Verne and otherwriters of the same pseudo-scientific school. [Sidenote: GROUPS OF STORIES] Poe's numerous tales may be grouped in three or four classes. Standing byitself is "William Wilson, " a story of double personality (one good and oneevil genius in the same person), to which Stevenson was indebted in his_Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_. Next are the tales ofpseudo-science and adventure, such as "Hans Pfaall" and the "Descent intothe Maelstrom, " which represent a type of popular fiction developed byJules Verne, H. G. Wells and many others, all of whom were more or lessinfluenced by Poe. A third group may be called the ingenious-mysterystories. One of the most typical of these is "The Gold Bug, " a tale ofcipher-writing and buried treasure, which contains the germ, at least, ofStevenson's _Treasure Island_. To the same group belong "The Murdersin the Rue Morgue" and other stories dealing with the wondrous acumen of acertain Dupin, who is the father of "Old Sleuth, " "Sherlock Holmes" andother amateur detectives who do such marvelous things in fiction, --toatone, no doubt, for their extraordinary dullness in real life. Still another group consists of phantom stories, --ghastly yarns that serveno purpose but to make the reader's spine creep. The mildest of thesehorrors is "The Fall of the House of Usher, " which some critics place atthe head of Poe's fiction. It is a "story of atmosphere"; that is, a storyin which the scene, the air, the vague "feeling" of a place arouse anexpectation of some startling or unusual incident. Many have read thisstory and found pleasure therein; but others ask frankly, "Why bother towrite or to read such palpable nonsense?" With all Poe's efforts to make itreal, Usher's house is not a home or even a building in which dwells a man;it is a vacuum inhabited by a chimera. Of necessity, therefore, it tumblesinto melodramatic nothingness the moment the author takes leave of it. [Sidenote: WHAT TO READ] If it be asked, "What shall one read of Poe's fiction?" the answer mustdepend largely upon individual taste. "The Gold Bug" is a good story, having the adventurous interest of finding a pirate's hidden gold; atleast, that is how most readers regard it, though Poe meant us to beinterested not in the gold but in his ingenious cryptogram or secretwriting. The allegory of "William Wilson" is perhaps the most original ofPoe's works; and for a thriller "The House of Usher" may be recommended asthe least repulsive of the tales of horror. To the historian the chiefinterest of all these tales lies in the influence which they have exertedon a host of short-story writers at home and abroad. [Illustration: _SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER_ BUILDING] AN ESTIMATE OF POE. Any summary of such a difficult subject isunsatisfactory and subject to challenge. We shall try here simply tooutline Poe's aim and method, leaving the student to supply from his ownreading most of the details and all the exceptions. Poe's chief purpose was not to tell a tale for its own sake or to portray ahuman character; he aimed to produce an effect or impression in thereader's mind, an impression of unearthly beauty in his poems and ofunearthly horror in his prose. Some writers (Hawthorne, for example) gothrough life as in a dream; but if one were to judge Poe by his work, onemight think that he had suffered a long nightmare. Of this familiarexperience, his youth, his army training, his meeting with other men, hisimpressions of nature or humanity, there is hardly a trace in his work; ofdespair, terror and hallucinations there is a plethora. [Sidenote: HIS METHOD] His method was at once haphazard and carefully elaborated, --a paradox, itseems, till we examine his work or read his records thereof. In his poetrywords appealed to him, as they appeal to some children, not so much fortheir meaning as for their sound. Thus the word "nevermore, " a gloomy, terrible word, comes into his mind, and he proceeds to brood over it. Theshadow of a great loss is in the word, and loss meant to Poe the loss ofbeauty in the form of a woman; therefore he invents "the lost Lenore" torime with his "nevermore. " Some outward figure of despair is now needed, something that will appeal to the imagination; and for that Poe selects thesable bird that poets have used since Anglo-Saxon times as a symbol ofgloom or mystery. Then carefully, line by line, he hammers out "The Raven, "a poem which from beginning to end is built around the word "nevermore"with its suggestion of pitiless memories. Or again, Poe is sitting at the bedside of his dead wife when another wordsuddenly appeals to him. It is Shakespeare's Duncan is in his grave; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well. And from that word is born "For Annie, " with an ending to the first stanzawhich is an epitome of the poem, and which Longfellow suggested as afitting epitaph for Poe's tomb: And the fever called "Living" Is conquered at last. He reads Coleridge's "Rime of the Ancient Mariner, " and his "ManuscriptFound in a Bottle" is the elaborated result of his chance inspiration. Hesees Cooper make a success of a sea tale, and Irving of a journal ofexploration; and, though he knows naught of the sea or the prairie, heproduces his hair-raising _Arthur Gordon Pym_ and his _Journal ofJulius Rodman_. Some sailor's yarn of a maelstrom in the North Sea comesto his ears, and he fabricates a story of a man who went into thewhirlpool. He sees a newspaper account of a premature burial, and his"House of Usher" and several other stories reflect the imagined horror ofsuch an experience. The same criticism applies to his miscellaneousthrillers, in which with rare cunning he uses phantoms, curtains, shadows, cats, the moldy odor of the grave, --and all to make a gruesome taleinspired by some wild whim or nightmare. In fine, no other American writer ever had so slight a human basis for hiswork; no other ever labored more patiently or more carefully. The unendingcontroversy over Poe commonly reduces itself to this deadlock: one readerasks, "What did he do that was worth a man's effort in the doing?" andanother answers, "What did he do that was not cleverly, skillfully done?" * * * * * SUMMARY. The early part of the nineteenth century (sometimes called the First National period of American letters) was a time of unusual enthusiasm. The country had recently won its independence and taken its place among the free nations of the world; it had emerged triumphant from a period of doubt and struggle over the Constitution and the Union; it was increasing with amazing rapidity in territory, in population and in the wealth which followed a successful commerce; its people were united as never before by noble pride in the past and by a great hope for the future. It is not surprising, therefore, that our first really national literature (that is, a literature which was read by practically the whole country, and which represented America to foreign nations) should appear in this expansive age as an expression of the national enthusiasm. [Sidenote: CHIEF WRITERS] The four chief writers of the period are: Irving, the pleasant essayist, story-teller and historian; Bryant, the poet of primeval nature; Cooper, the novelist, who was the first American author to win world-wide fame; and Poe, the most cunning craftsman among our early writers, who wrote a few melodious poems and many tales of mystery or horror. Some critics would include also among the major writers William Gilmore Simms (sometimes called "the Cooper of the South"), author of many adventurous romances dealing with pioneer life and with Colonial and Revolutionary history. The numerous minor writers of the age are commonly grouped in local schools. The Knickerbocker school, of New York, includes the poets Halleck and Drake, the novelist Paulding, and one writer of miscellaneous prose and verse, Nathaniel P. Willis, who was for a time more popular than any other American writer save Cooper. In the southern school (led by Poe and Simms) were Wilde, Kennedy and William Wirt. The West was represented by Timothy Flint and James Hall. In New England were the poets Percival and Maria Brooks, the novelists Sarah Morton and Catherine Sedgwick, and the historians Sparks and Bancroft. The writers we have named are merely typical; there were literally hundreds of others who were more or less widely known in the middle of the last century. [Sidenote: FOREIGN INFLUENCE] The first common characteristic of these writers was their patriotic enthusiasm; the second was their romantic spirit. The romantic movement in English poetry was well under way at this time, and practically all our writers were involved in it. They were strongly influenced, moreover, by English writers of the period or by settled English literary traditions. Thus, Irving modeled his style closely on that of Addison; the early poetry of Bryant shows the influence of Wordsworth; the weird tales of Poe and his critical essays were both alike influenced by Coleridge; and the quickening influence of Scott appears plainly in the romances of Cooper. The minor writers were even more subject to foreign influences, especially to German and English romanticism. There was, however, a sturdy independence in the work of most of these writers which stamps it as original and unmistakably American. The nature poetry of Bryant with its rugged strength and simplicity, the old Dutch legends and stories of Irving, the pioneer romances of Cooper and Simms, the effective short stories of Poe, --these have hardly a counterpart in foreign writings of the period. They are the first striking expressions of the new American spirit in literature. SELECTIONS FOR READING. Irving's Sketch Book, in Standard English Classics and various other school editions (see "Texts" in General Bibliography); The Alhambra, in Ginn and Company's Classics for Children; parts of Bracebridge Hall, in Riverside Literature; Conquest of Granada and other works, in Everyman's Library. Selections from Bryant, in Riverside Literature and Pocket Classics. Cooper's Last of the Mohicans, in Standard English Classics and other school editions; the five Leatherstocking tales, in Everyman's Library; The Spy, in Riverside Literature. Selections from Poe, prose and verse, in Standard English Classics, Silver Classics, Johnson's English Classics, Lake English Classics. Simms's The Yemassee, in Johnson's English Classics. Typical selections from minor authors of the period, in Readings from American Literature and other anthologies (see "Selections" in General Bibliography). BIBLIOGRAPHY. For works covering the whole field of American history and literature see the General Bibliography. The following are recommended for a special study of the early part of the nineteenth century. _HISTORY_. Adams, History of the United States, 1801-1817, 9 vols. ; Von Holst, Constitutional and Political History, 1787-1861, 8 vols. ; Sparks, Expansion of the American People; Low, The American People; Expedition of Lewis and Clarke, in Original Narratives Series (Scribner); Page, The Old South; Drake, The Making of the West. _LITERATURE_. There is no good literary history devoted to this period. Critical studies of the authors named in the text may be found in Richardson's American Literature and other general histories. For the lives of minor authors see Adams, Dictionary of American Authors, or Appleton's Cyclopedia of American Biography. _Irving_. Life and Letters, by P. M. Irving, 4 vols. , in Crayon edition of Irving's works. Life by Warner, in American Men of Letters; by Hill, in American Authors; by Boynton (brief), in Riverside Biographies. Essays by Brownell, in American Prose Masters; by Payne, in Leading American Essayists; by Perry, in A Study of Prose Fiction; by Curtis, in Literary and Social Addresses. _Bryant_. Life, by Godwin, 2 vols. ; by Bigelow, in American Men of Letters; by Curtis. Wilson, Bryant and his Friends. Essays, by Stedman, in Poets of America; by Curtis, in Orations and Addresses; by Whipple, in Literature and Life; by Burton, in Literary Leaders. _Cooper_. Life, by Lounsbury, in American Men of Letters; by Clymer (brief), in Beacon Biographies. Essays, by Erskine, in Leading American Novelists; by Brownell, in American Prose Masters; by Matthews, in Gateways to Literature. _Poe_. Life, by Woodberry, in American Men of Letters; by Trent, in English Men of Letters; Life and Letters, 2 vols. , by Harrison. Essays, by Stedman, in Poets of America; by Brownell, in American Prose Masters; by Burton, in Literary Leaders; by Higginson, in Short Studies of American Authors; by Andrew Lang, in Letters to Dead Authors; by Gates, in Studies and Appreciations; by Gosse, in Questions at Issue. _Simms_. Life, by Trent, in American Men of Letters. Critical studies by Moses, in Literature of the South; by Link, in Pioneers of Southern Literature; by Wauchope, in Writers of South Carolina. _FICTION_. A few novels dealing with the period are: Brown, Arthur Merwyn; Kennedy, Swallow Barn; Paulding, Westward Ho; Mrs. Stowe, The Minister's Wooing; Cooke, Leather Stocking and Silk; Eggleston, The Circuit Rider, The Hoosier Schoolmaster; Winthrop, John Brent. CHAPTER III THE PERIOD OF CONFLICT (1840-1876) The muffled drum's sad roll has beat The soldier's last tattoo; No more on Life's parade shall meet That brave and fallen few. On Fame's eternal camping-ground Their silent tents are spread, And Glory guards, with solemn round, The bivouac of the dead. O'Hara, "The Bivouac of the Dead" POLITICAL HISTORY. To study the history of America after 1840 is to have our attention drawn as by a powerful lodestone to the Civil War. It looms there in the middle of the nineteenth century, a stupendous thing, dominating and dwarfing all others. To it converge many ways that then seemed aimless or wandering, the unanswered questions of the Constitution, the compromises of statesmen, the intrigues of politicians, the clamor of impatient reformers, the silent degradation of the slave. And from it, all its passion and suffering forgotten, its heroism remembered, proceed the unexpected blessings of a finer love of country, a broader sense of union, a surer faith in democracy, a better understanding of the spirit of America, more gratitude for her glorious past, more hope for her future. So every thought or mention of the mighty conflict draws us onward, as the first sight of the Rockies, massive and snow crowned, lures the feet of the wanderer on the plains. We shall not attempt here to summarize the war between the South and the North or even to list its causes and consequences. The theme is too vast. We note only that the main issues of the conflict, state rights and slavery, had been debated for the better part of a century, and might still have found peaceful solution had they not been complicated by the minor issues of such an age of agitation as America never saw before and, as we devoutly hope, may never see again. [Illustration: "The Man" (Abraham Lincoln)] [Sidenote: THE AGE OF AGITATION] Such agitation was perhaps inevitable in a country that had grown too rapidly for its government to assimilate the new possessions. By the Oregon treaty, the war with Mexico and the annexation of Texas vast territories had suddenly been added to the Union, each with its problem that called for patient and wise deliberation, but that a passionate and half-informed Congress was expected to settle overnight. With the expansion of territory in the West came a marvelous increase of trade and wealth in the North, and a corresponding growth in the value of cotton and slave labor in the South. Then arose an economic strife; the agricultural interests of one part of the country clashed with the manufacturing interests of another (in such matters as the tariff, for example), and in the tumult of party politics it was impossible to reach any harmonious adjustment. Finally, the violent agitation of the slave question forced it to the front not simply as a moral or human but as a political issue; for the old "balance of power" between the states was upset when the North began to outstrip the South in population, and every state was then fiercely jealous of its individual rights and obligations in a way that we can now hardly comprehend. As a result of these conflicting interests and the local or sectional passions which they aroused, there was seldom a year after 1840 when the country did not face a situation of extreme difficulty or danger. Indeed, even while Webster was meditating his prophetic oration with its superb climax of "Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and inseparable, " many of the most thoughtful minds, south and north, believed that Congress faced a problem beyond its power to solve; that no single government was wise enough or strong enough to meet the situation, especially a government divided against itself. [Sidenote: THE WIND AND THE WHIRLWIND] In the midst of the political tumult, which was increased by the clamor of agitators and reformers, came suddenly the secession of a state from the Union, an act long threatened, long feared, but which arrived at last with the paralyzing effect of a thunderbolt. Then the clamor ceased; minor questions were swept aside as by a tempest, and the main issues were settled not by constitutional rights, not by orderly process of law or the ballot, but by the fearful arbitrament of the sword. And even as the thunderbolt fell and the Union trembled, came also unheralded one gaunt, heroic, heaven-sent man to lead the nation in its hour of peril: Oh, slow to smite and swift to spare, Gentle and merciful and just! Who in the fear of God didst bear The sword of power, a nation's trust! Such is an outline of the period of conflict, an outline to which the political measures or compromises of the time, its sectional antagonism, its score of political parties, its agitators, reformers, and all other matters of which we read confusedly in the histories, are but so many illuminating details. SOCIAL AND INTELLECTUAL CHANGES. The mental ferment of the period was almost as intense as its political agitation. Thus, the antislavery movement, which aimed to rescue the negro from his servitude, was accompanied by a widespread communistic attempt to save the white man from the manifold evils of our competitive system of industry. Brook Farm [Footnote: This was a Massachusetts society, founded in 1841 by George Ripley. It included Hawthorne, Dana and Curtis in its large membership, and it had the support of Emerson, Greeley, Channing, Margaret Fuller and a host of other prominent men and women] was the most famous of these communities; but there were more than thirty others scattered over the country, all holding property in common, working on a basis of mutual helpfulness, aiming at a nobler life and a better system of labor than that which now separates the capitalist and the workingman. [Sidenote: WIDENING HORIZONS] This brave attempt at human brotherhood, of which Brook Farm was the visible symbol, showed itself in many other ways: in the projection of a hundred social reforms; in the establishment of lyceums throughout the country, where every man with a message might find a hearing. In education our whole school system was changed by applying the methods of Pestalozzi, a Swiss reformer; for the world had suddenly become small, thanks to steam and electricity, and what was spoken in a corner the newspapers immediately proclaimed from the housetops. In religious circles the Unitarian movement, under Channing's leadership, gained rapidly in members and in influence; in literature the American horizon was broadened by numerous translations from the classic books of foreign countries; in the realm of philosophy the western mind was stimulated by the teaching of the idealistic system known as Transcendentalism. [Sidenote: TRANSCENDENTALISM] Emerson was the greatest exponent of this new philosophy, which made its appearance here in 1836. It exalted the value of the individual man above society or institutions; and in dealing with the individual it emphasized his freedom rather than his subjection to authority, his soul rather than his body, his inner wealth of character rather than his outward possessions. It taught that nature was an open book of the Lord in which he who runs may read a divine message; and in contrast with eighteenth-century philosophy (which had described man as a creature of the senses, born with a blank mind, and learning only by experience), it emphasized the divinity of man's nature, his inborn ideas of right and wrong, his instinct of God, his passion for immortality, --in a word, his higher knowledge which transcends the knowledge gained from the senses, and which is summarized in the word "Transcendentalism. " We have described this in the conventional way as a new philosophy, though in truth it is almost as old as humanity. Most of the great thinkers of the world, in all ages and in all countries, have been transcendentalists; but in the original way in which the doctrine was presented by Emerson it seemed like a new revelation, as all fine old things do when they are called to our attention, and it exercised a profound influence on our American life and literature. LITERATURE OF THE PERIOD. The violent political agitation and the profoundsocial unrest of the period found expression in multitudinous works ofprose or verse; but the curious fact is that these are all minor works, andcould without much loss be omitted from our literary records. They aremostly sectional in spirit, and only what is national or human can longendure. [Sidenote: MINOR WORKS] To illustrate our criticism, the terrible war that dominates the periodnever had any worthy literary expression; there are thousands of writingsbut not a single great poem or story or essay or drama on the subject. Theantislavery movement likewise brought forth its poets, novelists, oratorsand essayists; some of the greater writers were drawn into its whirlpool ofagitation, and Whittier voiced the conviction that the age called for a manrather than a poet in a cry which was half defiance and half regret: Better than self-indulgent years The outflung heart of youth, Than pleasant songs in idle ears The tumult of the truth! That was the feeling in the heart of many a promising young southern ornorthern poet in midcentury, just as it was in 1776, when our best writersneglected literature for political satires against Whigs or Tories. Yet ofthe thousand works which the antislavery agitation inspired we can think ofonly one, Mrs. Stowe's _Uncle Tom's Cabin_, which lives with power toour own day; and there is something of universal human nature in thatfamous book, written not from knowledge or experience but from theimagination, which appeals broadly to our human sympathy, and which makesit welcome in countries where slavery as a political or a moral issue haslong since been forgotten. [Sidenote: GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS] Though the ferment of the age produced no great books, it certainlyinfluenced our literature, making it a very different product from that ofthe early national period. For example, nearly every political issue soonbecame a moral issue; and there is a deep ethical earnestness in the essaysof Emerson, the poems of Longfellow and the novels of Hawthorne which setsthem apart, as of a different spirit, from the works of Irving, Poe andCooper. Again, the mental unrest of the period showed itself in a passion for newideas, new philosophy, new prose and poetry. We have already spoken of thetranscendental philosophy, but even more significant was the suddenbroadening of literary interest. American readers had long been familiarwith the best English poets; now they desired to know how our common lifehad been reflected by poets of other nations. In answer to that desirecame, first, the establishment of professorships of _belles-lettres_in our American colleges; and then a flood of translations from Europeanand oriental literatures. As we shall presently see, every prominent writerfrom Emerson to Whitman was influenced by new views of life as reflected inthe world's poetry. Longfellow is a conspicuous example; with his songsinspired by Spanish or German or Scandinavian originals he is at times morelike an echo of Europe than a voice from the New World. [Illustration: BIRTHPLACE OF LONGFELLOW, AT FALMOUTH (NOW PORTLAND), MAINE] [Sidenote: AN AGE OF POETRY] Finally, this period of conflict was governed more largely than usual byideals, by sentiment, by intense feeling. Witness the war, with the heroicsentiments which it summoned up south and north. As the deepest humanfeeling cannot be voiced in prose, we confront the strange phenomenon of anAmerican age of poetry. This would be remarkable Poetry enough to one whoremembers that the genius of America had hitherto appeared practical andprosaic, given to action rather than speech, more concerned to "get on" inlife than to tell what life means; but it is even more remarkable in viewof the war, which covers the age with its frightful shadow. As Lincoln, sadand overburdened, found the relief of tears in the beautiful ending ofLongfellow's "Building of the Ship, " so, it seems, the heart of America, torn by the sight of her sons in conflict, found blessed relief in songs oflove, of peace, of home, of beauty, --of all the lovely and immortal idealsto which every war offers violent but impotent contradiction. And this maybe the simple explanation of the fact that the most cherished poemsproduced by any period of war are almost invariably its songs of peace. * * * * * THE GREATER POETS HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW (1807-1882) When Longfellow sent forth his _Voices of the Night_, in 1839, thatmodest little volume met with a doubly warm reception. Critics led by Poepounced on the work to condemn its sentimentality or moralizing, while amultitude of readers who needed no leader raised a great shout of welcome. Now as then there are diverse critical opinions of Longfellow, andunfortunately these opinions sometimes obscure the more interesting facts:that Longfellow is still the favorite of the American home, the mosthonored of all our elder poets; that in foreign schools his works arecommonly used as an introduction to English verse, and that he has probablyled more young people to appreciate poetry than any other poet who everwrote our language. That strange literary genius Lafcadio Hearn advised hisJapanese students to begin the study of poetry with Longfellow, saying thatthey might learn to like other poets better in later years, but thatLongfellow was most certain to charm them at the beginning. The reason for this advice, given to the antipodes, was probably this, thatyoung hearts and pure hearts are the same the world over, and Longfellow isthe poet of the young and pure in heart. LIFE. The impression of serenity in Longfellow's work may be explained by the gifts which Fortune offered him in the way of endowment, training and opportunity. By nature he was a gentleman; his home training was of the best; to his college education four years of foreign study were added, a very unusual thing at that time; and no sooner was he ready for his work than the way opened as if the magic _Sesame_ were on his lips. His own college gave him a chair of modern languages and literature, which was the very thing he wanted; then Harvard offered what seemed to him a wider field, and finally his country called him from the professor's chair to teach the love of poetry to the whole nation. Before his long and beautiful life ended he had enjoyed for half a century the two rewards that all poets desire, and the most of them in vain; namely, fame and love. The first may be fairly won; the second is a free gift. [Illustration: HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW] Longfellow was born (1807) in the town of Falmouth, Maine, which has since been transformed into the city of Portland. Like Bryant he was descended from Pilgrim stock; but where the older poet's training had been strictly puritanic, Longfellow's was more liberal and broadly cultured. Bryant received the impulse to poetry from his grandfather's prayers, but Longfellow seems to have heard his first call in the sea wind. Some of his best lyrics sing of the ocean; his early book of essays was called _Driftwood_, his last volume of poetry _In the Harbor_; and in these lyrics and titles we have a reflection of his boyhood impressions in looking forth from the beautiful Falmouth headland, then a wild, wood-fringed pasture but now a formal park: I remember the black wharves and the slips, And the sea tides tossing free, And Spanish sailors with bearded lips, And the beauty and mystery of the ships, And the magic of the sea. [Sidenote: THE CALL OF BOOKS] This first call was presently neglected for the more insistent summons of literature; and thereafter Longfellow's inspiration was at second hand, from books rather than from nature or humanity. Soon after his graduation from Bowdoin (1825) he was offered a professorship in modern languages on condition that he prepare himself for the work by foreign study. With a glad heart he abandoned the law, which he had begun to study in his father's office, and spent three happy years in France, Spain and Italy. There he steeped himself in European poetry, and picked up a reading knowledge of several languages. Strangely enough, the romantic influence of Europe was reflected by this poet in a book of prose essays, _Outre Mer_, modeled on Irving's _Sketch Book_. [Sidenote: YEARS OF TEACHING] For five years Longfellow taught the modern languages at Bowdoin, and his subject was so new in America that he had to prepare his own textbooks. Then, after another period of foreign study (this time in Denmark and Germany), he went to Harvard, where he taught modern languages and literature for eighteen years. In 1854 he resigned his chair, and for the remainder of his life devoted himself whole-heartedly to poetry. His literary work began with newspaper verses, the best of which appear in the "Earlier Poems" of his collected works. Next he attempted prose in his _Outre Mer_, _Driftwood Essays_ and the romances _Hyperion_ and _Kavanagh_. In 1839 appeared his first volume of poetry, _Voices of the Night_, after which few years went by without some notable poem or volume from Longfellow's pen. His last book, _In the Harbor_, appeared with the news of his death, in 1882. [Sidenote: HIS SERENITY] Aside from these "milestones" there is little to record in a career so placid that we remember by analogy "The Old Clock on the Stairs. " For the better part of his life he lived in Cambridge, where he was surrounded by a rare circle of friends, and whither increasing numbers came from near or far to pay the tribute of gratitude to one who had made life more beautiful by his singing. Once only the serenity was broken by a tragedy, the death of the poet's wife, who was fatally burned before his eyes, --a tragedy which occasioned his translation of Dante's _Divina Commedia_ (by which work he strove to keep his sorrow from overwhelming him) and the exquisite "Cross of Snow. " The latter seemed too sacred for publication; it was found, after the poet's death, among his private papers. [Sidenote: HIS WORK AND INFLUENCE] Reading Longfellow's poems one would never suspect that they were produced in an age of turmoil. To be sure, one finds a few poems on slavery (sentimental effusions, written on shipboard to relieve the monotony of a voyage), but these were better unwritten since they added nothing to the poet's song and took nothing from the slave's burden. Longfellow has been criticized for his inaction in the midst of tumult, but possibly he had his reasons. When everybody's shouting is an excellent time to hold your tongue. He had his own work to do, a work for which he was admirably fitted; that he did not turn aside from it is to his credit and our profit. One demand of his age was, as we have noted elsewhere, to enter into the wealth of European poetry; and he gave thirty years of his life to satisfying that demand. Our own poetry was then sentimental, a kind of "sugared angel-cake"; and Longfellow, who was sentimental enough but whose sentiment was balanced by scholarship, made poetry that was like wholesome bread to common men. Lowell was a more brilliant writer, and Whittier a more inspired singer; but neither did a work for American letters that is comparable to that of Longfellow, who was essentially an educator, a teacher of new ideas, new values, new beauty. His influence in broadening our literary culture, in deepening our sympathy for the poets of other lands, and in making our own poetry a true expression of American feeling is beyond measure. MINOR POEMS. It was by his first simple poems that Longfellow won thehearts of his people, and by them he is still most widely and gratefullyremembered. To name these old favorites ("The Day is Done, " "Resignation, ""Ladder of St. Augustine, " "Rainy Day, " "Footsteps of Angels, " "Light ofStars, " "Reaper and the Flowers, " "Hymn to the Night, " "Midnight Mass, ""Excelsior, " "Village Blacksmith, " "Psalm of Life") is to list many of thepoems that are remembered and quoted wherever in the round world theEnglish language is spoken. [Sidenote: VESPER SONGS] Ordinarily such poems are accepted at their face value as a true expressionof human sentiment; but if we examine them critically, remembering thepeople for whom they were written, we may discover the secret of theirpopularity. The Anglo-Saxons are first a busy and then a religious folk;when their day's work is done their thoughts turn naturally to highermatters; and any examination of Longfellow's minor works shows that a largeproportion of them deal with the thoughts or feelings of men at the closeof day. Such poems would be called _Abendlieder_ in German; a goodOld-English title for them would be "Evensong"; and both titles suggest theelement of faith or worship. In writing these poems Longfellow had, unconsciously perhaps, the same impulse that leads one man to sing a hymnand another to say his prayers when the day is done. Because he expressesthis almost universal feeling simply and reverently, his work is dear tomen and women who would not have the habit of work interfere with thedivine instinct of worship. Further examination of these minor poems shows them to be filled withsentiment that often slips over the verge of sentimentality. The sentimentsexpressed are not of the exalted, imaginative kind; they are the sentimentsof plain people who feel deeply but who can seldom express their feeling. Now, most people are sentimental (though we commonly try to hide the fact, more's the pity), and we are at heart grateful to the poet who says for usin simple, musical language what we are unable or ashamed to say forourselves. In a word, the popularity of Longfellow's poems rests firmly onthe humanity of the poet. [Sidenote: TYPICAL POEMS] Besides these vesper songs are a hundred other short poems, among which thereader must make his own selection. The ballads should not be neglected, for Longfellow knew how to tell a story in verse. If he were too prone toadd a moral to his tale (a moral that does not speak for itself were betteromitted), we can overlook the fault, since his moral was a good one and hisreaders liked it. The "occasional" poems, also, written to celebratepersons or events (such as "Building of the Ship, " "Hanging of the Crane, ""Morituri Salutamus, " "Bells of Lynn, " "Robert Burns, " "Chamber over theGate") well deserved the welcome which the American people gave them. Andthe sonnets (such as "Three Friends, " "Victor and Vanquished, " "My Books, ""Nature, " "Milton, " "President Garfield, " "Giotto's Tower") are not onlythe most artistic of Longfellow's works but rank very near to the bestsonnets in the English language. AMERICAN IDYLS. In the same spirit in which Tennyson wrote his _EnglishIdyls_ the American poet sent forth certain works reflecting the beautyof common life on this side of the ocean; and though he never collected orgave them a name, we think of them as his "American Idyls. " Many of hisminor poems belong to this class, but we are thinking especially of_Evangeline_, _Miles Standish_ and _Hiawatha_. Thelast-named, with its myths and legends clustering around one heroicpersonage, is commonly called an epic; but its songs of Chibiabos, Minnehaha, Nokomis and the little Hiawatha are more like idyllic picturesof the original Americans. [Sidenote: EVANGELINE] _Evangeline: a Tale of Acadie_ (1847) met the fate of Longfellow'searlier poems in that it was promptly attacked by a few critics while amultitude of people read it with delight. Its success may be explained onfour counts. First, it is a charming story, not a "modern" or realistic buta tender, pathetic story such as we read in old romances, and such as youngpeople will cherish so long as they remain young people. Second, it had aNew World setting, one that was welcomed in Europe because it offeredreaders a new stage, more vast, shadowy, mysterious, than that to whichthey were accustomed; and doubly welcomed here because it threw the glamorof romance over familiar scenes which deserved but had never before foundtheir poet. Third, this old romance in a new setting was true to universalhuman nature; its sentiments of love, faith and deathless loyalty were suchas make the heart beat faster wherever true hearts are found. Finally, itwas written in an unusual verse form, the unrimed hexameter, whichLongfellow handled as well, let us say, as most other English poets whohave tried to use that alluring but difficult measure. For hexameters arelike the Italian language, which is very easy to "pick up, " but which fewforeigners ever learn to speak with the rhythm and melody of a child ofTuscany. Longfellow began his hexameters fairly well, as witness the opening linesof _Evangeline_: This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic, Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms. Loud from its rocky caverns the deep-voiced neighboring ocean Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest. Occasionally also he produced a very good but not quite perfect line orpassage: And as the voice of the priest repeated the service of sorrow, So with a mournful sound, like the voice of a vast congregation, Solemnly answered the sea, and mingled its roar with the dirges. One must confess, however, that such passages are exceptional, and that onemust change the proper stress of a word too frequently to be enthusiasticover Longfellow's hexameters. Some of his lines halt or hobble, refusing tomove to the chosen measure, and others lose all their charm when spokenaloud: When she had passed it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music. That line has been praised by critics, but one must believe that they neverpronounced it. To voice its sibilant hissing is to understand the symbolfor a white man in the Indian sign language; that is, two fingers of a handextended before the face, like the fork of a serpent's tongue. [Footnote:This curious symbol, a snake's tongue to represent an Englishman, wasinvented by some Indian whose ears were pained by a language in which the_s_ sounds occur too frequently. Our plurals are nearly all made thatway, unfortunately; but Longfellow was able to make a hissing line withoutthe use of a single plural. ] On the whole, Longfellow's verse should bejudged not by itself but as a part of the tale he was telling. Holmessummed up the first impression of many readers by saying that he foundthese "brimming lines" an excellent medium for a charming story. That is more than one can truthfully say of the next important idyl, _TheCourtship of Miles Standish_ (1858). The story is a good one and, morethan all the histories, has awakened a romantic interest in the Pilgrims;but its unhappy hexameters go jolting along, continually upsetting themusical rhythm, until we wish that the tale had been told in either proseor poetry. [Sidenote: SONG OF HIAWATHA] _The Song of Hiawatha_ (1855) was Longfellow's greatest work, and byit he will probably be longest remembered as a world poet. The materialsfor this poem, its musical names, its primitive traditions, its fascinatingfolklore, were all taken from Schoolcraft's books about the OjibwayIndians; its peculiar verse form, with its easy rhythm and endlessrepetition, was copied from the _Kalevala_, the national epic ofFinland. Material and method, the tale and the verse form, were finelyadapted to each other; and though Longfellow showed no originality in_Hiawatha_, his poetic talent or genius appears in this: that thesetales of childhood are told in a childlike spirit; that these forestlegends have the fragrance of hemlock in them; and that as we read them, even now, we seem to see the wigwam with its curling smoke, and beyond thewigwam the dewy earth, the shining river, and the blue sky with its pillarsof tree trunks and its cloud of rustling leaves. The simplicity andnaturalness of primitive folklore is in this work of Longfellow, who of ahundred writers at home and abroad was the first to reveal the poetry inthe soul of an Indian. As the poem is well known we forbear quotation; as it is too long, perhaps, we express a personal preference in naming "Hiawatha's Childhood, " his"Friends, " his "Fishing" and his "Wooing" as the parts most likely toplease the beginner. The best that can be said of _Hiawatha_ is thatit adds a new tale to the world's storybook. That book of the centuries hasonly a few stories, each of which portrays a man from birth to death, fronting the problems of this life, meeting its joy or sorrow in manfashion, and then setting his face bravely to "Ponemah, " the Land of theHereafter. That Longfellow added a chapter to the volume which preservesthe stories of Ulysses, Beowulf, Arthur and Roland is undoubtedly his bestor most enduring achievement. [Illustration: THE TAPROOM, WAYSIDE INN, SUDBURY] HIS EXPERIMENTAL WORKS. Unless the student wants to encourage a sentimentalmood by reading _Hyperion_, Longfellow's prose works need not detainus. Much more valuable and readable are his translations from variousEuropean languages, and of these his metrical version of _The DivineComedy_ of Dante is most notable. He attempted also several dramaticworks, among which _The Spanish Student_ (1843) is still readable, though not very convincing. In _Christus: a Mystery_ he attempted amiracle play of three acts, dealing with Christianity in the apostolic, medieval and modern eras; but not even his admirers were satisfied with theresult. "The Golden Legend" (one version of which Caxton printed on thefirst English press, and which a score of different poets have paraphrased)is the only part of _Christus_ that may interest young readers by itsromantic portrayal of the Middle Ages. To name such works is to suggestLongfellow's varied interests and his habit of experimenting with anysubject or verse form that attracted him in foreign literatures. The _Tales of a Wayside Inn_ (1863-1873) is the most popular ofLongfellow's miscellaneous works. Here are a score of stories from ancientor modern sources, as told by a circle of the poet's friends in the RedHorse Inn, at Sudbury. The title suggests at once the _CanterburyTales_ of Chaucer; but it would be unwise to make any comparison betweenthe two works or the two poets. The ballad of "Paul Revere's Ride" is thebest known of the _Wayside Inn_ poems; the Viking tales of "The Sagaof King Olaf" are the most vigorous; the mellow coloring of the Middle Agesappears in such stories as "The Legend Beautiful" and "The Bell of Atri. " CHARACTERISTICS OF LONGFELLOW. The broad sympathy of Longfellow, which madehim at home in the literatures of a dozen nations, was one of his finestqualities. He lived in Cambridge; he wrote in English; he is called thepoet of the American home; but had he lived in Finland and written in aScandinavian tongue, his poems must still appeal to us. Indeed, so simplydid he reflect the sentiments of the human heart that Finland or any othernation might gladly class him among its poets. [Sidenote: A POET OF ALL PEOPLES] For example, many Englishmen have written about their Wellington, but, asHearn says, not even Tennyson's poem on the subject is quite equal toLongfellow's "Warden of the Cinque Ports. " The spirit of the Spanishmissions, with their self-sacrificing monks and their soldiers "with heartsof fire and steel, " is finely reflected in "The Bells of San Blas. " Thehalf-superstitious loyalty of the Russian peasant for his hereditary rulerhas never been better reflected than in "The White Czar. " The story ofBelisarius has been told in scores of histories and books of poetry; butyou will feel a deeper sympathy for the neglected old Roman soldier inLongfellow's poem than in anything else you may find on the same theme. Andthere are many other foreign heroes or brave deeds that find beautifulexpression in the verse of our American poet. Of late it has become almosta critical habit to disparage Longfellow; but no critic has pointed outanother poet who has reflected with sympathy and understanding the feelingsof so many widely different peoples. [Illustration: LONGFELLOW'S LIBRARY IN CRAIGIE HOUSE, CAMBRIDGE] Naturally such a poet had his limitations. In comparison with Chaucer, forexample, we perceive instantly that Longfellow knew only one side of life, the better side. Unhappy or rebellious or turbulent souls were beyond hisken. He wrote only for those who work by day and sometimes go to evensongat night, who hopefully train their children or reverently bury their dead, and who cleave to a writer that speaks for them the fitting word of faithor cheer or consolation on every proper occasion. As humanity is largelymade of such men and women, Longfellow will always be a popular poet. Forhim, with his serene outlook, there were not nine Muses but only three, andtheir names were Faith, Hope and Charity. [Sidenote: POETIC FAULTS] Concerning his faults, perhaps the most illuminating thing that can be saidis that critics emphasize and ordinary readers ignore them. The reason forthis is that every poem has two elements, form and content: a critic lookschiefly at the one, an ordinary reader at the other. Because the form ofLongfellow's verse is often faulty it is easy to criticize him, to showthat he copies the work of others, that he lacks originality, that hisfigures are often forced or questionable; but the reader, the young readerespecially, may be too much interested in the charm of the poet's story orthe truth of his sentiment to dissect his poetic figures. Thus, in thebest-known of his earlier poems, "A Psalm of Life, " he uses the famousmetaphor of "footprints on the sands of time. " That is so bad a figure thatto analyze is to reject it; yet it never bothers young people, who wouldunderstand the poet and like him just as well even had he written"signboards" instead of "footprints. " The point is that Longfellow is soobviously a true and pleasant poet that his faults easily escape attentionunless we look for them. There is perhaps no better summary of our poet'squalities than to record again the simple fact that he is the poet of youngpeople, to whom sentiment is the very breath of life. Should you ask thereason for his supremacy in this respect, the answer is a paradox. Longfellow was not an originator; he had no new song to sing, no new taleto tell. He was the poet of old heroes, old legends, old sentiments andideals. Therefore he is the poet of youth. * * * * * JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER (1807-1892) The strange mixture of warrior and peace lover in Whittier has led to astrange misjudgment of his work. From the obscurity of a New England farmhe emerged as the champion of the Abolitionist party, and for thirtytumultuous years his poems were as war cries. By such work was he judged as"the trumpeter of a cause, " and the judgment stood between him and hisaudience when he sang not of a cause but of a country. Even at the presenttime most critics speak of Whittier as "the antislavery poet. " Stedman, forexample, focuses our attention on certain lyrics of reform which he calls"words wrung from the nation's heart"; but the plain fact is that only asmall part of the nation approved these lyrics or took any interest in thepoet who wrote them. Such was Whittier on one side, a militant poet of reform, sending forthverses that had the brattle of trumpets and the waving of banners in them: Lift again the stately emblem on the Bay State's rusted shield, Give to Northern winds the Pine Tree on our banner's tattered field. Sons of men who sat in council with their Bibles round the board, Answering England's royal missive with a firm, "Thus saith the Lord!" Rise again for home and freedom! set the battle in array! What the fathers did of old time we their sons must do to-day. On the other side he was a Friend, or Quaker, and the peaceful spirit ofhis people found expression in lyrics of faith that have no equal in ourpoetry. He was also a patriot to the core. He loved America with a profoundlove; her ideals, her traditions, her epic history were in his blood, andhe glorified them in ballads and idyls that reflect the very spirit ofbrave Colonial days. To judge Whittier as a trumpeter, therefore, is toneglect all that is important in his work; for his reform poems merelyawaken the dying echoes of party clamor, while his ballads and idyls belongto the whole American people, and his hymns of faith to the wider audienceof humanity. LIFE. The span of Whittier's life was almost the span of the nineteenth century. He was born (1807) in the homestead of his ancestors at Haverhill, Massachusetts, and spent his formative years working in the fields by day, reading beside the open fire at night, and spending a few terms in a "deestrict" school presided over by teachers who came or went with the spring. His schooling was, therefore, of the scantiest kind; his real education came from a noble home, from his country's history, from his toil and outdoor life with its daily contact with nature. The love of home and of homely virtues, the glorification of manhood and womanhood, the pride of noble traditions, and always a background of meadow or woodland or sounding sea, --these were the subjects of Whittier's best verse, because these were the things he knew most intimately. [Sidenote: FIRST VERSES] It was a song of Burns that first turned Whittier to poetry; but hardly had he begun to write songs of his own when Garrison, the antislavery agitator, turned his thought from the peaceful farm to the clamoring world beyond. Attracted by certain verses (Whittier's sister Elizabeth had sent them secretly to Garrison's paper) the editor came over to see his contributor and found to his surprise a country lad who was in evident need of education. Instead of asking for more poetry, therefore, Garrison awakened the boy's ambition. For two terms he attended the Haverhill Academy, supporting himself meanwhile by making shoes. Then his labor was needed at home; but finding his health too delicate for farm work he chose other occupations and contributed manfully to the support of his family. [Illustration: JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER] For several years thereafter Whittier was like a man trying to find himself. He did factory work; he edited newspapers; he showed a talent for political leadership; he made poems which he sold at a price to remind him of what he had once received for making shoes. While poetry and politics both called to him alluringly a crisis arose; Garrison summoned him; and with a sad heart, knowing that he left all hope of political or literary success behind, he went over to the Abolitionist party. That was in 1833, when Whittier was twenty-six years old. At that time the Abolitionists were detested in the North as well as in the South, and to join them was to become an outcast. [Sidenote: STORM AND STRESS] Then came the militant period of Whittier's life. He became editor of antislavery journals; he lectured in the cause; he was stoned for his utterances; his printing shop was burned by a mob. Meanwhile his poems were sounding abroad like trumpet blasts, making friends, making enemies. It was a passionate age, when political enemies were hated like Hessians, but Whittier was always chivalrous with his opponents. Read his "Randolph of Roanoke" for a specific example. His "Laus Deo" (1865), a chant of exultation written when he heard the bells ringing the news of the constitutional amendment prohibiting slavery, was the last poem of this period of storm and stress. [Illustration: OAK KNOLL, WHITTIER'S HOME, DANVERS, MASSACHUSETTS] In the following year Whittier produced _Snow-Bound_, his masterpiece. Though he had been writing for half a century, he had never won either fame or money by his verse; but the publication of this beautiful idyl placed him in the front rank of American poets. Thereafter he was a national figure, and the magazines which once scorned his verses were now most eager to print them. So he made an end of the poverty which had been his portion since childhood. [Sidenote: PEACEFUL YEARS] For the remainder of his life he lived serenely at Amesbury, for the most part, in a modest house presided over by a relative. He wrote poetry now more carefully, for a wider audience, and every few years saw another little volume added to his store: _Ballads of New England_, _Miriam and Other Poems_, _Hazel Blossoms_, _Poems of Nature_, _St. Gregory's Quest_, _At Sundown_. When he died (1892) he was honored not so widely perhaps as Longfellow, but more deeply, as we honor those whose peace has been won through manful strife. Holmes, the ready poet of all occasions, expressed a formal but sincere judgment in the lines: Best loved and saintliest of our singing train, Earth's noblest tributes to thy name belong: A lifelong record closed without a stain, A blameless memory shrined in deathless song. EARLIER WORKS. [Footnote: Though we are concerned here with Whittier'spoetry, we should at least mention certain of his prose works, such as_Legends of New England_, _Leaves from Margaret Smith's Journal_and _Old Portraits and Modern Sketches_. The chief value of these isin their pictures of Colonial life. ] In Whittier's poetry we note threedistinct stages, and note also that he was on the wrong trail until hefollowed his own spirit. His earliest work was inspired by Burns, but thiswas of no consequence. Next he fell under the spell of Scott and wrote"Mogg Megone" and "The Bridal of Pennacook. " These Indian romances in verseare too much influenced by Scott's border poems and also by sentimentalnovels of savage life, such as Mrs. Child's _Hobomok_; they do notring true, and in this respect are like almost everything else inliterature on the subject of the Indians. [Sidenote: REFORM POEMS] In _Voices of Freedom_ (1849) and other poems inspired by theantislavery campaign Whittier for the first time came close to his own age. He was no longer an echo but a voice, a man's voice, shouting above atumult. He spoke not for the nation but for a party; and it was inevitablethat his reform lyrics should fall into neglect with the occasions thatcalled them forth. They are interesting now not as poems but as sidelightson a critical period of our history. Their intensely passionate qualityappears in "Faneuil Hall, " "Song of the Free, " "The Pine Tree, " "Randolphof Roanoke" and "The Farewell of an Indian Slave Mother. " There is a fine swinging rhythm in these poems, in "Massachusetts toVirginia" especially, which recalls Macaulay's "Armada"; and two of them atleast show astonishing power and vitality. One is "Laus Deo, " to which wehave referred in our story of the poet's life. The other is "Ichabod"(1850), written after the "Seventh of March Speech" of Webster, when thatstatesman seemed to have betrayed the men who elected and trusted him. Surprise, anger, scorn, indignation, sorrow, --all these emotions wereloosed in a flood after Webster's speech; but Whittier waited till he hadfused them into one emotion, and when his slow words fell at last they fellwith the weight of judgment and the scorching of fire upon their victim. Ifwords could kill a man, these surely are the words. "Ichabod" is the mostpowerful poem of its kind in our language; but it is fearfully unjust toWebster. Those who read it should read also "The Lost Occasion, " writtenthirty years later, which Whittier placed next to "Ichabod" in the finaledition of his poems. So he tried to right a wrong (unfortunately after thevictim was dead) by offering generous tribute to the statesman he had oncemisjudged. BALLADS AND AMERICAN IDYLS. Whittier's manly heart and his talent forflowing verse made him an excellent ballad writer; but his work in thisfield is so different from that of his predecessors that he came near toinventing a new type of poetry. Thus, many of the old ballads celebrate thebravery that mounts with fighting; but Whittier always lays emphasis on thehigher quality that we call moral courage. "Barclay of Ury" will illustrateour criticism: the verse has a martial swing; the hero is a veteran who hasknown the lust of battle; but his courage now appears in self-mastery, inthe ability to bear in silence the jeers of a mob. Again, the old balladaims to tell a story, nothing else, and drives straight to its mark; butWhittier portrays the whole landscape and background of the action. Hedeals largely with Colonial life in New England, and his descriptions ofplace and people are unrivaled in our poetry. Read one of his typicalballads, "The Wreck of Rivermouth" or "The Witch's Daughter" or "TheGarrison of Cape Ann" or "Skipper Ireson's Ride, " and see how closely heidentifies himself with the place and time of his story. [Illustration: STREET IN OLD MARBLEHEADSkipper Ireson's home on extreme right] [Sidenote: PATRIOTIC QUALITY] There is one quality, however, in which our Quaker poet resembles the oldballad makers, namely, his intense patriotism, and this recalls the factthat ballads were the first histories, the first expression not only ofbrave deeds but of the national pride which the deeds symbolized. ThoughWhittier keeps himself modestly in the background, as a story teller oughtto do, he can never quite repress the love of his native land or thequickened heartbeats that set his verse marching as if to the drums. Thispatriotism, though intense, was never intolerant but rather sympatheticwith men of other lands, as appears in "The Pipes at Lucknow", a balladdealing with a dramatic incident of the Sepoy Rebellion. The Scotsman whocould read that ballad unmoved, without a kindling of the eye or a stirringof the heart, would be unworthy of his clan or country. Even better than Whittier's ballads are certain narrative poems reflectingthe life of simple people, to which we give the name of idyls. "Telling theBees, " "In School Days, " "My Playmate, " "Maud Muller, " "The BarefootBoy, "--there are no other American poems quite like these, none so tender, none written with such perfect sympathy. Some of them are like photographs;and the lens that gathered them was not a glass but a human heart. Otherssing the emotion of love as only Whittier, the Galahad of poets, could havesung it, --as in this stanza from "A Sea Dream": Draw near, more near, forever dear! Where'er I rest or roam, Or in the city's crowded streets, Or by the blown sea foam, The thought of thee is home! SNOW-BOUND. The best of Whittier's idyls is _Snow-Bound_ (1866), intowhich he gathered a boy's tenderest memories. In naming this as the bestpoem in the language on the subject of home we do not offer a criticism butan invitation. Because all that is best in human life centers in the idealof home, and because Whittier reflected that ideal in a beautiful way, _Snow-Bound_ should be read if we read nothing else of Americanpoetry. There is perhaps only one thing to prevent this idyl from becominga universal poem: its natural setting can be appreciated only by those wholive within the snow line, who have seen the white flakes gather and drift, confining every family to the circle of its own hearth fire in what Emersoncalls "the tumultuous privacy of storm. " The plan of the poem is simplicity itself. It opens with a description of asnowstorm that thickens with the December night. The inmates of an oldfarmhouse gather about the open fire, and Whittier describes them one byone, how they looked to the boy (for _Snow-Bound_ is a recollection ofboyhood), and what stories they told to reveal their interests. The rest ofthe poem is a reverie, as of one no longer a boy, who looks into his fireand sees not the fire-pictures but those other scenes or portraits that aregraved deep in every human heart. [Sidenote: CHARM OF SNOW-BOUND] To praise such a work is superfluous, and to criticize its artlesssincerity is beyond our ability. Many good writers have explained the poem;yet still its deepest charm escapes analysis, perhaps because it has noname. The best criticism that the present writer ever heard on the subjectcame from a Habitant farmer in the Province of Quebec, a simple, unletteredman, who was a poet at heart but who would have been amazed had anyone toldhim so. His children, who were learning English literature through thehappy medium of _Evangeline_ and _Snow-Bound_, brought the latterpoem home from school, and the old man would sit smoking his pipe andlistening to the story. When they read of the winter scenes, of the fireroaring its defiance up the chimney-throat at the storm without, What matter how the night behaved? What matter how the north-wind raved? Blow high, blow low, not all its snow Could quench our hearth-fire's ruddy glow, -- then he would stir in his chair, make his pipe glow fiercely, and blow acloud of smoke about his head. But in the following scene, with itsmemories of the dead and its immortal hope, he would sit very still, as iflistening to exquisite music. When asked why he liked the poem his facelighted: "W'y I lak heem, M'sieu Whittier? I lak heem 'cause he speak detrue. He know de storm, and de leetle _cabane_, and heart of de boyan' hees moder. _Oui, oui_, he know de man also. " Nature, home, the heart of a boy and a man and a mother, --the poet who canreflect such elemental matters so that the simple of earth understand andlove their beauty deserves the critic's best tribute of silence. POEMS OF FAITH AND NATURE. Aside from the reform poems it is hard to groupWhittier's works, which are all alike in that they portray familiar scenesagainst a natural background. In his _Tent on the Beach_ (1867) heattempted a collection of tales in the manner of Longfellow's _WaysideInn_, but of these only one or two ballads, such as "Abraham Davenport"and "The Wreck of Rivermouth, " are now treasured. The best part of the bookis the "Prelude, " which pictures the poet among his friends and records hisimpressions of sky and sea and shore. [Sidenote: TWO VIEWS OF NATURE] The outdoor poems of Whittier are interesting, aside from their own beauty, as suggesting two poetic conceptions of nature which have little in common. The earlier regards nature as a mistress to be loved or a divinity to beworshiped for her own sake; she has her own laws or mercies, and man is butone of her creatures. The Anglo-Saxon scops viewed nature in this way; sodid Bryant, in whose "Forest Hymn" is the feeling of primitive ages. Manymodern poets (and novelists also, like Scott and Cooper) have outgrown thisconception; they regard nature as a kind of stage for the drama of humanlife, which is all-important. Whittier belongs to this later school; he portrays nature magnificently, but always as the background for some human incident, sad or tender orheroic, which appears to us more real because viewed in its naturalsetting. Note in "The Wreck of Rivermouth, " for example, how the merryparty in their sailboat, the mowers on the salt marshes, the "witch"mumbling her warning, the challenge of a careless girl, the skipper's fear, the river, the breeze, the laughing sea, --everything is exactly as itshould be. It is this humanized view of the natural world which makesWhittier's ballads unique and which gives deeper meaning to his "HamptonBeach, " "Among the Hills, " "Trailing Arbutus, " "The Vanishers" and other ofhis best nature poems. [Sidenote: WHITTIER'S CREED] Our reading of Whittier should not end until we are familiar with "TheEternal Goodness, " "Trust, " "My Soul and I, " "The Prayer of Agassiz" and afew more of his hymns of faith. Our appreciation of such hymns will be moresympathetic if we remember, first, that Whittier came of ancestors whosesouls approved the opening proposition of the Declaration of Independence;and second, that he belonged to the Society of Friends, who believed thatGod revealed himself directly to every human soul (the "inner light" theycalled it), and that a man's primal responsibility was to God and his ownconscience. The creed of Whittier may therefore be summarized in twoarticles: "I believe in the Divine love and in the equality of men. " Thelatter article appears in all his poems; the former is crystallized in "TheEternal Goodness, " a hymn so trustful and reverent that it might well bethe evensong of humanity. CHARACTERISTICS OF WHITTIER. One may summarize Whittier in the statementthat he is the poet of the home and the hills, and of that freedom withoutwhich the home loses its chief joy and the hill its inspiration. In writingof such themes Whittier failed to win the highest honors of a poet; and thefailure was due not to his lack of culture, as is sometimes alleged (forthere is no other culture equal to right living), but rather to the sternconditions of his life, to his devotion to duty, to his struggle forliberty, to his lifelong purpose of helping men by his singing. Great poemsare usually the result of seclusion, of aloofness, but Whittier was alwaysa worker in the world. [Sidenote: A NATURAL SINGER] His naturalness is perhaps his best poetic virtue. There is in his verse aspontaneous "singing" quality which leaves the impression that poetry washis native language. It is easy to understand why Burns first attractedhim, for both poets were natural singers who remind us of what Bede wroteof Cædmon: "He learned not the art of poetry from men. " Next to hisspontaneity is his rare simplicity, his gift of speaking straight from aheart that never grew old. Sometimes his simplicity is as artless as thatof a child, as in "Maud Muller"; generally it is noble, as in his modest"Proem" to _Voices of Freedom_; occasionally it is passionate, as inthe exultant cry of "Laus Deo"; and at times it rises to the simplicity ofpure art, as in "Telling the Bees. " The last-named poem portrays an oldColonial custom which provided that when death came to a farmhouse the beesmust be told and their hives draped in mourning. It portrays also, as aperfect, natural background, the path to Whittier's home and his sister'sold-fashioned flower garden, in which the daffodils still bloom where sheplanted them long ago. [Sidenote: THE MAN AND THE POET] That Whittier was not a great poet, as the critics assure us, may befrankly admitted. That he had elements of greatness is also withoutquestion; and precisely for this reason, because his power is so oftenmanifest in noble or exquisite passages, there is disappointment in readinghim when we stumble upon bad rimes, careless workmanship, mishandling ofhis native speech. Our experience here is probably like that of Whittier'sfriend Garrison. The latter had read certain poems that attracted him; hecame quickly to see the poet; and out from under the barn, his clothessprinkled with hayseed, crawled a shy country lad who explained bashfullythat he had been hunting hens' nests. Anything could be forgiven afterthat; interest in the boy would surely temper criticism of the poet. Even so our present criticism of Whittier's verse must include certainconsiderations of the man who wrote it: that he smacked of his native soil;that his education was scanty and hardly earned; that he used words as hisfather and mother used them, and was not ashamed of their rural accent. Hisown experience, moreover, had weathered him until he seemed part of arugged landscape. He knew life, and he loved it. He had endured poverty, and glorified it. He had been farm hand, shoemaker, self-supportingstudent, editor of country newspapers, local politician, champion ofslaves, worker for reform, defender of a hopeless cause that by the awfuljudgment of war became a winning cause. And always and everywhere he hadbeen a man, one who did his duty as he saw it, spake truth as he believedit, and kept his conscience clean, his heart pure, his faith unshaken. Allthis was in his verse and ennobled even his faults, which were part of hisplain humanity. As Longfellow was by study of European literatures the poetof books and culture, so Whittier was by experience the poet of life. Thehomely quality of his verse, which endears it to common men, is explainedon the ground that he was nearer than any other American poet to the bodyand soul of his countrymen. * * * * * JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL (1819-1891) The work of Lowell is unusual and his rank or position hard to define. Though never a great or even a popular writer, he was regarded for aconsiderable part of his life as the most prominent man of letters inAmerica. At the present time his reputation is still large, but historiansfind it somewhat easier to praise his works than to read them. As poet, critic, satirist, editor and teacher he loomed as a giant among hiscontemporaries, overtopping Whittier and Longfellow at one time; but heleft no work comparable to _Snow-Bound_ or _Hiawatha_, and one ispuzzled to name any of his poems or essays that are fairly certain to givepleasure. To read his volumes is to meet a man of power and brilliantpromise, but the final impression is that the promise was not fulfilled, that the masterpiece of which Lowell was capable was left unwritten. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. Lowell came from a distinguished family that had "made history" in America. His father was a cultured clergyman; he grew up in a beautiful home, "Elmwood, " in the college town of Cambridge; among his first companions were the noble books that filled the shelves of the family library. From the beginning, therefore, he was inclined to letters; and though he often turned aside for other matters, his first and last love was the love of poetry. At fifteen he entered Harvard, where he read almost everything, he said, except the books prescribed by the faculty. Then he studied law and opened an office in Boston, where he found few clients, being more interested in writing verses than in his profession. With his marriage in 1844 the first strong purpose seems to have entered his indolent life. His wife was zealous in good works, and presently Lowell, who had gayly satirized all reformers, joined in the antislavery campaign and proceeded to make as many enemies as friends by his reform poems. [Illustration: JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL] [Sidenote: VARIED TASKS] Followed then a period of hard, purposeful work, during which he supported himself by editing _The Pennsylvania Freeman_ and by writing for the magazines. In 1848, his banner year, he published his best volume of _Poems_, _Sir Launfal_, _A Fable for Critics_ and the first series of _The Biglow Papers_. It was not these volumes, however, but a series of brilliant lectures on the English poets that caused Lowell to be called to the chair in Harvard which Longfellow had resigned. He prepared for this work by studying abroad, and for some twenty years thereafter he gave courses in English, Italian, Spanish and German literatures. For a part of this time he was also editor in turn of _The Atlantic Monthly_ and _The North American Review_. [Sidenote: LIFE ABROAD] In the simpler days of the republic, when the first question asked of a diplomat was not whether he had money enough to entertain society in a proper style, the profession of letters was honored by sending literary men to represent America in foreign courts, and Lowell's prominence was recognized by his appointment as ambassador to Spain (1877) and to England (1880). It was in this patriotic service abroad that he won his greatest honors. In London especially he made his power felt as an American who loved his country, as a democrat who believed in democracy, and as a cultured gentleman who understood Anglo-Saxon life because of his familiarity with the poetry in which that life is most clearly reflected. Next to keeping silence about his proper business, perhaps the chief requirement of an ambassador is to make speeches about everything else, and no other foreign speaker was ever listened to with more pleasure than the witty and cultured Lowell. One who summed up his diplomatic triumph said tersely that he found the Englishmen strangers and left them all cousins. He was recalled from this service in 1885. The remainder of his life was spent teaching at Harvard, writing more poetry and editing his numerous works. His first volume of poems, _A Year's Life_, was published in 1841; his last volume, _Heartsease and Rue_, appeared almost half a century later, in 1888. That his death occurred in the same house in which he was born and in which he had spent the greater part of his life is an occurrence so rare in America that it deserves a poem of commemoration. LOWELL'S POETRY. There are golden grains everywhere in Lowell's verse butnever a continuous vein of metal. In other words, even his best work isnotable for occasional lines rather than for sustained excellence. As aspecific example study the "Commemoration Ode, " one of the finest poemsinspired by the Civil War. The occasion of this ode, to commemorate thecollege students who had given their lives for their country, was all thata poet might wish; the brilliant audience that gathered at Cambridge wasmost inspiring; and beyond that local audience stood a nation in mourning, a nation which had just lost a million of its sons in a mighty conflict. Itwas such an occasion as Lowell loved, and one who reads the story of hislife knows how earnestly he strove to meet it. When the reading of his poemwas finished his audience called it "a noble effort, " and that is preciselythe trouble with the famous ode; it is too plainly an effort. It does notsing, does not overflow from a full heart, does not speak the inevitable, satisfying word. In consequence (and perhaps this criticism applies to mostambitious odes) we are rather glad when the "effort" is at an end. Yetthere are excellent passages in the poem, notably the sixth and the laststanzas, one with its fine tribute to Lincoln, the other expressive ofdeathless loyalty to one's native land. [Sidenote: LYRICS] The best of Lowell's lyrics may be grouped in two classes, the firstdealing with his personal joy or grief, the second with the feelings of thenation. Typical of the former are "The First Snowfall" and a few otherlyrics reflecting the poet's sorrow for the loss of a littledaughter, --simple, human poems, in refreshing contrast with most others ofLowell, which strive for brilliancy. The best of the national lyrics is"The Present Crisis" (1844). This was at first a party poem, a ringingappeal issued during the turmoil occasioned by the annexation of Texas; butnow, with the old party issues forgotten, we can all read it with pleasureas a splendid expression of the American heart and will in every crisis ofour national history. In the nature lyrics we have a double reflection, one of the externalworld, the other of a poet who could not be single-minded, and who wasalways confusing his own impressions of nature or humanity with those otherimpressions which he found reflected in poetry. Read the charming "To aDandelion, " for example, and note how Lowell cannot be content with his Dear common flower that grow'st beside the way, Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold, but must bring in Eldorado and twenty other poetic allusions to glorify aflower which has no need of external glory. Then for comparison readBryant's "Fringed Gentian" and see how the elder poet, content with theflower itself, tells you very simply how its beauty appeals to him. Or read"An Indian-Summer Reverie" with its scattered lines of gold, and note howLowell cannot say what he feels in his own heart but must search everywherefor poetic images; and then, because he cannot find exactly what he seeksor, more likely, because he finds a dozen tempting allusions where one isplenty, he goes on and on in a vain quest that ends by leaving himself andhis reader unsatisfied. [Sidenote: SIR LAUNFAL] The most popular of Lowell's works is _The Vision of Sir Launfal_(1848), in which he invents an Arthurian kind of legend of the search forthe Holy Grail. Most of his long poems are labored, but this seems to havebeen written in a moment of inspiration. The "Prelude" begins almostspontaneously, and when it reaches the charming passage "And what is sorare as a day in June?" the verse fairly begins to sing, --a rare occurrencewith Lowell. Critical readers may reasonably object to the poet'smoralizing, to his imperfect lines and to his setting of an Old Worldlegend of knights and castles in a New World landscape; but uncriticalreaders rejoice in a moral feeling that is fine and true, and are contentwith a good story and a good landscape without inquiring whether the twobelong together. Moreover, _Sir Launfal_ certainly serves the firstpurpose of poetry in that it gives pleasure and so deserves its continuedpopularity among young readers. [Sidenote: SATIRES] Two satiric poems that were highly prized when they were first published, and that are still formally praised by historians who do not read them, are_A Fable for Critics_ and _The Biglow Papers_. The former is aseries of doggerel verses filled with grotesque puns and quips aimed atAmerican authors who were prominent in 1848. The latter, written in atortured, "Yankee" dialect, is made up of political satires and conceitsoccasioned by the Mexican and Civil wars. Both works contain occasionalfine lines and a few excellent criticisms of literature or politics, butfew young readers will have patience to sift out the good passages from themass of glittering rubbish in which they are hidden. Much more worthy of the reader's attention are certain neglected works, such as Lowell's sonnets, his "Prometheus, " "Columbus, " "Agassiz, ""Portrait of Dante, " "Washers of the Shroud, " "Under the Old Elm" (with itsnoble tribute to Washington) and "Stanzas on Freedom, " It is a pity thatsuch poems, all of which contain memorable lines, should be kept from thewide audience they deserve, and largely because of the author'sdigressiveness. To examine them is to conclude that, like most of Lowell'sworks, they are not simple enough in feeling to win ordinary readers, likethe poetry of Longfellow, and not perfect enough in form to excite theadmiration of critics, like the best of Poe's melodies. [Illustration: LOWELL'S HOUSE, CAMBRIDGE, IN WINTER] LOWELL'S PROSE. In brilliancy at least Lowell has no peer among Americanessayists, though others excel him in the better qualities of originalityor charm or vigor. The best of his prose works are the scintillating essayscollected in _My Study Window_ and _Among My Books_. In hispolitical essays he looked at humanity with his own eyes, but the titles ofthe volumes just named indicate his chief interest as a prose writer, whichwas to interpret the world's books rather than the world's throbbing life. For younger readers the most pleasing of the prose works are thecomparatively simple sketches, "My Garden Acquaintance, " "Cambridge ThirtyYears Ago" and "On a Certain Condescension in Foreigners. " In thesesketches we meet the author at his best, alert, witty and so widely readthat he cannot help giving literary flavor to whatever he writes. Among thebest of his essays on literary subjects are those on Chaucer, Dante Keats, Walton and Emerson. [Sidenote: QUALITY OF THE ESSAYS] One who reads a typical collection of Lowell's essays is apt to be dividedbetween open admiration and something akin to resentment. On the one handthey are brilliant, stimulating, filled with "good things"; on the otherthey are always digressive, sometimes fantastic and too oftenself-conscious; that is, they call our attention to the author rather thanto his proper subject. When he writes of Dante he is concerned to revealthe soul of the Italian master; but when he writes of Milton he seemschiefly intent on showing how much more he knows than the English editor ofMilton's works. When he presents Emerson he tries to make us know andadmire the Concord sage; but when he falls foul of Emerson's friends, Thoreau and Carlyle, his personal prejudices are more in evidence than hisimpersonal judgment. In consequence, some of the literary essays are abetter reflection of Lowell himself than of the men he wrote about. An author must be finally measured, however, by his finest work, by hisconstant purpose rather than by his changing mood; and the finest work ofLowell, his critical studies of the elder poets and dramatists, are perhapsthe most solid and the most penetrating that our country has to show. Hecertainly kept "the great tradition" in criticism, a tradition whichenjoins us, in simple language, to seek only the best and to reverence itwhen we find it. As he wrote: Great truths are portions of the soul of man; Great souls are portions of eternity; Each drop of blood that e'er through true heart ran With lofty message, ran for thee and me. * * * * * OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES (1809-1894) It is a sad fate for a writer to be known as a humorist; nobody will takehim seriously ever afterward. Even a book suffers from such a reputation, the famous _Don Quixote_ for example, which we read as a type ofextravagant humor but which is in reality a tragedy, since it portrays thedisillusionment of a man who believed the world to be like his own heart, noble and chivalrous, and who found it filled with villainy. Because Holmes(who was essentially a moralist and a preacher) could not repress thebubbling wit that was part of his nature, our historians must set him downas a humorist and name the "One-Hoss Shay" as his most typical work. Yethis best poems are as pathetic as "The Last Leaf, " as sentimental as "TheVoiceless, " as patriotic as "Old Ironsides, " as worshipful as the "Hymn ofTrust, " as nobly didactic as "The Chambered Nautilus"; his novels arestudies of the obscure problems of heredity, and his most characteristicprose work, _The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table_, is an originalcommentary on almost everything under the sun. Evidently we prize a laugh above any other product of literature, andbecause there is a laugh or a smile hidden in many a work of Holmes he muststill keep the place assigned to him as an "American" humorist. Even so, heis perhaps our most representative writer in this field; for he is asthoroughly American as a man can be, and his rare culture and kindness arein refreshing contrast to the crude horseplay or sensationalism that isunfortunately trumpeted abroad as New World humor. A PLACID LIFE. Though Holmes never wrote a formal autobiography he left a very good reflection of himself in his works, and it is in these alone that we become acquainted with him, --a genial, witty, observant, kind-hearted and pure-hearted man whom it is good to know. He belonged to what he called "the Brahmin caste" of intellectual aristocrats (as described in his novel, _Elsie Venner_), for he came from an old New England family extending back to Anne Bradstreet and the governors of the Bay Colony. He was born in Cambridge; he was educated at Andover and Harvard; he spent his life in Boston, a city which satisfied him so completely that he called it "the hub of the solar system. " Most ambitious writers like a large field with plenty of change or variety, but Holmes was content with a small and very select circle with himself at the center of it. For his profession he chose medicine and studied it four years, the latter half of the time in Paris. At that period his foreign training was as rare in medicine as was Longfellow's in poetry. He practiced his profession in Boston and managed to make a success of it, though patients were a little doubtful of a doctor who wrote poetry and who opened his office with the remark that "small fevers" would be "gratefully received. " Also he was for thirty-five years professor of anatomy at the Harvard Medical School. What with healing or teaching or learning, this doctor might have been very busy; but he seems to have found plenty of leisure for writing, and the inclination was always present. "Whoso has once tasted type" he said, "must indulge the taste to the end of his life. " [Illustration: OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES] [Sidenote: THE WRITER] His literary work began at twenty-one, when he wrote "Old Ironsides" in protest against the order to dismantle the frigate _Constitution_, which had made naval history in the War of 1812. That first poem, which still rings triumphantly in our ears, accomplished two things: it saved the glorious old warship, and it gave Holmes a hold on public attention which he never afterward lost. During the next twenty-five years he wrote poetry, and was so much in demand to furnish verses for special occasions that he was a kind of poet-laureate of his college and city. He was almost fifty when the _Atlantic Monthly_ was projected and Lowell demanded, as a condition of his editorship, that Holmes be engaged as the first contributor. Feeling in the mood for talk, as he commonly did, Holmes responded with _The Autocrat_. Thereafter he wrote chiefly in prose, making his greatest effort in fiction but winning more readers by his table talk in the form of essays. His last volume, _Over the Teacups_, appeared when he was past eighty years old. [Sidenote: PET PREJUDICES] We have spoken of the genial quality of Holmes as revealed in his work, but we would hardly be just to him did we fail to note his pet prejudices, his suspicion of reformers, his scorn of homeopathic doctors, his violent antipathy to Calvinism. Though he had been brought up in the Calvinistic faith (his father was an old-style clergyman), he seemed to delight in clubbing or satirizing or slinging stones at it. The very mildest he could do was to refer to "yon whey-faced brother" to express his opinion of those who still clung to puritanic doctrines. Curiously enough, he still honored his father and was proud of his godly ancestors, who were all stanch Puritans. The explanation is, of course, that Holmes never understood theology, not for a moment; he only disliked it, and was consequently sure that it must be wrong and that somebody ought to put an end to it. In later years he mellowed somewhat. One cannot truthfully say that he overcame his prejudice, but he understood men better and was inclined to include even reformers and Calvinists in what he called "the larger humanity into which I was born so long ago. " WORKS OF HOLMES. In the field of "occasional" poetry, written to celebratebirths, dedications, feasts and festivals of every kind, Holmes has neverhad a peer among his countrymen. He would have made a perfectpoet-laureate, for he seemed to rise to every occasion and have on his lipsthe right word to express the feeling of the moment, whether of patriotismor sympathy or sociability. In such happy poems as "The Boys, " "Bill andJo, " "All Here" and nearly forty others written for his class reunions hereflects the spirit of college men who gather annually to live the "goodold days" over again. [Footnote: It may add a bit of interest to thesepoems if we remember that among the members of the Class of '29 was SamuelSmith, author of "America, " a poem that now appeals to a larger audiencethan the class poet ever dreamed of. ] He wrote also some seventy otherpoems for special occasions, the quality of which may be judged from "OldIronsides, " "Under the Violets, " "Grandmother's Story" and numerousappreciations of Lowell, Burns, Bryant, Whittier and other well-knownpoets. Among poems of more general interest the best is "The Chambered Nautilus, "which some read for its fine moral lesson and others for its beautifulsymbolism or almost perfect workmanship. Others that deserve to beremembered are "The Last Leaf" (Lincoln's favorite), "Nearing the SnowLine, " "Meeting of the Alumni, " "Questions and Answers" and "TheVoiceless, "--none great poems but all good and very well worth the reading. [Sidenote: HUMOROUS POEMS] "The Deacon's Masterpiece, or the Wonderful One-Hoss Shay" is the mostpopular of the humorous poems. Many readers enjoy this excellent skitwithout thinking what the author meant by calling it "a logical story. " Itis, in fact, the best pebble that he hurled from his sling against his_bête noire_; for the old "shay" which went to pieces all at once wasa symbol of Calvinistic theology. That theology was called an iron chain oflogic, every link so perfectly forged that it could not be broken at anypoint. Even so was the "shay" built, unbreakable in every single part; butwhen the deacon finds himself sprawling and dumfounded in the road besidethe wrecked masterpiece the poet concludes: End of the wonderful one-hoss shay. Logic is logic. That's all I say. Other typical verses of the same kind are "The Height of the Ridiculous, ""Daily Trials, " "The Comet" and "Contentment. " In the last-named poemHolmes may have been poking fun at the Brook Farmers and other enthusiastswho were preaching the simple life. Poets and preachers of this gospel inevery age are apt to insist that to find simplicity one must return tonature or the farm, or else camp in the woods and eat huckleberries, asThoreau did; but Holmes remembered that some people must live in the city, while others incomprehensibly prefer to do so, and wrote his "Contentment"to express their idea of the simple life: Little I ask; my wants are few; I only wish a hut of stone (A _very plain_ brown stone will do) That I may call my own; And close at hand is such a one, In yonder street that fronts the sun. I care not much for gold or land; Give me a mortgage here and there, Some good bank-stock, some note of hand, Or trifling railroad share. I only ask that Fortune send A _little_ more than I shall spend. [Sidenote: THE AUTOCRAT] The most readable of the prose works is _The Autocrat of the BreakfastTable_ (1858), a series of monologues in which Holmes, who was calledthe best talker of his age, transferred his talk in a very charming way topaper. As the book professes to record the conversation at the table of acertain Boston boarding-house, it has no particular subject; the authorrambles pleasantly from one topic to another, illuminating each by hiswisdom or humor or sympathy. Other books of the same series are _TheProfessor at the Breakfast Table_, _The Poet at the BreakfastTable_ and _Over the Teacups_. Most critics consider _TheAutocrat_ the best and _The Poet_ second best of the series; butthere is a tender vein of sentiment and reminiscence in the final volumewhich is very attractive to older readers. The slight story element in the breakfast-table books probably led Holmesto fiction, and he straightway produced three novels, _Elsie Venner_, _The Guardian Angel_ and _A Mortal Antipathy_. These are studiesof heredity, of the physical element in morals, of the influence of mindover matter and other subjects more suitable for essays than for fiction;but a few mature readers who care less for a story than for an observationor theory of life will find _The Guardian Angel_ an interesting novel. And some will surely prize _Elsie Venner_ for its pictures of NewEngland life, its description of boarding school or evening party or socialhierarchy, at a time when many a New England family had traditions to whichit held as firmly and almost as proudly as any European court. [Illustration: OLD COLONIAL DOORWAYHolmes's birthplace, at Cambridge] THE QUALITY OF HOLMES. The intensely personal quality of the works justmentioned is their most striking characteristic; for Holmes always looks ata subject with his own eyes, and measures its effect on the reader by aprevious effect produced upon himself. "If I like this, " he says insubstance, "why, you must like it too; if it strikes me as absurd, youcannot take any other attitude; for are we not both human and thereforejust alike?" It never occurred to Holmes that anybody could differ with himand still be normal; those who ventured to do so found the Doctor lookingkeenly at them to discover their symptoms. In an ordinary egoist orpolitician or theologian this would be insufferable; but strange to say itis one of the charms of Holmes, who is so witty and pleasant-spoken that wecan enjoy his dogmatism without the bother of objecting to it. In one ofhis books he hints that talking to certain persons is like trying to pet asquirrel; if you are wise, you will not imitate that frisky little beastbut assume the purring-kitten attitude while listening to the Autocrat. [Sidenote: FIRST-HAND IMPRESSIONS] Another interesting quality of Holmes is what we may call his rationalism, his habit of taking nothing for granted, of judging every matter byobservation rather than by tradition or sentiment or imagination; andherein he is in marked contrast with Longfellow and other romantic writersof the period. We shall enjoy him better if we remember his bent of mind. As a boy he was fond of tools and machinery; as a man he was interested inphotography, safety razors, inventions of every kind; as a physician herebelled against drugs (then believed to have almost magical powers, andimposed on suffering stomachs in horrible doses) and observed his patientsclosely to discover what mentally ailed them; and as boy or man orphysician he cared very little for books but a great deal for his ownobservation of life. Hence there is always a surprise in reading Holmes, which comes partly from his flashes of wit but more largely from hisindependent way of looking at things and recording his first-handimpressions. His _Autocrat_ especially is a treasure and ranks withThoreau's _Walden_ among the most original books of Americanliterature. * * * * * SIDNEY LANIER (1842-1881) The name of Lanier is often associated with that of Timrod, and the twosouthern poets were outwardly alike in that they struggled against physicalillness and mental depression; but where we see in Timrod the tragedy of apoet broken by pain and neglect, the tragedy of Lanier's life is forgottenin our wonder at his triumph. It is doubtful if any other poet ever raisedso pure a song of joy out of conditions that might well have occasioned awail of despair. [Illustration: SIDNEY LANIER] The joyous song of Lanier is appreciated only by the few. He is not popularwith either readers or critics, and the difficulty of assigning him a placeor rank may be judged from recent attempts. One history of Americanliterature barely mentions Lanier in a slighting reference to "a small cultof poetry in parts of America"; [Footnote: Trent, _History of AmericanLiterature_ (1913), p. 471. ] another calls him the only southern poetwho had a national horizon, and accords his work ample criticism;[Footnote: Moses, _Literature of the South_ (1910), pp 358-383] athird describes him as "a true artist" having "a lyric power hardly to befound in any other American, " but the brief record ends with the cuttingcriticism that his work is "hardly national. " [Footnote: Wendell, _Literary History of America_ (1911), pp 495-498. ] And so with allother histories, one dismisses him as the author of a vague rhapsody called"The Marshes of Glynn, " another exalts him as a poet who rivals Poe inmelody and far surpasses him in thought or feeling. Evidently there is nosettled criticism of Lanier, as of Bryant or Longfellow; he is not yetsecure in his position among the elder poets, and what we record here issuch a personal appreciation as any reader may formulate for himself. LIFE. America has had its Puritan and its Cavalier writers, but seldom one who combines the Puritan's stern devotion to duty with the Cavalier's joy in nature and romance and music. Lanier was such a poet, and he owed his rare quality to a mixed ancestry. He was descended on his mother's side from Scotch-Irish and Puritan forbears, and on his father's side from Huguenot (French) exiles who were musicians at the English court. One of his ancestors, Nicholas Lanier, is described as "a musician, painter and engraver" for Queen Elizabeth and King James, and as the composer of music for some of Ben Jonson's masques. [Sidenote: EARLY TRAITS] His boyhood was spent at Macon, Georgia, where he was born in 1842. A study of that boyhood reveals certain characteristics which reappear constantly in the poet's work. One was his rare purity of soul; another was his brave spirit; a third was his delight in nature; a fourth was his passion for music. At seven he made his first flute from a reed, and ever afterwards, though he learned to play many instruments, the flute was to him as a companion and a voice. With it he cheered many a weary march or hungry bivouac; through it he told all his heart to the woman he loved; by it he won a place when he had no other means of earning his bread. Hence in "The Symphony, " a poem which fronts one of life's hard problems, it is the flute that utters the clearest and sweetest note. [Sidenote: IN WAR TIME] Lanier had finished his course in Oglethorpe University (a primitive little college in Midway, Georgia) and was tutoring there when the war came, and the college closed its doors because teachers and students were away at the first call to join the army. For four years he was a Confederate soldier, serving in the ranks with his brother and refusing the promotion offered him for gallant conduct in the field. There was a time during this period when he might have sung like the minstrels of old, for romance had come to him with the war. By day he was fighting or scouting with his life in his hand; but when camp fires were lighted he would take his flute and slip away to serenade the girl who "waited for him till the war was over. " We mention these small incidents with a purpose. There is a delicacy of feeling in Lanier's verse which might lead a reader to assume that the poet was effeminate, when in truth he was as manly as any Norse scald or Saxon scop who ever stood beside his chief in battle. Of the war he never sang; but we find some reflection of the girl who waited in the poem "My Springs. " [Sidenote: WAR'S AFTERMATH] Lanier was at sea, as signal officer on a blockade runner, when his ship was captured by a Federal cruiser and he was sent to the military prison at Point Lookout (1864). A hard and bitter experience it was, and his only comfort was the flute which he had hidden in his ragged sleeve. When released the following year he set out on foot for his home, five hundred miles away, and reached it more dead than alive; for consumption had laid a heavy hand upon him. For weeks he was desperately ill, and during the illness his mother died of the same wasting disease; then he rose and set out bravely to earn a living, --no easy matter in a place that had suffered as Georgia had during the war. [Sidenote: THE GLEAM] We shall not enter into his struggle for bread, or into his wanderings in search of a place where he could breathe without pain. He was a law clerk in his father's office at Macon when, knowing that he had but a slender lease of life, he made his resolve. To the remonstrances of his father he closed his ears, saying that music and poetry were calling him and he must follow the call. The superb climax of Tennyson's "Merlin and the Gleam" was in his soul: O young mariner, Down to the haven Call your companions, Launch your vessel And crowd your canvas, And, ere it vanishes Over the margin, After it, follow it, Follow the Gleam! Thus bravely he went northward to Baltimore, taking his flute with him. He was evidently a wonderful artist, playing not by the score but making his instrument his voice, so that his audience seemed to hear a soul speaking in melody. His was a magic flute. Soon he was supporting himself by playing in the Peabody Orchestra, living joyously meanwhile in an atmosphere of music and poetry and books; for he was always a student, determined to understand as well as to practice his art. He wrote poems, stories, anything to earn an honest dollar; he gave lectures on music and literature; he planned a score of books that he did not and could not write, for he was living in a fever of mind and body. Music and poetry were surging within him for expression; but his strength was failing, his time short. [Sidenote: THE STRUGGLE] In 1879 he was appointed lecturer at Johns Hopkins University, and for the first time he had an assured income, small, indeed, but very heartening since it was enough to support his family. He began teaching with immense enthusiasm; but presently he was speaking in a whisper from an invalid's chair. Under such circumstances were uttered some of our most cheering words on art and poetry. Two years later he died in a tent among the hills, near Asheville, North Carolina, whither he had gone in a vain search for health. [Illustration: THE VILLAGE OF McGAHEYSVILLE, VIRGINIA Near here Lanier spent his summers during the last years of his life] There is in all Lanier's verse a fragmentariness, a sense of something left unsaid, which we may understand better if we remember that his heart was filled with the noblest emotions, but that when he strove to write them his pen failed for weariness. Read the daily miracle of dawn in "Sunrise, " for example, and find there the waiting oaks, the stars, the tide, the marsh with its dreaming pools, light, color, fragrance, melody, --everything except that the hand which wrote the poem was too weak to guide the pencil. The rush of impressions and memories in "Sunrise, " its tender beauty and vague incompleteness, as of something left unsaid, may be explained by the fact that it was Lanier's last song. WORKS OF LANIER. Many readers have grown familiar with Lanier's name inconnection with _The Boy's Froissart_, _The Boy's King Arthur_, _The Boy's Mabinogion_ and _The Boy's Percy_, four books in whichhe retold in simple language some of the old tales that are forever young. His chief prose works, _The English Novel_ and _The Science ofEnglish Verse_, are of interest chiefly to critics; they need not detainus here except to note that the latter volume is devoted to Lanier's pettheory that music and poetry are governed by the same laws. Of more generalinterest are his scattered "Notes, " which contain suggestions for many apoem that was never written, intermingled with condensed criticisms. Of thepoet Swinburne he says, "He invited me to eat; the service was silver andgold, but no food therein except salt and pepper. " One might say less thanthat with more words, or read a whole book to arrive at this summary ofWhitman's style and bottomless philosophy: "Whitman is poetry's butcher;huge raw collops slashed from the rump of poetry, and never mind thegristle, is what he feeds our souls with. .. . His argument seems to be thatbecause the Mississippi is long, therefore every American is a god. " [Sidenote: HIS BEST POEMS] Those who read Lanier's poems should begin with the simplest, with his lovesongs, "My Springs" and "In Absence, " or his "Ballad of Trees and theMaster, " or his outdoor poems, such as "Tampa Robins, " "Song of theChattahoochee, " "Mocking Bird, " and "Evening Song. " In the last-namedlyrics he began the work (carried out more fully in his later poems) ofinterpreting in words the harmony which his sensitive ear detected in themanifold voices of nature. Next in order are the poems in which is hidden a thought or an ideal not tobe detected at first glance; for to Lanier poetry was like certain orientalidols which when opened are found to be filled with exquisite perfumes. "The Stirrup Cup" is one of the simplest of these allegories. It was acustom in olden days when a man was ready to journey, for one who loved himto bring a glass of wine which he drank in the saddle; and this was calledthe stirrup or parting cup. In the cup offered Lanier was a rare cordial, filled with "sweet herbs from all antiquity, " and the name of the cordialwas Death: Then, Time, let not a drop be spilt: Hand me the cup whene'er thou wilt; 'T is thy rich stirrup cup to me; I'll drink it down right smilingly. In four stanzas of "Night and Day" he compresses the tragedy of_Othello_, not the tragedy that Shakespeare wrote but the tragedy thatwas in the Moor's soul when Desdemona was gone. In "Life and Song" hesought to express the ideal of a poet, and the closing lines might well bethe measure of his own heroic life: His song was only living aloud, His work a singing with his hand. In "How Love Looked for Hell" the lesson is hidden deeper; for the profoundyet simple meaning of the poem is that, search high or low, Love can neverfind hell because he takes heaven with him wherever he goes. Another poemof the same class, but longer and more involved, is "The Symphony. " HereLanier faces one of the greatest problems of the age, the problem ofindustrialism with its false standards and waste of human happiness, andhis answer is the same that Tennyson gave in his later poems; namely, thatthe familiar love in human hearts can settle every social question whenleft to its own unselfish way: Vainly might Plato's brain revolve it, Plainly the heart of a child might solve it. [Sidenote: MARSHES OF GLYNN] The longer poems of Lanier are of uneven merit and are all more or lessfragmentary. The chief impression from reading the "Psalm of the West, " forexample, is that it is the prelude to some greater work that was leftunfinished. More finely wrought and more typical of Lanier's mood andmethod is "The Marshes of Glynn, " his best-known work. It is a marvelouspoem, one of the most haunting in our language; yet it is like certainsymphonies in that it says nothing, being all feeling, --vague, inexpressible feeling. Some readers find no meaning or satisfaction in it;others hail it as a perfect interpretation of their own mood or emotionwhen they stand speechless before the sunrise or the afterglow or alandscape upon which the very spirit of beauty and peace is brooding. THE QUALITY OF LANIER. In order to sympathize with Lanier, and so tounderstand him, it is necessary to keep in mind that he was a musicianrather than a poet in our ordinary understanding of the term. In his versehe used words, exactly as he used the tones of his flute, not so much toexpress ideas as to call up certain emotions that find no voice save inmusic. As he said, "Music takes up the thread that language drops, " whichexplains that beautiful but puzzling line which closes "The Symphony": Music is Love in search of a word. [Sidenote: MUSIC AND POETRY] We have spoken of "The Symphony" as an answer to the problem of industrialwaste and sorrow, but it contains also Lanier's confession of faith;namely, that social evils arise among men because of their lack of harmony;and that spiritual harmony, the concord of souls which makes strifeimpossible, may be attained through music. The same belief appears in_Tiger Lilies_ (a novel written by Lanier in his early days), in whicha certain character makes these professions: "To make a _home_ out of a household, given the raw materials--to wit, wife, children, a friend or two and a house--two other things are necessary. These are a good fire and good music. And inasmuch as we can do without the fire for half the year, I may say music is the one essential. " "Late explorers say they have found some nations that have no God; but I have not read of any that had no music. " "Music means harmony, harmony means love, love means--God!" One may therefore summarize Lanier by saying that he was poet who usedverbal rhythm, as a musician uses harmonious chords, to play upon ourbetter feelings. His poems of nature give us no definite picture of theexternal world but are filled with murmurings, tremblings, undertones, --allthe vague impressions which one receives when alone in the solitudes, as ifthe world were alive but inarticulate: Ye marshes, how candid and simple and nothing-witholding and free Ye publish yourselves to the sky and offer yourselves to the sea! Tolerant plains, that suffer the sea and the rains and the sun, Ye spread and span like the catholic man that hath mightily won God out of knowledge and good out of infinite pain And sight out of blindness and purity out of a stain. His poems of life have similar virtues and weaknesses: they are melodious;they are nobly inspired; they appeal to our finest feelings; but they arealways vague in that they record no definite thought and speak no downrightmessage. [Sidenote: LANIER AND WHITTIER] The criticism may be more clear if we compare Lanier with Whittier, a manequally noble, who speaks a language that all men understand. The poems ofthe two supplement each other, one reflecting the reality of life, theother its mysterious dreams. In Whittier's poetry we look upon a landscapeand a people, and we say, "I have seen that rugged landscape with my owneyes; I have eaten bread with those people, and have understood and lovedthem. " Then we read Lanier's poetry and say, "Yes, I have had thosefeelings at times; but I do not speak of them to others because I cannottell what they mean to me. " Both poets are good, and both fail of greatnessin poetry, Whittier because he has no exalted imagination, Lanier becausehe lacks primitive simplicity and strength. One poet sings a song to cheerthe day's labor, the other makes a melody to accompany our twilightreveries. * * * * * "WALT" WHITMAN (1819-1892) Since Whitman insisted upon being called "Walt" instead of Walter, so letit be. The name accords with the free-and-easy style of his verse. If youcan find some abridged selections from that verse, read them by all means;but if you must search the whole of it for the passages that are worthreading, then pass it cheerfully by; for such another vain display ofegotism, vulgarity and rant never appeared under the name of poetry. Whitman was so absurdly fond of his "chants" and so ignorant of poetry thathe preserved the whole of his work in a final edition, and his publishersstill insist upon printing it, rubbish and all. The result is that the fewrare verses which stamp him as a poet are apt to be overlooked in themultitudinous gabblings which, of themselves, might mark him as a merefreak or "sensation" in our modest literature. [Illustration: WALT WHITMAN] BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. Ordinarily when we read poetry we desire to know something of the man who wrote it, of his youth, his training, the circumstance of his work and the personal ideals which made him view life steadily in one light rather than in another. In dealing with Whitman it is advisable to leave such natural curiosity unsatisfied, and for two reasons: first, the man was far from admirable or upright, and to meet him at certain stages is to lose all desire to read his poetry; and second, he was so extremely secretive about himself, while professing boundless good-fellowship with all men, that we can seldom trust his own record, much less that of his admirers. There are great blanks in the story of his life; his real biography has not yet been written; and in the jungle of controversial writings which has grown up around him one loses sight of Whitman in a maze of extravagant or contradictory opinions. [Footnote: Of the many biographies of Whitman perhaps the best for beginners is Perry's _Walt Whitman_ (1906), in American Men of Letters Series. ] [Sidenote: TRAITS AND INCIDENTS] Let it suffice then to record, in catalogue fashion, that Whitman was born (1819) on Long Island, of stubborn farmer stock; that he spent his earliest years by the sea, which inspired his best verse; that he grew up in the streets of Brooklyn and was always fascinated by the restless tide of city life, as reflected in such poems as "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry"; that his education was scanty and of the "picked up" variety; that to the end of his life, though ignorant of what literary men regard as the _a-b-c_ of knowledge, he was supremely well satisfied with himself; that till he was past forty he worked irregularly at odd jobs, but was by choice a loafer; that he was a man of superb physical health and gloried in his body, without much regard for moral standards; that his strength was broken by nursing wounded soldiers during the war, a beautiful and unselfish service; that he was then a government clerk in Washington until partly disabled by a paralytic stroke, and that the remainder of his life was spent at Camden, New Jersey. His _Leaves of Grass_ (published first in 1855, and republished with additions many times) brought him very little return in money, and his last years were spent in a state of semipoverty, relieved by the gifts of a small circle of admirers. WHITMAN'S VERSE. In a single book, _Leaves of Grass_, Whitman hascollected all his verse. This book would be a chaos even had he left hisworks in the order in which they were written; but that is precisely whathe did not do. Instead, he enlarged and rearranged the work ten differenttimes, mixing up his worst and his best verses, so that it is now verydifficult to trace his development as a poet. We may, however, tentativelyarrange his work in three divisions: his early shouting to attractattention (as summarized in the line "I sound my barbaric yawp over theroofs of the world"), his war poems, and his later verse written after hehad learned something of the discipline of life and poetry. The quality of his early work may be judged from a few disjointed lines ofhis characteristic "Song of Myself": Has any one supposed it lucky to be born? I hasten to inform him or her that it is just as lucky to die, and I know it. I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash'd babe, and am not contain'd between my hat and boots, And peruse manifold objects, no two alike, and every one good, The earth good and the stars good, and their adjuncts all good. The big doors of the country barn stand open and ready, The dried grass of the harvest-time loads the slow-drawn wagon, The clear light plays on the brown, gray and green intertinged, The armfuls are pack'd to the sagging mow. I am there, I help, I came stretch'd atop of the load, I felt its soft jolts, one leg reclined on the other, I jump from the cross-beams and seize the clover and timothy, And roll head over heels and tangle my hair full of wisps. The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for me, I tuck'd my trowser ends in my boots and went and had a good time; You should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle. Thus he rambles on, gabbing of every place or occupation or newspaperreport that comes into his head. When he ends this grotesque "Song ofMyself" after a thousand lines or more, he makes another just like it. Weread a few words here and there, amazed that any publisher should printsuch rubbish; and then, when we are weary of Whitman's conceit or badtaste, comes a flash of insight, of imagination, of poetry: Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road, Healthy, free, the world before me, The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose. These yearnings why are they? these thoughts in the darkness why are they? Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me the sunlight expands my blood? Why when they leave me do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank? Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me? There are, in short, hundreds of pages of such "chanting" with its grain ofwheat hid in a bushel of chaff. We refer to it here not because it is worthreading but to record the curious fact that many European critics hail itas typical American poetry, even while we wonder why anybody should regardit as either American or poetic. [Sidenote: FOREIGN OPINION] The explanation is simple. Europeans have not yet rid themselves of theidea that America is the strange, wild land Cooper's _Pioneers_, andthat any poetry produced here must naturally be uncouth, misshapen, defiantof all poetic laws or traditions. To such critics Whitman's crudity seemstypical of a country where one is in nightly danger of losing his scalp, where arguments are settled by revolvers, and where a hungry man needs onlyto shoot a buffalo or a bear from his back door. Meanwhile America, thecountry that planted colleges and churches in a wilderness, that lovesliberty because she honors law, that never saw a knight in armor but thathas, even in her plainsmen and lumberjacks, a chivalry for woman that wouldadorn a Bayard, --that real America ignores the bulk of Whitman's worksimply because she knows that, of all her poets, he is the leastrepresentative of her culture, her ideals, her heroic and aspiring life. [Sidenote: DRUM TAPS] The second division of Whitman's work is made up chiefly of verses writtenin war time, to some of which he gave the significant title, _DrumTaps_. In such poems as as "Beat, Beat, Drums, " "Cavalry Crossing aFord" and "By the Bivouac's Fitful Flame" he reflected the emotionalexcitement of '61 and the stern days that followed. Note, for example, thestartling vigor of "Ethiopia Saluting the Colors, " which depicts an oldnegro woman by the roadside, looking with wonder on the free flag which shesees for the first time aloft over marching men: Who are you, dusky woman, so ancient, hardly human, With your woolly-white and turban'd head and bare bony feet? Why, rising by the roadside here, do you the colors greet? Another side of the war is reflected in such poems as "Come up from theFields, Father, " an exquisite picture of an old mother and father receivingthe news of their son's death on the battlefield. In the same class belongtwo fine tributes, "O Captain, My Captain" and "When Lilacs Last in theDooryard Bloomed, " written in moments of noble emotion when the news camethat Lincoln was dead. The former tribute, with its rhythmic swing andlyric refrain, indicates what Whitman might have done in poetry had he beena more patient workman. So also does "Pioneers, " a lyric that is whollyAmerican and Western and exultant: Have the elder races halted? Do they droop and end their lesson, wearied over there beyond the seas? We take up the task eternal, and the burden and the lesson, Pioneers! O Pioneers! [Sidenote: LATER POEMS] In the third class of Whitman's works are the poems written late in life, when he had learned to suppress his blatant egotism and to pay some littleattention to poetic form and melody. Though his lines are still crude andirregular, many of them move to a powerful rhythm, such as the impressive"With Husky-Haughty Lips, O Sea, " which suggests the surge and beat ofbreakers on the shore. In others he gives finely imaginative expression toan ideal or a yearning, and his verse rises to high poetic levels. Notethis allegory of the spider, an insect that, when adrift or in a strangeplace, sends out delicate filaments on the air currents until one threadtakes hold of some solid substance and is used as a bridge over theunknown: A noiseless patient spider, I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated, Mark'd how to explore the vacant vast surrounding It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament out of itself, Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them. And you, O my soul, where you stand, Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space, Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them, Till the bridge you will need be form'd, till the ductile anchor hold, Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul [Illustration: WHITMAN'S BIRTHPLACE, WEST HILLS, LONG ISLAND] Among the best of Whitman's works are his poems to death. "Joy, Shipmate, Joy, " "Death's Valley, " "Darest Thou Now, O Soul, " "Last Invocation, ""Good-Bye, My Fancy, "--in such haunting lyrics he reflects the natural viewof death, not as a terrible or tragic or final event but as a confidentgoing forth to meet new experiences. Other notable poems that well repaythe reading are "The Mystic Trumpeter, " "The Man-of-War Bird, " "The OxTamer, " "Thanks in Old Age" and "Aboard at a Ship's Helm. " In naming the above works our purpose is simply to lure the reader awayfrom the insufferable Whitmanesque "chant" and to attract attention to afew poems that sound a new note in literature, a note of freedom, of joy, of superb confidence, which warms the heart when we hear it. When thesepoems are known others will suggest themselves: "Rise, O Days, from YourFathomless Deeps, " "I Hear America Singing, " "There was a Boy Went Forth, ""The Road Unknown, " "Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking. " There is magicin such names; but unfortunately in most cases the reader will find only analluring title and a few scattered lines of poetry; the rest is Whitman. [Sidenote: DEMOCRACY] The author of the "Song of Myself" proclaimed himself the poet of democracyand wrote many verses on his alleged subject; but those who read them willsoon tire of one whose idea of democracy was that any man is as good, aswise, as godlike as any other. Perhaps his best work in this field is "ThouMother with Thy Equal Brood, " a patriotic poem read at "Commencement" timein Dartmouth College (1872). There is too much of vainglorious boasting inthe poem (for America should be modest, and can afford to be modest), butit has enough of prophetic vision and exalted imagination to make usoverlook its unworthy spread-eagleism. [Sidenote: PRAYER OF COLUMBUS] As a farewell to Whitman one should read what is perhaps his noblest singlework, "The Prayer of Columbus. " The poem is supposed to reflect the thoughtof Columbus when, as a worn-out voyager, an old man on his last expedition, he looked out over his wrecked ships to the lonely sea beyond; but thereader may see in it another picture, that of a broken old man in hissolitary house at Camden, writing with a trembling hand the lines whichreflect his unshaken confidence: My terminus near, The clouds already closing in upon me, The voyage balk'd, the course disputed, lost, I yield my ships to Thee My hands, my limbs grow nerveless, My brain feels rack'd, bewilder'd; Let the old timbers part, I will not part, I will cling fast to Thee, O God, though the waves buffet me, Thee, Thee at least I know. Is it the prophet's thought I speak, or am I raving? What do I know of life? what of myself? I know not even my own work past or present; Dim ever-shifting guesses of it spread before me, Of newer better worlds, their mighty parturition, Mocking, perplexing me. And these things I see suddenly, what mean they? As if some miracle, some hand divine, unseal'd my eyes, Shadowy vast shapes smile through the air and sky, And on the distant waves sail countless ships, And anthems in new tongues I hear saluting me. * * * * * THE PROSE WRITERS RALPH WALDO EMERSON (1803-1882) Emerson is the mountaineer of our literature; to read him is to have theimpression of being on the heights. It is solitary there, far removed fromordinary affairs; but the air is keen, the outlook grand, the heavens near. Our companions are the familiar earth by day or the mysterious stars bynight, and these are good if only to recall the silent splendor of God'suniverse amid the pother of human inventions. There also the very spirit ofliberty, which seems to have its dwelling among the hills, enters into usand makes us sympathize with Emerson's message of individual freedom. It is still a question whether Emerson should be classed with the poets orprose writers, and our only reason for placing him with the latter is thathis "Nature" seems more typical than his "Wood Notes, " though in truth bothworks convey precisely the same message. He was a great man who used proseor verse as suited his mood at the moment; but he was never a great poet, and only on rare occasions was he a great prose writer. LIFE. Emerson has been called "the wingéd Franklin, " "the Yankee Shelley" and other contradictory names which strive to express the union of shrewd sense and lofty idealism that led him to write "Hitch your wagon to a star" and many another aphorism intended to bring heaven and earth close together. We shall indicate enough of his inheritance if we call him a Puritan of the Puritans, a moralist descended from seven generations of heroic ministers who had helped to make America a free nation, and who had practiced the love of God and man and country before preaching it to their congregations. [Illustration: RALPH WALDO EMERSON] The quality of these ancestors entered into Emerson and gave him the granite steadfastness that is one of his marked characteristics. Meeting him in his serene old age one would hardly suspect him of heroism; but to meet him in childhood is to understand the kind of man he was, and must be. If you would appreciate the quality of that childhood, picture to yourself a bare house with an open fire and plenty of books, but little else of comfort. There are a mother and six children in the house, desperately poor; for the father is dead and has left his family nothing and everything, --nothing that makes life rich, everything in the way of ideals and blessed memories to make life wealthy. The mother works as only a poor woman can from morning till night. The children go to school by day; but instead of playing after school-hours they run errands for the neighbors, drive cows from pasture, shovel snow, pick huckleberries, earn an honest penny. In the evening they read together before the open fire. When they are hungry, as they often are, a Puritan aunt who shares their poverty tells them stories of human endurance. The circle narrows when an older brother goes to college; the rest reduce their meals and spare their pennies in order to help him. After graduation he teaches school and devotes his earnings to giving the next brother his chance. All the while they speak courteously to each other, remember their father's teaching that they are children of God, and view their hard life steadily in the light of that sublime doctrine. [Sidenote: THE COLLEGE BOY] The rest of the story is easily told. Emerson was born in Boston, then a straggling town, in 1803. When his turn came he went to Harvard, and largely supported himself there by such odd jobs as only a poor student knows how to find. Wasted time he called it; for he took little interest in college discipline or college fun and was given to haphazard reading, "sinfully strolling from book to book, from care to idleness, " as he said. Later he declared that the only good thing he found in Harvard was a solitary chamber. [Sidenote: THE PREACHER] After leaving college he taught school and shared his earnings, according to family tradition. Then he began to study for the ministry; or perhaps we should say "read, " for Emerson never really studied anything. At twenty-three he was licensed to preach, and three years later was chosen pastor of the Second Church in Boston. It was the famous Old North Church in which the Mathers had preached, and the Puritan divines must have turned in their graves when the young radical began to utter his heresies from the ancient pulpit. He was loved and trusted by his congregation, but presently he differed with them in the matter of the ritual and resigned his ministry. Next he traveled in Europe, where he found as little of value as he had previously found in college. The old institutions, which roused the romantic enthusiasm of Irving and Longfellow, were to him only relics of barbarism. He went to Europe, he said, to see two men, and he found them in Wordsworth and Carlyle. His friendship with the latter and the letters which passed between "the sage of Chelsea" and "the sage of Concord" (as collected and published by Charles Eliot Norton in his _Correspondence of Carlyle and Emerson_) are the most interesting result of his pilgrimage. [Sidenote: THE LECTURER] On his return he settled in the village of Concord, which was to be his home for the remainder of his long life. He began to lecture, and so well was the "Lyceum" established at that time that he was soon known throughout the country. For forty years this lecturing continued, and the strange thing about it is that in all that time he hardly met one audience that understood him or that carried away any definite idea of what he had talked about. Something noble in the man seemed to attract people; as Lowell said, they did not go to hear what Emerson said but to hear Emerson. [Sidenote: THE WRITER] Meanwhile he was writing prose and poetry. His literary work began in college and consisted largely in recording such thoughts or quotations as seemed worthy of preservation. In his private _Journal_ (now published in several volumes) may be found practically everything he put into the formal works which he sent forth from Concord. These had at first a very small circle of readers; but the circle widened steadily, and the phenomenon is more remarkable in view of the fact that the author avoided publicity and had no ambition for success. He lived contentedly in a country village; he cultivated his garden and his neighbors; he spent long hours alone with nature; he wrote the thoughts that came to him and sent them to make their own way in the world, while he himself remained, as he said, "far from fame behind the birch trees. " The last years of his life were as the twilight of a perfect day. His mental powers failed slowly; he seemed to drift out of the present world into another of pure memories; even his friends became spiritualized, lost the appearance of earth and assumed their eternal semblance. When he stood beside the coffin of Longfellow, looking intently into the poet's face, he was heard to murmur, "A sweet, a gracious personality, but I have forgotten his name. " To the inevitable changes (the last came in 1882) he adapted himself with the same serenity which marked his whole life. He even smiled as he read the closing lines of his "Terminus": As the bird trims her to the gale, I trim myself to the storm of time, I man the rudder, reef the sail, Obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime: "Lowly faithful, banish fear, Right onward drive unharmed; The port, well worth the cruise, is near, And every wave is charmed. " EMERSON'S POETRY. There is a ruggedness in Emerson's verse which attractssome readers while it repels others by its unmelodious rhythm. It may helpus to measure that verse if we recall the author's criticism thereof. In1839 he wrote: "I am naturally keenly susceptible to the pleasures of rhythm, and cannot believe but one day I shall attain to that splendid dialect, so ardent is my wish; and these wishes, I suppose, are ever only the buds of power; but up to this hour I have never had a true success in such attempts. " One must be lenient with a poet who confesses that he cannot attain the"splendid dialect, " especially so since we are inclined to agree with him. In the following passage from "Each and All" we may discover the reason forhis lack of success: Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown Of thee from the hill-top looking down; The heifer that lows in the upland farm, Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm; The sexton, tolling his bell at noon, Deems not that great Napoleon Stops his horse, and lists with delight, Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height; Nor knowest thou what argument Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent. All are needed by each one; Nothing is fair or good alone. I thought the sparrow's note from heaven, Singing at dawn on the alder bough; I brought him home in his nest at even; He sings the song, but it cheers not now, For I did not bring home the river and sky: He sang to my ear; they sang to my eye. The delicate shells lay on the shore; The bubbles of the latest wave Fresh pearls to their enamel gave, And the bellowing of the savage sea Greeted their safe escape to me. I wiped away the weeds and foam, I fetched my sea-born treasures home; But the poor, unsightly, noisome things Had left their beauty on the shore With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar. Our first criticism is that the poem contains both fine and faulty lines, and that the total impression is an excellent one. Next, we note that theverse is labored; for Emerson was not a natural singer, like Whittier, andwas hampered by his tendency to think too much instead of giving freeexpression to his emotion. [Footnote: Most good poems are characterized byboth thought and feeling, and by a perfection of form that indicatesartistic workmanship. With Emerson the thought is the main thing; feelingor emotion is subordinate or lacking, and he seldom has the patience towork over his thought until it assumes beautiful or perfect expression. ]Finally, he is didactic; that is, he is teaching the lesson that you mustnot judge a thing by itself, as if it had no history or connections, butmust consider it in its environment, as a part of its own world. As in "Each and All" so in most of his verse Emerson is too much of ateacher or moralist to be a poet. In "The Rhodora, " one of his most perfectpoems, he proclaims that "Beauty is its own excuse for being"; butstraightway he forgets the word and devotes his verse not to beauty but tosome ethical lesson. Very rarely does he break away from this unpoetichabit, as when he interrupts the moralizing of his "World Soul" to write alyric that we welcome for its own sake: Spring still makes spring in the mind When sixty years are told; Love wakes anew this throbbing heart, And we are never old. Over the winter glaciers I see the summer glow, And through the wide-piled snowdrift The warm rosebuds below. [Sidenote: TYPICAL POEMS] The most readable of Emerson's poems are those in which he reflects hisimpressions of nature, such as "Seashore, " "The Humble-Bee, " "TheSnow-Storm, " "Days, " "Fable, " "Forbearance, " "The Titmouse" and"Wood-Notes. " In another class are his philosophical poems devoted totranscendental doctrines. The beginner will do well to skip these, sincethey are more of a puzzle than a source of pleasure. In a third class arepoems of more personal interest, such as the noble "Threnody, " a poem ofgrief written after the death of Emerson's little boy; "Good-Bye, " in whichthe poet bids farewell to fame as he hies him to the country; "To Ellen, "which half reveals his love story; "Written in Rome, " which speaks of thesociety he found in solitude; and the "Concord Hymn, " written at thededication of Battle Monument, with its striking opening lines: By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood, And fired the shot heard round the world. PROSE WORKS. Perhaps the most typical of Emerson's prose works is his firstbook, to which he gave the name _Nature_ (1836). In this he recordsnot his impressions of bird or beast or flower, as his neighbor Thoreau wasdoing in _Walden_, but rather his philosophy of the universe. "Naturealways wears the colors of the spirit"; "Every animal function, from thesponge up to Hercules, shall hint or thunder to man the laws of right andwrong, and echo the ten commandments"; "The foundations of man are not inmatter but in spirit, and the element of spirit is eternity, "--scores ofsuch expressions indicate that Emerson deals with the soul of things, notwith their outward appearance. Does a flower appeal to him? Its scientificname and classification are of no consequence; like Wordsworth, he wouldunderstand what thought of God the flower speaks. To him nature is a mirrorin which the Almighty reflects his thought; again it is a parable, a littlestory written in trees or hills or stars; frequently it is a livingpresence, speaking melodiously in winds or waters; and always it is aninspiration to learn wisdom at first hand: "Our age is retrospective. It builds the sepulchres of the fathers. It writes biographies, histories, criticisms. The foregoing generations beheld God and Nature face to face; we, through their eyes. Why should not we also enjoy an original relation to the universe? Why should not we have a poetry and philosophy of insight, and not of tradition?" The last quotation might well be an introduction to Emerson's second work, _The American Scholar_ (1837), which was a plea for laying asideEuropean models and fronting life as free men in a new world. Holmes calledthis work "our intellectual Declaration of Independence, " and it wasfollowed by a succession of volumes--_Essays_, _RepresentativeMen_, _Conduct of Life_, _Society and Solitude_ and severalothers--all devoted to the same two doctrines of idealism andindividuality. [Sidenote: REPRESENTATIVE MEN] Among these prose works the reader must make his own selection. All areworth reading; none is easy to read; even the best of them is betterappreciated in brief instalments, since few can follow Emerson long withoutwearying. _English Traits_ is a keen but kindly criticism of "ourcousins" overseas, which an American can read with more pleasure than anEnglishman. _Representative Men_ is a series of essays on Plato, Shakespeare, Napoleon and other world figures, which may well be read inconnection with Carlyle's _Heroes and Hero Worship_, since the twobooks reflect the same subject from widely different angles. Carlyle was intheory an aristocrat and a force-worshiper, Emerson a democrat and abeliever in ideals. One author would relate us to his heroes in theattitude of slave to master, the other in the relation of brothers andequals. [Sidenote: THE ESSAYS] Of the shorter prose works, collected in various volumes of _Essays_, we shall name only a few in two main groups, which we may call the idealand the practical. In the first group are such typical works as "TheOver-Soul, " "Compensation, " "Spiritual Laws" and "History"; in the latterare "Heroism, " "Self-Reliance, " "Literary Ethics" (an address to youngcollegians), "Character" and "Manners. " It is difficult to criticize such writings, which have a daring originalityof thought and a springlike freshness of expression that set them apartfrom all other essays ancient or modern. They are the most quotable, thefittest to "point a moral or adorn a tale" that have ever appeared in ourliterature; but they are also disjointed, oracular, hard to follow; and theexplanation is found in the manner of their production. When Emersonprojected a new lecture or essay he never thought his subject out orordered it from beginning to end. That would have been another man's way ofdoing it. He collected from his notebooks such thoughts as seemed to bearupon his subject, strung them together, and made an end when he had enough. The connection or relation between his thoughts is always frail and ofteninvisible; some compare it with the thread which holds the pearls of anecklace together; others quote with a smile the epigram of Goldwin Smith, who said that he found an Emersonian essay about as coherent as a bag ofmarbles. And that suggests a fair criticism of all Emerson's prose; namely, that it is a series of expressions excellent in themselves but having solittle logical sequence that a paragraph from one essay may be placed atthe beginning, middle or end of any other, where it seems to be equally athome. THE DOCTRINE OF EMERSON. Since we constantly hear of "idealism" inconnection with Emerson, let us understand the word if we can; or ratherthe fact, for idealism is the most significant quality of humanity. Theterm will be better understood if we place it beside "materialism, " whichexpresses an opposite view of life. The difference may be summarized in thestatement that the idealist is a man of spirit, or idea, in that he truststhe evidence of the soul; while the materialist is a man of flesh, orsense, in that he believes only what is evident to the senses. One judgesthe world by himself; the other judges himself by the world. To illustrate our meaning: the materialist, looking outward, sees that theworld is made up of force-driven matter, of gas, carbon and mineral; and hesays, "Even so am I made up. " He studies an object, sees that it has itsappointed cycle of growth and decay, and concludes, "Even so do I appearand vanish. " To him the world is the only reality, and the world perishes, and man is but a part of the world. [Sidenote: THE IDEALIST] The idealist, looking first within, perceives that self-consciousness isthe great fact of life, and that consciousness expresses itself in words ordeeds; then he looks outward, and is aware of another Consciousness thatexpresses itself in the lowly grass or in the stars of heaven. Lookinginward he finds that he is governed by ideas of truth, beauty, goodness andduty; looking outward he everywhere finds evidence of truth and beauty andmoral law in the world. He sees, moreover, that while his body changesconstantly his self remains the same yesterday, to-day and forever; andagain his discovery is a guide to the outer world, with its seedtime andharvest, which is but the symbol or garment of a Divine Self that abideswithout shadow of change in a constantly changing universe. To him the onlyreality is spirit, and spirit cannot be harmed by fire or flood; neithercan it die or be buried, for it is immortal and imperishable. Such, in simple words, was the idealism of Emerson, an idealism that wasborn in him and that governed him long before he became involved intranscendentalism, with its scraps of borrowed Hindu philosophy. It gavemessage or meaning to his first work, _Nature_, and to all thesubsequent essays or poems in which he pictured the world as a symbol orvisible expression of a spiritual reality. In other words, nature was toEmerson the Book of the Lord, and the chief thing of interest was not thebook but the idea that was written therein. [Sidenote: THE INDIVIDUALIST] Having read the universe and determined its spiritual quality, Emersonturned his eyes on humanity. Presently he announced that a man's chiefglory is his individuality; that he is a free being, different from everyother; that his business is to obey his individual genius; that he should, therefore, ignore the Past with its traditions, and learn directly "fromthe Divine Soul which inspires all men. " Having announced that doctrine, hespent the rest of his life in illustrating or enlarging it; and the sum ofhis teaching was, "Do not follow me or any other master; follow your ownspirit. Never mind what history says, or philosophy or tradition or thesaints and sages. The same inspiration which led the prophets is yours forthe taking, and you have your work to do as they had theirs. Revere yourown soul; trust your intuition; and whatever you find in your heart to do, do it without doubt or fear, though all the world thunder in your ears thatyou must do otherwise. As for the voice of authority, 'Let not a man quithis belief that a popgun is a popgun, though the anointed and honorable ofthe earth affirm it to be the crack of doom. '" [Illustration: EMERSON'S HOME, CONCORD] Such was Emerson's pet doctrine of individualism. It appeared withstartling vigor in _The American Scholar_ at a time when our writerswere prone to imitate English poetry, German sentimentality or some otherimported product. It came also with good grace from one whose life wasnoble, but it had a weak or dangerous or grotesque side that Emersonoverlooked. Thus, every crank or fanatic or rainbow-chaser is also anindividualist, and most of them believe as strongly as Emerson in theOver-Soul. The only difference is that they do not have his sense orintegrity or humor to balance their individualism. While Emerson exaltedindividual liberty he seemed to forget that America is a country devoted to"liberty under law, " and that at every period of her history she has hadneed to emphasize the law rather than the liberty. Moreover, individualismis a quality that takes care of itself, being finest in one who is leastconscious of his own importance; and to study any strongly individualcharacter, a Washington or a Lincoln for example, is to discover that hestrove to be true to his race and traditions as well as to himself. HenceEmerson's doctrine, to live in the Present and have entire confidence inyourself, needs to be supplemented by another: to revere the Past with itsimmortal heroes, who by their labor and triumph have established sometruths that no sane man will ever question. [Sidenote: A NEW WORLD WRITER] There are other interesting qualities of Emerson, his splendid optimism, for instance, which came partly from his spiritual view of the universe andpartly from his association with nature; for the writer who is in dailycontact with sunshine or rain and who trusts his soul's ideals of truth andbeauty has no place for pessimism or despair; even in moments of darknesshe looks upward and reads his lesson: Teach me your mood, O patient stars, Who climb each night the ancient sky, Leaving on space no shade, no scars, No trace of age, no fear to die! Though he was and still is called a visionary, there is a practical qualityin his writing which is better than anything you will find in _PoorRichard's Almanac_. Thus the burden of Franklin's teaching was the valueof time, a lesson which the sage of Concord illuminates as with celestiallight in his poem "Days, " and to which he brings earth's candle in hisprose essay "Work and Days. " [Footnote: The two works should be read inconnection as an interesting example of Emerson's use of prose and verse toreflect the same idea. Holmes selects the same two works to illustrate theessential difference between prose and poetry. See Holmes, _Ralph WaldoEmerson_, p. 310. ] Indeed, the more one reads Emerson the more is oneconvinced that he is our typical New World writer, a rare genius whocombines the best qualities of Franklin and Edwards, having the practicalsense of the one and the spiritual insight of the other. [Footnote: In 1830Channing published an essay, "National Literature, " in which he said thatBenjamin Franklin and Jonathan Edwards were the only writers up to thattime who had worthily presented the American mind, with its practical andideal sides, to foreign readers. ] With his idealism and individuality, hisimagination that soars to heaven but is equally at home on solid earth, hissound judgment to balance his mysticism, his forceful style that runs fromepigram to sustained eloquence, his straight-fibered manhood in whichcriticism finds nothing to pardon or regret, --with all these sterlingqualities he is one of the most representative writers that America hasever produced. * * * * * NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE (1804-1864) Some great writers belong to humanity, others to their own land or people. Hawthorne is in the latter class apparently, for ever since Lowell rashlycharacterized him as "the greatest imaginative genius since Shakespeare"our critics commonly speak of him in superlatives. Meanwhile most Europeancritics (who acclaim such unequal writers as Cooper and Poe, Whitman andMark Twain) either leave Hawthorne unread or else wonder what Americansfind in him to stir their enthusiasm. The explanation is that Hawthorne's field was so intensely local that onlythose who are familiar with it can appreciate him. Almost any reader canenjoy Cooper, since he deals with adventurous men whom everybodyunderstands; but Hawthorne deals with the New England Puritan of theseventeenth century, a very peculiar hero, and to enjoy the novelist onemust have some personal or historic interest in his subject. Moreover, healienates many readers by presenting only the darker side of Puritanism. Heis a man who never laughs and seldom smiles in his work; he passes over ahundred normal and therefore cheerful homes to pitch upon some gloomyhabitation of sin or remorse, and makes that the burden of his tale. In noother romancer do we find genius of such high order at work in so barren afield. LIFE. There is an air of reserve about Hawthorne which no biography has ever penetrated. A schoolmate who met him daily once said, "I love Hawthorne; I admire him; but I do not know him. He lives in a mysterious world of thought and imagination which he never permits me to enter. " That characterization applies as well to-day as when it was first spoken, almost a century ago. To his family and to a very few friends Hawthorne was evidently a genial man, [Footnote: Intimate but hardly trustworthy pictures of Hawthorne and his family are presented by his son, Julian Hawthorne, in _Nathaniel Hawthorne and his Wife_. A dozen other memoirs have appeared; but Hawthorne did not want his biography written, and there are many unanswered questions in the story of his life. ] but from the world and its affairs he always held aloof, wrapped in his mantle of mystery. A study of his childhood may help us to understand the somber quality of all his work. He was descended from the Puritans who came to Boston with John Winthrop, and was born in the seaport of Salem, Massachusetts, in 1804. He was only four years old when his father, a sea captain, died in a foreign port; whereupon the mother draped herself in weeds, retired from the sight of neighbors, and for the next forty years made life as funereal as possible. Besides the little boy there were two sisters in the family, and the elder took her meals in her own room, as did the mother. The others went about the darkened house on tiptoe, or peeped out at the world through closed shutters. [Illustration: NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE] The shadow of that unnatural home was upon Hawthorne to the end of his life; it accounts in part for his shyness, his fear of society, his lack of interest in his own age or nation. [Sidenote: SECLUSION AT SALEM] At seventeen Hawthorne went to Bowdoin College, where Longfellow was his classmate and Franklin Pierce (later President of the United States) one of his friends. His college life seems to have been happy, even gay at times; but when he graduated (1825) and his classmates scattered to find work in the world he returned to his Salem home and secluded himself as if he had no interest in humanity. It was doubtful, he said afterwards, whether a dozen people knew of his existence in as many years. All the while he was writing, gathering material for his romances or patiently cultivating his fine style. For days he would brood over a subject; then he would compose a story or parable for the magazines. The stamp of originality was on all these works, but they were seldom accepted. When they returned to him, having found no appreciative editor, he was apt to burn them and complain that he was neglected. Studying the man as he reveals himself at this time in his _Note-Books_ (published in a garbled edition by the Hawthorne family), one has the impression that he was a shy, sensitive genius, almost morbidly afraid of the world. From a distance he sent out his stories as "feelers", when these were ignored he shrank into himself more deeply than before. [Illustration: OLD CUSTOMHOUSE, BOSTON, Where Hawthorne worked. ] Love brought him out of his retreat, as it has accomplished many another miracle. When he became engaged his immediate thought was to find work, and one of his friends secured a position for him in the Boston customhouse, where he weighed coal until he was replaced by a party spoilsman. [Footnote: Hawthorne profited three times by the spoils system. When his Boston experience was repeated at Salem he took his revenge in the opening chapter of _The Scarlet Letter_, which ridicules those who received political jobs from the other party. ] There were no civil-service rules in those days. Hoping to secure a home, he invested his savings in Brook Farm, worked there for a time with the reformers, detested them, lost his money and gained the experience which he used later in his _Blithedale Romance_. Then he married, and lived in poverty and great happiness for four years in the "Old Manse" at Concord. Another friend obtained for him political appointment as surveyor of the Salem customhouse; again he was replaced by a spoilsman, and again he complained bitterly. The loss proved a blessing, however, since it gave him leisure to write _The Scarlet Letter_, a novel which immediately placed Hawthorne in the front rank of American writers. [Sidenote: FAREWELL GREATNESS] He was now before an appreciative world, and in the flush of fine feeling that followed his triumph he wrote _The House of the Seven Gables, A Wonder Book_ and _The Snow Image_. Literature was calling him most hopefully when, at the very prime of life, he turned his back on fortune. His friend Pierce had been nominated by the Democrats (1852), and he was asked to write the candidate's biography for campaign purposes. It was hardly a worthy task, but he accepted it and did it well. When Pierce was elected he "persuaded" Hawthorne to accept the office of consul at Liverpool. The emoluments, some seven thousand dollars a year, seemed enormous to one who had lived straitly, and in the four years of Pierce's administration our novelist saved a sum which, with the income from his books, placed him above the fear of want. Then he went for a long vacation to Italy, where he collected the material for his _Marble Faun_. But he wrote nothing more of consequence. [Sidenote: THE UNFINISHED STORY] The remainder of his life was passed in a pleasant kind of hermitage in Emerson's village of Concord. His habits of solitude and idleness ("cursed habits, " he called them) were again upon him; though he began several romances--_Dr. Grimshawe's Secret_, _Septimius Felton_, _The Ancestral Footstep_ and _The Dolliver Romance_--he never made an end of them. In his work he was prone to use some symbol of human ambition, and the symbol of his own later years might well have been the unfinished manuscript which lay upon the coffin when his body was laid under the pines in the old Concord burying ground (1864). His friend Longfellow has described the scene in his beautiful poem "Hawthorne. " SHORT STORIES AND SKETCHES. Many young people become familiar withHawthorne as a teller of bedtime stories long before they meet him in therole of famous novelist. In his earlier days he wrote _Grandfather'sChair_ (modeled on a similar work by Scott), dealing with Coloniallegends, and broadened his field in _Biographical Stories forChildren_. Other and better works belonging to the same juvenile classare _A Wonder Book_ (1851) and _Tanglewood Tales_ (1853), whichare modern versions of the classic myths and stories that Greek mothersused to tell their children long ago. [Sidenote: PICTURES OF THE PAST] The best of Hawthorne's original stories are collected in _Twice-ToldTales_, _Mosses from an Old Manse_ and _The Snow Image and OtherTwice-Told Tales_. As the bulk of this work is rather depressing weselect a few typical tales, arranging them in three groups. In the firstare certain sketches, as Hawthorne called them, which aim not to tell astory but to give an impression of the past. "The Old Manse" (in _Mossesfrom an Old Manse_) is an excellent introduction to this group. Othersin which the author comes out from the gloom to give his humor a glimpse ofpale sunshine are "A Rill from the Town Pump, " "Main Street, " "LittleAnnie's Ramble, " "Sights from a Steeple" and, as suggestive of Hawthorne'ssolitary outings, "Footprints on the Seashore. " [Sidenote: ALLEGORIES] In the second group are numerous allegories and symbolical stories. Tounderstand Hawthorne's method of allegory [Footnote: An allegory is afigure of speech (in rhetoric) or a story (in literature) in which anexternal object is described in such a way that we apply the description toour own inner experience. Many proverbs, such as "People who live in glasshouses should not throw stones, " are condensed allegories. So also arefables and parables, such as the fable of the fox and the grapes, or theparable of the lost sheep. Bunyan's famous allegory, The Pilgrim'sProgress, describes a journey from one city to another, but in reading itwe are supposed to think of a Christian's experience in passing throughthis world to the next. ] read "The Snow Image, " which is the story of asnowy figure that became warm, living and companionable to some childrenuntil it was spoiled by a hard-headed person, without imagination or realsense, who forgot that he was ever a child himself or that there is such abeautiful and precious thing as a child-view of the universe. In his constant symbolism (that is, in his use of an outward sign or tokento represent an idea) Hawthorne reflected a trait that is common tohumanity in all ages. Thus, every nation has its concrete symbol, its flagor eagle or lion; a great religion is represented by a cross or a crescent;in art and poetry the sword stands for war and the dove for peace; anindividual has his horseshoe or rabbit's foot or "mascot" as the simpleexpression of an idea that may be too complex for words. Among primitivepeople such symbols were associated with charms, magic, baleful orbenignant influences; and Hawthorne accepted this superstitious idea inmany of his works, though he was apt to hint, as in "Lady Eleanor'sMantle, " that the magic of his symbol might have a practical explanation. In this story the lady's gorgeous mantle is a symbol of pride; itsblighting influence _may_ be due to the fact that, --but to tell thesecret is to spoil the story, and that is not fair to Hawthorne or thereader. [Sidenote: THE BLACK VEIL] Some of these symbolic tales are too vague or shadowy to be convincing; inothers the author makes artistic use of some simple object, such as aflower or an ornament, to suggest the mystery that broods over every life. In "The Minister's Black Veil, " for example, a clergyman startles hiscongregation by appearing with a dark veil over his face. The veil itselfis a familiar object; on a woman or a bonnet it would pass unnoticed; buton the minister it becomes a portentous thing, at once fascinating andrepellent. Yesterday they knew the man as a familiar friend; to-day he is astranger, and they fear him with a vague, nameless fear. Forty years hewears the mysterious thing, dies and is buried with it, and in all thattime they never have a glimpse of his face. Though there is a deal ofnonsense in the story, and a hocus-pocus instead of a mystery, we mustremember that veil as a striking symbol of the loneliness of life, of thegulf that separates a human soul from every other. Another and better symbolic tale is "The Great Stone Face, " which appealsstrongly to younger readers, especially to those who have lived much out ofdoors and who cherish the memory of some natural object, some noble tree ormossy cliff or singing brook, that is forever associated with theirthoughts of childhood. To others the tale will have added interest in thatit is supposed to portray the character of Emerson as Hawthorne knew him. [Sidenote: LEGENDARY TALES] In the third group are numerous stories dealing with Colonial history, andof these "The Gray Champion" and "The Gentle Boy" are fairly typical. Hawthorne has been highly praised in connection with these tales as "theartist who created the Puritan in literature. " Most readers will gladlyrecognize the "artist, " since every tale has its line or passage of beauty;but some will murmur at the "creation. " The trouble with Hawthorne was thatin creating his Puritan he took scant heed of the man whom the Almightycreated. He was not a scholar or even a reader; his custom was to broodover an incident of the past (often a grotesque incident, such as he foundin Winthrop's old _Journal_), and from his brooding he produced animaginary character, some heartless fanatic or dismal wretch who hadnothing of the Puritan except the label. Of the real Puritan, who knew thejoy and courtesy as well as the stern discipline of life, our novelist hadonly the haziest notion. In consequence his "Gentle Boy" and parts also ofhis _Scarlet Letter_ leave an unwarranted stain on the memory of hisancestors. [Footnote: Occasionally, as in "The Gray Champion" and "Endicottand the Red Cross, " Hawthorne paints the stern courage of the Puritan, butnever his gentle or humane qualities. His typical tale presents the Puritanin the most unlovely guise. In "The Maypole of Merrymount, " for example, Morton and his men are represented as inoffensive, art-loving people whowere terrorized by the "dismal wretches" of a near-by colony of Puritans. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Morton's crew were a lawless setand a scandal to New England; but they were tolerated until they put allthe settlements in danger by debauching the Indians and selling them rum, muskets and gunpowder. The "dismal wretches" were the Pilgrims ofPlymouth, --gentle, heroic men, lovers of learning and liberty, whoprofoundly influenced the whole subsequent history of America. ] THE FOUR ROMANCES. The romances of Hawthorne are all studies of the effectsof sin on human development. If but one of these romances is to be read, let it be _The House of the Seven Gables_ (1851), which is apleasanter story than Hawthorne commonly tells, and which portrays onecharacter that he knew by experience rather than by imagination. Many ofHawthorne's stories run to a text, and the text here is, "The fathers haveeaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge. " Thecharacters are represented as "under a curse"; [Foonote: This is areflection of a family tradition. An ancestor of Hawthorne was judge at theSalem witch trials, in 1692. One of the poor creatures condemned to deathis said to have left a curse on the judge's family. In his _NoteBooks_ Hawthorne makes mention of the traditional curse, and analyzesits possible effect on his own character. ] that is, they are bearing theburden and sorrow of some old iniquity committed before they were born; butthe affliction is banished in a satisfactory way without leaving us in thehaze of mystery that envelops so much of Hawthorne's work. His humor isalso in evidence, his interest in life overcomes for a time his absorptionin shadowy symbols, and his whole story is brightened by his evident loveof Phoebe Pyncheon, the most natural and winsome of all his characters. [Illustration: "THE HOUSE OF SEVEN GABLES, " SALEM (BUILT IN 1669)] The other romances deal with the same general theme, the blighting effectof sin, but vary greatly in their scenes and characters. The _MarbleFaun_ (published in England as _Transformation_, 1860) is the mostpopular, possibly because its scene is laid in Rome, a city to which alltravelers go, or aspire to go, before they die; but though it moves in "anatmosphere of art, " among the studios of "the eternal city, " it is theleast artistic of all the author's works. [Footnote: The _Marble Faun_ends in a fog, as if the author did not know what to do with hischaracters. It has the amateurish fault of halting the narrative to talkwith the reader; and it moralizes to such an extent that the heroine (whois pictured as of almost angelic virtue) eventually becomes a prig and apreacher, --two things that a woman must never be. Nevertheless, the romancehas a host of enthusiastic readers, and to criticize it adversely is tobring a storm about one's ears. ] In _The Blithedale Romance_ (1852)Hawthorne deals with the present rather than the past and apparently makesuse of his observation, since his scenes and characters are stronglysuggestive of the Brook Farm community of reformers, among whom he spentone critical and unhappy year. _The Scarlet Letter_ (1850) is not onlythe most original and powerful of the romances but is commonly ranked byour critics at the head of American fiction. The scene is laid in Boston, in the old Puritan days; the main characters are vividly drawn, and theplot moves to its gloomy but impressive climax as if Wyrd or Fate were atthe bottom of it. CHARACTERISTICS OF HAWTHORNE. Almost the first thing we notice in Hawthorneis his style, a smooth, leisurely, "classic" style which moves along, likea meadow brook, without hurry or exertion. Gradually as we read we becomeconscious of the novelist's characters, whom he introduces with a veil ofmystery around them. They are interesting, as dreams and other mysteriousthings always are, but they are seldom real or natural or lifelike. Attimes we seem to be watching a pantomime of shadows, rather than a drama ofliving men and women. [Sidenote: METHOD OF WORK] The explanation of these shadowy characters is found in Hawthorne's methodof work, as revealed by the _Note-Books_ in which he stored hismaterial. Here is a typical record, which was occasioned, no doubt, by theauthor's meeting with some old nurse, whom he straightway changed from herreal semblance to a walking allegory: "Change from a gay young girl to an old woman. Melancholy events, the effects of which have clustered around her character. .. . Becomes a lover of sick chambers, taking pleasure in receiving dying breaths and laying out the dead. Having her mind full of funeral reminiscences, and possessing more acquaintances beneath the turf than above it. " This is enough of a story in itself; we need not read "Edward Fane'sRosebud" to see how Hawthorne filled in the details. The strange thing isthat he never studied or questioned the poor woman to discover whether shewas anything like what he imagined her to be. On another page we read: "A snake taken into a man's stomach and nourished there from fifteen to thirty five years, tormenting him most horribly. " [Then follows the inevitable moral. ] "Type of envy or some other evil passion. " [Illustration: HAWTHORNE'S BIRTHPLACE, SALEM, MASSACHUSETTS] There are many such story-records in the _Note-Books_, but among themyou will find no indication that the story-teller ever examined the factswith a purpose to discover whether a snake could survive thirty-five years, or minutes, in the acids of a human stomach, or how long a Puritan churchwould tolerate a minister who went about with a veil on his face, orwhether any other of his symbols had any vital connection with humanexperience. In a word, Hawthorne was prone to make life conform to hisimagination, instead of making his imagination conform to life. Living ashe did in the twilight, between the day and the night, he seems to havemissed the chief lesson of each, the urge of the one and the repose of theother; and especially did he miss the great fact of cheerfulness. Thedeathless courage of man, his invincible hope that springs to life underthe most adverse circumstances, like the cyclamen abloom under the snows ofwinter, --this primal and blessed fact seems to have escaped his notice. Attimes he hints at it, but he never gives it its true place at thebeginning, middle and end of human life. [Sidenote: ARTIST AND MORALIST] Thus far our analysis has been largely negative, and Hawthorne was a verypositive character. He had the feeling of an artist for beauty; and he wasone of the few romancers who combine a strong sense of art with a puritanicdevotion to conscience and the moral law. Hence his stories all aim to beboth artistic and ethical, to satisfy our sense of beauty and our sense ofright. In his constant moralizing he was like George Eliot; or rather, togive the figure its proper sequence, George Eliot was so exclusively amoralist after the Hawthornesque manner that one suspects she must havebeen familiar with his work when she began to write. Both novelists workedon the assumption that the moral law is the basis of human life and thatevery sin brings its inevitable retribution. The chief difference was thatHawthorne started with a moral principle and invented characters to matchit, while George Eliot started with a human character in whose experienceshe revealed the unfolding of a moral principle. [Sidenote: A SOLITARY GENIUS] The individuality of Hawthorne becomes apparent when we attempt to classifyhim, --a vain attempt, since there is no other like him in literature. Indealing with almost any other novelist we can name his models, or at leastpoint out the story-tellers whose methods influenced his work; butHawthorne seems to have had no predecessor. Subject, style and method wereall his own, developed during his long seclusion at Salem, and from them henever varied. From his _Twice-Told Tales_ to his unfinished_Dolliver Romance_ he held steadily to the purpose of portraying themoral law against a background of Puritan history. Such a field would have seemed very narrow to other American writers, whothen, as now, were busy with things too many or things too new; but toHawthorne it was a world in itself, a world that lured him as the Indieslured Columbus. In imagination he dwelt in that somber Puritan world, eating at its long-vanished tables or warming himself at its burnt-outfires, until the impulse came to reproduce it in literature. And he didreproduce it, powerfully, single-heartedly, as only genius could have doneit. That his portrayal was inaccurate is perhaps a minor consideration; forone writer must depict life as he meets it on the street or in books, whileanother is confined to what Ezekiel calls "the chambers of imagery. "Hawthorne's liberties with the facts may be pardoned on the ground that hewas not an historian but an artist. The historian tells what life hasaccomplished, the artist what life means. * * * * * SECONDARY WRITERS OF PROSE OR VERSE THE POETS. Among the fifty or more poets of the period of conflict HenryTimrod, Paul Hamilton Hayne and Abram J. Ryan are notable for this reason, that their fame, once local, seems to widen with the years. They arecommonly grouped as southern poets because of the war lyrics in which theyvoiced the passionate devotion of the South to its leaders; but what makesthem now interesting to a larger circle of readers are their poems of anentirely different kind, --poems that reflect in a tender and beautiful waythe common emotions of men in all places and in all ages. Two otherprominent singers of the southern school are Theodore O'Hara and JamesRyder Randall. [Illustration: HENRY TIMROD] In another group are such varied singers as Richard Henry Stoddard, GeorgeH. Boker, Henry Howard Brownell, Thomas B. Read, John G. Saxe, J. G. Holland and Bayard Taylor. These were all famous poets in their own day, and some of them were prolific writers, Holland and Taylor especially. Thelatter produced thirty volumes of poems, essays, novels and sketches oftravel; but, with the exception of his fine translation of Goethe's_Faust_ and a few of his original lyrics, the works which he sentforth so abundantly are now neglected. He is typical of a hundred writerswho answer the appeal of to-day and win its applause, and who are forgottenwhen to-morrow comes with its new interests and its new favorites. [Illustration: PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE] FICTION WRITERS. Comparatively few novels were written during this period, perhaps because the terrible shadow of war was over the country and readerswere in no mood for fiction. The most popular romance of the age, and oneof the most widely read books that America has ever produced, was _UncleTom's Cabin_ (1852), which has been translated and dramatized into somany tongues that it is known all over the earth. The author, HarrietBeecher Stowe (1811-1896), wrote several other stories, all characterizedby humor, kindness and intense moral earnestness. Some of these, such as_Oldtown Folks_, _The Minister's Wooing_, _The Pearl of Orr'sIsland_ and _Oldtown Fireside Stories_ have decidedly more literarycharm than her famous story of slavery. [Illustration: HARRIET BEECHER STOWE] [Sidenote: TALES OF THE SEA] The mid-century produced some very good sea stories, and in these we seethe influence of Cooper, who was the first to use the ocean successfully asa scene of romantic interest. Dana's _Two Years before the Mast_(1840) was immensely popular when our fathers were boys. It contained, moreover, such realistic pictures of sailor life that it was studied byaspirants for the British and American navies in the days when the flagrippled proudly over the beautiful old sailing ships. This excellent bookis largely a record of personal experience; but in the tales of HermanMelville (1819-1891) we have the added elements of imagination andadventure. _Typee_, _White Jacket_, _Moby Dick_, --these arecapital tales of the deep, the last-named especially. _Typee_ (a story well known to Stevenson, evidently) is remarkable forits graphic pictures of sailor life afloat and ashore in the MarquesasIslands, a new field in those days. The narrative is continued in _WhiteJacket_, which tells of the return from the South Pacific aboard aman-of-war. In _Moby Dick_ we have the real experience of a sailormanand whaler (Melville himself) and the fictitious wanderings of a stoutcaptain, a primeval kind of person, who is at times an interesting lunaticand again a ranting philosopher. In the latter we have an echo of Carlyle, who was making a stir in America in 1850, and who affected Melville sostrongly that the latter soon lost his bluff, hearty, sailor fashion ofwriting, which everybody liked, and assumed a crotchety style that nobodycared to read. [Sidenote: FROM ROMANCE TO REALISM] A few other novels of the period are interesting as showing the suddenchange from romance to realism, a change for which the war was partlyresponsible, and which will be examined more closely in the followingchapter. John Esten Cooke (1830-1886) may serve as a concrete example ofthe two types of fiction. In his earlier romances, notably in _LeatherStocking and Silk_ and _The Virginia Comedians_ (1854), he aimed todo for the Cavalier society of the South what Hawthorne was doing for theold Puritan régime in New England; but his later stories, such as _Surreyof Eagle's Nest_, are chiefly notable for their realistic pictures ofthe great war. [Illustration: JOHN ESTEN COOKE] The change from romance to realism is more openly apparent in TheodoreWinthrop and Edward Eggleston, whose novels deal frankly with pioneers ofthe Middle West; not such pioneers as Cooper had imagined in _ThePrairie_, but such plain men and women as one might meet anywhere beyondthe Alleghenies in 1850. Winthrop's _John Brent_ (1862) andEggleston's _The Hoosier Schoolmaster_ and _The Circuit Rider_(1874) are so true to a real phase of American life that a thoughtfulreader must wonder why they are not better known. They are certainlyrefreshing to one who tires of our present so-called realism with itsabnormal or degenerate characters. More widely read than any of the novelists just mentioned are certainothers who appeared in answer to the increasing demand of young people fora good story. It is doubtful if any American writer great or small hasgiven more pleasure to young readers than Louisa M. Alcott with her_Little Women_ (1868) and other stories for girls, or John T. Trowbridge, author of _Cudjo's Cave_, _Jack Hazard_, _A Chancefor Himself_ and several other juveniles that once numbered their boyreaders by tens of thousands. [Illustration: LOUISA M. ALCOTT] THOREAU. Among the many secondary writers of the period the most originaland most neglected was Henry D. Thoreau (1817-1862), a man who differedgreatly from other mortals in almost every respect, but chiefly in this, that he never was known to "go with the crowd, " not even on the rareoccasions when he believed the crowd to be right. He was one of the fewpersons who select their own way through life and follow it without theslightest regard for the world's opinion. Numerous examples of Thoreau's oddity might be given, but we note here onlyhis strange determination to view life with his own eyes. This may appear asimple matter until we reflect that most men measure life by what othershave said or written concerning life's values. They accept the standards oftheir ancestors or their neighbors; they conform themselves to a world inwhich governments and other long-established institutions claim theirallegiance; they are trained to win success in such a world by doing onething well, and to measure their success by the fame or money or office orsocial position which they achieve by a lifetime of labor and self-denial. [Illustration: HENRY D. THOREAU] [Sidenote: HIS ORIGINALITY] Thoreau sharply challenged this whole conception of life, which, he said, was more a matter of habit than of reason or conviction. He saw in oursocial institutions as much of harm as of benefit to the individual. Helooked with distrust on all traditions, saying that he had listened forthirty years without hearing one word of sound advice from his elders. Hewas a good workman and learned to do several things passing well; but hesaw no reason why a free man should repeat himself daily in a world ofinfinite opportunities. Also he was a scholar, versed in classical lore andwidely read in oriental literature; but unlike his friend Emerson he seldomquoted the ancients, being more concerned with his own thoughts of lifethan by the words of philosophers, and more fascinated by the wild birdsthat ate crumbs from his table than by all the fabled gods of mythology. Asfor success, the fame or money for which other men toiled seemed to him butempty bubbles; the only wealth he prized was his soul's increase in loveand understanding: "If the day and the night are such that you greet themwith joy, and life emits a fragrance like sweet-scented herbs--is moreelastic, starry and immortal--that is your success. " [Sidenote: WALDEN] There are other interesting matters in Thoreau's philosophy, but these willappear plainly enough to one who reads his own record. His best-known workis _Walden_ (1854), a journal in which he recorded what he saw orthought or felt during the two years when he abandoned society to live in ahut on the shore of Walden Pond, near his native village of Concord. Ifthere be any definite lesson in the book, it is the proof of Thoreau'stheory that simplicity is needed for happiness, that men would be betteroff with fewer possessions, and that earning one's living should be amatter of pleasure rather than of endless toil and anxiety. What makes_Walden_ valuable, however, is not its theories but its revelation ofan original mind fronting the facts of life, its gleams of poetry andphilosophy, its startling paradoxes, its first-hand impressions of theworld, its nuggets of sense or humor, and especially its intimateobservation of the little wild neighbors in feathers or fur who sharedThoreau's solitude. It is one of the few books in American literature thatsuccessive generations have read with profit to themselves and withincreasing respect for the original genius who wrote it. THE HISTORIANS. The honored names of Bancroft, Sparks, Prescott, Motley andParkman are indicative of the importance attached to history-writing inAmerica ever since Colonial days, and of the remarkably fine and sometimesheroic quality of American historians. Another matter suggested by thesenames is the changing standard or ideal of historical writing. In anearlier time history was a dry chronicle of important events, or of suchevents as seemed important to the chronicler; at the present day itthreatens to degenerate into an equally dry chronicle of economic forces;and between these thirsty extremes are various highly colored recordsglorifying kings or conquerors or political parties as the chief things ofhistory. [Sidenote: THE EPIC OF HISTORY] These American historians had a different standard. They first consultedall available records to be sure of the facts or events. Then they closelyexamined the scene in which the event had come to pass, knowing thatenvironment is always a factor in human history. Finally they studiedhistorical personages, not as others had described them but as theyrevealed themselves in letters, diaries, speeches, --personal recordsrevealing human motives that all men understand, because man is everywherethe same. From such a combination of event, scene and characters ourhistorians wrote a dramatic narrative, giving it the heroic cast withoutwhich history, the prose epic of liberty, is little better than a dullcatalogue. Another very important matter was that they cultivated theirstyle as well as their knowledge; they were literary men no less thanhistorians, and in the conviction that the first object of literature is togive pleasure they produced works that have charmed as well as instructed amultitude of readers. There are chapters in Prescott's _Conquest ofMexico_ and _Conquest of Peru_ over which one must sit up late, asover a novel of Scott; in Motley's _Rise of the Dutch Republic_ and_History of the United Netherlands_ there are scores of glowingpassages dealing with great characters or great events which stir thereader like a tale of gallant adventure. Prescott deals with force in action, and the action at times seems to be anexaltation of violence and cruelty. Motley also delights in action; but heis at heart an apostle of liberty, or perhaps we should say, of theAmerican ideal of liberty, and his narrative often assumes the character ofa partisan chant of freedom. [Sidenote: PARKMAN] To the native, at least, Francis Parkman (1823-1893) is probably the mostinteresting of our historians, partly because of his lucid style and partlybecause of his American theme. Early in life he selected his subject (theOld French Wars) and spent the best part of forty years in making himselffamiliar not only with what occurred during the struggle between France andEngland for possession of the New World, but also with the primeval sceneand all the motley characters of the fateful drama. It is doubtful if anyother historian ever had a more minute knowledge of his subject; and theastonishing, the heroic part of the matter is that he attained this vastknowledge in spite of the handicap of almost constant suffering andblindness. In a dozen volumes he tells his story, volumes crowded withaction or adventure, and written in such a vividly convincing style thatone has the impression that Parkman must have been an eye-witness of theevents which he describes. [Illustration: FRANCIS PARKMAN] Among these volumes the second part of _Pioneers of France in the NewWorld_ and _La Salle and the Discovery of the Great West_ arerecommended to the beginner. The former deals with the career of Champlain, who opened the way for future settlements in the North; the latter with oneof the most adventurous, lion-hearted men that ever cheerfully faced toiland endless danger. Standing apart from Parkman's main theme is a singlevolume, _The California and Oregon Trail_ (1849), which recounts thepicturesque incidents of the author's trip through the Northwest, then anunknown country, with a tribe of unspoiled Indians. Those who like a taleof adventure need not go to fiction to find it, for it is here in Parkman'snarrative, --a tale of care-free wandering amid plains or mountains and, what is historically more important, a picture of a vanished life that willnever be seen here again. * * * * * SUMMARY. The period of conflict has no definite limits on either side, but for convenience we may think of it as included between the years 1840 and 1876. Its earlier years were filled with an ever-increasing agitation of the questions of slavery and state rights; its center was the Civil War; its close was the Centennial Exposition at Philadelphia, which we have selected as an outward symbol of a reunited country. The most noticeable feature of the age, apart from the great war, was its ceaseless political turmoil. Of deeper significance to the student of literature was the profound mental unrest which showed itself in reform movements, in various communistic societies like Brook Farm, in an eager interest in the poetry of other nations, in the establishment of college professorships of foreign literatures, in the philosophical doctrine of transcendentalism, and in many other efforts of mid-century Americans to enlarge their mental horizon. A host of minor writings of the period reflect the sectional passions or interests that stirred our people deeply at the time, but that are now almost forgotten. The comparatively small body of major literature was concerned with the permanent ideals of America or with the simple human feelings that have no age or nationality. In general, it was a time of poetry rather than of prose, being distinguished above all other periods of American literature by the number and quality of its poets. Our detailed study of the age includes: (1) The major or so-called elder poets, Longfellow, Whittier, Lowell, Holmes, Lanier and Whitman. (2) The life and work of Emerson, who was both poet and prose writer. (3) The career of Hawthorne, the novelist of Puritanism, who is commonly ranked at the head of American fiction-writers. (4) A brief review of the secondary writers of prose and verse. (5) An examination of the work of Thoreau, the most individualistic writer in an age of individualism, and of Parkman, whom we have selected as representative of the American historians. SELECTIONS FOR READING. Typical selections from minor writers of the period in Calhoun and MacAlarney, Readings from American Literature; Stedman and Hutchinson, Library of American Literature, and various other collections. Important works of all major writers are published in inexpensive editions for school use, a few of which are named below. Longfellow's short poems, Evangeline, parts of Hiawatha and of Tales of a Wayside Inn, in Riverside Literature; selections from the narrative poems in Lake English Classics; selected poems in various other school series. Whittier's Snow Bound and selected short poems, in Riverside Literature, Maynard's English Classics, etc. Lowell's Sir Launfal, selected short poems and selected essays, in Riverside Literature, Maynard's English Classics. Holmes's poems, selected, in Maynard's English Classics; The Autocrat, in Everyman's Library; selected prose and verse, in Riverside Literature. Lanier's poems, with selections from Timrod and Hayne, in Pocket Classics, Maynard's English Classics, etc. Whitman's poems, brief selections, in Maynard's English Classics; Triggs, Selections from the Prose and Poetry of Walt Whitman. Emerson's poems, in Riverside Literature; Representative Men and selected essays, in Pocket Classics; Nature and various essays, in Everyman's Library. Hawthorne's House of the Seven Gables and selected short stories, in Pocket Classics; Twice-Told Tales and other selections, in Riverside Literature. Thoreau's Walden, in Everyman's Library; Walden and selections from other works, in Riverside Literature. BIBLIOGRAPHY. For extended works covering the field of American history and literature see the General Bibliography. The following works are useful in a special study of the period of conflict. _HISTORY_. Rhodes, History of the United States 1850-1877, 7 vols. ; Wilson, Division and Reunion; Stephens, War between the States; Paxson, the Civil War; Rhodes, Lectures on the Civil War; Hart, Romance of the Civil War (supplementary reading for young people). Lives of notable characters in American Statesmen, Great Commanders and other series. Grant, Personal Memoirs; Gordon, Reminiscences of the Civil War; Alexander Stephens, Recollections; Hoar, Autobiography; Blaine, Twenty Years in Congress; Greeley, Recollections; Booker Washington, Up from Slavery. _LITERATURE, _. The great period of American letters is still awaiting its historian. Brief chapters are found in Richardson, Trent, Cairns, Wendell and other general histories of our literature. Good essays on individual authors of the period in Stedman, Poets of America; Brownell, American Prose Masters; Erskine, Leading American Novelists; Vincent, American Literary Masters; Burton, Literary Leaders of America. Frothingham's Transcendentalism in New England will throw light on the so-called Concord school. Howells's Literary Friends and Acquaintance is a fine appreciation of the Cambridge writers. Wauchope's Writers of South Carolina contains excellent studies of Timrod, Hayne, Simms and other writers of the Palmetto state. Moses' Literature of the South and Henneman's Literary and Intellectual Life of the South are among the best works devoted to southern authors exclusively. _Longfellow. _ Life, by Higginson, in American Men of Letters; by Carpenter (brief), in Beacon Biographies; by Robertson, in Great Writers; by S. Longfellow, 3 vols. (the standard biography). Essays by Stedman, in Poets of America; by Mrs. Fields, in Authors and Friends; by Curtis, in Literary and Social Essays; by Higginson, in Old Cambridge; by Howells, in Literary Friends and Acquaintance. _Whittier. _ Life, by Pickard, 2 vols. ; by Carpenter, in American Men of Letters; by Higginson, in English Men of Letters; by Burton (brief), in Beacon Biographies; by Perry, by Underwood. Mrs. Claflin, Personal Recollections of Whittier; Hawkins, the Mind of Whittier; Fowler, Whittier: Prophet, Seer and Man; Pickard, Whittier Land. Essays, by Woodberry, in Makers of Literature; by Stedman, in Poets of America; by Higginson, in Contemporaries; by Hazeltine, in Chats about Books; by Mrs. Fields, in Authors and Friends. _Lowell. _ Life, by Greenslet; by Scudder, 2 vols. ; by Hale (brief), in Beacon Biographies; by Underwood. Edward Everett Hale, James Russell Lowell and his Friends. Essays, by Higginson, in Old Cambridge; by Woodberry, in Makers of Literature; by Stedman, in Poets of America. _Holmes. _ Life, by Morse, 2 vols. ; by Crothers, in American Men of Letters. Essays, by Stedman, in Poets of America; by Haweis, in American Humorists; by Noble, in Impressions and Memories; by Stearns, in Cambridge Sketches; by L. Stephen, in Studies of a Biographer. _Lanier. _ Life, by Mims, in American Men of Letters; by West; by Ward, in Preface to Lanier's Poems (1884). Essays, by Baskerville, in Southern Writers; by Higginson, in Contemporaries; by Gilman, in South Atlantic Quarterly (1905); by Ward, in Century Magazine (1888); by Northrup, in Lippincott's (1905). _Whitman. _ Life, by Perry; by Carpenter, in English Men of Letters; by Platt (brief), in Beacon Biographies; by Binns, by Bucke. Essays, by Stedman, in Poets of America; by Stevenson, in Familiar Studies of Men and Books; by Dowden, in Studies in Literature; by Santayana, in Interpretations of Poetry and Religion. _Emerson. _ Life, by Woodberry; by Cabot (Memoir of Emerson, 2 vols. ); by O. W. Holmes, in American Men of Letters; by Garnett, in Great Writers; by Sanborn (brief), in Beacon Biographies. E. W. Emerson, Emerson in Concord; Conway, Emerson at Home. Essays, by Stedman, in Poets of America; by Mrs. Fields, in Authors and Friends; by Lowell, in Literary Essays; by Stearns, in Sketches from Concord and Appledore; by Everett, in Essays Theological and Literary; by Beers, in Points at Issue; by Chapman, in Emerson and Other Essays. _Hawthorne. _ Life, by Woodberry, in American Men of Letters; by Henry James, in English Men of Letters; by Fields (brief), in Beacon Biographies; by Conway, in Great Writers. A more intimate but doubtful biography is Julian Hawthorne's Nathaniel Hawthorne and his Wife. Bridge, Personal Recollections of Hawthorne. Essays, by Brownell, in American Prose Masters; by Perry, in A Study of Prose Fiction; by Gates, in Studies and Appreciations; by L. Stephen, in Hours in a Library; by Higginson, in Short Studies of American Authors. _Thoreau_. Life, by Salt, in Great Writers; by Sanborn, in American Men of Letters. Page, Thoreau: his Life and Aims. Essays by Higginson, in Short Studies of American Authors; by Stevenson, in Familiar Studies of Men and Books; by Lowell, in Literary Essays. _Parkman_. Life, by Fiske; by Farnham; by Sedgwick. Essays, by Fiske, in introduction to Parkman's works and in A Century of Science and Other Essays; by Vedder, in American Writers of To-day; by Whipple, in Recollections of Eminent Men. CHAPTER IV THE ALL-AMERICA PERIOD Thou Mother with thy equal brood, Thou varied chain of different States, yet one identity only, A special song before I go I'd sing o'er all the rest: For thee, the Future. Whitman, "Thou Mother" Some critics find little or no American literature of a distinctly nationalspirit prior to 1876, and they explain the lack of it on the assumptionthat Americans were too far apart and too much occupied with local orsectional interests for any author to represent the nation. It was evensaid at the time of the Centennial Exposition that our countrymen had nevermet, save on the battlefields of the Civil War, until the common interestin Jubilee Year drew men and women from the four quarters of America"around the old family altar at Philadelphia. " Whatever exaggeration theremay be in that fine poetic figure, it is certain that our literature, onceconfined to a few schools or centers, began in the decade after 1870 to bebroadly representative of the whole country. Miller's _Songs of theSierras_, Hay's _Pike-County Ballads_, Harte's _Tales of theArgonauts_, Cable's _Old Creole Days_, Mark Twain's _TomSawyer_, Miss Jewett's _Deephaven_, Stockton's _RudderGrange_, Harris's _Uncle Remus_, --a host of surprising bookssuddenly appeared with the announcement that America was too large for anyone man or literary school to be its spokesman. It is because of these newvoices, coming from North, South, East or West and heard with delight bythe whole nation, that we venture to call the years after 1876 theall-America period of our literature. [Sidenote: CONTEMPORARY HISTORY] We are still too near that period to make a history of it, for the simplereason that a true history implies distance and perspective. No historiancould read, much less measure and compare, a tenth part of the books thathave won recognition since 1876. In such works as he might select astypical he must be governed by his own taste or judgment; and the writerwas never born who could by such personal standards forecast the judgmentof time and of humanity. In a word, contemporary or "up-to-date" historiesare vain attempts at the impossible; save in the unimportant matter ofchronicling names or dates they are all alike untrustworthy. The studentshould bear in mind, therefore, that the following summary of our recentliterature is based largely upon personal opinion; that it selects a fewauthors by way of illustration, omitting many others who may be of equal orgreater importance. We are confronted by a host of books that serve theprime purpose of literature by giving pleasure; but what proportion of themare enduring books, or what few of them will be known to readers of thenext century as the _Sketch Book_ and _Snow-Bound_ are known tous, --these are questions that only Father Time can answer. THE SHORT STORY. The period after 1876 has been called the age of fiction, but "the short-story age" might be a better name for it, since the shortstory is apparently more popular than any other form of literature andsince it has been developed here more abundantly than in any otherland, --possibly because America offers such an immense and ever-surprisingfield to an author in search of a strange or picturesque tale. Readers ofthe short story demand life and variety, and here are all races and tribesand conditions of men, living in all kinds of "atmosphere" from thetrapper's hut to the steel skyscraper and from the crowded city slums tothe vast open places where one's companionship is with the hills or thestars. Hence a double tendency in our recent stories, to make themexpressive of New World life and to make each story a reflection of somepeculiar type of Americanism, --one of the many types that here meet in acommon citizenship. The truth of the above criticism may become evident by reviewing thehistory of the short story in America. Irving began with mere hints oroutlines of stories (sketches he called them) and added a few legendarytales of the Dutch settlers on the Hudson. Then came Poe, dealing with thephantoms of his own brain rather than with human life or endeavor. Nextappeared Hawthorne, who dealt largely in moral allegories and whose talesare always told in an atmosphere of mystery and twilight shadows. Finally, after the war, came a multitude of writers who insisted on dealing with ourAmerican life as it is, with miners, immigrants, money kings, mountaineers, planters, cowboys, woodsmen, --a host of varied characters, each speakingthe speech and typifying the customs or ideals of his particular locality. It was these _post-bellum_ writers who invented the so-called story oflocal color (a story true to a certain place or a certain class of men), which is America's most original contribution to the world's literature. [Illustration: BRET HARTE] [Sidenote: BRET HARTE] Francis Bret Harte (1839-1902) is generally credited with the invention ofthe local-color story; but he was probably indebted to earlier works of thesame kind, notably to Longstreet's _Georgia Scenes_ (1836) andBaldwin's _Flush Times of Alabama and Mississippi_ (1853). He hadfollowed the "forty-niners" to California in a headlong search for goldwhen, finding himself amid the picturesque scenes and characters of theearly mining camps, it suddenly occurred to him that he had before his eyesa literary gold mine such as no other modern romancer had discovered. Thereupon he wrote "The Luck of Roaring Camp" (first published in _TheOverland Monthly_, 1868), and followed it with "The Outcasts of PokerFlat" and "Tennessee's Partner. " These stories took the literary world by storm, and almost overnight Hartebecame a celebrity. Following up his advantage he proceeded to write somethirty volumes of the same general kind, which were widely read andpromptly forgotten. Though he was plainly too sentimental and sensational, there was a sense of freshness or originality in his early stories andpoems which made them wonderfully attractive. His first three tales wereprobably his best, and they are still worth reading, --not for theirliterary charm or truth but as interesting early examples of thelocal-color story. [Illustration: GEORGE W. CABLE] [Sidenote: CABLE] The interest aroused by the mining-camp tales influenced other Americanwriters to discover the neglected literary wealth of their severallocalities; but they were fortunately on guard against Harte's exaggeratedsentimentality and related their stories with more art and more truth tonature. As a specific example read Cable's _Old Creole Days_ and_Madame Delphine_ with their exquisite pictures of life in the oldFrench city of New Orleans. These are romances or creations of fancy, to besure; but in their lifelike characters, their natural scenes and softCreole dialect they are as realistic (that is, as true to a real type ofAmerican life) as anything that can be found in literature. They are, infact, studies as well as stories, such minute and affectionate studies ofold people, old names and old customs as the great French novelist Balzacmade in preparation for his work. Though time holds its own secrets, onecan hardly avoid the conviction that _Old Creole Days_ and _MadameDelphine_ are not books of a day but permanent additions to Americanfiction. [Sidenote: TYPICAL STORY-WRITERS] Cable was accompanied by so many other good writers that it would require avolume to do them justice. We name only, by way of indicating the widevariety that awaits the reader, the charming stories of Grace King andwriters Kate Chopin dealing with plantation life; the New England stories, powerful or brilliant or somber, of Sarah Orne Jewett, Rose Terry Cooke andMary E. Wilkins; the tender and cheery southern stories of Thomas NelsonPage; the impressive stories of mountaineer life by Mary Noailles Murfree(Charles Egbert Craddock); the humorous, _Alice-in-Wonderland_ kind ofstories told by Frank Stockton; and a bewildering miscellany of otherworks, of which the names Thomas Bailey Aldrich, Hamlin Garland, AliceFrench (Octave Thanet), Rowland Robinson, Frank Norris and Henry C. Bunnerare as a brief but inviting index. It would be unjust at the present time to discriminate among these writersor to compare them with others, perhaps equally good, whom we have notnamed. Occasionally in the flood of short stories appears one that compelsattention. Aldrich's "Marjorie Daw, " Edward Everett Hale's "The Man withouta Country, " Stockton's "The Lady or the Tiger, "--each of these impresses usso forcibly by its delicate artistry or appeal to patriotism or whimsicalending that we hail it as a new classic, forgetting that the term "classic"carries with it the implication of something old and proved, safe fromchange or criticism. Undoubtedly a few of our recent stories deserve thename; they will be more widely known a century hence than they are now, andmay finally rank above "Rip Van Winkle" or "The Gold Bug" or "The SnowImage"; but until the perfect tale is sifted from the thousand that arealmost perfect, every ambitious critic is free to make his own prophecy. [Illustration: MARY E. WILKINS-FREEMAN] SOME RECENT NOVELISTS. There is a difference between our earlier and laterfiction which becomes apparent when we compare specific examples. As a typeof the earlier novel take Cooper's _The Spy_ or Longfellow's_Hyperion_ or Hawthorne's _The House of the Seven Gables_ orSimms's _Katherine Walton_ or Cooke's _The Virginia Comedians_, and read it in connection with a recent novel, such as Howells's _AnnieKilburn_ or Miss Jewett's _Deephaven_ or Harold Frederick's_Illumination_ or James Lane Allen's _The Reign of Law_ or FrankNorris's _The Octopus_. Disregarding the important element of style, we note that the earlier novels have a distant background in time or space;that their chief interest lies in the story they have to tell; that theytake us far away from present reality into regions where people are moreimpressive and sentiments more exalted than in our familiar, prosaic world. The later novels interest us less by the story than by the analysis ofcharacter; they deal with human life as it is here and now, not as weimagine it to have been elsewhere or in a golden age. In a word, our laternovels are realistic in purpose, and in this respect they are in markedcontrast with our novels of an earlier age, which are nearly all of theromantic kind. [Footnote: In the above comparison we have ignored a largenumber of recent novels that are quite as romantic as any written beforethe war. Romance is still, as in all past ages, more popular than realism:witness the millions of readers of Lew Wallace, E. P. Roe and other modernromancers. ] The realistic movement in American fiction began, as we have noted, withthe short-story writers; and presently the most talented of these writers, having learned the value of real scenes and characters, turned to the noveland produced works having the double interest of romance and realism; thatis, they told an old romantic tale of love or heroism and set it amidscenes or characters that were typical of American life. Miss Jewett'snovels of northern village life, for example, are even finer than her shortstories in the same field. The same criticism applies to Miss Murfree withher novels of mountaineer life in Tennessee, to James Lane Allen with hisnovels of his native Kentucky, and to many another recent novelist whotells a brave tale of his own people. We call these, in the conventionalway, novels of New England or the South or the West; in reality they arenovels of humanity, of the old unchanging tragedies or comedies of humanlife, which seem more true or real to us because they appear in a familiarsetting. There is another school of realism which subordinates the story element, which avoids as untrue all unusual or heroic incidents and deals withordinary men or women; and of this school William Dean Howells is aconspicuous example. Judging him by his novels alone it would be difficultto determine his rank; but judging him by his high aim and distinguishedstyle (a style remarkable for its charm and purity in an age too muchinfluenced by newspaper slang and smartness) he is certainly one of thebest of our recent prose writers. Since his first modest volume appeared in1860 he has published many poems, sketches of travel, appreciations ofliterature, parlor comedies, novels, --an immense variety of writings; butwhatever one reads of his sixty-odd books, whether _Venetian Life_ or_A Boys' Town_, one has the impression of an author who lives forliterature, who puts forth no hasty or unworthy work, and who aims steadilyto be true to the best traditions of American letters. [Illustration: WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS] In middle life Howells turned definitely to fiction and wrote, amongvarious other novels, _A Woman's Reason_, _The Minister'sCharge_, _A Modern Instance_ and _The Rise of Silas Lapham_. These are all realistic in that they deal frankly with contemporary life;but in their plots and conventional endings they differ but little from thetypical romance. [Footnote: Several of Howells's earlier novels deal withNew England life, but superficially and without understanding. Howeverminutely they depict its manners or mannerisms they seldom dip beneath thesurface. If the reader wants not the body but the soul of New England, hemust go to some other fiction writer, to Sarah Orne Jewett, for example, orto Rose Terry Cooke] Then Howells fell under the influence of Tolstoi andother European realists, and his later novels, such as _AnnieKilburn_, _A Hazard of New Fortunes_ and _The Quality ofMercy_, are rather aimless studies of the speech, dress, mannerisms andinanities of American life with precious little of its ideals, --which arethe only things of consequence, since they alone endure. He appears here asthe photographer rather than the painter of American life, and his work hasthe limited interest of another person's family album. [Illustration: MARK TWAIN] Another realist of a very different kind is Samuel L. Clemens (1835-1910), who is more widely known by his pseudonym of Mark Twain. He grew up, hetells us, in "a loafing, down-at-the-heels town in Missouri"; he waseducated "on the river, " and in most of his work he attempted to deal withthe rough-and-ready life which he knew intimately at first hand. His_Life on the Mississippi_, a vivid delineation of river scenes andcharacters, is perhaps his best work, or at least the most true to his aimand his experience. _Roughing It_ is another volume from his store ofpersonal observation, this time in the western mining camps; but here hisrealism goes as far astray from truth as any old romance in that itexaggerates even the sensational elements of frontier life. The remaining works of Mark Twain are, with one or two exceptions, of verydoubtful value. Their great popularity for a time was due largely to theauthor's reputation as a humorist, --a strange reputation it begins toappear, for he was at heart a pessimist, an iconoclast, a thrower ofstones, and with the exception of his earliest work, _The CelebratedJumping Frog_ (1867), which reflected some rough fun or horseplay, it isquestionable whether the term "humorous" can properly be applied to any ofhis books. Thus the blatant _Innocents Abroad_ is not a work of humorbut of ridicule (a very different matter), which jeers at travelers whoprofess admiration for the scenery or institutions of Europe, --anadmiration that was a sham to Mark Twain because he was incapable ofunderstanding it. So with the grotesque capers of _A Connecticut Yankeeat King Arthur's Court_, with the sneering spirit of _The Man thatCorrupted Hadleyburg_, with the labored attempts to be funny of_Adam's Diary_ and with other alleged humorous works; readers of thenext generation may ask not what we found to amuse us in such works but howwe could tolerate such crudity or cynicism or bad taste in the name ofAmerican humor. The most widely read of Mark Twain's works are _Tom Sawyer_ and_Huckleberry Finn_. The former, a glorification of a liar and hisdime-novel adventures, has enough descriptive power to make the storyreadable, but hardly enough to disguise its sensationalism, itslawlessness, its false standards of boy life and American life. In_Huckleberry Finn_, a much better book, the author depicts the life ofthe Middle West as seen by a homeless vagabond. With a runaway slave as acompanion the hero, Huck Finn, drifts down the Mississippi on a raft, meeting with startling experiences at the hands of quacks and imposters ofevery kind. One might suppose, if one took this picaresque recordseriously, that a large section of our country was peopled wholly by knavesand fools. The adventures are again of a sensational kind; but thecharacters are powerfully drawn, and the vivid pictures of the mighty riverby day or night are among the best examples of descriptive writing in ourliterature. [Sidenote: CRANE AND NORRIS] Still another type of realism is suggested by the names Stephen Crane andFrank Norris. These young writers, influenced by the French novelist Zola, condemned the old romance as false and proclaimed, somewhat grandly atfirst, that they would tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but thetruth. Then they straightway forgot that health and moral sanity are thetruth of life, and proceeded to deal with degraded or degenerate charactersas if these were typical of humanity. Their earlier works are studies ofbrutality, miscalled realism; but later Crane wrote his _Red Badge ofCourage_ (a rather wildly imaginative story of the Civil War), andNorris produced works of real power in _The Octopus_ and _ThePit_, one a prose epic of the railroad, the other of a grain of wheatfrom the time it is sown in the ground until it becomes a matter of goodfood or of crazy speculation. There is an impression of vastness, ofcontinental breadth and sweep, in these two novels which sets them apartfrom all other fiction of the period. The flood of dialect stories which appeared after 1876 may seem at firstglance to be mere variations of Bret Harte's local-color stories, but theyare something more and better than that. The best of them--such, forexample, as Page's _In Ole Virginia_ or Rowland Robinson's _DanvisFolk_--are written on the assumption that we can never understand a man, that is, the soul of a man, unless we know the very language in which heexpresses his thought or feeling. These dialect stories, therefore, areintimate studies of American life rather than of local speech or manners. [Sidenote: HARRIS] Joel Chandler Harris (1848-1908) is not our best writer of dialect storiesbut only the happy and most fortunate man who wrote _Uncle Remus_(1880), and wrote it, by the way, as part of his day's work as a newspaperman, without a thought that it was a masterpiece, a work of genius. Thefirst charm of the book is that it fascinates children with its frolicsomeadventures of Brer Rabbit, Brer Tarrypin, Brer B'ar, Brer Fox and thewonderful Tar Baby; the second, that it combines in a remarkable way aprimitive or universal with a local and intensely human interest. Thus, almost everybody is interested in folklore, especially in the animalstories which are part of the tradition of every primitive tribe; butfolklore, as commonly written, is not a branch of fiction but of science. Before it can enter the golden door of literature it must find or createsome human character who interests us not by his stories but by hishumanity; and Harris furnished this character in the person of Uncle Remus, a very lovable old plantation negro, drawn with absolute fidelity to life. [Illustration: JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS] Other novelists have portrayed a negro in fiction, but Harris did a moreoriginal work by creating his Brer Rabbit. In the adventures of thishappy-go-lucky creature, with his childishness and humor, we have thesymbol not of any one negro but of the whole race of negroes as the authorknew them intimately in a condition of servitude. The creation of these twooriginal characters, as real as Poor Richard or Natty Bumppo and far morefascinating, is one of the most notable achievements of American fiction. [Sidenote: PROBLEM NOVELS] Aside from the realistic movement, our recent fiction is like a riverflowing sluggishly over hidden bowlders: the surface is so broken bywhirlpools, eddies and aimless flotsam that it is difficult to determinethe main current. Here our attention is attracted by clever stories of"society in the making, " there by somber problem-novels dealing with cityslums, lonely farms, department stores, political rings, businesscorruption, religious creeds, social injustice, --with every conceivablematter that can furnish a novelist not with a story but with a cry forreform. The propaganda novel is evidently a favorite in America; butwhether it has any real influence in reforming abuses, as the novels ofDickens led to better schools and prisons in England, is yet to bedetermined. Occasionally appears a reform novel great enough to make us forget thereform, such as Helen Hunt Jackson's _Ramona_ (1884). This famousstory began as an attempt to plead the cause of the oppressed Indian, to dofor him what _Uncle Tom's Cabin_ was supposed to have done for thenegro; it ended in an idyllic story so well told that readers forgot tocry, "Lo, the poor Indian, " as the author intended. At the present time_Ramona_ is not classed with the problem-novels but with the mostreadable of American romances. [Sidenote: POPULAR ROMANCES] While the new realistic novel occupied the attention of critics the oldromance had, as usual, an immensely larger number of readers. Moralromances with a happy ending have always been popular, and of these E. P. Roe furnished an abundance. His _Barriers Burned Away_, _A FaceIllumined_, _Opening of a Chestnut Burr_ and _Nature's SerialStory_ depict American characters in an American landscape, and have awholesome atmosphere of manliness and cleanness that makes them eminently"safe" reading. Unfortunately they are melodramatic and sentimental, andcritics commonly sneer or jeer at them; but that is not a rationalcriticism. Romances that won instant welcome from a host of readers andthat are still widely known after half a century have at least "the powerto live"; and vitality, the quality that makes a character or a storyendure, is always one of the marks of a good romance. Another romancer untouched by the zeal for realism was Marion Crawford, whoin a very interesting essay, _The Novel_, proclaimed with some show ofreason that the novel was simply a "pocket theater, " a convenient stagewhereon the reader could enjoy by himself any comedy or tragedy thatpleased him. That Crawford lived abroad the greater part of his life andwas familiar with society in a dozen countries may explain the fact thathis forty-odd novels are nearly all of the social kind. His Roman novels, _Saracinesca_, _Sant' Ilario_ and a dozen others, are perhaps hisbest work. They are good stories; they take us among cultured foreignpeople and give us glimpses of a life that is hidden from most travelers;but they are superficial and leave the impression that the author was a manwithout much heart, that he missed the deeper meanings of life because hehad little interest in them. His characters are as puppets that are sentthrough a play for our amusement and for no other reason. In this, however, he remained steadily true to his own ideal of fiction as a convenientsubstitute for the theater. Moreover, he was a good workman; his storieswere for the most part well composed and very well written. More popular even than the romances of Roe and Crawford are the storieswith a background of Colonial or Revolutionary history, a type to whichAmerica has ever given hearty welcome. Ford's _Janice Meredith_, Mitchell's _Hugh Wynne_, Mary Johnston's _To Have and to Hold_, Maurice Thompson's _Alice of Old Vincennes_, Churchill's _RichardCarvel_, --the reader can add to the list of recent historical romancesalmost indefinitely; but no critic can now declare which shall be calledgreat among them. To the same interesting group of writers belong LewWallace, whose enormously popular _Ben Hur_ has obscured his betterstory, _The Fair God_, and Mary Hartwell Catherwood, whose _Lady ofFort St. John_ and other stirring tales of the Northwest have the samesavage wilderness background against which Parkman wrote his histories. For other romances of the period we have no convenient term except to callthem old-fashioned. Such, for instance, are Blanche Willis Howard's _OneSummer_ and Arthur Sherburne Hardy's _Passe Rose_ and _But Yet aWoman_, --pleasant, leisurely, exquisitely finished romances, whichbelong to no particular time or place and which deserve the fine old nameof romance, because they seem to grow young rather than old with thepassing years. POETRY SINCE 1876. It is commonly assumed that the last half century hasbeen almost exclusively an age of prose. The student of literature knows, on the contrary, that one difficulty of judging our recent poetry lies inthe amount and variety of it. Since 1876 more poetry has been publishedhere than in all the previous years of our history; and the quality of it, if one dare judge it as a whole, is surprisingly good. The designation of"the prose age, " therefore, should not blind us to the fact that Americanever had so many poets as at present. Whether a future generation willrank any of these among our elder poets is another question. Of late yearswe have had no singer to compare with Longfellow, to be sure; but we havehad a dozen singers who reflect the enlarging life of America in a way ofwhich Longfellow never dreamed. He lived mostly in the past and was busywith legends, folklore, songs of the night; our later singers live in thepresent and write songs of the day. And this suggests the chiefcharacteristic of recent poetry; namely, that it aims to be true to life asit is here and now rather than to life as it was romantically supposed tobe in classic or medieval times. [Footnote: The above characterizationapplies only to the best, or to what most critics deem best, of our recentpoetry. It takes no account of a large mass of verse which leaves animpression of faddishness in the matter of form or phrase or subject. Suchverse appeals to the taste of the moment, but Time has an effective way ofdealing with it and with all other insincerities in literature. ] This emancipation of our poetry from the past, with the loss and gain whichsuch a change implies, was not easily accomplished, and the terriblereality of the great war was perhaps the decisive factor in the struggle. Before the war our poetry was largely conventional, imitative, sentimental;and even after the war, when Miller's _Songs of the Sierras_ and JohnHay's _Pike-County Ballads_ began to sing, however crudely, ofvigorous life, the acknowledged poets and critics of the time werescandalized. Thus, to read the letters of Bayard Taylor is to meet a poetwho bewails the lack of poetic material in America and who "hungers, " as hesays, for the romance and beauty of other lands. He writes _Songs of theOrient_, _Lars: a Pastoral of Norway_, _Prince Deukalion_ andmany other volumes which seem to indicate that poetry is to be foundeverywhere save at home. Even his "Song of the Camp" is located in theCrimea, as if heroism and tenderness had not recently bloomed on a hundredsouthern battlefields. So also Stedman wrote his _Alectryon_ and_The Blameless Prince_, and Aldrich spent his best years in makingartificial nosegays (as Holmes told him frankly) when he ought to have beenmaking poems. These and many other poets said proudly that they belonged tothe classic school; they all read Shelley and Keats, dreamed of medieval orclassic beauty, and in unnumbered reviews condemned the crudity of thosewho were trying to find beauty at their own doors and to make poetry of thestuff of American life. [Illustration: EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN] [Sidenote: STEDMAN AND ALDRICH] It was the war, or rather the new American spirit that issued from the war, which finally assured these poets and critics that mythology and legendwere, so far as America was concerned, as dead as the mastodon, and thatlife itself was the only vitally interesting subject of poetry. EdmundClarence Stedman (1833-1908), after writing many "finished" poems that werepraised and forgotten, manfully acknowledged that he had been following thewrong trail and turned at last to the poetry of his own people. His_Alice of Monmouth_, an idyl of the war, and a few short pieces, suchas "Wanted: a Man, " are the only parts of his poetical works that are nowremembered. Thomas Bailey Aldrich (1836-1907) went through the sametransformation. He had a love of formal beauty, and in the exquisite finishof his verse has had few rivals in American poetry; but he spent the greatpart of his life in making pretty trifles. Then he seemed to waken to themeaning of poetry as a noble expression of the truth or beauty of thispresent life, and his last little book of _Songs and Sonnets_ containspractically all that is worth remembering of his eight or nine volumes ofverse. [Illustration: THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH] [Sidenote: JOAQUIN MILLER] One of the first in time of the new singers was Cincinnatus Heine Milleror, as he is commonly known, Joaquin Miller (1841-1912). His _Songs ofthe Sierras_ (1871) and other poems of the West have this advantage, that they come straight from the heart of a man who has shared the stirringlife he describes and who loves it with an overmastering love. To read his_My Own Story_ or the preface to his _Ship in the Desert_ is tounderstand from what fullness of life came lines like these: Room! room to turn round in, to breathe and be free, To grow to be giant, to sail as at sea With the speed of the wind on a steed with his mane To the wind, without pathway or route or a rein. Room! room to be free, where the white-bordered sea Blows a kiss to a brother as boundless as he; Where the buffalo come like a cloud on the plain, Pouring on like the tide of a storm-driven main, And the lodge of the hunter to friend or to foe Offers rest, and unquestioned you come or you go. My plains of America! seas of wild lands!. .. I turn to you, lean to you, lift you my hands. Indeed, there was a splendid promise in Miller, but the promise was neverfulfilled. He wrote voluminously, feeling that he must express the lure andmagic of the boundless West; but he wrote so carelessly that the crude bulkof his verse obscures the originality of his few inspired lines. To readthe latter is to be convinced that he was a true poet who might haveaccomplished a greater work than Whitman, since he had more genius andmanliness than the eastern poet possessed; but his personal oddities, hiszeal for reforms, his love of solitude, his endless quest after someunnamed good which kept him living among the Indians or wandering betweenMexico and the ends of Alaska, --all this hindered his poetic development. It may be that an Indian-driven arrow, which touched his brain in one ofhis numerous adventures, had something to do with his wanderings and hisfailure. There is a poetry of thought that can be written down in words, and thereis another poetry of glorious living, keenly felt in the winds of thewilderness or the rush of a splendid horse or the flight of a canoe throughthe rapids, for which there is no adequate expression. Miller could feelsuperbly this poetry of the mountaineer, the plainsman and the voyageur;that he could even suggest or half reveal it to others makes him worthy tobe named among our most original singers. [Sidenote: IRWIN RUSSELL] The hundred other poets of the period are too near for criticism, toovaried even for classification; but we may at least note two or threesignificant groupings. In one group are the dialect poets, who attempt tomake poetry serve the same end as fiction of the local-color school. IrwinRussell, with his gay negro songs tossed off to the twanging accompanimentof his banjo, belongs in this group. His verses are notable not for theirdialect (others have done that better) but for their fidelity to the negrocharacter as Russell had observed it in the old plantation days. There islittle of poetic beauty in his work; it is chiefly remarkable for itspromise, for its opening of a new field of poesie; but unfortunately thepromise was spoiled by the author's fitful life and his untimely death. [Illustration: JOAQUIN MILLER] [Sidenote: CARLETON AND RILEY] Closely akin to the dialect group in their effective use of the homelyspeech of country people are several popular poets, of whom Will Carletonand James Whitcomb Riley are the most conspicuous. Carleton's "Over theHills to the Poorhouse" and other early songs won him a wide circle ofreaders; whereupon he followed up his advantage with _Farm Ballads_and other volumes filled with rather crude but sincere verses of home andchildhood. For half a century these sentimental poems were as popular asthe early works of Longfellow, and they are still widely read by people wholike homely themes and plenty of homely sentiment in their poetry. Riley won an even larger following with his _Old Swimmin' Hole_, _Rhymes of Childhood Days_ and a dozen other volumes that aimed toreflect in rustic language the joys and sorrows of country people. Judgedby the number of his readers he would be called the chief poet of theperiod; but judged by the quality of his work it would seem that he wrotetoo much, and wrote too often "with his eye on the gallery. " He wasprimarily an entertainer, a platform favorite, and in his impersonation ofcountry folk was always in danger of giving his audience what he thoughtthey would like, not what he sincerely felt to be true. Hence theimpression of the stage and a "make-up" in a considerable part of his work. At times, however, Riley could forget the platform and speak from the heartas a plain man to plain men. His work at such moments has a deeper note, more simple and sincere, and a few of his poems will undoubtedly find apermanent place in American letters. The best feature of his work is thathe felt no need to go far afield, to the Orient or to mythology, but foundthe beauty of fine feeling at his door and dared to call one of hiscollections _Poems Here at Home_. [Sidenote: TYPICAL POETS] In a third group of recent poets are those who try to reflect the feelingof some one type or race of the many that make up the sum total of Americanlife. Such are Emma Lazarus, speaking finely for the Jewish race, and PaulLawrence Dunbar, voicing the deeper life of the negro, --not the negro ofthe old plantation but the negro who was once a slave and must now provehimself a man. In the same group we are perhaps justified in placing LucyLarcom, singing for the mill girls of New England, and Eugene Field, whoshows what fun and sentiment may brighten the life of a busy newspaper manin a great city. Finally come a larger number of poets who cannot be grouped, who sing eachof what he knows or loves best: Celia Thaxter, of the storm-swept northernocean; Madison Cawein, of nature in her more tender moods; Edward RowlandSill, of the aspirations of a rare Puritan soul. More varied in theirthemes are Edith Thomas, Emily Dickinson, Henry C. Bunner, Richard WatsonGilder, George Edward Woodberry, William Vaughn Moody, Richard Hovey, andseveral others who are perhaps quite as notable as any of those whom wehave too briefly reviewed. They all sing of American life in its wonderfulcomplexity and have added poems of real merit to the book of recentAmerican verse. And that is a very good book to read, more inspiring andperhaps more enduring than the popular book of prose fiction. MISCELLANEOUS PROSE. The historian who is perplexed by our recent poetry orfiction must be overwhelmed by the flood of miscellaneous works coveringevery field of human endeavor. As one who wanders through a forest has noconception of the forest itself but only of individual trees, so the readerof latter-day literature can form no distinct impression of it as a wholebut must linger over the individual authors who happen to attract hisattention. Hence in all studies of contemporary literature we have theinevitable confusion of what is important with what merely seems so becauseof its nearness or newness or appeal to our personal interests. The readeris amused by a _David Harum_, or made thoughtful by a _LookingBackward_, or wonderstruck by a _Life of Lincoln_ as big as aten-volume history; and he thinks, "This is surely a book to live. " But ayear passes and _David Harum_ is eclipsed by a more popular hero offiction, _Looking Backward_ is relegated to the shelf of forgottentracts, and Nicolay and Hay's "monumental" biography becomes a source book, which someone, it is to be hoped, will some day use in making a life ofLincoln that will be worthy of the subject and of the name of literature. [Sidenote: NATURE WRITERS] There is one feature in our recent literature, however, which attracts theattention of all critics; namely, the number of nature writers who haverevealed to us the beauty of our natural environment, as Ruskin awakenedhis readers to the beauty of art and Joaquin Miller to the unsung glory ofthe pioneers. In this respect, of adding to our enjoyment of human life bya new valuation of all life, our nature literature has no parallel in anyage or nation. To be specific, one must search continental literatures carefully to findeven a single book that belongs unmistakably to the outdoor school. InEnglish literature we find several poets who sing occasionally of thecharms of nature, but only two books in fourteen centuries of writing thatdeal frankly with the great outdoors for its own sake: one is IsaacWalton's _Complete Angler_ (1653), the other Gilbert White's_Natural History of Selborne_ (1789). [Footnote: There were otherworks of a scientific nature, and some of exploration, but no real naturebooks until the first notable work of Richard Jefferies (one of the best ofnature writers) appeared in 1878. By that time the nature movement inAmerica was well under way. ] In American literature the story is shorterbut of the same tenor until recent times. From the beginning we have hadmany journals of exploration; but though the joy of wild nature is apparentin such writings, they were written to increase our knowledge, not ourpleasure in life. Josselyn's _New England's Rarities_ (1672), Alexander Wilson's _American Ornithology_ (1801), Audubon's _Birdsof America_ (1827), --these were our nearest approach to nature booksuntil Thoreau's _Walden_ (1854) called attention to the immense andfascinating field which our writers had so long overlooked. Thoreau, it will be remembered, was neglected by his own generation; butafter the war, when writers began to use the picturesque characters ofplantation or mining camp as the material for a new American literature, then the living world of nature seemed suddenly opened to their vision. Bradford Torrey, himself a charming nature writer, edited Thoreau'sjournals, and lo! these neglected chronicles became precious because theeyes of America were at last opened. Maurice Thompson wrote as a poet andscholar in the presence of nature, John Muir as a reverent explorer, andWilliam Hamilton Gibson as an artist with an eye single to beauty; then inrapid succession came Charles Abbott, Rowland Robinson, John Burroughs, Olive Thorne Miller, Florence Bailey, Frank Bolles, and a score more of asomewhat later generation. Most of these are frankly nature writers, notscientists; they aim not simply to observe the shy, fleeting life of thewoods or fields but to reflect that life in such a way as to give us a newpleasure by awakening a new sense of beauty. It is a remarkable spectacle, this rediscovery of nature in an age supposedto be given over to materialism, and its influence appears in every branchof our literature. The nature writers have evidently done a greater workthan they knew; they have helped a multitude of people to enjoy the beautyof a flower without pulling it to pieces for a Latin name, to appreciate aliving bird more than a stuffed skin, and to understand what Thoreau meantwhen he said that the _anima_ of an animal is the only interestingthing about him. Because they have given us a new valuation of life, a newsense of its sacredness and mystery, their work may appeal to a futuregeneration as the most original contribution to recent literature. [Sidenote: HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY] Another interesting feature of recent times is the importance attached tohistorical and biographical works, which have increased so rapidly since1876 that there is now no period of American life and no importantcharacter or event that lacks its historian. The number of such works isastonishing, but their general lack of style and broad human interestplaces them outside of the field of literature. The tendency of recenthistorical writing, for example, is to collect facts _about_ personsor events rather than to reproduce the persons or events so vividly thatthe past lives again before our eyes. The result of such writing is to makehistory a puppet show in which dead figures are moved about by unseeneconomic forces; meanwhile the only record that lives in literature is theone that represents history as it really was in the making; that is, as adrama of living, self-directing men. [Illustration: JOHN FISKE] There is at least one recent historian, however, whose style givesdistinction to his work and makes it worthy of especial notice. This isJohn Fiske (1842-1901), whose field and method are both unusual. He beganas a student of law and philosophy, and his first notable book, _Outlinesof Cosmic Philosophy_, attracted instant attention in England andAmerica by its literary style and rare lucidity of statement. It wasfollowed by a series of essays, such as _The Idea Of God_, _TheDestiny Of Man_ and _The Origin of Evil_, which were so far aboveothers of their kind that for a time they were in danger of becomingpopular. Of a thousand works occasioned by the theory of evolution, whenthat theory was a nine days' wonder, they are among the very few that standthe test of time by affording as much pleasure and surprise as when theywere first written. It was comparatively late in life that our philosopher turned historian, and his first work in this field, _American Political Ideals Viewed fromthe Standpoint of Universal History_, announced that here at last was awriter with broad horizons, who saw America not as an isolated nationmaking a strange experiment but as adding a vital chapter to the greatworld's history. It was a surprising work, unlike any other in the field ofAmerican history, and it may fall to another generation to appreciate itsoriginality. Finally Fiske took up the study of particular periods orepochs, viewed them with the same deep insight, the same broad sympathy, and reflected them in a series of brilliant narratives: _Old Virginia andher Neighbors_, _The Beginnings of New England_, _Dutch andQuaker Colonies in America_ and a few others, the series endingchronologically with _A Critical Period of American History_, the"critical" period being the time of doubt and struggle over theConstitution. These narratives, though not unified, form a fairly completehistory from the Colonial period to the formation of the Union. To read any of these books is to discover that Fiske is concerned notchiefly with events but with the meaning or philosophy of events; that hehas a rare gift of delving below the surface, of seeing in the endeavors ofa handful of men at Jamestown or Plymouth or Philadelphia a profoundlysignificant chapter of universal history. Hence we seem to read in hispages not the story of America but the story of Man. Moreover, he hadenthusiasm; which means that his heart was young and that he could makeeven dull matters vital and interesting. Perhaps the best thing that can besaid of his work is that it is a pleasure to read it, --a criticism which isspoken for mature or thoughtful readers rather than for those who readhistory for its dramatic or heroic interest. [Sidenote: LITERARY HISTORY] Another feature of our recent prose is the number of books devoted to thestudy of American letters; and that, like the study of nature, is aphenomenon which is without precedent. Notwithstanding Emerson's plea forindependence in _The American Scholar_ (1837), our critics were busylong after that date with the books of other lands, thinking that there wasno American literature worthy of their attention. In the same year thatEmerson made his famous address Royal Robbins made what was probably thefirst attempt at a history of American literature. [Footnote: _Chambers'History of the English Language and Literature, to which is added A Historyof American Contributions to the English Language and Literature, by RoyalRobbins (Hartford, 1837)_. It is interesting to note that the authorcomplained of the difficulty of his task in view of the fact that therewere at that time over two thousand living American authors. ] It consistedof a few tag-ends attached to a dry catalogue of English writers, and thescholarly author declared that, as there was only one poor literary historythen in existence (namely, Chambers'), he must depend largely on his ownmemory for correcting the English part of the book and creating a newAmerican part. Nor were conditions improved during the next forty years. [Illustration: EDWARD EVERETT HALE] After the war, however, the viewpoint of our historians was changed. Theybegan to regard American literature with increasing respect as an originalproduct, as a true reflection of human life in a new field and under thestimulus of new incentives to play the fine old game of "life, liberty andthe pursuit of happiness. " In 1878 appeared Tyler's _History of AmericanLiterature 1607-1765_ in two bulky volumes that surprised readers byrevealing a mass of important writings in a period supposed to be barren ofliterary interest; and the surprise increased when the same author producedtwo more volumes dealing with the literature of the Revolution. In 1885came Stedman's _Poets of America_, an excellent critical study of NewWorld poetry; and two years later Richardson published the first of his twosplendid volumes of _American Literature_. These good beginnings werefollowed by a host of biographies dealing with every important Americanauthor, until we now have choice of a large assortment of literary materialwhere Royal Robbins had none at all. Such formal works are for the student, but the reader who goes to books forrecreation has also been remembered. Edward Everett Hale's _James RussellLowell and his Friends_, Higginson's _Old Cambridge_, Howells's_Literary Friends and Acquaintance_, Trowbridge's _My Own Story_, Mrs. Field's _Authors and Friends_, Stoddard's _Homes and Haunts ofour Elder Poets_, Curtis's _Homes of American Authors_, Mitchell's_American Lands and Letters_, --these are but few of many recent booksof reminiscences, all bearing witness to the fact that American literaturehas a history and tradition of its own. It is no longer an appendix toEnglish literature but an original record, to be cherished as we cherishany other precious national heritage, and to stand or fall among theliteratures of the world as it shall be found true or false to thefundamental ideals of American life. * * * * * BIBLIOGRAPHY. The best work on our recent literature is Pattee, A History of American Literature since 1870 (Century Co. , 1915), which deals with two hundred or more writers. A more sketchy attempt at a contemporaneous history is Vedder, American Writers of To-day (Silver, 1894, revised 1910), devoted to nineteen writers whom the author regards as most important. From a multitude of books dealing with individual authors or with special types of literature we have selected the following brief list, which is suggestive rather than critical. _Study of Fiction_. Henry James, The Art of Fiction; Howells, Criticism in Fiction; Crawford, The Novel: What It Is; Smith, The American Short Story; Canby, The Short Story in English. _Biography_. Life of Harriet Beecher Stowe, by C. E. Stowe. Life of Bret Harte, by Pemberton, or by Merwin, or by Boynton. Life of Bayard Taylor, by Marie Taylor and Horace Scudder; or by Smyth, in American Men of Letters. Life of Stedman, by Laura Stedman and G. M. Gould. Life of Thomas Bailey Aldrich, by Greenslet. Letters of Sarah Orne Jewett, edited by Annie Fields. Life of Edward Rowland Sill, by Parker. Thompson's Eugene Field. Mrs. Field's Charles Dudley Warner. Grady's Joel Chandler Harris. Life of Mark Twain, by Paine, 3 vols. _Historical and Reminiscent_. Page, The Old South; Nicholson, The Hoosiers; Howells, My Literary Passions; Henry James, Notes of a Son and Brother; Stoddard, Recollections Personal and Literary, edited by Hitchcock; Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, Chapters from a Life; Trowbridge, My Own Story. * * * * * GENERAL BIBLIOGRAPHY Books dealing with individual writers and with limited periods are named elsewhere, in the special bibliographies that supplement each of the preceding chapters. The following works, selected from a much larger number, will be found useful for reference during the entire course of study. AMERICAN LITERATURE. There is unfortunately no series of scholarly volumes covering the whole field, and nothing that approaches a standard history of the subject. One of the best general surveys is Richardson, American Literature, 2 vols. (Putnam, 1887). This is a critical work, containing no biographical material, and the historical sequence is broken by studying each type of literature (fiction, poetry, etc. ) by itself. Other general surveys, containing a small amount of biography sadly interwoven with critical matter, are Trent, American Literature (Appleton); Cairn, History of American Literature (Oxford University Press); Wendell, Literary History of America (Scribner); and the Cambridge American Literature, 2 vols. (announced, 1916, Putnam). There are also a score of textbooks dealing briefly with the subject. Among histories dealing with selected authors in groups or with the writers of some particular section of the country are National Studies in American Letters (Macmillan), which includes Higginson's Old Cambridge, Nicholson's The Hoosiers, Addison's The Clergy in American Letters, etc. ; Fulton, Southern Life in Southern Literature; Moses, Literature of the South; Holliday, History of Southern Literature; Wauchope, Writers of North Carolina; Lawton, The New England Poets; Painter, Poets of Virginia; Venable, Beginnings of Literary Culture in the Ohio Valley. _POETRY_. Stedman, Poets of America; Onderdonck, History of American Verse; Collins, Poetry and Poets of America. _FICTION_. Loshe, The Early American Novel; Erskine, Leading American Novelists; Smith, The American Short Story; Baldwin, American Short Stories; Perry, A Study of Prose Fiction; Howells, Criticism in Fiction; James, The Art of Fiction; Crawford, The Novel: What It Is. _MISCELLANEOUS TYPES_. Jameson, History of Historical Writing in America; Payne, Leading American Essayists; Brownell, American Prose Masters; Haweis, American Humorists; Payne, American Literary Criticisms; Sears, History of Oratory; Fuller and Trueblood, British and American Eloquence; Seilhamer, History of the American Theater; Hudson, Journalism in the United States; Thomas, History of Printing in America. A very useful little book is Whitcomb, Chronological Outlines of American Literature (Macmillan), in which all important works are arranged, first, in chronological order, year by year, and then according to authors. _BIOGRAPHY_. The best series of literary biographies is American Men of Letters (Houghton). A few American authors are included in English Men of Letters, Great Writers, the brief Beacon Biographies and other series. Biographical collections are Adams, Dictionary of American Authors; Cyclopedia of American Biography, 6 vols. (Appleton); Allibone, Dictionary of English Literature and British and American Authors, 6 vols. (Lippincott); Howes, American Bookmen; Fields, Biographical Notes and Personal Sketches. _SELECTIONS_. Calhoun and MacAlarney, Readings from American Literature, containing selections from all important authors in one volume (Ginn and Company); Stedman and Hutchinson, Library of American Literature, 11 vols. (Webster); Duyckinck, Cyclopedia of American Literature, 2 vols. (Scribner); Bronson, American Poems and American Prose, 2 vols. (University of Chicago Press); Lounsbury, American Poems (Yale University Press); Stedman, An American Anthology, supplementing the same author's Poets of America (Houghton); Page, Chief American Poets, with very full selections from our nine elder poets (Houghton); The Humbler Poets, newspaper and magazine verse, 2 vols. (McClurg); Golden Treasury of American Songs and Lyrics (Macmillan); Rittenhouse, Little Book of Modern Verse (Houghton); Carpenter, American Prose (Macmillan); Johnson, American Orations, 3 vols. (Putnam); Harding, Select Orations (Macmillan). Library of Southern Literature, 16 vols. , a monumental work, edited under supervision of the University of Virginia (Martin and Holt Co. , Atlanta); Trent, Southern Writers; Mims and Payne, Southern Poetry; Kent, Southern Poets. _SCHOOL TEXTS_. For the works of minor writers some of the anthologies named above are necessary; but the major authors may be read to better advantage in various inexpensive texts edited for class use. Such, for example, are Standard English Classics (Ginn and Company); Riverside Literature (Houghton); Pocket Classics (Macmillan); Lake Classics (Scott); Maynard's English Classics (Merrill); Silver Classics (Silver, Burdett); Johnson's English Classics (Johnson); English Readings (Holt); Eclectic Classics (American Book Co. ); Everyman's Library (Dutton). There are nearly a score more of these handy little editions, lists of which may be obtained by writing to the various publishing houses, especially to those that make a specialty of schoolbooks. AMERICAN HISTORY. In studying our literature a good textbook of history should always be at hand; such as Montgomery, Student's American History, or Muzzey, American History, or Channing, Students' History of the United States. More extended works are much better, if the student has time or inclination to consult them. A useful reference work in connection with our early literature is American History Told by Contemporaries, edited by Hart, 4 vols. (Macmillan). The American History Series, 6 vols. (Scribner), tells the story of America by epochs, the different epochs being treated by different authors. Another good history of the same kind is Epochs of American History, 3 vols. (Longmans). The most complete history is The American Nation, 27 vols. (Harper). Political and party history in Stanwood, History of the Presidency (Houghton), and Johnston, American Political History, 2 vols. (Putnam). Biographies of notable characters in American Statesmen (Houghton), Makers of America (Dodd), Great Commanders (Appleton), True Biographies (Lippincott), and various other series. National Cyclopedia of American Biography, 15 vols. (White). Bibliography of the subject in Channing, Hart and Turner, Guide to the Study and Reading of American History, revised to 1912 (Ginn and Company); and in Andrews, Gambrill and Tall, Bibliography of History (Longmans).