a at Peart at 4 ah Bed - ager tad dae ‘ a oe Ae ; pe a ciebsegee oe : wes ite ae a ‘ 38 : 5 A A 5.6K : tees ; ; NEE Fe = 4 et? a Hh Pee at “ hs ee awl pers gan aes a ere re nN ‘ 3 a it me 4 Sealy, Ai br ae the " ail rere ie ‘ : Mgdoter? : na Ae ta tnefioel'e ae Spt EAS bse: eastratse PEA argc ngh 3 2 : — fl tai é ee ere i thee aha pette- wate nar ae nf OS ee etre See ce Peeters 2 neta eT ue i siessbe te i P ms a fs (Phe ‘git Sa aia! ideal ten ee santa tartan RN Seale WE gestae A en ae eee 2 stg ots eg Soh ae sete e ee oa ed THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA ENDOWED BY THE DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC SOCIETIES iui i 00008718916 gggggggg9_s3% 53 $455 56 57 96 3 * co f e 47 43 49.50 51 52 53 54 92 28 999 sie ao ri a2 ae 85 x1 TL 52M 58 39 THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA ENDOWED BY THE DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC SOCIETIES wl ae At A MANUAL OF ENGLISH LITERATURE nok HISTORICAL AND CRITICAL: <> WITH AN APPENDIX ON ENGLISH Se \ BY THOMAS ARNOLD, M.A., OF UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, OXFORD. AMERICAN EDITION, REVISED. BOSTON: PUBLISHED BY GINN, HEATH, & CO. Leo DOIN: ¢ pe Library, Univ. of North Caroline PUBLISHERS’ NOTICE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION, [1y order to enable them to present this valuable _ work to the public at a reduced price, the American _ publishers have been obliged to make but one change, _ and that a change which nowise impairs the usefulness of the book. In place of the long preliminary chapter in the English edition, they have inserted a chapter from Mr. Arnold’s “ From Chaucer to Wordsworth.” In the opening sentence of the preface to the latter work, will be found the sufficient reason for the change. ‘“ As the following work,” says he, “is designed chiefly for the use of those who know no other language but English, I have abridged much more than is usual that portion of the history which relates to the Saxon and © Anglo-Norman times, during which all the important _ works that appeared in England were written in Anglo- Saxon, French, or Latin.” ] 3 CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. ANGLO-SAXON AND NORMAN PERIOD: 449-1350. Introductory Remarks — Section I; ANncGLo-Saxon PERIOD — King _ Alfred’s Translations — ‘‘ Anglo-Saxon Chronicle’ — “‘ Beowulf” — Alliteration — Extract from the Chronicle —Section II.; Norman Prriop— Effects of the Conquest — Scholastic Philosophy — St. An- selm — Abelard —St. Bernard — Peter Lombard — Physical Science — Roger Bacon — Historians: William of Malmesbury, Geoffrey of Monmouth, Matthew Paris— Porrry : Romances and Verse-Histo- ries, Layamon’s ‘‘ Brut,’”’ Robert Manning — Extracts . pages 9-20 CHAPTER II. EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD: 1350-1450. Latin and French Compositions — Walsingham, Fordun, Wyclif — Growth of the English Language and Literature — Chaucer: Sketch of his Life ; Chronology of his Writings — Gower, Langland, Occleve, Lydgate, Minot—ScorrisH Ports: Barbour, James L, Wynton — Prose WRitERs : Maundevile, Chaucer, Wyclif ‘ : . 21-44 CHAPTER III. REVIVAL OF LEARNING: 1450-1558. Decline of Literature — Invention of Printing — Foundation of Schools and Universities — Porrry: Hardyng, Hawes, Skelton, Surrey, - Wyat ; the ‘‘ Mirrour for Magistrates ;” first Poet Laureate — Scort- TisH Ports: Henryson, Dunbar, Gawain Donglas, Lyndsay, Blind Harry — LEARNING: Grocyn; Linacre; Colet; the Humanities ; State of the Universities — Prose Writers: Pecock, Fortescue, Caxton, Leland, More (his ‘ Utopia’’)—Chroniclers: Fabyan, Hall, Grafton — Bale — Theological Writers : Latimer, More, Roger . Ascham A ; : aia ae : ‘ . ; : . 45-72 | of Gs 5 6 CONTENTS. CHAPTER IV. ELIZABETHAN PERIOD: 1558-1625. Brilliant Period of our Literature ; connected with the Social Prosperity of the Country — Porrs AND DRAMATISTS: Spenser, Shakspeare's Poems, Southwell, Warner, Daniel, Drayton, Donne, Davies, Chap- man, Marston, Raleigh — Rise and Progress of the. English Drama— Miracle-plays — Coventry Mysteries — Earliest Comedy — Hey wood’s Interludes — Earliest. Tragedy — Dramatic Unities ~Greene’s Pam- phlet —Shakspeare: Sketch of his Life ; his Comedies ; his Tragedies; his Historical Plays — Ben Jonson — Beanmont and Fletcher — Mas- singer, Ford, Webster, Marston, Chapman, Dekker, T. Heywood, Mid- dleton, Rowley, Tourneur, Shirley —Suppression of the Stage — PROSE-WritTers : Novels ; Books of Travel ; Essays; Bacon, Burton Puttenham ; Sir Philip Sidney ; Earliest Newspaper— HIsTorRIANs ;: Holinshed, Camden, Lord Bacon, Speed, Knolles, Raleigh, Foxe — THEOLOGIANS: Jewel, Hooker, Andrewes ; Translation of the Bible — PuiLtosoruy : Lord Bacon ; Explanation of his Method ; His Phil- osophical Works — Political Science: Buchanan, Spenser, Raleigh, Elyot : ‘ : : ; : : : ’ ‘ : . 78-153 CHAPTER V. CIVIL WAR PERIOD: 1625-1700. Historical ‘Sketch of the leading Political Events — Porrry: Jonson; the Fantastic School; Cowley, Waller, Crashaw —Song-Writers: Her- bert, Wotton, Corbet, Carew, Drummond, Cleveland, Herrick, Love- . lace, Denham; Milton, Sketch of his Literary Life; Wither, Marvell; — Dryden, Sketch of his Literary Life; Roscommon, Butler, Dayenaut — Heroic Plays: Dryden, Otway, Lee, Shadwell, Settle, Crowne, Behn — Comedy of Manners: Congreve, Jeremy Collier — LEARNING: Usher, Selden, Gale, &v.— Prose Fiction: Bunyan — History AND Broc- RAPHY: Milton, Ludlow, Clarendon, &¢.; Wood’s “ Athenz;” Fuller, Pepys, Evelyn, &c. —Turonoey: Hall, Jeremy Taylor, Bull, Leigh- ton, Pearson, Lightfoot, Baxter— PHinosopnry: Hobbes, Cudworth, Locke, Harrington — Essay-WRITERs: Hall, Feltham, Browne — SCIENCE: Newton . : ; ; ; 5 : t : - 154-221 CHAPTER VL EIGHTEENTH CENTURY: 1700-1800. Historical Sketch, General Characteristics — Portry FROM 1700 To 1745: Pope, Sketch of his Literary Life; Addison, Gay, Parnell, Swift, Thomson, Prior, Garth, Blackmore, Defoe, Tickell, Savage, Dyer, A. Philips, J. Philips, Watts, Ramsay — THE Drama: Addison, Rowe, Thomson, Young, Southern, Steele — Prose Comedy: Farquhar, Van- brugh, Cibber, Centlivre, Gay — LEARNING, 1700-1745: Bentley, Lard- te CONTENTS. 1 afide ner — Prose Fiction: Swift, Defoe — Pamphletoers : Swift, Arbuth- not— Perioilical Miscellany: Tatler,” ** Spectator,” “Guardian,” &e. — Satirical Works: Swilt’s Talevot a. Dur History, 1760-1745: Burnet, Rapin — Pourry, 1745-1800: Johnson, Gray, Churchill, Cow- per, Burns, Minor Poets, “The Rolliad’’— Tur Drama: Home. John: Son, Goldsmith, Sheridan, and others— Prosk Fiction, 1745-1800: Richardson, Fielding, Smollett, Sterne, Goldsmith, Miss Burney, God- win —OrATORY: Chathain, Burke, &c.—Pamplhileteers: Junius, Burke, Johnson — Hrsrory, 1745-1800: Hume, Robertson, Gibbon — Biogra- phers: Boswell, && — TnHEouocy: the English Deists; Bentley, But- ler’s “‘ Analogy,’ Berkeley; Warburton; Methodism ; Middleton; Challoner — PHttosoryy: Berkeley, Hume, Reid, Butler, Paley — Political Secence: Hiune, Burke, Godwin, Paine — Political Economy: Adam S:nith — Criticism: Burke, Reynolds, &e. . ‘ . 222-301 CHAPTER VII. MODERN TIMES: 1800-1850. Re-action against the Ideas of the Eighteenth Century — Theory of the Spontaneous in Poetry. — Porntry: Sir Walter Scott, Sketch of his Literary Life; Keats, Shelley, Byron, Crabbe, Coleridge, Southey, Campbell, Wordsworth, Moore, Hood, Hogg, &c. — PRose WRITERS: umuary Accountof . . Mee gt ae ie Fr ein etter . 3802-340 CRITICAL SECTION. CHAPTER I. Definition of Literature— Poetry and Prose Writings— Classification of Poetical Compositions —Epic Porrry: the ‘‘ Paradise Lost’’ — Dra- MATIC POETRY: its Kinds; Shakspeare, Addison, Ben Jonson, Milton — Heroic Poetry: “The Bruce,” ‘The Campaign ’’ — Mock-Heroic Poems: Pope’s ‘‘ Rape of the Lock,’’ Garth’s ‘‘ Dispensary ’’— Nar- RATIVE PoETRY: 1. Romances: “Sir Isumbras;” 2. Tales: Chaucer and the Canterbury Tales, Falconer, Crabbe, Parnell; 3. Allegories: “Vision of Piers Plowman,” ‘‘ Flower and the Leaf,’”’ Spenser’s ‘‘ Fae- ry Queen,” “Castle of Indolence;’’ Fables: Gay, Mrs. Thrale, Mer- rick; 4. Romantic Poems: Scott’s “ Lay’ and others; Byron’s Orien- tal Tales; ‘‘ Lalla Rookh;” 5. Historical Poems: Rhyming Chroniclers; Dryden’s ‘‘ Annus Mirabilis’? — Dipactic Poetry: ‘‘The Hind and Panther;” ‘‘Essay on Man;”’ ‘‘ Essay on Criticism;” ‘‘ Vanity of Human Wishes’”’ —SatiricaAt Porrry: of three Kinds, Moral, Per- sonal, Political; Satires of Donne, Hall, and Swift; Pope’s Satires, 8 CONTENTS. Moral Essays, “‘The Dunciad;” Dryden’s ‘ M‘Flecknoe;” ‘ English Bards and Scotch Reviewers;”’ ‘‘ Hudibras;”’ ‘Absalom and Achito- phel,’ Churchill, Peter Pindar, Moore’s Satires, ‘‘The Vicar of Bray’? — PastoRAL PoETry: Spenser, Browne, Pope, Shenstone — DESCRIPTIVE PoETRY: ‘‘ Polyolbion,” ‘‘Cooper’s Hill,” ‘‘ The Seasons ”’ — Lyrica Porrry: its Kinds; Devotional, Loyal, Patriotic, Amatory, Bacchanalian, Martial; Specimens of each Kind —Enraerac Porrry: ‘‘ Fidele,” ‘‘ The Castaway,” ‘‘ Lycidas,” ‘‘ Adonais’” — MIscELLANE- ous PoETRY: 1. Poems founded on the Passions and Affections; 2. Poems of Sentiment and Reflection: ‘‘ Childe Harold,’ Wordsworth’s ‘‘Ode;” 3. Poems of Imagination and Fancy: Shelley’s ‘Skylark;”’ 4. Philosophical Poetry 2 ; ¢ . . Z : . 3841-456 CHAPTER II. Prose Writings —1. ProsE Fiction; Classification of Works of Fiction. Historical Novels: Scott. Novels of High Life: Richardson. Novels of Middle Life: Fielding, Miss Austen. Novels of Low Life: Dickens, Smollett — Works OF SATIRE, Wit, AND Humor: “ Tale of a Tub;” “Battle of the Books;” ‘The Anti-Jacobin;” Sterne; Sydney Smith —3 ORATORY: its Kinds; Jeremy Taylor; Burke; Journalism; Pamph- leteering, illustrated from Milton, Swift, and Byron—4. History: Contemporary and Retrospective; Clarendon, Raleigh, Gibbon, Lord Bacon — Biography: its Divisions; Diaries; Letters —5. THrouocy: its Branches; leading Works in each — 6. PH1LosopHy— Logic: Bacon, Whately, Mill, Hamilton — Psychology: 1. Moral Philosophy, But- ler, &c.; Intellectual Philosophy: Locke, Reid, Hamilton — Meta- physics: Cudworth, More, Berkeley, Hume, Coleridge — Political Science: Filmer, Hobbes, Milton, Burke — Essays: Bacon, Feltham, Foster, &c.— Criticism: 1. Philosophical: Bacon’s “ Advancement of Learning;”’ 2. Literary: Sidney, Dryden, &c.; 3. Artistic: Ruskin, Sir Joshua Reynolds . P : : A : : , . 457-517 APPENDIX. On English Metres . : “ Meee : a alae . - 521-535 IND EX e e ® e ® @ ® e e 6 e ® 539-547 LIST OR SEXTRACTS .. «<1. 5, -syete eee HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. CHAPTER I. ANGLO-SAXON AND NORMAN PERIODS. 449-1350. In undertaking to write a short history of English literature, it may be useful to place one’s self, at the - outset, in the position of a person to whom the subject is wholly new. Every one possessed of any education cannot fail to be acquainted with a certain number of English books, and to know of the existence of many more ; and also must often hear the names of English men or women, dead or alive, spoken of as having become distinguished through writing books. It is said, that, on the average, not fewer than two thousand distinct works, upon every conceivable subject, are published in this country every year. Now, this country in which we live has been inhabited by men more or less civilized, for at least thirty successive generations; and, although it is but of late years that our countrymen have taken to writing books at such:a prodigious rate, it is obvious that the same causes which at the present day are continually adding to the number of English books must have 9 10 - HISTCRY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. been more or !ess at work for a very long time past ; from which it follows that the entire stock of Enelish books must be very large indeed. When we have arrived at this conclusion, various questions at once suggest themselves; such as, What proportion of all the English books that have been written since the English race settled in this island have been preserved to our times? Are many of those that have survived worth preserving, or the contrary, and on what grounds ? Were the old books written in the same sort of Eng- lish that we now use? and, if not, what was the nature of the difference? These and many similar questions will naturally occur; and it is in order to furnish something like satisfactory answers, that the present work has been prepared. The word ‘literature ” is used in two principal senses, — to express the whole number of books that have been written in any language (thus we speak of the Greek, French, German, literatures, &c.); and also to signify the profession or pursuit of writing, as when we speak of a person addicting himself to litera- ture. But the former of these two senses is much the more common ; and it is the one which will be adhered to throughout the present work. The English race first began to colonize this country about fourteen hundred years ago. Before that time, Ingland was called Britain, and was inhabited by a_ people of Celtic origin, allied to the modern Welsh (and, more remotely, to the Irish), known as Britons. The language spoken by the Britons was quite differ- ent from English; and therefore, whatever books may have been written in that language, either before or after the arrival of the English race, they do not con- cern us, who are only inquiring into the history of English literature, ANGLO-SAXON AND NORMAN PERIODS. 11 The first English who arrived on our shores called themselves Angles. They came from Schleswig-Hol- stein, that border-land between Denmark and Ger- many, which has been for centuries a bone of conten- tion between the Dane and the German. But the language which they then spoke approached, on the Whole, nearer to German than to Danish, though it exhibits points of resemblance to both. They were joined in their great colonizing enterprise by the Sax- ons, a people occupying both banks of the Elbe near its mouth, and by other German tribes. The language spoken by the Saxons seems to have agreed very closely with that spoken by the Angles, though it had proba- bly fewer Danish peculiarities; and, in consequence of this close agreement, their common tongue has received the name of Anglo-Sawon. The Angles gave their name to the country, Angla or Engla-land, England. In the course of about two hundred years from the date (A.D. 449) of their first arrival, these Angles and Saxons had established themselves in the greater part of England, and in the Lowlands of Scotland. Their language was spoken from the Orkneys to the Isle of Wight, and from Norwich to Dorchester. It may now be asked, Was this language like the English that we speak now? Did they write any books in it? And have these books been preserved? ‘These questions will be answered in the following section. Section 1.— ANGLO-SAXON LITERATURE (449-1066). The language which our Angle and Saxon fore- fathers spoke was very different from ours; and the difference consisted principally in this: that a very large number of French and Latin words have, since their time, been added to the old stock, while many of their words have fallen into disuse. Another difference 12 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. is, that, while our grammar is very simple, theirs was very complicated.’ Consequently, however well ac- quainted we may be with English, we shall be able to — make nothing of an Anglo-Saxon book without special study: at most we might recognize a familiar word or two here and there. This being the case, I do not intend to dwell upon this part of the subject; for, though we have got upon the English race, it is plain that we have not yet got to English literature. However, since what our forefathers thought and wrote can never be quite uninteresting to us, I shall give brief answers to the two other questions which I sup- posed to be asked, and also print, at the end of the section, a few lines from an Anglo-Saxon book, as a specimen of their language. | While they lived in Germany, and for the first hundred and fifty years after they landed in England, we do not know that the Angles and Saxons wrote any books: if they did, they have not come down to us. | During all that time they were Pagans, worshipping — Thor, Woden, and other imaginary deities, who were the objects of belief among the northern nations. But, about the year 600 after Christ, St. Augustine and other missionaries, who were sent from Rome by Pope Gregory the Great, commenced the conversion of the Anglo-Saxons to Christianity. At the same time that they taught them religion, these good men communi- cated to their disciples many other good and useful things; in particular, they instructed them in the use of the Roman alphabet, and taught them to read Greek and Latin books. ) How important this was will clearly appear, when we consider that, at that time, no litera- ture existed in any other European language except . these two. | From reading and copying Greek and Latin books, the Anglo-Saxons soon advanced to writing J ol “. ANGLO-SAXON AND NORMAN PERIODS. 13 books in their own language. Of these books many have been preserved, and are now to be had in print. The great King Alfred is the author of many transla- tions of Latin books, mostly histories, into Anglo-Saxon. The most interesting among these is his translation of “The Ecclesiastical History of the Venerable Bede,” a work of the utmost value for the history of the Anglo- Saxon times. There is also a valuable book, called “The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle,” which gives an account of most of the important events which happened in England, from the Christian era down to the year 1154: this book was put together by the monks of different “monasteries. Of the poetry the greater portion is upon sacred subjects; but we have also a long and very curious poem called “ Beowulf,” in which are related the adventures and great deeds of northern warriors in Denmark and the south of Sweden. The rhythm of all the Anglo-Saxon poetry depended on what is called alliteration ; the lines, arranged in couplets, were short, each containing two accents ; and the general rule was, that two accented syllables in the first line of each couplet, and one accented syllable in the second line, should all begin with the same letter; e.g., — 3 Héofon to hrofe, Halig Scippend. [Heaven for roof, Holy Creator. | The following extract is taken from “ The Anglo- Saxon Chronicle ;”’ it refers to the year 407: — Her Hengest and Asc his sunu gefuhton wid Bryttas, on bere stowe pe is gecweden Creccanford, and per ofslogon feower pusenda wera. And 3a Bryttas pa forleton Cent-lond, and mid myclum ege flugon to Lunden-byrig.} 1 Note, that the character 3 represents the sound of th in this; and _ the character p, the sound of th in thin. 14 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. TRANSLATION. At this time Hengest and Aisc his son fought against the Britons at the place which is called Crayford, and there slew four thousand men. And then the Britons they forsook Kent-land, and with much dismay fled to London-town. SECTION 2.— Tue NorMAN Periop (1066-1350). In the year 1066, William, Duke of Normandy, brought an army over to England, defeated King Harold at Hastings in Sussex, and had himself crowned King of England. The Normans, who formed the greater portion of his army, were originally, as the name itself implies, North-men, or inhabitants of the North of Europe (Denmark, Norway, and Sweden), who had settled in France about the year 950. During their sojourn in France, they had unlearned their own language, and had adopted that of their French neigh-- bors. Thus it happened, that, for a long time after the ' Norman conquest, the king, nearly all his nobles and knights, and all the leading men among the clergy, spoke in French, and wrote either in French or in Latin, having no more knowledge of the tongue of the natives than was required to make their orders intelligible to the peasants who worked for them, and often not even so much as that. During the whole of this period, what literature there was was for the most part composed by the clergy ; for very few of the laity could read and write. The clergy alone had leisure and opportunity for accu- mulating that acquaintance with the works of previous thinkers, and that knowledge of past transactions, without one or the other of which, nothing can be done in theology, philosophy, or history} St. Anselm (an Italian by birth, but holding the see of Canterbury under William II. and Henry I.) was the first who ANGLO-SAXON AND NORMAN PERIODS. 15 endeavored to clothe religious doctrines in philosophical formulas. The famous Abelard, a Frenchman, asserted the identity of faith and reason, a doctrine from which the inference is easy, that what is inconsistent with reason can be no part of the true faith. St. Bernard, who flourished in the first half of the twelfth century, eloquently combated this view. The scholastic philos- ophy founded by Peter Lombard, author of ‘The Book of Sentences,” a work which appeared at Paris in 1151, soon engrossed all the most powerful thinkers in Kurope. Several of the leading ‘“school-men ”.— Alexander Hales, styled ‘the Irrefragable,” Duns Scotus, “the Subtle. Doctor,” and William of Occam, “‘ the Invincible Doctor ’” — were natives of the British Isles. But all their works were written in Latin; great part of their lives was spent abroad; and the influence which they exerted, besides that it extended quite as much to foreign countries as to England, was almost confined to members of their own profession. It will not be expected, therefore, that, in a work of a purely elementary character, any detailed account of their writings can be given. In the department of science, a great light appeared in England in the thirteenth century. This was Roger Bacon, a friar in the Franciscan monastery at Oxford, who in his Opus Majus (‘*Greater” or “ Principal Work”), propounds most enlightened views upon the _ value of experiment as a means of arriving at physical truth. He was encouraged by the high-minded Pope Clement IV., but condemned and imprisoned under his narrow-minded successor, Nicholas. In truth, he was so far in advance of his age, that his scientific re- searches communicated no stimulus, and found no imitators. Lhe historians, too, were all ecclesiastics, and wrote 16 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. in Latin. William of Malmesbury, the first competent historian since the time of Bede, wrote a * History of the Kings of England,” which comes down to the year 1142. Geoffrey of Monmouth, who lived about the same time, is the author of a well-known fabulous ‘History of the Britons,” from which the romance- writers drew the materials for their poems about Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Among many other names, we shall only mention that of Matthew Paris, a monk of St. Albans, the author of a volumi- nous and valuable chronicle, coming down to the year — 1259. Lay writers in this period confined themselves to poetry ; not that they had the monopoly of that. Num- bers of witty, satirical, and sometimes coarse poems, were written in Latin, by priests or monks. But our business is only with what was written in the vernacu- lar languages. Before the Normans came over to — England, many poets had appeared in France; and a considerable taste for literature, especially for poetry, had sprung up in that country. In their new homes, the Normans did not lose this taste: on the contrary, — poets and minstrels were more and more appreciated — and caressed; and even one of our kings, Richard L[., was proud to rank himself among their number. Few laymen knew how to read in those times: so the custom was for minstrels and reciting poets to stroll about the. country from castle to castle, repeating at each, to a delighted audience, long passages from historical or romantic poems, generally with musical accompani- ment. But these poems were all in French, and there- fore we have no direct concern with them; it was necessary, however, to say something about them, | because the first rude literary attempts in English, | after the Conquest, were all either imitations or trans-_ * ANGLO-SAXON AND NORMAN PERIODS. 17 lations of these French pieces. Romances and verse- histories were the chief productions of those ages. Romances were originally so called because they were written in the ftomance tongue, that is, the dialect which the oman occupation of Gaul (France) had caused to grow up out of the gradual colruption of the Latin language, and its adulteration with foreign words. Many of the tales with which story-books make us familiar in our childhood, as that of Guy of Warwick and the Dun Cow, or that of Roland and Oliver, or that of Bevis of Hampton, were originally _Freneh romances, composed at the period I am speaking of: they were then translated into English verse, and, after being told in many different ways, have at last made hele appearance in our popular story-books. Of the verse-histories in Enelish, the earliest known was > written by a Worcestershire monk called Lavamon: ' itis called the * Brut,” that is, the chronicle, and is a free translation of a French verse-history of England, Written by one Richard Wace. Another work~— of the same kind is the rhyming chronicle of Robert - Manning, of which a specimen will be given presently. Besides these pieces, a few ballads and hymns have come down to us. In all these, and also ini the verse- histories, except that of Layamon, many French words occur, — the inevitable consequence of the daily inter- course and close contact of two populations, one speaking French, the other English. In the next period, we shall scc this process going on still more actively. . Speaking of himself as an author, Layamon, who flourished in the reign of John, or about the year 1200, thus writes :— a “‘ He wonede at Ernieie Wid than gode cnihte, 18 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. Uppen Sevarne ; Merie ther him thohte; Faste bi Radistone: Ther heo bokes radde. Hit com him on mode, And on his thonke, That he wolde of Engelond The rihtnesse telle; Wat the men i-hote weren, And wancne hi comen, The Englene lond firest afden After than flode, That fram God com; That al ere acwelde Cwic that hit funde, Bot Noe and Sem, Japhet and Cam, And hire four wifes, That mid ham there weren.”’ } Thé following is a literal translation: — “He dwelt_at~Ernley, with the good knight, upon the Severn; pleasant it seemed to him there; close by Radistone: there he books read. It came into his mind, and in his thought, that he would of England the exact story tell; what the men were called, and whence they came, who first occupied the English land, after the flood that from God came, that quelled [killed] all here that it found quick [alive], except Noe and Sem, Japhet and Cam [Ham], and their four wives that were with them there.”’ Robert Manning’s English, as will be seen, is of a much more advanced character. The following passage is from the opening of the second part of his chronicle, which was composed about the year 1330 :— “ Lordynges that be now here, If ye wille listene and lere [learn] All the story of Inglande, Als [as] Robert Mannyng wryten [written] it fand, And on Inglysch has it schewed, 1 Extracted, with a few slight corrections, from Craik’s, Outlines of the History of the English Language. ae eee | | | | ‘ ~* ANGLO-SAXON AND NORMAN PERIODS. 19 Not for the lered but for the lewed [lay people] ; For tho [those] that on this land wonn [dwell] That the Latin ne Frankys conn [know neither Latin nor French], For to hauf solace and gamen, In felauschip when tha sitt samen [together] ; And it is wisdom for to wytten [know] The state of the land, and hef it wryten, What manere of folk first it wan, And of what kynde it first began ; And gude it is for many thynges For to here [hear] the dedis of kynges, Whilk [which] were foles, and whilk were wyse, Ard whilk of tham couth [knew] most quantyse [quaintness, i.e., artfulness| ; And whilk did wrong, and whilk ryght, And whilk mayntened pes [peace] and fight. Of thare dedes sall be mi sawe [story], In what tyme, and of what law, I sholl you tell, from gre to gre [degree, i.e., step by step] ‘Sen [since] the tyme of Sir Noe.” The language of the “ Ormulum,” a singular poem of the thirteenth century, not rhymed but rhythmical, is of an intermediate character; it has fewer Anglo-Saxon forms, and more French or Latin words, than Laya- mon’s “ Brut,” but is much less modernized than that of Manning. It consists of passages and narratives, taken from Scripture, and rudely versified, with accompanying commentaries. ‘The date of its composition is supposed to be about 1250. The following passage may serve as a specimen : — *“ Annd o patt illke nahht tatt Crist Wass borenn her to manne, Wass He yet, alls His wille wass, Awwnedd onn operr wise. He sette a steorne upp o pe lifft Full brad, and brihht, and shene, On est hallf o piss middlelerd, Swa summ pe goddspell kipepp, Amang patt folle patt cann innsihht Off mani ping purrh steorrness, Amang pe Calldeowisshe peod 20 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. n 1 The doubling of the consonants throughout this extract is merely — patt cann inpsihht o steorrness. And patt peod wass heepene peod patt Crist gaff ba swille takenn; Forrpi patt He peggm wollde pa To rihhte lefe wendenn. And son se pegg patt steorrne leom peer seeghenn upp o liffte, preo kingess off batt illke land Full wel itt unnderrstodenn, _And wisstenn witerrlig perpurrh patt swille new king wass awwnedd, patt wass sob Godd! and sop mann ee, An had off twinne kinde.”’ 2 TRANSLATION. And on that same night that Christ Was born here as man, Was He, as His will was, Manifested in yet another fashion. He set a star up in the sky Full broad, and bright, and fair, On the east side of this middle-earth, Even as the gospel declares, Among that people that knows insight Of many things through the stars, Among the Chaldeean people, That knows insight of stars. And that people was a heathen people, To which Christ gave then such a token, Because that He them would then To right belief turn. And, as soon as they that star’s gleam | There saw up in the sky, Three kings of that same land Full well it understood, And knew clearly thereby That such a new king was showed forth, Who was true God and true man also, One person of two natures.”’ me eee ee nh * | a peculiar device employed by Ormin, the author, to indicate that the § preceding vowel in all such eases is short. 2 From the Ormulum ( 3,426. edited by Dr. R. White, 1852), vol. i., line EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD. wat CHAPTER II. EARLY. ENGLISH PERIOD. 1350-1450. HITHERTO such English writers as we have met with since the Conquest have generally appeared in the humble guise of translators or imitators. In the period before us we at last meet with original invention applied on a large scale: this, therefore, is the point at which English literature takes its true commence- - ment. _ The Latin and French compositions, which engaged so much of our attention in the previous period, may in this be disposed of in afew words. That English- men still continued to write French poetry, we have the proof in many unprinted poems by Gower, and might also infer from a passage, often quoted, in the prologue to Chaucer's “* Testament of Love.” But few such pieces are of sufficient merit to bear printing. In French prose scarcely any thing can be mentioned besides the despatches, treaties, &c., contained in Rymer’s ‘“ Foedera,” and similar compilations, and the original draft of Sir John Maundevile’s “ Travels in the Holy Land.” Froissart’s famous “Chronicle” may, indeed, almost be considered as belonging to us, since it treats principally of English feats of arms, and its author held a post in the court of Edward ITI. In Latin poetry there is nothing that deserves men- 22 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. tion except the “ Liber Metricus ” of Thomas Elmham, concerning the career of Henry V.; edited by Mr. Cole, for the Rolls Series, in 1858. Elmham, who flourished about the year 1440, was a Benedictine monk in the monastery of St. Austin’s, Canterbury. The poem contains 1349 lines, and is, as Byron would have said, not so much poetry as ‘‘ prose run mad;” in proof of which, let these lines suffice : — “* Hic Jon Oldcastel Christi fuit insidiator, Amplectens heereses, in scelus omne ruens; Fautor perfidia, pro secté Wiclivianda, Obicibus Regis fert mala vota sacris.” Whether the last line means, ** He wishes ill to the king’s devout objects,” or any thing else, it is hard to say. In Latin prose, we have a version, made by himself, ~ of ‘*‘ Maundevile’s Travels,” and the chroniclers (amongst others of less note) Robert de Avesbury, Henry Knyghton, Thomas Walsingham, and John Fordun. Robert de Avesbury was registrar of the Archbishop of Canterbury’s Court, and wrote a fair and accurate history of the reign of Edward III. (pub- lished by Hearne in 1720), coming down to the year 1356, in which, or in the following year, he died. Henry Knyghton, the date of whose death is unknown, was a canon regular of Leicester ; he is the author of “ Compilatio de Eventibus Angliz a tempore Regis Eidgari usque ad mortem Regis Ricardi II.” His account of the rise of Lollardism, though written with a strong anti-Wycliffite bias, is highly interesting and valuable. The ‘** Historia Anglicana ” of Thomas Walsingham, a work to which all modern historians continually refer in writing of the events of the fourteenth and earlier EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD. 23 portion of the fifteenth centuries, was edited by Mr. Riley for the Rolls Series in 1864. Scarcely any thing is known of Walsingham, except that he was a monk of St. Albans; that he compiled, besides the * Historia,” an account of Normandy, called ** Ypodigma Neustriz ;”’ and that he was still alive in 1419. The ‘ Historia,” as it stands, extends from 1272 to 1422; but Mr. Riley shows some ground for supposing that the portion compiled by Walsingham himself may reach no further than to 1392; the only really original and valuable part even of this being the fifteen years between 1377 and 1392, while the concluding thirty years were added by some unknown hand. John Fordun, a secular priest of Kincardineshire, is the author of the “Scotichronicon,” a history of Scot- land in Latin prose, written toward the close of the fourteenth century. ‘The entire work contains sixteen books; but of these only five and part of the sixth were composed by Fordun, the remainder being the work of Abbot Bower, who brings down the story to the death of James I. in 1437. In theology and philosophy occurs the name of John Wyelif, the ablest schoolman of his day in England, admired by his contemporaries as an expert logician and prolific system-monger, long before he wrote those attacks on the hierarchy, the mendicant friars, and the received doctrine concerning the eucharist, which gained for him with posterity the name of the first English reformer. His numerous Latin works, very few of which have ever been printed, are classed by Dr. Shirley in his excellent “Catalogue of the Original Works of John Wyclif,”? under six heads: 1. Philoso- phy and Systematic Theology; 2. Sermons, Expositions, 1 Irving’s History of Scottish Poetry, edited by Dr. Carlyle, p. 116. 2 Clarendon Press, 1865. 9A - HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. and Practical Theology ; 8. Protests, Disputations, and Epistles; 4. On Church Government and Endowments ; 5. On the Monastic Orders; 6. On the Secular Clergy. Under the first head is included the“ Summa Theolo- giz,” a body of divinity of stupendous magnitude, the substance of which he afterwards reproduced in the “ Trialogus, sive Summa Summe,” the best known of all his works, printed at Basle by the Swiss reformers in 1525. Two or three of his shorter Latin tracts are contained in the “ Fasciculi Zizaniorum,”’ spite of its enigmatical title, is a volume of remarkable interest, in respect of the ight which it throws on the ecclesiastical history of the last half of the fourteenth century. Here are described in detail the first bicker- ings between Wyclif and the friars his opponents, the — synodical proceedings taken by the bishops against the rising heresy, the turbulent sympathy of the masters at Oxford with the accused. and the steps taken by the Government, on a scale of ever-increasing severity, to enforce submission to the hierarchy. Dr. Shirley’s in- troduction to the volume, which was edited by him for the Rolls Series in 1858, explains the acts and tenden- cies of Wyclif, in a spirit characterized alike Py pene- tration and fairness. The obvious cause-of the decline of French and Latin — composition in England was the growing prevalence, social and literary, of the native speech. To this many circumstances contributed. The gradual consolidation of nationalities, which had long been making steady progress throughout Europe, had been constantly draw- ing the Norman barons and the English commonalty closer together, and separating both from the rival na- tionality of France. Nor had the nation at any time 1 And lately carefully edited by Dr. Lechler of Leipsic, for the Clarendon Press, 1869, which, in- BARLY ENGLISH PERIOD. 25 lost, so to speak, its personal identity: it was England for which the Norman Richard fought at Acre; and even William of Malmesbury, writing not a hundred years after the Conquest, speaks of that event rather as a change of dynasty occurring in English history, than as of a complete social revolution. The influence of the Church must have pressed powerfully in the same direc- tion. Though the Conqueror filled nearly all the sees with Normans, it was not long before native English- men, through that noble respect for and recognition of human equality which were — theoretically always, and sometimes practically — maintained in the midst of feudalism.by the Church of the Middle Ages, obtained a fair proportion of them. The political and official power of bishops in those days was great; and the native tongue of an English Archbishop of Canterbury could not even by the proud Norman barons, his com- _ peers in Parliament, be treated with disrespect. Again: since 1840, England and France had been constantly at war; in this war the English-speaking archers, not the French-speaking barons, had won the chief laurels; and the tongue of a humbled beaten enemy was likely to be less attractive to the mass of Englishmen than ever. The well-known law of Edward III., passed in 1362, directing the English language to be used thencefor- ward in judicial pleadings, was merely an effect of the slow but resistless operation of these and other cognate causes. Again: it must not be lost sight of, that a sort of tacit compromise passed between the English and French speaking portions of the population: the former were to retain the entire grammar (so much, at least as was left of it) of the native speech; all the conjunc- tions, prepositions, and pronouns —the osseous struc- ture, so to speak, of the language— were to be English ; while, in return, the Normans were to be at liberty 3 26 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. to import French nouns, adjectives, and verbs at dis- cretion, without troubling themselves to hunt for the corresponding terms in the old literary Anglo-Saxon. Finally this English language, so re-cast, became in the fourteenth century the chosen instrument of thought and expression for a great poet; and, after Chaucer, no Englishman could a ashamed of his native tongue, nor doubt of its boundless capabilities. : Of the parentage of Geoffrey Chaucer nothing is known; but we have his own word for it! that London was the place of his birth. The year seems to have been 1328,? that in which Edward II. married Philippa of Hainault. Leland, writing in the time of Henry VIII, says that he was “ nobili loco natus ;” but he gives” no authority for the statement. Godwin’s supposition, founded upon a number of minute allusions scattered through his works, that his father was a merchant, or — burgess of London, seems to be much more probable. That he was educated at a university, may be held as — certain ; but, whether at Oxford or Cambridge, is not so clear. There is a passage in “ The Court of Love,” line 912, — ‘* Philogenet I called am ferre and nere, Of Cambridge clerk; ”’ which seems to tell in favor of Cambridge. On the other hand, it is known that his most intimate friends and disciples, Gower, Strode, and Occleve, were Oxford men; and the earnest scholar who makes one of the group of Canterbury pilgrims is a “ clerk of Oxenford.” In 1359 he served in the great army of invasion which Edward III. led over into France. In the course of 1 In “‘ The Testament of Love.” : 2 This, however, is merely a conjecture of Speght (writing in 1597), coupling the date (1400) on the tombstone with Leland’s | assertion that he lived to the “ period of gray hairs.’ EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD. 27 this bootless expedition Chaucer was taken prisoner, but seems to have been released at the peace of Bre- tigny, in 13860. His marriage with Philippa Rouet is thought to have taken place in the same year. This lady was a native of Hainault, and maid of honor to Queen Philippa. Her sister Catherine was the third wife of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster.. These circumstances readily explain Chaucer’s long and close connection with the court, commencing with the year 1367, when the king granted him a pension of twenty marks for life, under the designation of “ dilectus valet- tus noster.’ His prudence and practical wisdom seem to have been as conspicuous as his more brilliant gifts, since he was at various times employed by the king on important diplomatic missions. One of these took him to Italy in 1375, in which year he is thought with the highest probability to have become acquainted with Petrarch, who was then living at Arqua, near Padua. What other sense can be attached to the famous pas- t sage in the prologue to “ The Clerk’s Tale ” ?— **T wil you telle a tale, which that I Lerned at Padowe of a worthy clerk, As proved by his wordes and his werk; He is now dead, and nayled in his chest, Now God give his soule wel good rest! Fraunces Petrark, the laureat poete, Highte this clerk, whose rhetorike swete Enlumynd all Ytail of poetrie, As Linian did of philosophie.”’ Petrarch died in 1374, so that the acquaintance could not have been formed at the time of Chaucer’s second - visit to Italy, in 1378. In 1374 Chaucer was appointed to the lucrative office of comptroller of the customs in the port of London. About the time of the king’s death, in 1377, he was _ employed on more than one secret and delicate mission, 98 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. of one of which the object was to negotiate the mar- riage of Richard II. with a French princess. The new king granted him a second pension of the same amount as the first. In 1386 he sat as a burgess for the county of Kent in the parliament which met at Westminster. John of Gaunt, his friend and patron, was at this time absent upon an expedition to. Portugal; and the Duke of Gloucester, another of the king’s uncles. a man of cruel and violent character, succeeded in this parliament in driving the king’s friends out of office, and engross- ing all political power in the hands of himself and his party. In November of the same year a commission was appointed, through the Duke’s influence, armed with general and highly inquisitorial powers, extending over the royal household and all the publie departments. ~In December we find that Chaucer was dismissed from his office as comptroller. It is evident that these two circumstances stand to each other in the relation of cause and effect. The commission may perhaps have seized upon the pretext of some official irregularities (for Chaucer received the appointment under stringent — conditions); but it is clear that he suffered in common with the rest of the king’s friends and favorites, not on account of his “ connection with the Duke of Lancas- ter,” but simply as a courtier! This view of the mat- ter is confirmed by the fact, that in 1389, in which year — Richard broke loose from his uncle’s tutelage, and dis- missed him and his satellites, we find that Chaucer was _ appointed to the office of clerk of the king’s works. In the interval he had been reduced to such distress as to be compelled to dispose of his pensions. From some unascertained cause he ceased to hold this new situa- tion some time in the year 1891. Three years after- * Mr. Bell, in the Life prefixed to his excellent edition of Chaucer, seems to have misapprehended this transaction. EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD. 29 wards the king conferred on him a fresh pension of — twenty pounds a year for life, to which Henry IV. in the first year of his reign (1899) added a pension of forty marks. Except these dry facts, we have abso- lutely no certain knowledge respecting the last ten years of Chaucer’s life; but it is satisfactory to reflect that the last days of the father of Emglish poetry were at least spent in external comfort, and free from the troubles of poverty. | Thus far no mention has been made of Chaucer’s | writings, the composition of most of which there is no means of accurately assigning to this or that year of his life. These must now be considered, but historically only, not critically! All that will be attempted here is, after enumerating his principal works, to determine so far as possible their approximate dates, to describe the various literary materials which he had at his dis- posal, and to show the different degrees in which the use of those materials, and his own genius as devel- oped through the circumstances which surrounded him, influenced his work. For reasons presently to be mentioned, we have arranged the poet’s chief works in the following order : — The Assembly of Foules The Flower and the Leaf First period, The Court of Love Chaucer’s Dreme (about 1360) Boke of the Duchesse (about 1370) Romaunt of the Rose House of Fame Second period. Troylus and Creseide . The Knight’s Tale (and perhaps others Third period. | of the Canterbury Tales) 1 For some critical remarks on “The Canterbury Tales,” see p, 379 3* : 30 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. Legende of Good Women _ The Prologue, and many of the Canter- bury Tales Fourth period. The Astrolabie (1391) The Testament of Love } The works of the first period are by general consent assigned to Chaucer’s youth. It is usual to reckon “ The Court of Love” as the earliest of all, and to assign it to his eighteenth year, because the seventh stanza begins, ‘When I was yonge, at eighteen yeres of age.” But the direct inference from these words, as Mr. Bell remarks, is that the poem was written some time after the poet’s eighteenth year. Mr. Bell, however, con- siders the modest, self-depreciating tone in which the poem opens, as conclusive of the fact, that it was com- posed in early youth. But this test is fallacious, since similar protestations of ignorance and unskilfulness in his art are of constant occurrence all through Chau- cer’s works. They occur, for instance, in “The Testa- ment of Love,” one of the very latest.2. On the other hand, the smoothness of the versification, the perfect command over the resources of the language, and the finish of the poem generally, seem to bespeak the mas- ter’s rather than the tyro’s hand. A passage in “ The Assembly of Foules,” implying that the poet had as 1 Since this was written, the genuineness of several of the works in the list given above has been discussed or denied by Mr. Bradshaw, Professor Ten Brink, Mr. Furnivall, and others. However, it is a: subject which has been stirred but not yet settled; the dust of the controversy has not subsided ; adhuc sub judice lis est. I prefer, there- fore, while admitting the inadequacy and possible inaccuracy of much that I have written here, to defer re-casting it to a future oppor- tunity. 2 “Certes I wote wel, there shall be made more scorne and jape of me, that I, so unworthily clothed altogither in the cloudie cloude of un- conning, will putten me in prees to speke of love.’ EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD. 31 yet no personal experience in love, is a more unequivo- cal evidence of early composition.’ For this reason we have placed that poem the first on the list. The link of connection between the poems of the first period is this: that they all betray in the strongest manner the influence of the ideas and language of the Provencal poets. ‘This influence need not, as Warton remarks, have been direct; it may have come to Chau-. cer, not immediately from the Troubadours, but medi- ately through the Trouvéres; but of its Provengal origin there can be no doubt. It was in Provence that the strange practice arose among the poets, of parody- ing the theologians ; for the sacred names of religion, they had their god of Love, and his mother Venus; for disputations in the schools upon theological theses, they had their ‘‘tensons” in knightly or royal halls upon various knotty points in love; and, for the solemn tribunals of ecclesiastical councils,’ their regularly or- ganized ‘“* Courts of Love,’ to decide the debate be- tween rival troubadours. All these characteristics are copiously illustrated in those of Chaucer’s works which -we have here grouped together. The works of the second period indicate not Pro- vencal, but Norman-French influences. They are all written in that short eight-syllable metre which the Trouvéres usually employed for their romances and fabliaux. ‘The House of Fame,” evidently the pro- ‘duction of Chaucer’s mature age, a poem showing much thought and learning, is quite in the style, no less than in the metre, of the fabliauz. ‘The Romaunt of the Rose” is a translation of the long allegorical i ¢ For al be that I knowe not Love in dede, Ne wot how that he quiteth folk hir hire, Yet happeth me ful oft in bokes rede Of his myracles, and of his cruel ire.’ 32 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. =- poem bearing that title, begun by Guillaume de Lorris (died 1260), and continued by Jean de Meun. Chau- cer translated the whole of Lorris’s portion, extending to more than four thousand lines, and about three thousand six hundred out of the eighteen thousand lines which form Jean de Meun’s continuation. The poems classed under the third period are marked by the influence of Italian literature. ‘“ Troylus and Creseide” is a free translation from the “ Filostrato” of Boccaccio; ‘* The Knight’s Tale” is a version of the same author's ‘* Theseide ;”’ and the general plan of the ‘Canterbury Tales”’ was clearly suggested by that of the ‘* Decameron.” The ten friends assembled, during — the prevalence of the plague, in a country-house out- side the walls of Florence, and beguiling the tedium of a ten-days’ quarantine by each telling a story daily, are represented in the English poem by the thirty-two pugrims bound to the shrine of St. Thomas at Canter- bury, each of whom (except the host) binds himself to tell a story for the amusement of the company, both going and returning. Several others of the ‘ Canter- bury Tales,” besides ‘“ The Knight’s Tale,” are from Italian sources. The clerk says expressly, in his pro- logue, that he learned the tale of Grisilde from Petrarch, who made in 1373 a Latin translation of the original story, as it stands in the ‘“¢ Decameron.” In the works of the fourth period, though extrane- ous influences may of course be detected, Chaucer’s original genius is predominant. The “ Legende of Good Women” was written to make amends for the many disparaging reflections which Chaucer had cast in former works on woman’s truth and constancy in love. Alcestis, the self-sacrificing wife of Admetus, whom in “* The Court of Love” he names as queen and mistress under Venus in the castle of Love, imposes the following task upon her poet : — De eee teri 5 KY EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD. oo « ** Now wol I seyne what penance thou shalt do For thy trespas, understonde yt here: — Thow shalt while that thou livest, yere by yere, The most partye of thy time spende In making of a glorious legende Of good wymmen, maydenes, and wyves, That weren trewe in loving all hire lyves. The late date of the composition of the poem is ascertained by the mention in it of most of his princi- pal works : — : “ Thou hast translated the Romaunce of the Rose, That is an heresye ayeins my law.’ And, — ** And of Cresyde thou hast seyde as the lyste.’’ Again, — ‘** He made the boke that hight the Hous of Fame, And eke the death of Blaunche the Duchesse, And the Parlement of Foules, as I gesse, And al the Love of Palamon and Arcite Of Thebes, thogh the story is knowen lyte.”’ “The Love of Palamon and Arcyte” is “The » Knight’s Tale,” the first and longest of the series. The mention of this as a separate work confirms the opinion that many of the ‘‘Canterbury Tales” were in circulation independently, before they were brought together and fitted into the general framework of the poem. The prologue to the Tales was probably the latest or nearly the latest part of the work. It consists of sketches, drawn with a spirit, life, and humor inex- pressible, of the thirty-two Canterbury pilgrims. The * Astrolabie”’ is a treatise on astronomy, composed in 1391, for the use of Chaucer’s second son, Louis. It opens thus: ‘ Lytel Lowys my sonne, I perceive well 34 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. ~ by certain evidences thyne abylyté to lerne sciences touching nombres and proporcions.” ‘+ Lytel Lowys ” was at the time ten years old. ‘ The Testament of Love” will be considered when we come to speak of the prose writings of the period. It is probably impos- sible to fix with exactness the date of its composition. He mentions in it, that he has been “‘ berafte out of dignity of office ;’’ words which might apply either to his dismissal from the office of comptroller of customs in 1386, or to his losing the appointment of clerk of the king’s works in 1891. ‘The Canterbury Tales,” therefore, as a whole, belong to the last period of Chaucer’s life, when his judgment and insight into character, developed by a long and wisely-used experience, were at their height, while his imagination gave no sign of growing dim. The machinery of the poem has been already in part explained. Of the thirty-two persons forming the company of pilgrims, one, the host of the Tabard, the inn in Southwark from which they start, is the guide and chief of the expedition. He is to tell no tale himself, but to be the judge of those which the other pilgrims tell. If the scheme announced in the prologue (that each pilgrim should tell two tales going, and two returning) had been fully executed, we should thus have a hundred and twenty-four tales. In fact, there are but twenty-four, two of which are told by Chaucer, and a third by the Chanounes Yeoman, who is not one of the original party, but, with his master, joins the pilgrims on the road. This incompleteness is in marked contrast to the symmetrical exactness with which the less ambitious plan of the “Decameron” is oe out. Chaucer was the centre of a group of literary men, of whom he was the friend or master; who admired and EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD. 545) loved him, and in most cases strove to imitate him, - though with very indifferent success. Of these, John Gower, the ‘ancient Gower” of Shakspeare, was the chief. Scarcely any thing is known about him, except that he graduated at Oxford, and was rich. He wrote many French poems, evidently conceiving that by so doing he found a larger audience than by writing in English. At the end of one of these, he says, — “ A luniversité de tout le monde Johan Gower ceste balade envoie.”’ His principal production was a work in three parts, respectively entitled “Speculum Meditantis,” ‘ Vox Clamantis,” and ‘“ Confessio Amantis.”’ The “ Specu- lum” is in French rhymes, in ten books; it was never printed, nor is a manuscript of it known to exist. The poem, according to Warton, “displays the general ' nature of virtue and vice, enumerates the felicities of conjugal fidelity by examples selected from various authors, and describes the path which the reprobate ought to pursue for the recovery of the divine grace.”’? The “ Vox Clamantis,” a poem in Latin elegiacs, in seven books, edited by Mr. Coxe of the Bodleian Li- brary, in 1850, for the Roxburgh Society, is in substance a history of the insurrection of the Commons, under Wat Tyler, in the reign of Richard II. The ‘* Confessio Amantis,” an English poem in eight books, written in the short romance metre of eight sylables, was finished in 1393. It has been frequently printed. Imitating the fantastic and exaggerated language of the Trou- badours, Gower presents us in this poem with a long colloquy between a lover and his confessor, who is a 1! According to Mr. Ellis (note in Warton, vol. ii. p. 806, ed. 1824), this description is really applicable to one of Gower’s shorter poems, - which Warton mistook for ‘‘ The Speculum.,”’ 5 f | 36 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. | | priest of Venus: the lover confessing, under the several heads of the seven deadly sins, the respects in which he has offended against Love; and the priest giving him instructions in the duties of a lover, under the guise, generally, of- relevant anecdotes, collected from his multifarious reading. “The Provencal poets had intro- duced this fashion of deifying Love, and painting him as the sovereign ruler over human life and destiny. A. considerable portion of the poem consists of learned disquisitions upon politics, astrology, and physiology, stuffed with all the crude absurdities which suited the coarse palate of that age. The materials of the tales are gathered from various sources, but chiefly from th¢ ‘“Gesta Romanorum,” and other vast compilations, which, under the name of ‘“ Universal Histories,” in, which the smallest modicum of fact was diluted in an incredible quantity of fiction, amused and edified the, naive credulity of the Middle Age. i If chronological order had been. strictly followed William Langland, the author of “The Vision of Pierd Plowman,” should have been mentioned before Gower, if not before Chaucer. The poem is allegorical, and, like many of Chaucer’s, describes a vision seen in a dream. It extends to about fourteen thousand short, or seven thousand long lines, of two or four accents. It is written throughout with a didactic purpose, which — often appears in the form of special satire on partic-_ ular classes or professions. Abuses in religion, and the malpractices of ecclesiastics, form, as might be expected, | the chief mark for this satire. A crowd of allegorical yersonages, representing different types of human char- acter, after being brought to repentance by the preach-, ing of Reason, earnestly desire to find out the way to the abode of Truth. Their authorized spiritual guides M do not know the road; and it is Piers the plough-— EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD. ST man from whom they at last obtain the guidance (which they require. The metre is alliterative, like that of the old Saxon poets. The writer seems to address himself to a class socially inferior to that which Chaucer and Gower sought to please, —a class, there- fore, almost purely Saxon, and likely to receive with pleasure a work composed in the old rhythm dear to their forefathers. The Vision is determined by internal ‘allusions to about the year 1862. “ Piers Plowman’s Crede,” a poem in the same metre, consisting of sixteen hundred and ninety-seven short lines, was composed aiter Wyclif’s death (1384) by one of his followers. %m reading it one is strongly reminded of the Puritan writers of the sixteenth century. 5 _ Thomas Occleve, a clerk in the Exchequer, flourished about the year 1410. His chief work is a version, in the seven-line stanza first employed by Chaucer, of the work of “ AKgidius De Regimine Prin- ‘cipum;’’ but far more interesting than the version itself is the long prologue prefixed to it, in which the poet tells us much about his own life and its troubles, and sings the praise of his great master vhaucer. The author describes his meeting with a poor old man, vith whom he falls into conversation, and to whom at last he opens his griefs. After suggesting various causes for his despondency, the old man says, prettily : — ; “If thou fele the in any of thise y-greved, Or ellis what, tel on in Goddis name, Thou seest, al day the begger is releved, That syt and beggith, crokyd, blynd, and lame ; And whi? for he ne lettith for no shame His harmes and his povert to bewreye To folke, as thei goon bi hym bi the weye. After a long dialogue, the old man suggests that Occleve should write some poem, and send it to Prince Harry ; to which the poet assents, while lamenting that his great counsellor is dead: — But wel away! so is mine herté wo That the honour of English tonge is dede, Of which I wont was han counsel and rede! 4 38 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. O mayster dere, and fadir reverent, My mayster Chaucer, floure of eloquence, Mirrour of fructuous entendement, O universal fadir in science, ; Alas that thou thine excellent prudence In thy bed mortel mightest not bequethe! What eyled Death? Alas! why would he sle the? John Lydgate, a Benedictine monk of Bury St. Ed- munds, who flourished about 1425, was also an admirer and imitator of Chaucer. He was, as a writer, less gifted than voluminous ; Ritson, in his “ Bibliographia Poetica,” has enumerated two hundred and fifty-one of his productions ; and this list is known to be incom- plete. No writer was ever more popular in his own day ; but it was a popularity which could not last. His versification is rough and inharmonious, as unlike as possible to the musical movement of Chaucer; his stories are prolix and dull, and his wit seldom very pointed. Instead of, like Chaucer, filling his ear, and feeding his imagination with the poetry of Italy, the only country where literature had as yet emerged from barbarism, and assumed forms comparable to those of antiquity, Lydgate’s attention seems to have been engrossed partly by the inane Latin literature! of the period, partly by the works of the romance-writers and Trouvéres, whose French was at that time a barbarous dialect, and whose rhythm was nearly as bad as his own. A selection from his minor poems was edited by — Mr. Halliwell for the Percy Society in 1840. His longer works are, ‘* The Storie of Thebes,” translated from Statius ; “ The Falls of Princes” (translated from a French paraphrase of Boccaccio’s work ‘“ De Casi- bus”) ; and ‘* The History of the Siege of Troy.” This last, a free version of Guido Colonna’s Latin prose 1 This expression refers to the miscellaneous literature, not, of course, to the theological or philosophical works written in Latin. . 4 4 . 7 4 EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD. 39 history, was undertaken at the command of Henry V. in 1412, and finished in 1420. “The Falls of Princes ” are described by himself as a series of “ Tragedies.”’ All these three works are in the heroic rhyming measure. Lydgate also translated from the French “The Daunce of Ma- chabre,”’ or “ Dance of Death,” in a curious octave stanza, of which the following is a specimen : — ‘ Owt of the Ffranche I drew it of entent Not word by word, but following the substance, And fro Parys to Englonde it sente, _ Only of purposs yow to do plesaunce ; Rude of langage, —I was not borne in Ffraunce — Have me excused; my name is John Lidgate, Off here tunge I have no suffisaunce Her corious metres in Englisshe to translate.” In this poem Death accosts first the pope, then the emperor, then the representatives of every earthly profession and calling in succes- sion. Each of these replies in his turn; and all, with more or less of moralizing, own the levelling hand and irresistible might of Death. A poem called ‘‘ Chichevache and Bycorne”’ has also been ascribed to him; he is the author, moreover, of a didactic poem in octosyllabics, of immense length, and never printed, to which a commentator of the sixteenth century has given the title ‘ Reson and Sensuallyte;’’ its subject is the rivalry between reason and sense. _ Among the minor poets of this period, there is none so well deserving of notice as Lawrence. Minot, whose poems were accidentally discovered by Mr. Tyrrhwitt among the Cottonian MSS. in the British Museum, near the close of the last century. They celebrate the mar- tial exploits of Edward III., from the battle of Halidon Hill in 1333, to the taking of Guisnes Castle in 1352, and would seem to have been composed contemporane- ously with the events described. They are in the same stanza of six short lines, common among the romancers, in which Chaucer’s “‘ Rime. of Sir Thopas” is written. Nothing is known of Minot’s personal history. 40 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. Scottish Poets: Barbour, James I., Wynton. John Barbour, Archdeacon of Aberdeen, is the author of an heroic poem entitled ‘“* The Bruce,”* containing the history of Robert Bruce, the victor of Bannock- burn, and of Scotland, so far as that was influenced by him. ‘The poem is believed to have been completed in the year 1375. Itis in the eight-syllable rhyming meas- ure, and consists of between twelve and thirteen thou- sand lines. James I. of Scotland, who received his education while retained as a captive in England be- tween the years 1405 and 1420, wrote his principal work, “The King’s Quhair” (i.e., quire, or book), in praise of the lady who had won his heart, and whom he afterwards married,—the Lady Jane Beaufort, daughter — of the Duke of Somerset. This poem, which is in a ~ hundred and ninety-seven stanzas, divided into six cantos, contains much interesting matter of the autobio- — graphical sort. Andrew Wynton, author of ‘‘ The Ori- ginale Cronykil,” was a canon of St. Andrew’s, and — prior of St. Serf’s, the monastery on the island in Loch | Leven. His “ Cronykil” begins, as was then thought decorous and fitting, with the creation, plunges into the history of the angels, discusses general geography, and at the end of five books filled with this “ panto- graphical’ rubbish, as Dr. Irving amusingly calls it, settles down upon its proper subject, which is, the history of Scotland from the earliest ages down to his own time. He died about the year 1420. He incorpo- rates freely the work of preceding writers,— three hun- | dred lines from Barbour, and no less than thirty-six chapters by some versifier whose name, he says, he has not been able to discover. His verse is, like Barbour’s, octosyllabic ; it is naive, sense-full, and, in parts, touch- ing.? 1 Irving’s History of Scottish Poetry. * See Critical Section, ch, i., Heroic Poetry. Me EARLY ENGLISH PERIOD. 41 Prose Writers: Maundevile, Chaucer, Wyclif. The earliest known work in English prose of a secu- lar character, ‘‘ The Travels of Sir John Maundevile,”’ dates from this period. As before mentioned, the book had been originally written in French, and afterwards translated into Latin. It was probably about the year 1360 that Sir John prepared and published an English version, also for the benefit of his own countrymen. This is a proof that about this time the knowledge of French, even among the educated classes, was ceasing to be essential or universal. The author professes not only to have traversed the Holy Land in several directions, but to have visited many countries farther east, including even India; but, when we come to the chapters which treat of these countries, we find them filled with preposterous stories, which Maundeyile, whose capacity of swallowing was unlimited, must have derived either from hearsay or from the works of travellers equally gullible with him- self. When one reflects that Maundevile had as great opportunities as Herodotus, and then observes the use that he made of them, comparisons are forced on the mind not over-favorable to the English and medieval, as contrasted with the Greek and classical, grade of intelligence. Our author tells of the “ Land of Ama- zoym,” an island inhabited only by a race of warlike women; of rocks of adamant in the Indian seas, which draw to them with irresistible force any ships sailing past that have any iron bolts or nails in them; of a tribe of people with hoofs like horses; of people with eight toes; of dwarfs; and of a one-legged race, whose one foot was so large that they used it to shade them- selves from the sun with. The language, as used by Maundevile, appears almost precisely similar to that ot Chaucer in his prose works. As a physician, Maunde- 42 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. vile belonged to a class of men not usually addicted to superstition, or overburdened with religious venera- tion ; a trait which Chaucer, with his profound knowl- edge of ae hits off in his account of the “ Doe- tor of Phisike: ‘¢ His studie was but litel on the Bible.” But the superstitious credulity of Maundevile is un-— bounded ; nor did it tend to make his work unpopular. On the contrary, there is scarcely any old English book of which the manuscript copies are so numerous; and it is certain that it was held in high estimation all through the fifteenth century, — down, in fact, to the time when, foreign travel having become more common, the existence of the eight-toed men, &c., began to be doubted. Chaucer’s prose works consist of two of the “ Canter-. bury Tales,”—“ The Tale of Melibeeus,” and “ The Parson’s Tale,’ —a translation of Boethius’ “ De Con- solatione Philosophie,” the ‘“ Astrolabie,’ and “ The Testament of Love.” ‘The Tale of Melibzeus,” the design of which is to enforce the duty of forgiveness of injuries, is one of those which are supposed to be told by the poet himself. ‘The Parson’s Tale” is a treatise — on the sacrament of penance. Both of these are written in fluent, intelligible English, and present few other difficulties to the reader but those which the old or- thography occasions. In translating Boethius, Chaucer was renewing for the men of his own day the service rendered by Alfred to his West Saxon countrymen. “The Testament of Love” is divided into three parts. It professes to be an imitation of the work of Boethius. In the first part, Love bequeathes instructions to her followers, whereby they may rightly judge of the causes — of cross fortune, &c. In the second, “she teacheth the é n , ia } ¢ ] ; . BARLY ENGLISH PERIOD. 438 knowledge of one very God, our Creator; as also the state of grace, and the state of glory.” Throughout these two parts are scattered allusions, or what seem to be such, to the circumstances under which Chaucer lost. his official employment, and was reduced to poverty. The third part is a remarkable discourse on necessity and free will, in which the doctrine laid down by St. Augustine, and expounded by the schoolmen, is elo- quently set forth. Of the “ Astrolabie” we have already spoken (see p. 33). Among Wyclif’s English writings, his translation of the Bible must be first considered. The subject is surrounded with difficulties, and cannot be fully dis- cussed here. A fine edition of the ‘‘ Wycliffite versions of the Holy Scriptures”’ was issued in 1850, under the care of the Rey. J. Forshall and Sir F. Madden, from the Oxford University Press. In the preface to this work, the following passage occurs, and represents pro- bably the real state of the case : — “Down to the year 1360, the Psalter appears to be the only book of Scripture which had been entirely ren- dered into English. Within less than twenty-five years from this date, a prose version of the whole Bible, in- eluding as well the apocryphal as the canonical books, had been completed, and was in circulation among the people. For this invaluable gift England is indebted to John Wyclif. It may be impossible to determine with certainty the exact share which his own pen had in the translation; but there can be no doubt that he took a part in the labor of producing it, and that the accom- plishment of the work must be attributed mainly to his zeal, encouragement, and direction.” The version here referred to is the older of the two 44 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. - Ky versions printed by Forshall and Madden. The later one appeared some years after Wyclif’s death, being thought necessary by his Lollard followers on account of the inequality existing between different parts of the original work. However, the general agreement be- tween the two versions is very close. The other English writings of Wyclif consist of sermons, exegeti- cal treatises, controversial treatises, and letters. A selection of these, edited by the present author, was published for the Clarendon Press in 1871.1. The sermons, which ‘are very short, are based upon the Gospels and Epistles read in the church service. The explanations of the New Testament parables are often racy and original ; many curious traditional interpretations are given; and now and then, though it is but seldom, the tone rises to real eloquence. In the case of the other writings, interesting as many of them are, there is unfor- tunately much difficulty in distinguishing between those which are genuine and those which are more or less doubtful. The controver- sial tracts are directed chiefly against the four orders of friars, whose monasteries Wyclif called ‘‘ Caym’s (i.e., Cain’s) castles.”” In a minor degree they assail the pope, the monks, and: the higher orders of the secular clergy. Of one of the exegetical tracts, ‘“‘ On the Pater- noster,”’ a portion of the striking peroration is here subjoined : — **Whanne a man seith, My God, delyvere me fro myn enemyes, what othir thing seith he than this, Delyvere us from yvel? And if thou rennest aboute bi alle the wordis of holy praieris, thou schalt fynde nothing whiche is not conteyned in this praier of the Lord. Whoevere seith a thing that may not perteyne to this praier of the Gospel, he praieth bodili and unjustli and unleeffulli, as me thenkith. Whanne a man saieth in his praier, Lord, multiplie myn richessis, and encreese myn honouris, and seith this, havynge the coveitise of hem, and not purposynge the profit of hem to men, to be bettir to Godward, I gesse that he may not fynde it in the Lordis praier, Therfore be it schame to aske the thingis whiche it is not leefful to coveyte. Ifa man schameth not of this, but coveytise overcometh him, this is askid, that he delyvere fro this yvel of coveytise, to whom we seyn, Delyvere us from yvel.”’ 1 Select English Works of John Wyclif. Oxford, 1871. REVIVAL OF LEARNING. 45 CHAPTER. III. REVIVAL OF LEARNING. 1450-1558. M. SismonpI, in his admirable work on the Litera- ture of the South of Europe, has a passage,’ explaining the decline of Italian literature in the fifteenth century, which is so strictly applicable to the corresponding decline of English literature for a hundred and seventy years after Chaucer, that we cannot forbear quoting it: — “The century which, after the death of Petrarch, had been devoted by the Italians to the study of an- tiquity, during which literature experienced no advance, and the Italian language seemed to retrograde, was not, however, lost to the powers of imagination. Poetry, on its first revival, had not received sufficient nourish- ment. The fund of knowledge, of ideas, and of images, which she called to her aid, was too restricted. The three great men of the fourteenth century, whom we first presented to the attention of the reader, had, by the sole force of their genius, attained a degree of erudition, and a sublimity of thought, far beyond the spirit of their age. ‘These qualities were entirely per- sonal; and the rest of the Italian bards, like the Pro- vencgal poets, were reduced, by the poverty of their 1 Vol. ii. p. 400 (Roscoe). 46 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. ideas, to have recoursé to those continual attempts at wit, and to that mixture of unintelligible ideas and incoherent images, which render the perusal of them so fatiguing. The whole of the fifteenth century was em- ployed in extending in every direction the knowledge and resources of the friends of the Muses. Antiquity was unveiled to them in all its elevated characters, — its severe laws, its energetic virtue, and its beautiful and engaging mythology; in its subtle and profound phil- osophy, its overpowering eloquence, and its delightful poetry. Another age was required to knead afresh the clay for the formation of a nobler race. At the close of the century, a divine breath animated the finished statue, and it started into life.” ) Mutatis mutandis, those eloquent sentences are ex- actly applicable to the case of English literature. | Chaucer’s eminence was purely personal; even more so, perhaps, than that of the great Italians. For the countrymen of Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio at least possessed a settled and beautiful language, adapted already to nearly all literary purposes; while the tongue of Chaucer was in so rude and unformed a condition that only transcendent genius could make a~ work expressed through it endurable. The fifteenth century seems to have been an age of active preparation - in every country of Europe. Though no great books” were produced in it, it witnessed the invention of the - art of printing, the effect of which was so to multiply copies of the masterpieces of Greek and Roman genius, to reduce their price, and to enlarge the circle of their readers, as to supply abundantly new materials for thought, and new models of artistic form, and thus: pave the way for the great writers of the close of the next century. Printing, invented at Metz by Guten- —— ye REVIVAL OF LEARNING. AT berg about the year 1450, was introduced into England by William Caxton in 1474. The zealous patronage of two enlightened noblemen, Lord Worcester and Lord Rivers, greatly aided him in his enterprise. This cen- tury was also signalized by the foundation of many schools and colleges, in which the founders desired that the recovered learning of antiquity should be uninter- ruptedly and effectually cultivated. Eton, the greatest of the English schools, and King’s College at Cam- bridge, were founded by Henry VI., between 1440 and 1450. Three new universities arose in Scotland, — that of St. Andrew’s in 1410, of Glasgow in 1450, of Aberdeen in 1494; all under-the express authority of different popes. Three or four unsuccessful attempts were made in the course of this and the previous century, — the latest in 1496, — to establish a university in Dublin. Several colleges were founded at Oxford and Cambridge in the reign of Henry VIII., among ~ which we may specify Christ Church, the largest college at the former university, which, however, was originally planned by the magnificent Wolsey on a far larger scale, and the noble foundation of Trinity Boilers, Cambridge. In the period now before us our attention will be directed to three subjects, —the poets, whether English or Scotch, the state and progress of learning, and the _prose-writers. The manner in which the great and complex movement of the Reformation influenced for good or evil the development of literature, is too wide a subject to be fully considered here. Something, however, will be said under this head, when we come to sketch the rise of the ‘“new learning,” or study of the humanities, in England, and inquire into the causes of its fitful and intermittent growth. 48 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. Poetry: Hardyng, Hawes, Skelton, Surrey, Wyat, first Poet Laureate. The poets of this period, at least on the English side of the border, were of small account. The middie of the fifteenth century witnessed the expulsion of the English from France; and a time of national humilia- tion is unfavorable to the production of poetry. If, indeed, humiliation become permanent, and involve subjection to the stranger, the plaintive wailings of the elegiac Muse are naturally evoked; as we see in the instances of Ireland and Wales. But where a nation is merely disgraced, not crushed, it keeps silence, and waits for a better day. For more than thirty years after the loss of the French provinces, England was distracted and weakened by the civil wars of the Roses. This was also a time unfavorable to poetry, the makers of which then and long afterwards depended on the patronage of the noble and wealthy,—a patronage which in that time of fierce passions, alternate suffer- ing, and universal disquietude, was not likely to be — steadily maintained. Why the fifty years which fol- lowed the victory of Bosworth should have been so utterly barren of good poetry, it is less easy to see. All that can be said is, that this was an age of prepara- tion, in which men disentombed and learned to appre- ciate old treasures, judging that they were much better employed than in attempting to produce new matter, with imperfect means and models. Towards the close of the reign of Henry VIII. were produced the * Songs — and Sonnettes” of the friends Lord Surrey and Sir — Thomas Wyat; and Sackville wrote the induction to the ‘* Mirrour for Magistrates,” in the last year of Mary. Scotland seems to have been about a century later — than England in arriving at the stage of literary cul- — ture which Chaucer and his contemporaries illustrate. REVIVAL OF LEARNING. 49 Several poets of no mean order arose in that country during the period now in question. Of some of these, namely, Dunbar, Gawain Douglas, Lyndsay, and Henryson, we shall presently have to make particular mention. | John Hardyng was in early life an esquire to Harry Percy, com- monly called Hotspur. After seeing his lord fall on the field of Shrewsbury, he took service with Sir Robert Umfravile, and remained till his death a dependant on that family. He wrote, in that common seven-line stanza which we have called the ‘‘ Chaucerian heptastich,”’ a ‘*Chronicle of Britain,’? which comes down to 1462, ending with an address to Edward I1V., urging him to be merciful to the Lancas- trians, and to make just allowance for previous circumstances, Stephen Hawes, groom of the chamber to Henry VII., wrote, among other poems, ‘The Pastime of Pleasure,” a narrative allegory like ‘“‘ The Romance of the Rose,” ‘‘ The Vision of Piers Plowman,” and so many other favorite poems of the fourteenth and fif- teenth centuries. This work is the seven-line stanza so much employed by Chaucer. The versification has little of the smoothness and music of the great master ; it is rough and untunable, like that of Lydgate. Hawes | must have died after the year 1509, since we have among his poems a coronation ode celebrating the accession of Henry VIII. John Skelton, a_ secular priest, studied at both universities, and had a high reputation for scholarship in the early part of the six- teenth century. It is certain that his Latin verses are much superior to his serious attempts in English. A long rambling elegy in the seven-line stanza on Henry, fourth Earl of Northumberland, murdered in 1489, will be found in Percy. The versification is even worse than that of Hawes. In Skelton’s satires there is a naturalness and a humor which make them still read- able. Two of these, entitled, ‘“‘Speke, Parrot,” and . 5 =. 50 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. ‘* Why come ye not to Court?” contain vigorous but coarse attacks on Cardinal Wolsey, to escape from whose wrath Skelton had to take sanctuary at West- minster, and afterwards was protected by Bishop Islip till his death in 1529. He is particularly fond of short six-syllable lines, which some have named from him, ‘¢Skeltonical verse.” Here is a short specimen, taken from ‘‘ Phyllyp Sparowe,” a strange rambling elegy upon a favorite sparrow, belonging to a nun, which had been killed by a cat : — ‘*O cat of carlyshe kinde, The fynde was in thy mynde When thou my byrde untwynde! I wold thou haddest ben blynde! The leopardes sauvage, The lyons in theyr rage, Myght catche thé in theyr pawes, And gnawe thé in theyr jawes! The serpentes of Lybany Myght stynge thé venymously! The dragones with their tongues Myght poison thy lyver and longes! The mantycors of the montaynes Myght fede them on thy braynes!”’ &e. Skelton is also the author of a moral play, called ‘‘ Magnyfycence,” an inane production of between two and three thousand lines, in the same rough ‘¢ Saturnian ’’ metre in which, as we shall see, the first known English comedy, by Udall, was composed. — There is no division into acts, only into scenes; the — characters are mere abstractions, such as Felycyte, Liberte, Measure, Fansy, Foly, &c. His comedy of ‘“‘ Achademios,’’ enumerated by himself among his — works in the ‘Garland of Laurell,” appears to have — perished: should it ever come to light, it might possibly | take from “ Ralph Roister Doister” the distinction of — being the earliest English comedy.! Alexander Bar- — 1 See Skelton’s works, carefully edited by Mr. Dyce, 1843, REVIVAL OF LEARNING. , 51 clay, chaplain at the College of St. Mary Ottery, in - Devonshire, is known as the translator, with additions, of Sebastian Brandt’s German poem of the “Ship of Fools,” a satire upon society in general. ; Far above these barbarous rhymers rose the poetic genius of Surrey. Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, son of the victor of Flodden, was born about the year 1516. At the age of sixteen he was contracted in marriage to the Lady Frances Vere. His Geraldine, to whom so many of his sonnets are addressed, was a daughter of the Earl of Kildare. She slighted his passion; and the rejected lover carried the fiery ardor of his spirit into the scenes of war and diplomacy. Having committed some errors in the conduct of the campaign in France in 1546, he was thrown into prison _ by order of the “jealous, ruthless tyrant’! who then sat on the throne, brought to trial on a trumpery charge of high treason, and beheaded in January, 1547, a few days before Henry’s death. His ‘“Songes and Son- nettes,” together with those of Wyat, were first pub- lished in 1557. His translation of the second and fourth books of the Awneid is the earliest specimen of blank verse in the language. Sir Thomas Wyat the elder, a native of Kent, was much employed by Henry VIII. on diplomatic missions ; and over-exertion in one of these occasioned his early death in 1541. The improvement in grace and polish of style which distinguishes Surrey and Wyat in com- parison with their predecessors was unquestionably due to Italian influences. The very term ‘“ sonnet,” by them first introduced, is taken from the Italian ‘ so- netto.” Puttenham, in his “ Art of Poesie’’ (1589), says of them, that ‘“‘having travelled into Italie, and there tasted the sweet and stately measures and style 1 Scott’s ‘* Lay of the Last Minstrel,’”’ canto vi, o2 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. of the Italian poesie, as novises newly crept out of the school of Dante, Ariosto, and Petrarch, they greatly polished our rude and homely manner of vulgar poesie from that it had been before, and for that cause may justly be sayd the first reformers of our English metre and style.” He reputes them for “ the chief lanternes of light,” to all subsequent English poets. ‘ Their conceits were lofty, their style stately, their convey- ance cleanly, their termes proper, their metre sweet and well-proportioned; in all imitating very naturally and studiously their master, Francis Petrarch.” | But this praise is too unqualified. Surrey’s transla- tion of Virgil is as bald and repulsive a version as can well be. Of his famous love poems in honor of Geral- dine, nine are written in a metre so absurd (alternate twelve and fourteen syllable lines) that it would spoil the effect of far better matter; and the unchanging. querulous whine which characterizes the whole series renders it tedious reading. In truth, notwithstanding the senseless encomiums which Dr. Nott lavished on his favorite author, the gems in Surrey are but few, — and may be counted on one’s fingers. The sonnets — beginning “ Give place, ye lovers,” “* The sote season,” — and “‘ Set me whereas, ”’’ nearly exhaust the list. | Of the poems of Wyat a large proportion are translated or imitated — from the Italian. They relate almost’ entirely to love, and sometimes attain to a polish and a grace which English verse had not before ex- — hibited. Of this the reader may in some degree judge from the pas- — sage quoted further on.? To this period rather than to the next, since a portion of it was in type in the year 1555, belongs the extensive poetical work — merito-_ rious in many ways, but inadequate in point of execution to the — vastness of the design —entitled the ‘“‘ Myrroure for Magistrates.” Lydgate’s ‘Falls of Princes,” translated from Boccaccio, was re- printed in 1554, and well received by the public. The printer desired that the work should be continued from the date at which Bocecaccio— 1 See p. 458, 2 Ibid, REVIVAL OF LEARNING. aS left off, and devoted to the “‘ tragical histories ’’ of famous Englishmen exclusively. William Baldwin agreed, if sufficiently aided by other writers, to undertake the work. Owing to difficulties connected with the censorship, the book did not appear till 1559; in this its primitive shape it contained nineteen legends, of which twelve were by Bald- win himself, the rest being written by his friends Ferrers, Phaier, Chaloner, and others. ‘The first legend was that of Tressilian, one of Richard II.’s judges, executed by Gloucester’s faction in 1388. The metre is the Chaucerian heptastich. Copious moralizing is the lead- ing characteristic of the whole work. This note was just suited to the serious, self-inspecting, somewhat melancholy temper of the English mind; and numerous redactions of the poem, the latest of which appeared in 1610, attest its remarkable popularity. Sackville’s beau- tiful ‘‘ Induction,’’ with the legend of the Duke of Buckingham who was beheaded in 1521, first appeared in the edition of 1563. The original design, which was merely to continue Boccaccio, was soon departed from; and a number of legends were added, which carried back this ‘‘ history teaching by biography ”’ to the fabulous age of the British kings. One great redaction and re-arrangement was effected by John Higgins in his edition of 1587; another by Richard Niccols in the crowning edition of 1610. In this last no fewer than ninety legends are contained; among which one — the finest perhaps in the whole work — is the legend of Thomas Cromwell by Michael Dray- ton.! The earliest mention of a poet-laureate eo nomime oc- curs in the reign of Edward IV., by whom John Kaye was appointed to that office? We read of a king’s ver- sifier (versificator) as far back as 1251. The change of title admits of a probable explanation. The solemn crowning of Petrarch on the Capitol, in the year 1341, made a profound sensation through all literary circles in Europe. Chaucer, as we have seen, distinguishes Petrarch as ‘“ the /aureat poete.” In the next century we find the dignity of poeta laureatus forming one of the recognized degrees at our universities, and con- ferred upon proof being given by the candidate of pro- ficiency in grammar, rhetoric, and versification. It is 1 See Mr. Haslewood’s edition of ‘‘ The Mirrour for Magistrates,”’ 1815. 2 Hazlitt’s Johnson’s Lives, article Kaye. 5* 54. HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. impossible not to connect this practice of laureation with the world-famous tribute rendered by the Romans to the genius of Petrarch. After the institution of the degree, it is easy to understand that the king would select his poet among the poete laureati, and that the modest title of verszficator would be dropped. Scottish Poets: Henryson, Dunbar, Gawain Douglas, Lyndsay, Blind Harry. The present work does not pretend to trace the his- tory of Scottish poetry; but, in the dearth of genius in England during this period, the rise of several ad- mirable poets in the sister country demands our atten-_ tion. The earliest of these, Robert Henryson, appears to have died about the end of the fifteenth century. His longest poem, “* The Testament of Faire Cre- | seyde,”’ a sort of supplement to Chaucer’s ‘ Troilus — bh and Creseyde, that poet. The pastoral, called ‘“* Robin and Makyne,” is given in Percy’s ‘“ Reliques.” The pith of the story is exactly that which we find in Burns’s * Duncan Gray, only that in Henryson’s poem the parts are re- versed ; it is the lady who first makes love in vain, and © was printed by Urry, in his edition of — then, growing indifferent, is vainly wooed by the shep- — herd who has repented of his coldness. ‘“ The Abbey Walk” is a beautiful poem of reflection, the moral of © which is, the duty and wisdom of BENS me to the will of God in all things. William Dunbar, the greatest of the old Scottish poets, was a native of East Lothian, and born about the middle of the fifteenth century. He studied at the University of St. Andrew’s, perhaps also at Oxford. In early life he entered the novitiate of the Franciscan — order, but does not appear to have taken the vows. James IV. attached him by many favors to his person — =. ee ee ee ee ‘ REVIVAL OF LEARNING. 55 - and court, where we have certain evidence of his hav- ing lived from 1500 to 1513, the date of Flodden. After that fatal day, on which his royal patron per- ished, his name vanishes from the Scottish records; and it is merely a loose conjecture which assigns his death to about the year 1520. 3 Dunbar’s most perfect poem is “ The Thistle and the _ Rose,” written in 1503 to commemorate the nuptials of James [V., and Margaret, daughter of Henry VII. The metre is the Chaucerian heptastich, invented, as we have seen, by Chaucer, and employed by all his success- ors down to Spenser inclusive. The versification is most musical, — superior to that of any poet before Spenser except Chaucer, and better than much of his. The influence, both direct and indirect, of the father of our poetry, is visible, not in this poem alone, but throughout the works of the school of writers now under consideration. The poet, according to the ap- proved medizval usage, falls asleep and has a dream, in which May — the ‘faire frische May ” in which Chau- cer so delighted — appears to him, and commands him to attend her into a garden, and do homage to the flow- ers, the birds, and the sun. Nature is then introduced, and commands that the progress of the spring shall no longer be checked by ungenial weather. Neptune and /Eolus give the necessary orders. Then Nature, by her messengers, summons all organized beings before her, the beasts by the roe, the birds by the swallow, the flowers by the yarrow. The lion is crowned king of the beasts, the eagle of the birds, and the thistle of the flowers. The Rose, the type of beauty, is wedded to the Thistle, the type of strength, who is commanded well to cherish and guard his Rose. Such is an outline of the plot of this beautiful and graceful poem. 1 See Critical Section, chap. i., Allegories. D6 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. ‘“« The design of ‘ The Golden Terge’ ”’ — another alle- | goric poem — “is to show the gradual and impercepti- ble influence of love when too far indulged over reason.” ! “This poem is in a curious nine-line stanza, having only two rhymes. But Dunbar excelled also in comic and satirical composition. ‘* The Dance of the Seven Deadly Sins” is a production of this kind, the humor, dash, and broad Scotch of which remind one strongly of Burns. The metre is that of Chaucer’s “Sir Topas.” Some Highlanders are introduced at the end, and receive very disrespectful mention : — ‘““Thae turmagantis? with tag and tatter Full loud in Ersche |Erse] begout to clatter, And rowp lyk revin and ruke.? The devil sa devit * was with thair yell That in the deepest pit of hell He smorit them with smoke.”’ Gawain Douglas, sprung from a noble family, studied. at the University of Paris, and rose to be bishop of Dunkeld. After Flodden field, the regent Albany drove him from Scotland. Coming into England, he was hospitably received by Henry, who allowed him a liberal pension. He died in London of the plague, in 1521. He is chiefly known for a translation of the Aineid into heroic verse, which is the earliest English version on record, having been published in 1518. The prologues prefixed to the several books have great poetic beauty; and the language presents little more difficulty than that of Chaucer. The concluding lines of one of these prologues are subjoined as a specimen: they are part of an address to the sun: — 1 Warton. * Ptarmigan; to a covey of which he compares the Highlanders. % “ Chattercd hoarsely ”? is Warton’s explanation. 4 Deafened. REVIVAL OF LEARNING. aye ** Welcum the birdis beild! upon the brere, Welcum maister and reulare of the yere, Welcum walefare of husbandis at the plewis, Welcum reparare of woodis, treis, and bewis.? Welcum depaynter of the blomyt medis, Welcum the lyffe of every thing that spredis, Welcum storare ® of all kynd bestial, Welcum be thy bricht bemes gladand al.”’ Sir David Lyndsay was a satirist of great power and boldness. He is the Jean de Meun* of the sixteenth century; but, as a layman and a knight, he levels his satire with even greater directness and impartiality than that extraordinary ecclesiastic. In his allegorical satire entitled “The Dreme,” the poet is conducted by Remem- brance, first to the infernal regions, which he finds peo- pled with churchmen of every grade, then to Purgatory, then through the “ three elements ” to the seven planets in their successive spheres, then beyond them to the empyrean and the celestial abodes. The poetical topog- raphy is, without doubt, borrowed from Dante. He is then transported back to earth, and visits Paradise ; whence by a “very rapid transition,” as Warton cails it, he is taken to Scotland, where he meets “ Johne the comounweill,’ who treats him to a long general satire on the corrupt state of that kingdom. After this, the poet is in the usual manner brought back to the cave by the seaside, where he falls asleep, and wakes up from his dream. The metre is the Chaucerian heptastich. There is prefixed to the poem an exhortation in ten stanzas, addressed to King James V., in which advice and warning are conveyed with unceremonious plain- ness. Among Lyndsay’s remaining poems, the most important is “ The Monarchie,” an account of the 1 Shelter. 2 Boughs, 3 Restorer. # Author of the continuation of the Roman de la Rose, the caustic cynicism of which is almost incredible. See p. 21. 58 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. most famous monarchies that have flourished in the world, commencing with the creation of man, and end- ing with the day of judgment. This poem, which is for ‘the most part in the common romance metre, or eight- syllable couplet, runs over with satire and invective. Lyndsay’s powerful attacks on the Scottish clergy, the state of which at that time unfortunately afforded but too much ground for them, are said to have hastened th¢ religious war in Scotland. At the very beginning of this period, or about 1460, Blind Harry, or Harry the Minstrel, produced his poem on the adventures of Wallace. Considered as the com- position of a blind man, ‘The Wallace” is a remarkable production ; considered as a work of art, a more execra- ble poem perhaps was never composed. Yet national resentment and partiality have made the Scotch, from the fifteenth century down to the present time, delight in this tissue of lies and nonsense. A modernized version of it was a horn-book among the peasantry in the last century. Scottish critics, one and all, speak of its poeti- cal beauties; and even one or two English writers, : “carried away by their dissimulation,” have professed’ to find much in it to admire. It is written in the heroic rhyming couplet, and professes to be founded on a Latin chronicle by John Blair, a contemporary of Wallace; but as no such chronicle exists, nor is anywhere alluded to as existing, it is probable that the whole story is a pure invention of the minstrel’s. That a poem which makes of Wallace a Scottish “ Jack the giant-killer,” killing and maiming innumerable Englishmen upon every possible occasion, should satisfy the intellectual appetite of a Lowland peasant, whom household tra-- dition has nurtured up in feelings of anti-English preju-_ dice that once had too real a justification, is easily intelligible ; but that is no reason why men of sense REVIVAL OF LEARNING. 59 and education should indorse a oat estimate which “it is impossible that they themselves can share. If there ‘were an “ Early Scottish Text ” society, * The Wallace” “would doubtless form a fitting subject for its attentions, ‘but, considered within the sphere of literature, it is desirable that its utter worthlessness should be as much recognized in Scotland as that of Addison’s ** Campaign,” and many other compositions more patriotic than poeti- cal, has long been amongst ourselves.! The language of all these Scottish writers in their serious compositions closely resembles the Hnglish of their contemporaries south of the Tweed; the chief difference consisting in certain dialectic peculiarities, such as the use of “quh” for “ wh,” and of “it” and “and” for “ed” and “ ing,” in the terminations of the past and present participles. But in proportion as they resort to comic expression, and attach their satire to particular places or persons, their language becomes less English, and slides into the rough vernacular of their ordinary speech. Exactly the same thing is observable in Burns’s poetry. Learning: Grocyn, Colet, the Humanities, State of the Universities. The fifteenth century was, as we have said, pre-emi- nently an age of accumulation, assimilation, and prepara- tion. The first two-thirds of the sixteenth century fall under the same general description. England had to bring herself up to the intellectual level of the Continent, and to master the treasures of literature and philosophy which the revival and diffusion of Greek, and partly of Roman learning, had placed within her reach, before 1 For afull account of Blind Harry, see Irving’s cae of Scottish Poetry, p. 174. 60 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. her writers could attempt to rival the fame of the great ancients. ‘There is much interest in tracing in detail the numerous minute steps and individual acts which helped on this process. Many such are related by Wood in his * Athenz Oxonienses.” Thus we are told that the first man who publicly taught Greek at Oxford was William Grocyn. Stapleton, a Roman Catholic¢ writer of the age of Elizabeth, says, “* Recens tune ex Italia venerat Grocinus, qui primus in ea etate Greecas literas in Angliam invexerat, Oxoniique publice pro- fessus fuerat.” Of course Grocyn had to go abroad to get this new learning. Born about 1450, and educated at Oxford, he travelled on the Continent about the year 1488, and studied both at Rome and Florence. Greek learning flourished then at Florence more than at any place in Europe, owing to the fact that Lorenzo de Medici had eagerly welcomed to his court many illustri- ous and learned refugees, who, subsequently to the fall of Constantinople, had been forced to seek shelter from the violence and intolerance of the Mussulmans in West- eri Murope. One of these learned Byzantines, Deme- trius Chalcocondyles, together with the Italian Angelo Politian, afforded to Grocyn by their public instructions those opportunities which he had left his country to search for, —of penetrating into the sanctuary of classi- cal antiquity, and drinking in at the fountain-head the inspirations of a national genius whose glories no lapse of time can obscure. Gibbon,! with his usual fulness of learning and wonderful mastery of style, has thus sketched the features of this eventful time : — “ The genius and education of Lorenzo rendered him — not only a patron, but a judge and candidate, in the literary race. In his palace, distress was entitled to relief, and merit to reward; his leisure hours were 1 Decline and Fall, chap. xvi. REVIVAL OF LEARNING. 61 delightfully spent in the Platonic academy; he encour- aged the emulation of Demetrius Chalcocondyles and Angelo Politian; and his active missionary, Janus Las- caris, returned from the East with a treasure of two hundred manuscripts, fourscore of which were as yet unknown in the libraries of Europe. The rest of Italy was animated by a similar spirit, and the progress of the nation repaid the liberality of her princes. The Latins held the exclusive property of their own literature; and these disciples of Greece were soon capable of trans- mitting and improving the lessons which they had imbibed. After a short succession of foreign teachers, the tide of emigration subsided. But the language of Constantinople was spread beyond the Alps; and the natives of France, Germany, and England imparted to their countrymen the sacred fire which they had kindled in the schools of Florence and Rome.” After noticing the spirit of imitation which long prevailed, he con- tinues, ‘‘ Genius may anticipate the season of maturity ; but in the education of a people, as in that of an indi- vidual, memory must be exercised before the powers of reason and fancy can be expanded; nor may the artist hope to equal or surpass, till he has learned to imitate, _ the works of his predecessors.” But to return to Grocyn, whose visit to Florence ocaasioned this quotation. When settled in Oxford again, about the year 1490, he opened his budget, and taught Greek to all comers. Among his hearers was a youth of much promise, from London, known after- wards to his own and later ages as Sir Thomas More. | Thomas Linacre, the celebrated physician, was in residence and siving lectures at Oxford about the same time. He, too, had studied in Italy, chiefly at Florence and Rome, and had become an accom- plished Greek scholar. It is to him that we owe the first version of any Greek author made by an Englishman. This was a Latin transla- tion, published in 1499, of the Sphera of Proclus, an astronomical 7 62 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. treatise. Linacre also translated into Latin the works of the old Greek physician Galen, and was the leading spirit in the knot of enlightened men who founded the College of Physicians (1518). Another active patron of the new learning was Dean — Colet, the founder of St. Paul’s School, and the friend of Erasmus. He, too, had travelled extensively, and observed admiringly. He had remarked how Lorenzo de Medici labored to build up a sort of Utopia of intelli- gence and refinement, made beautiful by art, and — governed by wisdom; and it seems that in these rougher northern climates he had some design of reproducing a faint resemblance of the gardens of Bellosguardo. On the lands of his monastery at Sheen, near Richmond, he built himself, long before his death, a magnificent mansion, whither, he said, he designed to retire in his | old age, and amid a circle of intellectual friends enjoy the sweets of a philosophical and lettered ease.1 This was a Pagan, rather than a Christian ideal. It shows how far the contact with the genius of antiquity intox- icated the spirit even of a thoroughly good man: how disturbing, then, must have been its effects upon men of lower character ! In this age of strange excitement, when a new world, supposed to teem with wealth, had just been discovered — in the West, when by the invention of printing thoughts were communicated and their records multiplied with a — speed which must then have seemed marvellous, and — when the astronomical theory of Copernicus was revo- lutionizing men’s ideas as to the very fundamental — relations between the earth and the heavens, unsettling © those even whom it did not convince, there was a tem- — porary forgetfulness on the part of many, even in the — Christian Church, that this life, dignify it as you may, is, after all, a scene of trial, not of triumph, and that, if- 1 Flanagan’s Church History, vol. ii. p. 11, REVIVAL OF LEARNING. 63 Christianity be true, suffering is on earth a higher state than enjoyment, and poverty in one sense preferable to wealth. The Reformers seized on this weak point then noticeable in many of the clergy, and made out of it, to use a modern phrase, abundant controversial capital. Human learning, they said — Luther himself originated the cry — was a waste of time, as well as a dangerous snare; art was a mere pandering to the passions. Sinful man should be engrossed but by one pursuit, the | pursuit of salvation; should study only one book, and that the Bible. When the party that favored the Reformation came into power under Edward VI., this spirit operated with prejudicial effect on the young plants of learning and culture which had begun to spring up at our universities. ‘To take one well-known instance: the ecclesiastical commissioners of Edward, in their visitation to Oxford, destroyed or removed a valuable collection, impossible to be replaced, of six hundred manuscripts of the classical authors, presented by Humphrey, the good Duke of Gloucester, uncle of Henry VI., to that university. The Roman Catholic hierarchy also, among whom, as in the case of Nicholas YV. and Leo X., some of the most intelligent and zealous promoters of the new learning had been found, saw ‘reason, about the middle of the sixteenth century, to change their tactics. In England, at any rate, we know that the bishops, under Queen Mary, discouraged the study of the humanities, and attempted to revive in their place the old scholastic exercises and disputations. The reformers immediately — with some inconsistency, it must be confessed — set up the cry, ‘“‘ You are trying to shut out enlightenment, to set up the barbarous scholastic in preference to the Ciceronian Latinity. You are enemies of progress, of civilization, of the enlargement of the mind,” 64 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. This point will be illustrated presently. In connection | with the spread of learning in England, the name of Cardinal Wolsey must not be omitted. Shakspeare has described sa services in language that cannot be. amended : | ** This Cardinal, Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly Was fashioned to much honor from his cradle. He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one; Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading; Lofty and sour to them that loved him not, But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer, And though he were unsatisfied in getting (Which was a sin), yet in bestowing, madam, He was most princely. Ever witness for him Those twins of learning, that he raised in you, Ipswich and Oxford: one of which fell with him, Unwilling to outlive the good that did it; The other,? though unfinished, yet so famous, So excellent in art, and still so rising, That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.” Cambridge soon followed the example of Oxford in — introducing the study of Greek. Towards the close of the reign of Henry VIII., Sir John Cheke and Sir Thomas Smith are mentioned in the annals of that— university as having been especially active in promot- ing this study. Milton refers to this in one of his— sonnets : — | | 7 ** Thy age, like ours, O soul of Sir Johh Cheke, © 4 Hated not learning worse than toad or asp, When thou taught’st Cambridge and King Edward Greek.” q The sense of insecurity induced among all classes by Henry’s tyranny in his later years, and the social con- — 1 Henry VIIL., Act iv. Scene 2. } ? Christ Church, which Wolsey intended to have founded on a far grander even than its present scale, and to have named Cardinal — College, id REVIVAL OF LEARNING, 65 | fusion which prevailed in the following reign, interrupted | the peaceful flow of learned studies. The universities appear to have been sunk in a lower depth of inefficien- cy and ignorance about the year 1550 than ever before or since. Under Mary, Cardinal Pole, the legate, was personally favorable to the new learning. Sir Thomas Pope, the founder of Trinity College, Gutord: consulted him on the framing of the college statutes, in which it was provided that Greek should form one of the subjects of instruction. In his legatine constitutions, passed at a synod held in 1555, Pole ordered that all archbishops and bishops, as well as holders of benefices in general, should assign a stated portion of their revenues to the support of cathedral schools in connection with every |metropolitan and cathedral church throughout the kingdom, into which lay scholars of respectable parent- age were to be admitted, together with theological students. These cathedral schools were kept up in the following reign, and seem to have attained considerable importance. But one enlightened and generous mind could not restrain the re-actionai ‘y violence of the Gardi- |ners and the Bonners. Under their management a | system of obscurantism was attempted, if not established, 'at the universities; the Greek poets and philosophers ‘were to be banished, and scholasticism was to reign once more in the schools. Ascham, in his *“ School- “master,” thus describes the state of things : — “The love of good learning began suddenly to wax cold; the knowledge of the tongues was manifestly con- cd: yea, I ie that heads were cast together, and counsel devised, that Duns, with all the rabble of barbarous questionists, should have dispossessed of their place and room Aristotle, Plato, Tully, and Demosthenes, whom good Mr. Redinan, and those two worthy stars 6* 66 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. of that university, Cheke and Smith, with their scholars, — had brought to flourish as notably in Cambridge as ever they did in France and in Italy.” Prose Writers. Although no prose work produced during this period can be said to hold a place in our standard literature, considerable progress was made in fitting the rough and motley native idiom for the various requirements of | prose composition. Through the truly national work — of the publication of our early records, which has now been going on for many years under the superintend- ence of the Master of the Rolls, a curious book, dating from the early part of this period, has been made gen-— erally accessible. ‘This is “The Repressor” of Reginald Pecock, Bishop of St. Asaph. The modern editor of — the work, Mr. Babington, calls it, probably with justice, — “the earliest piece of good philosophical disquisition of — which our English prose literature can boast.” Pecock — was a Welshman; he was born about the end of the ~ fourteenth century, and educated at Oriel College, ‘ Oxford. After his appointment to the see of St.” Asaph, he took the line of vehement opposition to the teaching of the Lollards, the followers of Wyclif. The — design of ‘* The Repressor,” which was first published in a complete shape about the year 1456, was to justify cer- — tain practices, or “ governances” as he calls them, then — firmly established in the: Church, which the Lollards” vehemently declaimed against;,. such as the use of — images, pilgrimages to famous shrines, the holding of — landed estates by the clergy, &c. Pecock was made Bishop of Chichester in 1450. His method of argu- ment, however, which consisted in appealing rather to reason and common-sense than to Church authority, to justify the practices complained of, was displeasing to REVIVAL OF LEARNING. 67 most of his brother bishops; and in 1457 his books were formally condemned in a synod held before Henry VI. at Westminster. He was deposed from his bishop- | ric, and only escaped severer treatment by making a full and formal retractation of his opinions. The most interesting work belonging to this period is Sir John Fortescue’s treatise on “ The Difference between an Absolute and a Limited Monarchy.” The author was chief justice of the Court of King’s Bench in the time of Henry VI. He was at first a zealous Lancastrian; he fought at Towton, and was taken prisoner at Tewkesbury in 1471, after which he was attainted. But upon the death of Henry in that year, leaving no son, Fortescue admitted the legality of the claim of the house of York, and thereby obtained the reversal of the attainder. The title of the work men- tioned is not very appropriate: it should rather be, “ A ‘Treatise on the Best Means of raising a Revenue for the King, and cementing his Power.” These, at least, are the points prominently handled. The opening chapters drawing a contrast between the state and _character of the English peasantry under the consti- _ tutional crown of England, and those of the French peasantry under the absolute monarchy of France, are full of acute remarks and curious information. It is instructive to notice, that Fortescue (chap. xii.) speaks of England’s insular position as a source of weakness, because it laid her open to attack on every side. The observation reminds us how modern a creation is the powertul British navy, the wooden walls of which have turned that position into our greatest safeguard. This work is in excellent English, and, if freed from the barbarous orthography in which it is disguised, could be read with ease and pleasure at the present day. Fortescue wrote also, about the year 1468, an excellent 68 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. Latin treatise, “‘ De Laudibus Legum Anghe,” designed for the use of the ill-fated Edward Prince of Wales, son of Henry VI. and Margaret, in which he labors te prove the superiority of the common law of England to the civil law. No other prose writer of the fifteenth century deserves notice, unless we except Caxton, who wrote a continuation of Trevisa’s translation of the “ Polychronicon” to the year 1460, and printed the entire work in 1482. The first work printed in Eng-— land is believed to have been ‘“ The Game and Play of the Chesse,” a moral treatise, translated by Caxton from the French, and turned out by his printing-press in 1474. He also printed a translation, made by him-— self from the German, of the famous medizval apologue — or satire of.“ Renard the Fox.” For some eighteen — years he continued with untiring industry to bring out popular works, chiefly religious or moral treatises and — romances, from the press; and, when he died, he left able successors to carry on and extend his work.) The effect of the revival of ancient learning was, for a long time, to induce our ablest literary men to aim at a polished Latin style, rather than endeavor to improve their native tongue. Erasmus wished that Latin should be the common literary language of Europe: he always wrote in it himself, and held what he termed the bar- barous jargon of his Dutch fatherland in utter detesta- tion. So Leland, More, and Pole composed, if not all, yet their most important and most carefully written works in Latin. John Leland the famous antiquary, to whose “ Itinerarlum” we owe so much interesting topographical and sociological information for the period immediately following the destruction of the monas- teries, is the author of a number of Latin elegies, in 1 For fuller particulars about Caxton, see ‘‘ The History of English Literature,’ by the late learned Prof. Craik of Belfast. a REVIVAL OF LEARNING. 69 various metres, upon the death of Sir Thomas Wyat the elder, which evince no common elegance and mastery over the language. More’s “ Utopia,” published in 1516, was composed in Latin, but has been translated by Burnet and others. Utopia, according to its Greek derivation (ov, not ; to70¢, place) means _the ‘‘ Land of Nowhere.’? The manners and customs of the Utopians are described to More and his friend Tonstall, while on a mission in Flanders, by an *‘ ancient mariner,’’ named Raphael Hythlodaye, who has visited their island. The work is a satire on existing society. Every important political or social regulation in Utopia is the reverse oI what was then to be found in Europe. The condition of the ideal commonwealth rebukes the ambition of kings, the worldliness of priests, and the selfish greed of private persons. The Utopians detest war, and will only take up arms on a plain call of honor or justice. Instead of burning and torturing men for their religion, they tolerate all forms of belief or no-belief, only refusing to those who deny Divine Providence, and the soul’s immortality, the right to hold public offices or trusts. They have no money, but the wants of all are fully supplied by the perfect mechanism of their free government; equality prevails q among them, and is highly prized; idlers are driven out of the com- monwealth; and the lands belonging to each city, incapable of appro- priation to private owners, are tilled by all its citizens in succession. More’s English writings are, “ A History of the Life and Reign of Edward V.,”! written about 1513, a collec- tion of letters, and several controversial tracts in reply to Tyndale and other English reformers. The regular series of English prose chronicles com- mences in this period. ‘The earliest is “ The Chronicle of England,” by John Caperave, who dedicated the work to Edward IV. It opens with the creation of the world, and comes down to 1416. It appeared about the year. (1463, but was never printed till it came out in the Rolls Series. Robert Fabyan was an alderman and sheriff of London in the reign of Henry VII.; his “ Concordance of Storyes,” giving the history of England from the 1 See p. 4187. 70 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. fabulous Brutus to the year 1485, was published after the author’s death in 1516. Successive subsequent edi- tions of this work continued the history to 1069. Ed- ward Hall, an under-sheriff of London, wrote in 1542 a chronicle entitled, “* The Union of the Two Noble Fam- ilies of Lancaster and York,” bringing the narrative down to 1532. Richard Grafton, himself the author of two independent chronicles in the reign of Elizabeth, — printed in 1548 a new edition of Hall, with a continua- tion to the end of Henry’s reign. A curious biograph- ical work, “Illustrium Majoris Britanniz Seriptorum Summarium,’ was written by John Bale, a reformer, afterwards Bishop of Ossory, in 1548. The accuracy of this writer may be judged of by the fact, that, in the article on Chaucer, he fixes the date of the poet’s death in 1450, and in the list of his works includes “‘ The Falls of Princes” (which was by Lydgate), and. omits “ The Canterbury Tales.” Not much of the theological writing of the period possessed more than a passing value. Portions of it are indirectly interesting, as illustrating manners and customs, or as tinged with the peculiar humor of the writer. The sermons of Bishop Latimer, one of the leading reformers, who was burnt at the stake under Mary, possess this twofold attraction. Thus, in preach- ing against covetousness, he complains of the great rise in rents and in the price of provisions that had taken — place in his time; winding up his recital of grievances — with the singular climax, “I think, verily, that, if it — thus continue, we shall at length be constrained to pay for a pig a pound.” The strange humor of the man_ breaks out in odd similes, in unexpected applications of homely proverbs, in illustrations of the great by the— little, and the little by the great. Cranmer’s works have but small literary value, though most important — a a a, oe REVIVAL OF LEARNING. ee | ‘especially the Letters—from the historical point of view. John Bale already mentioned, Becon, Ridley, Hooper, and Tyndale, all composed theological tracts, chiefly controversial. More, Bishop Fisher, and Pole were the leading writers on the Roman Catholic side. More’s English works were printed in a black-letter folio volume, in the year 1557. All except the first two — “A Life of Picus of Mirandula,” and the un- finished * History of Edward V.” (or of Richard II., as it is called in this edition), which has been already mentioned —are either of a: devotional character, or treat of the chief points of religious controversy which were then under debate. His last work (1534), a * Treatise on the Passion,” remains unfinished; and the editor has appended in a colophon these touching words : “Sir Thomas More wrote no more of this woorke; for when he had written this farre, he was in prison kept - so streyght, that all his bokes and penne and ynke and paper was taken from hym, and sone after was he putte to death.” The close of the period was adorned by the scholar- ship and refined good sense of Roger Ascham. ae ELIZABETHAN PERIOD. 19 a hei twelve Ries of ‘*The Shepheard’s Calen- “der” (Spenser, relying on an erroneous etymology, spells the word ‘aeglogues”’) are imitations, so far as. their form is concerned, of the pastoral poetry of The- ocritus and Virgil. As with these poets, the pastimes, loves, and disappointments of his shepherds, Cuddie, Colin, Hobbinol, and Piers, form the subject-matter of several eclogues. In others, more serious themes are handled. In the fifth, seventh, and ninth, for instance, ‘the-abuses both of the old and the new Church are discussed, the chief grounds of attack being the lazi- ness and covetousness of prelates and clergy; the fourth Is a panegyrical ode on Queen Elizabeth; in the tenth is set forth “the perfect pattern of a poet;” the eleventh is an elegy on a lady who is named Dido. In the tenth, the poet anticipates, as Milton afterwards did, the loftier strain to which he felt that his genius would ere long impel him. In 1586 Spenser attained the object of his dents being appointed secretary to the Lord Grey of Wilton, - on his nomination to the vice-royalty of Ireland. To this stay in Ireland, we owe Spenser's only prose work, his ‘“* View of the State of Ireland,” which, though presented to the queen in manuscript, in 1596, was for political reasons held back from publication till the year 1635. His connection with great men was now established ; and we cannot doubt that his great intel- lect and remarkable powers of application made him a most efficient public servant. Nor were his services left unrewarded. He received, in 1586, a grant of Kaleolman Castle, in the county of Cork, together with some three thousand acres of land, being part of the forfeited estates of the insurgent Earl of Desmond. ' From this time to his death, in 1599, few particulars § are known about him; but he seems to have resided a. 80 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. chiefly in Ireland, and there to have cme his | greatest work, “The Faerie Queen.” His friend 5 Walter Raleigh, to whom “ The Faerie Queen” is dedi- cated, is thought to have introduced him to Queen ~ Elizabeth, who Siiied him, in 1591, a pension of fifty pounds a year. In 1598 occurred a rising of the Irish, i headed by O’Neill, the famous Earl of Tyrone, which, © after the defeat of the English General Bagnal, ex- tended to Munster ; and there was no safety for English — settlers outside the walls of fortified places. Spenser had to flee from his castle, which was taken and burnt ~ by the insurgents; his infant child is said to have per- ; ished in the flames. In the greatest trouble and afflic- tion, he crossed over to England, and died a few ; months afterwards in a lodging-house in London, being 1 only in his forty-sixth year. | Out of the twelve books composing, or which ought to compose, ‘‘ The Faerie Queen,” we have but six in an entire state, containing the ‘“‘ Legends” of the Red © Cross Knight, Sir Guyon, Britomartis, a lady knight, Cambel and Triamond, Sir Artegall, and Sir Calidore. — In the characters and adventures of these heroic per-— sonages, the virtues of holiness, temperance, chastity, — friendship, justice, and courtesy, are severally illus- — trated and portrayed. Of the remaining six books, we — possess, in two cantos on Mutability, a fragment of the Legend on Constancy. Whether any or what other portions of them were ever written, is not certainly: known. 4 Tt would be vain to attempt, within the limits here ~ prescribed to us, to do justice to the variety and splen-_ dor of this poem, which, even in its unfinished state, - is more than twice as long as the “ Paradise Lost.” The allegorical form, which, as we have seen, was the favorite style of the medizval poets, is carefully pre-— ELIZABETHAN PERIOD. 81 served throughout; but the interest of the narrative, as full of action and incident as an old romance, and the charm of the free, vagrant, open-air life described, make one think and care little for the hidden meaning. “There is something,” said Pope, “in Spenser, that pleases one as strongly in one’s old age as it did in one’s youth. I[ read ‘The Faerie Queen’ when I was about twelve, with a vast deal of delight; and I think it gave me as much when I read it over about a year or two ago.” + An account in some detail of a portion of the second book will be found at a later page.’ Of the many shorter poems left by Spenser, we shall notice ** The Ruines of Time,” and “ The Teares of the Muses.” The first, dedicated to Sydney’s sister the Countess of Pembroke, is, in its main intention, a Jament over her noble brother’s untimely death. The marvellous poetic energy, the perfect finish, the depth of thought, the grace, tenderness, and richness of this poem, make it eminently illustrative of Spenser's genius. “The Teares of the Muses,” published in 1591, is an impassioned protest against the depraved state of the public taste, which at this time, according to Spenser, led society in general to despise learning, ‘nobles to sacrifice true fame to vanity and avarice, and ‘authors to substitute servility and personality for wit. Each Muse bewails in turn the miserable condition of that particular branch of literary art over which she is supposed to preside. Melpomene, the Muse of ‘Tragedy, frankly owns 3 that her occupation in England is: a sinecure : — * But I, that in true tragedies am skilled, The flower of wit, find nought to busie me, Therefore I mourne, and pitifully mone, Because that mourning matter I have none, ” 1 Spence’s Anecdotes, 2 See p. 387, 3 See p. 388. 82 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. ba This might well be said, when as yet no better tragedy had appeared in England than Sackville’s ‘* Gorbodue.” The complaint of Thalia, the Muse of Comedy, is. different. The comic stage had flourished, thanks to- one gifted ‘gentle spirit ;’’ but he was now keeping , silence, and ribaldry and folly had possession of the stage. Then comes the following interesting passage : — “ All these, and all that else the comic stage With seasoned wit and goodly pleasance graced, By which man’s life, in his likest image, Was limned forth, are wholly now defaced ; And those sweet wits, which wont the like to frame, f Are now despised, and made a laughing game, And he, the man whom Nature’s self had made - To mock herselfe, and truth to imitate, With kindly counter, under mimic shade, Our pleasant Willy, ah! is dead of late;— With whom all joy and jolly merriment Is also deaded and in dolour drent. Instead thereof, scoffing scurrilitie And scornful folly with contempt is crept, Rolling in rymes of shameless ribaudry, Without regard or due decorum kept; Each idle wit at will presumes to make, And doth the learned’s task upon him take. But that some gentle spirit, from whose pen Large streams of honnie and sweet nectar flowe, Scorning the boldness of such base-born men, Which dare their follies forth so rashly throwe, Doth rather choose to sit in idle cell, Than so himselfe to mockerie to sell.”’ In spite of Mr. Todd’s petty objections, I firmly believ that here we have Spenser’s tribute to the mighty genius that had already given “Two Gentlemen ot Verona,” “ Love’s Labor’s Lost,” ‘“ The Taming of the Shrew,” and probably one or two other comedies, to th English stage. ELIZABETHAN PERIOD. 83 In “Colin Clout’s come home againe,” Spenser, having returned to his Irish home, describes the visit which he paid to England in 1591, the condescension of the queen, and the ways of the court; all. under the mask of a conversation between shepherds and shepherd- esses. The “Foure Hymnes”’ in honor of earthly and heavenly love, earthly and heavenly beauty, are ‘written in the Chaucerian heptastich; the force and harmony of the verse are wonderful. “Mother Hubbard’s Tale,’’ a work of the poet’s youth, is in the heroic couplet; it is in the main a satire, first exposing with a lofty scorn the hypocrisy and self-seeking of the new clergy, and then turning off to paint the meanness, cunning, and hardheartedness which pervade the atmosphere of a court. It is in this connection that the famous passage occurs, thought to embody his own experi- ence, which describes the miserable life of a suitor for some favor at court. “‘Daphnaida” and “ Astrophel” are elegies, the last upon the death of Sir Philip Sidney. The lovely nuptial hymn, ‘‘ Epitha- lamion,’’ was written on the occasion of his marriage; its metre and movement are Pindaric. ‘‘ Muiopotmos”’ is an elaborate poem, in the fantastic style, on the fate of a butterfly, The reader will observe that there is a wide interval, in respect of the polish and modern air of the diction, between the productions of 1579 and those of 1590 and 1591. One may reasonably conjecture that the perusal of such a play as “Two Gentlemen of Verona,” had led Spenser to modify considerably his youthful theory, giving the preference to the obsolete English of a former age. The poems of Shakspeare all fall within the early part of his life, they were all composed before 1598. Writing in that year, Meres, in the “ Wit’s Treasury,” says, “ As the soul of Euphorbus was thought to live in Pythagoras, so the sweet witty soul of Ovid lives in mellifluous honey-tongued Shakspeare. Witness his * Venus and Adonis,’ his ‘ Lucrece,’ his sugared sonnets among his private friends.” These, together with such portions of “ The Passionate Pilgrim” and the “ Lover’s Complaint ” a’ may have been his genuine composition, _ constitute the whole of Shakspeare’s poems, as distin- guished from his plays, 84 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. The sonnets, a hundred and fifty-four in number, were first published by a bookseller, Thomas Thorpe, in 1609, with a dedication to a Mr. W. H., “the only begetter of these ensuing sonnets.” Yet there are some among them that are evidently addressed to a woman. The tone of self-humiliating adulation which pervades those of which Mr. W. H. appears to have been the object, has always been a mystery and a trouble to the admirers of Shakspeare, who have been driven to invent various hypotheses to account for it. The subject is fully tebloutesio by Mr. Knight in his “ Pictorial Shak- speare,” and briefly handled by Hallam in the third volume of his “ Literary History.” Of the minor poets of the Elizabethan age, the earl- est in date among those that attained to real distinction was Robert Southwell! the Jesuit, cruelly put to death by the Government in 1595, for the crime of having been found in England, endeavoring to supply his family and friends with priestly ministrations. His poems, under the title of “St. Peter’s Complaint, with other Poems,” appeared in the same year that he was executed, and were many times reprinted during the next forty years. Southwell, it seems, was the founder of the modern English style of religious poetry; his influence and example are evident in the work of Crashaw, or of Donne, or of Herbert, or Waller, or any of those whose devout lyrics were admired in later times. Chaucer had, it is true, shown in the prologue to “The Prioress’ Tale,’ and in the poem called his A. B. C. in honor of the blessed Virgin, how much the English tongue was capable of in this direction. But the language was now greatly altered ; and Chaucer, though admired, was looked upon as no subject for direct imitation. The poets of the time were much more 1 See his Poetical Works, edited by the late Mr. Turnbull, 1856. _ELIZABETHAN PERIOD. 85 _ solicitous to write like Ovid than like Isaiah. We may admit the truth, excluding only Spenser from its appli- cation, of Southwell’s general censure, that,— ‘In leu of solemn and devout matters, to which in duty they owe their abilities, they now busy themselves in expressing such passions as serve only for testimonies to what unworthy affections they have wedded their wills. And because the best course to let them see the error of their works is to weave a new web in their own loom, I have laid a few coarse threads together, to in- vite some skilfuller wits to go forward in the same, or to begin some finer piece, wherein it may be seen how well verse and virtue suit together.’ Southwell was attacked by Hall, then an eager rising young man at Cambridge, in the first book of his satires, called *“ Virgidemiz.”' Hall’s notion seems to have been, that verse was too trivial and too worldly a garb wherein to clothe religious thought. But Marston smote the smiter, who had railed — ‘*“°Gainst Peter’s teares and Marie’s moving moane,”’’ And argued the matter out rather forcibly : — ‘* Shall painims honor their vile falsed gods With sprightly wits, and shall not we by odds Far far more strive with wit’s best quintessence To adore that sacred ever-living Essence ? Hath not strong reason moved the legist’s mind, To say that fairest of all nature’s kind The prince by his prerogative may claim ? Why may not then our soules, without thy blame, (Which is the best thing that our God did frame), Devote the best part to His sacred name, And with due reverence and devotion Honor His name with our invention ? 1 See p. 408. 86 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. —.- No; poesie not fit for such an action; It is defiled with superstition : . It honored Baal; therefore pollute, pollute, ‘7 ae Unfit for such a sacred institute. . So have I heard an heretick maintain The church unholy, where Jehovah’s name: Is now adored, because he surely knows Some-times it was defiled with Popish shows,” &c.} In all these religious and moral poems of Southwell’s, there is a liberal use of figure, trope, metaphor, simili- tude, and all such poetic devices; but the deep, strong, loving heart beneath sanctifies and excuses the extrava- gance, if any there be, in the language. } William Warner, by profession an gy, iS said } to have first published his “ Albion’s England ” in 1586. This unwieldy poem (which some read and print in long fourteens, and others in short eights and sixes — it makes not the smallest difference) is in the style of the old rhyming chronicles; beginning at the flood, it traces, through twelve books, the history of Britain, loyally and properly terminating with the reign of Elizabeth. ~The poem opens thus : — ‘‘T tell of things done long ago, Of many things in few; And chiefly of this clyme of ours The accidents pursue. Thou high director of the same, Assist mine artlesse pen, To write the gests of Britons stout, And actes of English men.”’ Never was a circle of more richly-gifted spirits con- gregated in one city than the company of poets and — playwrights gathered round the court in London be-- tween 1590 and 1610. From Kent came Samuel Chap-— man, the translator of Homer; from Somersetshire the 1 Marston’s works (ed. J. O. Halliwell, 1856). Satyre IV. 2 See Warton, vol. iv. p. 303, n. ELIZABETHAN PERIOD. 87 | gentle and high-thoughted Daniel; Warwickshire sent Michael Drayton, author of the “Polyolbion,” and William Shakspeare; Raleigh — who shone in poetry as in every thing else he attempted —came from Devon- shire; London itself was the birthplace of Donne, Spenser, and Jonson. All these great men, there is reason to believe, were familiarly acquainted, and in constant intercourse with one another; but unhappily the age produced no Boswell; and their table-talk, brilliant as it must have been, was lost to posterity. One dim glimpse of one of its phases has been preserved in the well-known passage by Thomas Fuller, writing in 1662: — ‘“‘ Many were the wit combats between him and Ben Jonson; which two I behold like a Spanish great galleon and an English man-of-war. Master Jonson, like the former, was built far higher in learning; solid, but slow in his performances. Shakspeare, with the English man-of-waz, lesser in bulk, but lighter in sail- ‘ing, could turn with all tides, tack about, and take ‘advantage of all winds by the quickness of his wit and ‘invention. He died A.D. 1616, and was buried at Strat- ford-upon-Ayon, the town of his nativity.” The great intellectual activity which pervaded the English nation during this period, the sanguine aspiring ‘temper which prevailed, the enthusiastic looking for- ward to an expanding and glorious future which filled the hearts of most men, are certified to us in the works of a crowd of writers of the second rank, of whom, though scarcely one did not attempt many things for which he was ill qualified, almost all have left us some- thing that is worth remembering. Among these one pt the most remarkable was Samuel Daniel. He had 88 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. an ambition to write a great epic; but in this he sig nally failed. His ‘* Wars of the Roses,” a poem in eight — books, written in the eight-line stanza, — the ottava rima of Italy, —is a heavy, lifeless production, in which there are innumerable descriptions of men’s motives and — plans, but not one description of a battle. He had no~ eye for a stirring picturesque scene, no art to make — his characters distinct and natural: the poem, therefore, produces the effect of a sober and judicious chronicle done into verse, in which the Hotspurs, Mortimers, and Warwicks are all very much of a piece. His eyes seem at last to have been opened to the fact that he was only — wasting his time; for the poem breaks off suddenly just — before the battle of Tewkesbury. But the meditative — temper of Daniel stood him in good stead in other — attempts. His ‘+ Epistle to the Lady Margaret, Count- ; ess of Cumberland,” is marked by an elevated idealism. — But his best work is certainly the ** Musophilus.” This — is in the form of a dialogue between a man of the world, disposed to ridicule and contemn the pursuits of men — of letters, and the poet himself. The progressive and — _ hopeful character of the age is well illustrated in the © fine passages in which the poet foretells an approaching — vast expansion of the field of science, and dreams of © great and unimagined destinies (since then how fully — realized!) reserved for the English tongue. Michael Drayton also was no mean poet; indeed, Mr. Hallam considered that he had greater reach of mind ~ than Daniel. And this, nakedly stated, is undoubtedly true; Drayton had more variety, more energy, more knowledge of mankind, and far more liveliness, than Daniel. His “ Baron’s Wars” are not tame or prosaic ;— they are full of action and strife; swords flash and helmets rattle on every page. But unfortunately, Mortimer, the hero of the poem, the guilty favorite of — ELIZABETHAN PERIOD. 89 Edward II.’s queen, is a personage in whom we vainly endeavor to get up an interest. There is much pro- lixity of description in this poem, due, it would seem, to imitation of Spenser, whose influence on Drayton’s mind and style is conspicuous. But it is one thing to be prolix in a work of pure imagination, when the poet detains us thereby in that magic world of unearthly beauty in which his own spirit habitually dwells, and quite another thing to be prolix in a poem founded upon and closely following historical fact. When both the close and the chief turning-points of the story are known to the reader beforehand, the introduction of fanciful episodes and digressions, unless admirably | managed, is apt to strike him as laborious trifling. If . Drayton had known, lke Tasso, how to associate Clorindas and Erminias with his historical personages, he might have been as discursive as he pleased. But this was ‘“‘a grace beyond the reach” of his art; and “The Baron’s Wars” remain, therefore, incurably uninteresting. ‘England’s Heroical Epistles,” pub- lished in 1598, have a much stronger claim to distinc- tion. ‘This work, which is in the heroic couplet, consists of twelve pairs of epistles, after the manner of Ovid, supposed to be exchanged between so many pairs of royal or noble lovers: among these are Henry II. and Fair Rosamond, Owen Tudor and Queen Catharine, Surrey and Geraldine, Guilford Dudley and Lady Jane Grey. The style is flowing, fiery, and energetic, and withal extremely modern; it seems to anticipate the “full resounding line” of Dryden, and to rebuke the _ presumption of the poets of the Stuart age, who chose to say that English had never been properly and purely written till Waller and Denham arose. ‘The Moon- calf” is a strange satire —and one of a higher order » than the weak, uncouth attempts of Hall, Donne, and - ¢ 90 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. Marston—on the morals and manners of the time, : One of the best known of Drayton’s poems is ‘* The ~ Nymphidia.” ‘This is in a common romance metre (the same which Chaucer used for his “ Sir Thopas”), and has for its subject the amours of the court of fairy land, ~ It is a work of the liveliest fancy, but not of imagina- — tion. It is interesting to find Don Quixote referred to — in a poem published so soon after Cervantes’ death,— “Men talk of the adventures strange - Of Don Quichot and of their change.”’ The most celebrated of our author’s works still remains ~ to be noticed, — ‘The Polyolbion.”! This is a poem ~ of enormous length, written in the Alexandrine or ~ twelve-syllable rhyming couplet, and aiming at a com- plete topographical and antiquarian -delineation of © England. The literary merits of this Cyclopean per- i formance are undeniable. Mr. Hallam thinks that ~ ‘there is probably no poem of this kind in any other language comparable together in extent and excellence to*The Polyolbion;’ nor can any one read a portion © of it without admiration for its learned and highly gifted author.” But the historian of literature goes on 7) to say that “perhaps no English poem, known so well by name, is so little known beyond its name;” and, on the whole, the verdict of criticism pronounces it to be one huge mistake; to be a composition possessing — neither the unity of a work of art, nor the utility of a- copographical dictionary. Of Drayton’s personal history we know almost | nothing ; but when we come to speak of John Donne, the image of a strange wayward life, actuated evermore — by a morbid restlessness of the intellect, rises to our thoughts. This man, whose youthful “ Epithalamia” 1 See p. 422. » aay ; ELIZABETHAN PERIOD. 91 are tainted by a gross sensuality, ended his career as the grave and learned Dean of St. Paul’s, whose ser- mons furnish the text for pages of admiring commentary to §. T. Coleridge! One fancies him a man with a high forehead, but false wavering eye, whose subtlety, one knows, will make any cause that he takes up seem for the moment unimpeachable; but of whose moral genuineness in the different phases he assumes, of whose sincere love of truth as truth, one has incura- ble doubts. As a writer, the great popularity which he enjoyed in his own day has long since given way before the repulsive harshness and involved obscurity of his style. The painful puns, the far-fetched similes, the extravagant metaphors, which in Shakspeare occur but as occasional blemishes, form the substance of the poetry of Donne; if they were taken out, very little would be left.. He is the earliest poet of the fantastic | or metaphysical school, of which we shall have more to say in the next chapter. The term ‘‘ metaphysical,” first applied to the school by Johnson, though not imappro- priate, is hardly distinctive enough. It is not inap- propriate, because the phjlosophizing spirit pervades their works; and it is the activity of the ‘intellect, rather than that of the emotions, by which they are characterized. The mind, the nature of man, any faculty of virtue appertaining to the mind, and even any external phenomenon, can hardly be mentioned without being analyzed, without subtle hair-splitting divisions and distinctions being drawn out, which the poet of feeling could never stop to elaborate. But this is equally true of a great deal that Shakspeare (espe- cially in his later years) and even that Milton has written, whom yet no one ever thought of including among the metaphysical poets. It is the tendency to 1 In the Literary Remains, vol. iii. 92 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. conceits,—that is, to an abuse of the imaginative faculty, by tracing resemblances that are fantastic, or) uncalled for, or unseemly, — which really distinguishes this school from other schools. This point will be further illustrated in connection with the poetry of Cowley. : Donne’s poems are generally short ; they consist off elegies, funeral elegies, satires, letters, divine poems, and miscellaneous songs. Besides these, he wrote ‘“‘ Metempsychosis; or, the Progress of the Soul,” a poem — published in 1601, ‘‘ of which,” Jonson told Drummond in 1618, ‘* he now, since he was made doctor, repenteth highlie, and seeketh to destroy all his poems.” In a man of so much mind, it cannot be but that fine lines” and stanzas occasionally relieve the mass of barbarous quaintness. Take, for instance, the following stanza from the letter to Sir H. Wotton : — ‘* Believe me, sir, in my youth’s giddiest days, When to be like the court was a player’s praise, Plays were not so like courts, as courts like plays; or this, from the letter to R. Woodward : — ‘* We are but farmers of ourselves, yet may, If we can stock ourselves and thrive, up-lay Much, much good treasure ’gainst the great rent-day.”’ Toward the end of the century, a serious, reflecting” mood seems to have been the prevailing temper in the educated part of the nation: our writers loved to dive or soar into abstruse and sublime speculations. Among” the noblest memorials of this philosophic bent, is ‘* The Nosce Teipsum ” of Sir John Davies, attorney-general for Ireland, — a poem on the soul of man, which it aims_ to prove immaterial and immortal. It is in the heroic quatrain or four-lined stanza, with alternate rhymes; a metre afterwards employed by Davenant, Dryden, and ELIZABETHAN PERIOD. 93 Gray. The philosophy is Christian and Platonic, as opposed to the systems of the materialist and epicurean. The versification is clear, sonorous, and full of dignity. | There is a passage at the end of the introduction, which curiously resembles the celebrated meditation in Pas- veal’s ‘* Pensées”’ upon the greatness .and_littleness which are conjoined in man: — **T know my body’s of so frail a kind As force without, fevers within, can kill; I know the heavenly nature of my mind, But ’tis corrupted both in wit and will; I know my soul hath power to know all things, Yet is she blind and ignorant in all; I know I’m one of Nature’s little kings, Yet to the least and vilest things am thrall; I know my life’s a pain, and but a span; I know my sense is mocked in every thing; And, to conclude, I know myself a man, Which is a proud and yet a wretched thing.” George Chapman and John Marston belonged to the same literary set, about which unhappily we know so little, that included Shakspeare and Ben Jonson. Asa second-rate dramatist, Chapman will receive some notice further on, here a few words must be said about his translation of ** The Ihad,” which appeared about 1601. It is written in the same metre as Warner’s ‘ Albion’s England,” but always printed in long fourteen-sylable rhyming lines. Considered as exhibiting imaginative power, and rapidity of movement, this version does not ill represent the original: the Elizabethan poets well understood how to make words the musical symbols of ideas, and were not given to dawdle or falter on their way. But the simplicity and dignity of the original — in other words, the points which constitute the unap- proached elevation of Homer in poetry and art — these 94 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. fet ce hee ( were characteristics which it was Garand the reach of Chapman to reproduce.’ Still considering the time at which it appeared, and that this was the first complete metrical version of ‘The Ilad’’ which had appeared in any modern language, it was truly a surprising and a gallant venture, and well typifies the intensity of force with which the English intellect, at this siaieg period, was working in every direction. Marston is the author of five separate satires (1598), besides three books of satires, collectively named ‘“ The Scourge of Villanie” (1599). The separate satires are not without merit, as the passage given above (p. 85), which was taken from the fourth : them, might prove. The second contains an attack on the Puritans, who first appeared a few years before this time as a separate party. A Puritan citizen who said grace for half an hour, but was a griping usurer, is thus satirized: — ‘* No Jew, no Turke, would use a Christian So inhumanely as this Puritan. Se,” ee ee Take heed, O worlde! take heed advisedly, Of these same damned anthropophagi. ~ I had rather be within an harpie’s clawes Than trust myself in their devouring jawes, Who all confusion to the world would bring Under the forme of their new discipline. “The Scourge of Villanie”’ is much inferior to the separate satires. The author gloats over the immorali ties which he pretends to scourge, in a manner which forces one to think of “Satan reproving sin.” All i invective; those delightful changes of hand, with whicl Horace wanders back to the scenes of his boyhood, o1 gives us his opinion of Lucilius, or sketches the poeti cal character, or playfully caricatures the Stoic philoso 1 See the lectures of my brother, the late protean of poetry, On Translating Homer, ELIZABETHAN PERIOD. 95 phy, are not for the imitation of such blundering ~ matter-of-fact satirists as Hall, or Donne, or ataestar With them satire is satire: they begin to call names in the first line, and, with the tenacity of their country’s bull-dogs, continue to worry their game down to the very end. | Sir Walter Raleigh, the gay courtier, the gallant soldier, the discoverer of Virginia, the father of English colonization, the wily diplomatist, the learned historian, the charming poet,—as he did every thing else well by the force of that bright and incomparable genius of his, so he is the author of a few beautiful and thoughtful poems.! I am persuaded that he wrote “The Lie;” for I do not believe that any one then living, except Shakspeare, was so capable of having written it.” Dramatists.— Origin of the English Drama; the Dramatic Uni- ties; Heywood, Marlowe, Shakspeare, Jonson, Beaumont and. Fletcher, Massinger, Ford, Webster, Marston, Chapman, Dek- ker, T. Heywood, Rowiey, Tourneur, Shirley. What we have to say on the development of the drama in this period may best be prefaced. by a brief sketch of its rise and progress in the middle ages. Five distinct influences or tendencies are traceable as having co-operated, in various degrees and ways, in the _ development of the drama. These are: 1, the didactic efforts of the clergy; 2, medieval philosophy ; 3, the revival of ancient learning ; 4, the influence of the feel- 1 Printed at the end of vol. viii. of the Oxford edition of Raleigh’s works, 2 The evidence is not conclusive either way. It certainly was not written “‘ the night before his execution,’’ according to the common story, because it had appeared in Davison’s Poetical Rhapsody in 1602; but Raleigh’s name was given by the printer as one of the con- tributors to the Rhapsody, and to him, above all the other contribu- tors, in my opinion at least, may the Lie most reasonably be assigned. 96 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. ing of nationality; 5, the influence of Continental — literature, especially that of Italy. , The first rude attempts in this country to revive | those theatrical exhibitions, which, in their early and- glorious forms, had been involved in the general de-_ struction of the ancient world, were due to the clergy. They arose out of a perception that what we see with our eyes makes a greater impression upon us than what - we merely hear with our ears. It was seen that many — events in the life of Christ, as well as in the history — of the Christian Church, would easily admit of being dramatized, and thus brought home, as it were, to the feelings and consciences of large bodies of men more effectually than by sermons. As to books, they of © course were, at the time now spoken of, accessible only to an insignificant minority. The early plays which - thus arose were called “ miracles,” or “ miracle-plays,” because miraculous narratives, taken from Scripture or | from the lives of the saints, formed their chief subject. — The earliest known specimens of these miracle-plays, according to Mr. Wright, were composed in Latin by one Hilarius, an English monk, and a disciple of the tamous Abelard, in the early part of the twelfth cen- tury. The subjects of these are the raising of Lazarus, - a miracle of St. Nicholas, and the life of Daniel. Simi- lar compositions in French date from the thirteenth century; but Mr. Wright does not believe that any were composed in English before the fourteenth. The following passage, from Dugdale’s “ Antiquities of War- wickshire,” will give a general notion of the mode in which they were performed. It relates to the famous Coventry Mysteries,” of which a nearly complete set has been preserved, and published by the Shakspeare Society : — | “ Introduction to the Chester Plays, published for the Shakspeare Society, ELIZABETHAN PERIOD. — 97 “Before the suppression of the monasteries, this cittye was very famous for the pageants that were played therein, upon Corpus Christi day. These pageants were acted with mighty state and rey- erence by the fryers of this house (the Franciscan monastery at Cov- entry), and conteyned the story of the New Testament, which was composed into old English rime. The theatres for the severall scenes were very large and high; and, being placed upon wheeles, were drawn to all the eminent places of the cittye, for the better advan- tage of the spectators.”’ ] These travelling show-vans remind one of Thespis, the founder of Greek tragedy, who is said to have gone about in his theatrical cart, from town to town, exhibiting his plays. According to older authorities, the moveable theatre itself was originally signified by the term “pageant,” not the piece performed -in it. ~The Coventry Mysteries” were performed in Easter week. The set which we have of them is divided into forty-two parts, or scenes, to each of which its own “pageant,” or moving theatre, was assigned. Travers- ng, by a prescribed round, the principal streets of the ity, each pageant stopped at certain points along the foute ; and the actors whom. it contained, flinging open the doors, proceeded to perform the scenes allotted to hem. Stage properties and gorgeous dresses were not wanting ; we even meet, in the old corporation accounts, with such items as money advanced for the effective sxhibition of hell-fire. Two days were occupied in the yerformance of the forty-two scenes; anda person stand. ng at any one of the appointed halting-places would ye able to witness the entire drama. The following yassage presents a fair sample of the roughness of style nd homeliness of conception which characterize these nysteries throughout ; it is taken from the pageant of ihe Temptation :.” — “Now if thou be Goddys Sone of might, Ryght down to the erthe anon thou falle, And save thisylf in every plyght From harm and burt and peinys.alle; 98 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. For it is wretyn, aungelys bright That ben in hevyn, thy faderes halle, Thee to kepe bothe day and nyght, Xal be ful redy as thi tharalle, Hurt that thou non have : That thou stomele not ageyn the stone, And hurt thi fote as thou dost gon, Aungelle be ready all everychon In weyes thee to save.”’ “Tt is wretyn in holy book, Thi Lord God thou shalt not tempte; All things must obey to Goddys look, Out of His might is non exempt; Out of thi cursydness and cruel crook By Godys grace man xal be redempt ; — Whan thou to helle, thi brennynge brooke, To endles peyne xal evyn be dempt, Therein alwey to abyde,”’ &c. The philosophy of the middle ages, which we have named as the second influence co-operating to the de- velopment of the drama, dealt much in abstract terms, and delighted in definitions and logical distinctions. Debarred partly by superstition and tyranny, partly by its own inexperience, from profitable inquiry into nature and her laws, the mind was thrown back upon itself, its own powers, and immediate instruments; and the fruits were an infinite number of metaphysical cobwebs, logi- cal subtleties, and quips or plays upon words. ‘Thus, instead of proceeding onward from the dramatic exhi- bition of scriptural personages and scenes to that of real life and character, the medieval playwrights _per- versely went backwards, and refined away the scriptural personages into mere moral abstractions. Thus, instead of the Jonathan and Satan of the mystery, we come to the Friendship and the Vice of the moral play, or mo- rality, — a dramatic form which seems to have becom popular in this country about the middle of the fifteenth century. How far this folly would have gone it is im- ~ ELIZABETHAN PERIOD. 99 possible to say: fortunately it was cut short by the third influence mentioned, — the revival of ancient learning. When the plays of Terence and Sophocles, nay, even those of Seneca, became generally known, none but a pedant ora dunce could put up with the insufferable dulness of a moral play. The earliest known English comedy, ‘‘ Ralph Roister Doister,” bears plain marks of the power of this new influence. Its author was Nicholas Udall, master of Eton College. The exact date of its publication is un- known; but it was certainly composed before 1551. It is written in jingling rhyme, the lines being usually of twelve syllables, though frequently shorter. It is di- vided into acts and scenes, like those plays of Plautus and Terence of which it is a professed imitation. Critics have spoken of its liveliness and wit, of the clever man- agement of the plot, and other good qualities; but the style is too utterly barbarous to admit of its interesting any one but a literary antiquarian. ‘“ Gammer Gurton’s Needle” and “ Misogonus,” both probably composed before 1560, are comedies of the same kind. Our dramatists at this period had sufficient sense to admire the ancients, but not enough to make them despise themselves and their own productions. The more flexi- ble French genius had already begun to follow the advice of the poet Du Bellay, who, writing in the year 1548, says, “Translation is not a sufficient means to elevate our vernacular speech to the level of the most famous languages. What must we do, then? Imitate! imitate the Romans as they imitated the Greeks, as Cicero imitated Demosthenes, and: Virgil Homer. We must transform the best authors into ourselves, and, after having digested them, convert them into blood and nutriment.” Yet, on the other hand, the sturdy English independence brought with it countervailing 100 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. \ advantages: but for it, the Elizabethan literature, while - gaining perhaps in polish and correctness, would have cost tenfold more in the free play of thought, in exu- berance and boldness of conception, and in that display of creative genius which invents new forms for modern wants. | Before the appearance of comedies properly so called, a sort of intermediate style was introduced by John Heywood, jester and musician at the court of Henry VIII. He produced several short plays which he called interludes. The name had been in use for some time, and merely signified a dramatic piece performed in the intervals of a banquet, court pageant, or other festivity. Moral plays are thus frequently described by their authors as interludes. But the novel character of Heywood’s plays, and the popularity which they obtained, caused the name of interlude to be, after his time, reserved for plays of similar aim and construction. The novelty con-— sisted in this: that whereas, in a moral play, the characters are per- sonified qualities ‘(Felicity, False Semblance, Youth, &c.), in an inter-— terlude they are true persons, but not yet individuals; they are the representatives of classes. Thus, in Heywood’s clever interlude of ‘‘The Four P’s,”’ the leading characters are, the Peddler, the Palmer, — the Pardoner, and the Poticary. In another, one of the characters is — even named; this is ‘‘ A Mery Play betwene the Pardonere and the Frere, the Curate and Neighbour Pratte.”’ No comedies worthy of mention appeared after the time of Udall and Still, for more than twenty years, — not till the time of Greene, Peele, and Marlowe, the immediate predecessors and contemporaries of Shak- speare. | The earliest known tragedy was brought upon the stage in 1562, under the title of ‘‘ Gorboduc,” or * Fer- rex and Porrex.” It was jointly composed by Sack- ville, afterwards Lord Buckhurst, and Thomas N orton, a Puritan lawyer. It is the first English drama of any] kind written in blank verse. The subject, like that of Shakspeare’s “ King Lear,” is taken from the fabulous : sritish annals, originally compiled by Geoffrey of Mond mouth in the twelfth century, and innocently -—- ELIZABETHAN PERIOD. 101 into the histories of most of the chroniclers down to the time of Milton. The writers were educated men ; and it seems probable that they chose an episode taken from the legendary history of Britain as the subject of their tragedy, in imitation of the Greek tragedians, whose constant storehouse of materials was the mythi- cal traditions of Greece. Similarly Milton thought of writing an epic poem on the legend of Arthur and his knights. But this play bears witness also to the influ- ence of the fourth tendency noted above, — the desire to deepen and justify the pride of English nationality. The play is full of allusions to the present state of things, enforcing the advantages of peace and settled government, the evils of popular risings and a disputed succession. The same design of illustrating the pres- ent by the past is apparent in an old play written so far back as the last years of Henry VIII., the ** Kynge Johan ” of Bishop Bale, a piece holding an intermedi- ate position between the moral play and the regular drama, some of the situations and ideas of which are, possibly through the medium of a later play on the same subject published in 1591, worked up in the “King John” of Shakspeare. But our first truly historical play seems to have been *“ The Life of [d- ward II.,” by Christopher Marlowe. Mr. Hallam calls it “by far the best, after [the historical plays of | Shakspeare.” Marlowe was a man of great powers ; [is “mighty lne’’ was praised by Ben Jonson: but his wild and dissolute habits brought his life toa premature - close through a tavern brawl in 1593. His * Tragedy of Dr. Faustus” has attracted attention, of late years, owing to the celebrity with which Goethe’s great work has invested the old story. It has striking and elo- quent passages ; but bombast and bad taste overspread it to such a degree as quite to spoil the general effect. g* 3 102 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. The fondness for seeing the past history of the nation exhibited in dramatic show conduced, more than any other single cause, to that constant neglect of the dra- matic ‘ unities ” for which our English play-writers are conspicuous. This, therefore, is the place to explain what those unities were, and how our early tragedians came to violate them. | Aristotle, in his “* Treatise on Poetry,” collects from the practice of the Greek dramatists certain rules of art, aS necessary to be observed in order that any tragedy may have its full effect upon the audience. The chief of these relates to the action represented, which, he says, must be one, complete, and important. This rule has been called the unity of action. He also says that tragedy “for the most part endeavors to conclude itself within one revolution of the sun, or nearly so.” This rule, limiting the time during which the action represented takes place to twenty-four hours, or thereabouts, has been called the unity of time. A third rule, not expressly mentioned by Aristotle, but neatly always observed by the Greek tragedians, re- quires that the entire action shall be transacted in the same locality; this is called the unity of place. These three rules were carefully observed by the first Italian tragedians, Rucellai and Trissino; and also in France, when the drama took root there. In Spain and in England they were neglected, and apparently for the same reason, — that both peoples were fervently na- tional, and intensely self-conscious; and therefore, in order to gratify them, the drama tended to assume the historic form, —a form which necessitates the violation of the unities.' Marlowe, in his historical tragedy of ‘Edward II.,” and Shakspeare, in his ten historical plays, aide upon this principle. Shakspeare, how- 1 See Critical Section, chap. I., ‘‘Dramatie Poetry.” ELIZABETHAN PERIOD. 108 "ever, when he wrote to gratify his own taste rather _ than that of the public, so far showed his recognition of the soundness of the old classical rules, that in the best of his tragedies he carefully observed the unity of action, although he judged it expedient, perhaps with reference partly to the coarser perceptions of his audi- ence, to sacrifice those lesser congruities of place and time which the sensitive Athenian taste demanded, to the requirements of a wider, though looser, conception of the ends of dramatic art. Marlowe, Peele, Greene, Nash, and Lodge, were all young men together, and all writing for the London stage between the years 1585 and 1593. They had all received a university education, and as brother wits and boon companions were on terms of the freest inti- “macy. But an interloper, an upstart, a mere provincial who had never seen the inside of a college; worse than all, a player, who ought to have deemed it sufficient honor to perform the plays which these choice spirits condescended to write, — had come up from Warwick- shire to confound them all. The grievance is thus alluded to by Greene, in a curious pamphlet called ‘“ A Groat’s Worth of Wit,” written just before his death in 1593. Addressing three of his brother dramatists, supposed to be Marlowe, Lodge, and Peele, he says, — “Ts it not strange that I to whom they [the players] all have been beholding, is it not like that you to whom they all have been beholding, shall, were ye in that case that I am now, be both of them at once for- saken? Yes: trust them not; for there is an upstart crow, beautified with our feathers, that, with his tiger’s heart wrapped in a player’s hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you; - and, being an absolute Johannes factotum, is, in his own conceit, the only Shake-scene in a country.” We shall 104 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. have occasion to examine.into the meaning of Greene’s charge presently. From this passage, besides other slight indications pointing the same way, it may be con- cluded that Shakspeare (for no one has ever doubted that the allusion is aimed at him) had begun to employ _ himself in dramatic writing before 1592, that he moved in a different circle in society from that which was formed by the educated wits and literati of London, and that he had been busy in adapting other men’s plays for production at his own theatre. Every one knows how few and meagre are the knowl facts.of Shakspeare’s biography. ‘The two greatest names in poetry,’ says Mr. Hallam, “are to us little more than names. If we are not yet come to question his unity, as we do that of ‘the blind old man of Scio’s rocky isle,’ an improvement in critical acuteness doubt- less reserved for a distant posterity, we as little feel the power of identifying the young man who came up from Stratford, was afterwards an indifferent player in a London theatre, and retired to his native place in mid- dle life, with the author of ‘Macbeth’ and ‘ Lear,’ as we can give a distinct historic personality to Homer. . It is not the register of his baptism, or the draft of his will, or the orthography of his name, that we seek. No letter of his writing, no record of his con: versation, no character of him drawn with any fulness by a contemporary, has been produced.” Such as they are, however, the chief of those partied ulars which untiring research has either firmly estab- lished, or placed on the level of strong probabilities, must here be related. William Shakspeare was born at Stratford-upon-Avon, in April, 1564. He received, as far as we know, no better education than the grammar school of the place afforded; and, soon after he had reached his twentieth year, was drawn up to London, ELIZABETHAN PERIOD. 105 probably through the influence of his friend Richard Burbage, a leading actor of the day, and himself a War- wickshire man. Shakspeare’s name stands twelfth in a list still extant, of the date of 1589, containing the names of sixteen players who were at the same time joint pro, prietors of the Blackfriars Theatre. In a similar list, — dated in 1596, he stands fourth, having evidently in the interval attained to a much more important position in the partnership. At this latter date the company were in possession, not only of their old theatre at the Blackfriars, but of a new one by the river-side, called the Globe Theatre, which they used for summer per- formances. Already, before 1592, besides altering old plays, Shakspeare had written several independent dramas, to be performed by his company. In 1598 — as we learn from a passage in “* Meres’ Wit’s Treasury ”’ published in that year —at least twelve of his plays had appeared; namely, the comedies of ** The Two Gen- tlemen of Verona,” ** Love’s Labor’s Lost,” ** The Com- edy of Errors,’”’ ‘“* Love’s Labor Won” (supposed to be “ All’s Well that Ends Well”), ** Midsummer Night’s Dream,” and ‘* The Merchant of Venice;” the histori- cal plays of Richard II., Richard III., Henry IV., and King John; and the tragedies of “ Titus Andronicus” and ‘“ Romeo and Juliet.” ‘‘ Othello ”’ first appeared in 1602; ‘‘ Hamlet,” in its original shape, was brought out in 1603 ; “ King Lear,” in 1608. ‘ Macbeth” was produced some time between the years 1603 and 1610. Shakspeare prospered in his profession; he amassed a considerable fortune, which we find him to have invest- ed in houses and lands at Stratford, whither he retired to live at his ease some years before his death in 1616. During this retirement, he probably wrote the three Roman plays, *“* Julius Cesar,” «‘ Antony and Cleopatra,” and “ Coriolanus.” 106 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. Out of thirty-five plays which Shakspeare has left us” (excluding ‘“‘ Titus Andronicus” and ‘“ Pericles Prince of Tyre,” and waiving the difficult question as to his connection with the three parts of ‘‘ Henry VI.),” four- teen are comedies, eleven tragedies, and ten histories. With reference to Shakspeare, the term ‘“ comedy ” simply denotes a play that ends happily; but it may have abounded, in the development of the plot, with serious and pathetic incidents. This intermediate style was afterwards called by Fletcher ‘“‘tragi-comedy,” a term which he appropriated to those plays in which the final issue of the plotis for good, yet in which, while that issue remains in suspense, some of the principal personages are brought so near to destruction that the true tragic interest is excited. Eighteen of the plays of Beaumont and Fletcher answer to this description ; which would also obviously apply to ‘ Measure for Measure,” ** The Merchant of Venice,” or ‘* Winter’s Pale.” 3 The influence of the fifth developing cause men- tioned above, viz., the study of Continental literature, is apparent at once when we turn to Shakspeare’s’ comedies. his society has drawn the following picture of the white-haired sage in the evening of his checkered life : — ““ Coleridge sat on the brow of Highgate Hill, in those years, looking down on London and its smoke tumult, like a sage escaped from the ¥ inanity of life’s battle, attracting towards him the thoughts of innu- : merable braye souls still engaged there. His express contributions 324 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. to poetry, philosophy, or any specific province of human literature or enlightenment, had been small and sadly intermittent; but he had, especially among young inquiring men, a higher than literary, a kind of prophetic or magician character. .. . A sublime man, who, alone in those dark days, had saved his crown of spiritual manhood; escaping from the black materialism, and revolutionary deluges, with ‘God, freedom, and immortality’ still his; a king of men. The practical intellects of the world did not much heed him, or carelessly reckoned him a metaphysical dreamer; but to the rising spirits of the young generation he had this dusky sublime character, and sat there asa kind of Magus, girt in mystery and enigma, his Dodona oak- erove (Mr. Gillman’s house at Highgate) whispering strange things, uncertain whether oracles or jargon.” ! Mr. Carlyle goes on to speak of the disappointing and hazy character of Coleridge’s conversation, copious — and rich as it was, and occasionally running clear into glorious passages of light and beauty. Such, indeed, is the general effect of his life, and of all that he ever did. One takes up the “Biographia Literaria” (1817), imagining that one will at least find some consistent and intelligible account of the time, place, motive, and other circumstances bearing upon the composition of his different works; but there is scarcely any thing of the kind. The book possesses an interest of its own, on account of the subtle criticism upon Wordsworth’s poetry and poetical principles, which occupies the chief — portion of it; but when you have arrived at the end of all introductory matter, and at the point where the biography should commence, the book is done; it is all preliminaries, a solid porch to an air-drawn temple. Coleridge died in 1834. “¥ Southey left Oxford as a marked man on account of his extreme revolutionary sympathies, and being un- willing to take orders, and unable, from want of means, to study medicine, was obliged, as he tells us, “* perforce to enter the muster-roll of authors.” The prevailing 7 | | 1 Carlyle’s Life of Sterling. MODERN TIMES. 825 taste for what was extravagant and romantic, exempli- fied in Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels and Kotzebue’s plays, perhaps led him to select a wild Arabian legend as the groundwork of his first considerable poem, “ Thalaba the Destroyer,” published in 1801. “Thalaba,” like Shelley's “ Queen Mab,” is written in irregular Pindaric strophes without rhyme. “ Madoc,” an epic poem in blank verse, founded on the legend of a voyage made by a Welsh prince to America in the twelfth century, and of his founding a colony there, appeared in 1805; and “The Curse of Kehama,” in which are represented the awful forms of the Hindoo Pantheon, and the vast and gorgeous imagery of the Hindoo poetry, in 1811. “ Roderic, the Last of the Goths” (1814), a long narra- _ tive poem in blank verse, celebrates the fall of the Visi- - Gothic monarchy in Spain. “ The Vision of Judgment” (1820), in English hexameters, is a lament over the death of George III., whom it leaves in the safe enjoy- ment of. paradise. “A Tale of Paraguay,” as it was under Jesuit management, appeared in 1824. Besides these larger works, Southey wrote a multitude of minor poems. His characteristics as an author are indefatiga- ble industry, great skill at manipulating and shaping ~ his materials, extraordinary facility of expression, and considerable powers of reflection and imagination. Nor can humor be denied him, though he had sometimes an unfortunate way of exhibiting it at the expense of the religious beliefs and practices of other nations. In 1803 Southey settled at Greta Hall, near Keswick ; and here the remainder of his life was spent, in the incessant prosecution of his various literary undertak- ings. After the death of his wife, in 1837, he became an altered man. ‘So completely,” he writes, ‘ was she part of myself, that the separation makes me feel like a different creature. While she was herself I had no : 28 326 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. sense of growing old.” After his second marriage, in 1839, his mind began gradually to fail; and the lamp of reason at last went entirely out. In this sad condition, he died in the year 1843. | Thomas Campbell, though born in Glasgow, was a Highlander both in blood and nature. His “ Pleasures of Hope” (1799) was certainly the best continuation of the lines of thought marked out by Pope and the mor- alists that had appeared since the time of Goldsmith. - The poem has lttle plan, as might be expected from the nature of the subject. It contains a sensational — passage concerning slavery, accompanied by the fervent hope that it may some day be abolished. There are also some fine lines on fallen Poland, and a masterly sketch of the cheerless creed of the materialist, which is described in order to be rejected. Some lines occur that are now familiar to every ear: e.g., — ‘‘ What though my winged hours of bliss have been, Like angel-visits, few and far between ?” And, — “Tis distance lends enchantment to the view.”’ But “The Pleasures of Hope,” is, after all, of the nature of a prize poem, though a brilhant one. Camp- bell’s genius is most attractive in those poems in which his loving Celtic nature has free play. Such are *¢ O’Connor’s Child,” “ Lochiel’s Warning,” “ The Exile of Erin,” and “Lord Ullin’s Daughter;” in all of which, but especially in the first-named, the tenderness, — erace, and passion of the Celtic race shine forth with inexpressible beauty. And the childlike simplicity of — love and sorrow, dwelling on little circumstances, — — homish, clannish, gregarious, unselfish,—not sturdily self-reliant, but yearning towards others, and feeling its — own being incomplete without them; all this, so emi-— eee ‘ —_-s MODERN TIMES. 327 nently Celtic in its character, is exhibited in “ The Sol- dier’s Dream.” ‘Gertrude of Wyoming” (1809), a tale of Pennsylvania, written in the Spenserian stanza, is soft and musical in its versification, but deficient in sustained epic interest. If Campbell had understood his own temperament, which tended to be dreamy and meditative, he would surely not have selected such a dreamy, lingering measure as the Spenserian stanza for a narrative poem. His martial and patriotic songs, « Hohenlinden,” “‘ The Battle of the Baltic,” “ Ye Mar- iners of England,” are rapid and spirit-stirring, but full of faults of expression. “The Last Man” is interest- ing from the nature of the subject: it gives us the solil- oquy of the last representative of the human race, uttered from among tombs upon the crumbling earth; but the effort is more ambitious than successful, and many expressions and images are overstrained. Camp- bell died in 1844. To Wordsworth, from his very childhood, life seems to have been a dream of beauty, a continual rapture. Those accesses of intellectual passion, those ardors of intellectual love, which come but seldom to most men, and usually in the maturity of their powers, were to him an habitual experience almost from the cradle. This it was that made him say, ‘“ The child is father of the man ;” this explains such passages as the following in the ode on ‘**The Intimations of Immortality,” which else might sound like mere mysticism : — © Not in entire forgetfulness, Nor yet in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory, do we come From God, who is our home. Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close Upon the growing boy; But he beholds the light, and whence it flows, He sees it in his joy; ; 328 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. The youth, who daily farther from the east Must travel, still is Nature’s priest, And by the vision splendid Is on his way attended ; At length the man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.’’ _ His whole being was moulded in a singularly perfect balance; the ‘‘sound mind in the sound body” was never more strikingly exemplified than in him. To keen senses acting in a healthy and hardy frame, he joined the warmest moral emotions and the most ex- tended moral sympathies, together with a synthesis of the finest intellectual faculties, crowned by the gift of an imagination the most vivid and the most penetrat-_ ing. This imagination he himself regarded as the royal faculty, by which he was to achieve whatever it was given him to do, calling it — ‘** But another name for absolute power And clearest insight, amplitude of mind, And Reason in her most exalted mood.” 1 Born on the edge of a mountain district, he had been familiar from the first with all that is lovely and all that is awful in the aspects of nature. Deep and ten- der sympathies bound him always to the lot of his ‘fellow-creatures, especially the poor and the simple; unceasing reflection was his delight, and, as it were, one of the conditions of his existence. It was therefore upon no vacant or sluggish mind that the ery of revolutionary France burst, in her hour of regeneration. He was less shaken than others, because he had already seen in his reveries the possibility of better things for human society than it had yet attained to, better than even the Revolution promised to provide : — 1 The Prelude, conclusion. MODERN TIMES. . 829 “‘ Tf at the first great outbreak I rejoiced Less than might well befit my youth, the cause In part lay here, — that unto me the events Seemed nothing out of nature’s certain course, A gift that was come rather late than soon.’”’ 1 He visited France immediately after leaving Cambridge in 1792, and remained there above a year. At Orleans he formed an intimacy with an: officer of Girondist opinions, who afterwards, as Gen. Beaupuis, fell in battle with the royalists near the Loire : — ** He on his part, accoutred for the worst, He perished fighting, in supreme command, Upon the borders of the unhappy Loire, For liberty, against deluded men, His fellow-countrymen; and yet most blessed In this, that he the fate of later times Lived not to see, nor what we now behold, Who have as ardent hearts as he had then.’ 2 With Beaupuis the poet talked over the oppressions of the old régime, and speculated hopefully on the new model of a regenerated society, which an uprisen peo- ple, whose natural virtues would be now free to exert themselves and find the career which they required, was about to exhibit to the world. Yet even in that hour of elation Wordsworth was saddened by the sight of an untenanted and roofless convent : — ‘¢ In spite of those heart-bracing colloquies, - In spite of real fervor, and of that Less genuine and wrought up within myself, I could not but bewail a wrong so harsh, And for the matin-bell to sound no more Grieved, and the twilight taper, and the cross, High on the topmost pinnacle.” 3 Compelled to return to England in 1793, he repaired ere long to his beloved mountains, and in the same year £ 1 The Prelude, book ix. 2 Tbid. 3 Tbid. 28* 330 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. produced his first work, containing the ‘‘ Evening Walk,” and ‘* Descriptive Sketches taken during a Pedestrian. Tour among the Alps,’’— poems in which echoes of Pope, Goldsmith, and Crabbe are more apparent than any very decided indications of genius. At this period, England joined in the war against France; and Wordsworth’s moral nature — the whole frame of his aspirations and sympathies— received a rude shock. He was even meditating a return to France, and the devo- tion of all his energies to political action. Perplexed and disappointed, he was in some danger of becoming permanently soured and morose. But from this state his admirable sister, who was now become his constant companion, raised him, and drew him gently towards the true and destined path for his footsteps, — the vocation of a poet: — ‘* 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.” 1 But neither the brother nor the sister had at this time any patrimony. This want, however, was supphed in a singular way, at the very moment when it began to be urgent, by the bequest of a young friend of the name of Calvert, whom Wordsworth had tenderly nursed through the last weeks of a decline. This was in 1794; and the pair, accustomed to the austere sim- plicity and plain fare of the North, lived contentedly upon this bequest ( which did not exceed nine hundred pounds ) for eight or nine years. In 1802, when this — resource was nearly exhausted, the succession of a new Lord Lonsdale brought with it the payment of their patrimony, long unjustly withheld. Wordsworth then 1 The Prelude, book xi. MODERN TIMES. ) 331 married, and settled at Grasmere. During this period — his poetry, as De Quincey says, was “ trampled upon ;”’ and he had no other permanent resource for a livelihood. But in 1807 he received from Lord Lonsdale the appointment of distributor of stamps for the counties of- Cumberland and Westmoreland, and was set free thenceforward from pecuniary anxieties. Shelley, in his “ Peter Bell the Third,” sneers at Wordsworth as a pensioner bought over by the Tories; but the taunt was false and groundless. Some few persons in England were wise enough to see that Wordsworth’s function in this world was to write, and at the same time happy enough to have it in their power to say to him, “ Write, and you shall be fed.”” Among these few were Calvert and Lord Lonsdale. Itis hard to see how Wordsworth’s mental and moral independence was more comproniisd by accepting an office from the lord lieutenant of his county than was Shelley’s by his deriving his income from landed property, the secure tenure of which de- pended upon the repression of Jacobinical projects at home and abroad. In 1798 appeared “ The Lyrical Ballads,” to which a few pieces were contributed by Coleridge and Southey. Again, in 1800 and 1807, collections of detached poems appeared; and in 1814 was published “ The Excursion.” This is the second part of a larger poem, which was to have been entitled “‘ The Recluse,” and to have been in three parts. The third part was only planned; of the first, only one book was ever written. A long poem in fourteen books, called “The Prelude,” written in 1804, was not given to the world till 1850. It contains a his- tory of the growth and workings of the poet’s mind, up to “the point when he was emboldened to hope that A etl ated ea his faculties were sufficiently matured for entering upon the arduous labor which he had proposed to himself,” 332 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. that, namely, of “ constructing a literary work that might live,” a philosophical poem containing views of man, nature, and society. This great work, the storehouse of his deepest and wisest thoughts, the author himself compared to a Gothic church, the “ Prelude” to the ante-chapel or this church, and all his minor poems to “the little cells, oratories, and sepulchral recesses ordi- narily included in such edifices.” Of the general plan of this sublime composition, I must try to give the outline. In the first book the poet meets the “ Wanderer,” a Scotch peddler, who, having by hard work earned enough to make him independent of his trade, wanders continually from place to place, feeding his contemplative spirit on the varied physical aspects, or moral themes, which nature and human life supply. The Wanderer conducts him to the remote valley, where dwells the “Solitary,” a man who after having lived some years with an adored wife and two children, and then seen them die before his eyes; hay- ing perplexed his brain with a thousand jarring tenets of religion and philosophy; having hailed with rapture the revolution in France, and groaned over the repression of the manifold activities which it had elicited by the hard hand of military power, — now in cynical despon- dency, unsocial and friendless, longs for the hour of death : — “Such a stream Is human life; and so the spirit fares In the best quiet to her course allowed ; And such is mine, save only for a hope That my particular current soon will reach The unfathomable gulf, where all is still.” In the fourth book, ‘‘ Despondency Corrected,” the Wanderer, with the true eloquence of a noble enthusi- asm, endeavors to remove the morbid hopelessness of his friend by unfolding his views of the immense poter- MODERN TIMES. 333 fiality for good which every human existence, not utterly corrupted, contains within itself; by enlarging on the blessings which, in every age and every land, religious hope, and even, were no better thing obtaina- ble, superstitious reverence, have bestowed upon men, —)blessings more real than any which modern science (apt to be blind to the higher while keenly conscious of the lower truth) confers on its disciples; lastly, by pointing out the practical courses and methods of disci- pline which, in his judgment, lead to the perfection of the individual being. The beautiful ideal of human perfection here presented to us differs from that which we find in the pages of the New Testament perhaps only in this, that it implies an intellectual activity and cul- ture possible only to the few, and must therefore forever be unattainable by those unequal, imperfectly balanced characters who constitute, nevertheless, the chief por- tionof mankind. ‘To such characters, Christianity alone ‘opens out the means of reaching the highest grade of perfection compatible with their nature. In the later books, from the fifth to the ninth inclu- sive, the chief figure is that of the “ Pastor,” who re- lates to the personages already introduced numerous anecdotes drawn from the experience of his mountain parish. Among these is the story of “ Wonderful Walk- er,” the good pastor of Seathwaite in the Vale of Duddon, which parish he held for sixty-six years. Among Wordsworth’s minor poems I will mention, as especially characteristic of his genius, “* Laodamia,”’ s Matthew,” “ The Primrose of the Rock,” “The Sol- ‘itary Reaper,” “ The Evening Voluntaries,” the sonnets ‘on the River Duddon, and “ Yarrow Unvisited.” Moore, though of humble parentage, was enabled by ‘his own striking talents, and by the self-denying and ‘intelligent exertions of his excellent mother, to receive 334 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE, and profit by the best education that was to be obtained in his native Ireland. He went up to London’ in 1799, to study for the bar, with little money in his purse, but furnished with an introduction to Lord Moira, and with the manuscript of his translation of Anacreon. Through Lord Moira he was presented to the Prince Regent, and permitted to dedicate his translation to him. The work appeared, and of course delighted the gay and jovial circle at Carlton House. Moore thus obtained the requisite start in London society; and his own wit and social tact accomplished the rest. Through Lord Moira’s interest he was appointed, in 1803, to the registrarship of the Bermudas. But he could not long endure the solitude and storms of the “ vexed Ber- moothes;” and, leaving his office to be discharged by a deputy, he returned, after a tour in the United States, to England. Some of his prettiest lyrics, e.g., “* The In- dian Bark,” and “ The Lake of the Dismal Swamp,” are memorials of the American journey. In the poems of “ Corruption,” “ Intolerance,” and “The Sceptic,” pub- lished in 1808 and 1809, he tried his hand at moral satire, in imitation of Pope. But the réle of a censor morum was ill suited to the cheerful, convivial temper of ‘Tom Moore ; and, though there are plenty of witty and stinging lines in these satires,! they achieved no great success. He found at all times his most abundant source of inspiration in the thought of his suffering country, whose sorrows he lamented in many a lovely elegy, and whose oppression he denounced in many a noble lyric. Even in that poem which, as a work of art, must be regarded as his masterpiece, — I mean “ Lalla Rookh,” 1 For instance: — ** But bees, on flowers alighting, cease their hum: So, setiling upon places, Whigs grow dumb,” MODERN TIMES. 339 a work in which the reader is transported to the palaces’ ‘Prophet of Khorassan,’ of Delhi and the gardens of Cashmere, — Moore him: self tells us that he vainly strove, in several abortive attempts, to rise to the height of his own original con- ception, until the thought struck him of embodying in his poem a sketch of the history of the Ghebers or fire- worshippers of Persia, a persecuted race, who, like the Irish, had preserved the faith of their forefathers through centuries of oppression, and whose nationality had never been wholly crushed out by Moslem rule. “Lalla Rookh” (1817) consists of four tales, “The Veiled ’ * Paradise and the’ Peri,’’! _* The Fire-Worshippers,” and “ The Light of the Ha- dy rem.’ A slight thread of prose narrative, gracefully and wittily told, connects them, inasmuch as they are all recited by Feramorz, a young poet of Cashmere, for the entertainment of Lalla Rookh, daughter of the Emperor Aurungzebe, while she is journeying from Delhi to Cashmere to wed her affianced lord, the prince of Bucharia. Fadladeen, the chamberlain of the prin-- cess’s household, criticises each poem after it has been recited, in a very lively and slashing manner. As a “in which the “first gentleman in Europe’ political satirist, Moore, on the Liberal side, was quite as . cutting as, and far more copious than, Canning or Frere or Maginn on the Tory side. His “ Political Epistles ” are of various dates. Among them is the far-famed « Hpistle of the Prince Regent to the Duke of York,” "is made to say, partly in his own very words, — *¢T am proud to declare I have no predilections ; And my heart is a sieve, where some scattered affections Are just danced about for a moment or two, And, the finer they are, the more sure to run through,” 1 See p. 395, 336 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. “The Fudge Family in Paris” (1818), and “ Fables for the Holy Alliance” (1819), were designed to stem the tide of re-action, which, after the end of the great war, threatened to replace the throne and the altar in their old despotic supremacy. ‘“ The Twopenny Post- bag,” a collection of imaginary intercepted letters, put into verse, in one of which there is a playful hit at Walter Scott, who had just published “ Rokeby,” dates from 1813. But all that was highest and purest in -Moore’s nature is best seen in his “ Irish Melodies ” (1807-84), in which he appears as the true Tyrtzeus of | his beloved Ireland. His “ Sacred Songs” (1816) are less interesting. In his later years Moore took to prose writing ; compiled the “ Life of Sheridan” (1825), and — the “ Life and Letters of Lord Byron” (1830); and also produced ‘“*The Epicureat,” a ‘ History of Ire- land,” the “Memoirs of Captain Rock,’ and * The “Travels of an Irish Gentleman in Search of a Reli- gion.” His mind, like Southey’s, was gone for several © years before his death, which occurred in 1852. Thomas Hood was aman of rare powers. Pathos, sensibility, in- dignation against wrong, enthusiasm for human improvement—all | these were his; but the refracting medium of his intelligence was so | peculiarly constituted, that he could seldom express his feelings except through witty and humorous forms. However gravely the sentence begins, you know that you will probably have to hold your sides before it is ended. The following well-known stanza is really a — type of his genius: — ** Mild light, and by degrees, should be the plan i To cure the dark and erring mind; But who would rush at a benighted man, _ And give him two black eyes for being blind ?” His first work was “‘ Whims and Oddities,” followed by the ‘Comic — Annual,”? commenced in 1830, and ‘‘ Up the Rhine” (1838). The — wonderful *‘ Song of the Shirt”? (1843) was nearly his last effort. He — died of a chronic disease of the lungs in 1845. His works haye been published in a collective form within the last few years, MODERN TIMES. 33 From the long roll of minor poets, the publication of whose works falls within the first half of the century, I select a few names, Hogg, the ‘‘Ettrick Shepherd,’’ wrote ‘‘’The Queen’s Wake” (1813), which, says Mr. Chambers, ‘‘consists of a collection of tales and ballads supposed to be sung to Mary Queen of Scots by the native bards of Scotland, assembled at a royal wake at Holyrood.’’ Mrs. Hemans published in 1828 ‘*‘ Records of Women,” and after- wards, ** National Lyrics,’’ ‘‘Scenes and Hymns of Life,’ and other works. Many of her songs are instinct with genuine feeling, and breathe a thrilling music. Miss Landon, once so widely known as L. E. L., is the authoress of ‘‘ The Improvisatrice,”’ ‘‘ The Lost Pleiad,’’ and a multitude of other lyrics now seldom read. James and Horace Smith were the authors of the ‘‘ Rejected Addresses ”’ (1812), a col- lection of parodies of the style of the principal living poets. Those on Crabbe, Byron, and Southey are especially telling. A copious didactic vein is exhibited in the moral poems of James Montgomery, author of ‘‘Greenland”’ (1819), ‘‘ The Pelican Island,’’ and other poems. Robert Pollok’s ‘‘ Course of Time” (1827), however feeble and faulty as a poem, was so exactly adapted to the level of culture in the religious classes of Scotland, that it obtained an extraordinary popularity, having passed through more than twenty editions. It consists of ten books of blank verse: the subjects handled are much the same as those met with in Young’s ‘‘ Night Thoughts.’ Kirke White’s few poems were for a time made famous through the publi- cation of his ‘“‘ Remains’”’ by Southey, soon after his death in 1806. The small posthumous volume of poems by Bishop Heber contains, besides his Oxford prize poem of ‘‘ Palestine,’ several good hymns and elegantly turned lyrics. The Drama, 1800-1850: Byron, Sheridan Knowles, Joanna Baillie. During the present century the stage, considered as a field for literary energy, has greatly declined even below the point at which it stood a hundred years ago. Why this is so, it would not be easy to explain; but there is no doubt as to the fact that the dramas written by men of genius within the last sixty years have gen- erally proved ill adapted for the stage, while the authors of the successful plays have not been men of genius. “The Doom of Devergoil and Auchindrane” by Scott, the tragedy of “ Remorse” by Coleridge, that of ‘“ The 2y — sa" ‘ 338 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. ? Cenci” by Shelley, Godwin’s play of “ Antonio,” and Miss Edgeworth’s ‘“* Comic Dramas,” were all dramatic failures: either they were originally unsuited for the modern stage, or, when produced upon it, obtained little or no success. On the other hand, the “ Virgin- ius,” “The Hunchback,” ‘The Wife,” &c., of Sheri- dan Knowles, the farces of O’Keefe, and the comedies of Morton and Reynolds, being, it would seem, better adapted to the temper, taste, and capacity of the play- going public than the works of greater men, brought success and popularity to their authors. The “ Man- fred’ of Lord Byron, published as “a dramatic poem ” (1817), was no more intended for the stage than Goethe’s “ Faust,” by which it was evidently suggested. © Of “Cain,” and “Heaven and Earth,” published as “mysteries,” the same may be said. On the other hand, the tragedies of “ Sardanapalus” and “ Marino Faliero” — were designed to be acting plays. The plays of Joanna Baillie, intended to be illustrative of the stronger passions of the mind, appeared between 1798 and 1836. Two or three of them only were brought on the stage, and were but coldly received, being deficient in those various and vivid hues of reality which assimilate a drama to the experience of life. Prose-Writers, 1800-1850. We can give only the briefest summary of what has | been done in the principal departments of prose writing | during this period. In prose fiction, besides the Waverley novels, which have been already noticed, must — be specified Jane Austen’s admirable tales of common | life, — “Pride and Prejudice,”! “ Mansfield Park,” | ‘Northanger Abbey,” &c., — which their beautiful and too short-lived authoress commenced as a sort of protest 1 See p. 463, | | ' i MODERN TIMES. 339 against the romantic and extravagant nonsense of Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels; and Miss Edgeworth’s hardly less admirable stories of Irish life and character. In oratory, though this period falls far below that which preceded it, we may name the speeches of Canning, Sheil, O’Connell, and Sir Robert Peel. In political writing and pamphleteering, the chief names are, William Cobbett, with his strong sense and English heartiness, author of “The Englishman’s Register ;” Scott; whose political squib, the “Letters of Malachi Malagrowther,”’ had the effect of arresting the progress of a measure upon which the ministry had resolved ; Southey; and Sydney Smith. In journalism, the pres- ent period witnessed the growth of a great and vital change, whereby the most influential portion of a news- paper is no longer, as it was in the days of Junius, the columns containing the letters of well-informed corre- spondents, but the leading articles representing the ‘ opinions of the newspaper itself. In prose satire, the inexhaustible yet kindly wit of Sydney Smith has fur- _nished us with some incomparable productions; witness «« Peter Plymley’s Letters,’ + his articles on Christianity in Hindostan, and his letter to “ The Times” on Penn- sylvanian repudiation. In history, we have the Greek histories of Mitford, Thirlwall, and Grote, the unfin- ' ished Roman history of Arnold,? the English histories _ of Lingard and Hallam, and the work similarly named (though “ History of the Revolution, and of the Reign of William III.,” would be an exacter title) by Lord Macaulay. Mr. Hallam’s “ View of the State of Europe ‘during the Middle Ages” (1818) gave a stimulus to historical research in more than one field which for ‘ages had been, whether arrogantly or ignorantly, over- looked. In biography, out of a countless array of 1 See p. 470. 2 See p. 489, 340 - HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. works, may be particularized the lives of Scott, Wil- berforce, and Arnold, compiled respectively by Lock- hart, the brothers Archdeacon Wilberforce and the Bishop of Oxford, and Dr. Stanley. As to the other works subsidiary to history, such as accounts of voyages and travels, their name is Legion; yet perhaps none of their authors has achieved a literary distinction comparable to that which was conferred on Lamartine by his “ Voyage en Orient.” In theology, we have the works of Robert Hall and Rowland Hill, represent- ing the Dissenting and Low Church sections; those of Arnold, Whately, and Hampden, representing what are — sometimes called Broad Church, or Liberal, opinions ; those of Froude, Pusey, Davison, Keble, Sewell, &e., 5 representing various sections of the great High Church — party ; and, lastly, those of Milner, Dr. Doyle, — the incomparable “J. K. L.,”— Wiseman, and. Newman, on © the side of the Roman Catholics. In philosophy, we have the metaphysical fragments of Coleridge, the ~ ethical philosophy of Bentham, the logic of Whately | and Mill, and the political economy of the last-mentioned — writers, and also Ricardo and Harriet Martineau. 4 Among the essay-writers must be singled out Charles | Lamb, author of the “ Essays of Elia,” which appeared — in 1823. In other departments of thought and theory, e.g., criticism, we have the literary criticism of Hazlitt and Thackeray, and the art-criticism of Mr. Ruskin! 1 Much of the additional matter contained in this and the preced-— ing chapter has been taken, with the consent of the publisher, Mr. | Murby of Bouverie Street, from the author’s Chaucer to Words- worth: a Short History of English Literature. CRITICAL SECTION. CHAPTER I. POETRY. _ Definition of Literature, Classification of Poetical Compositions. ENGLISH LITERATURE is now to be considered under that which is its most natural and legitimate arrange- ment; that arrangement, namely, of which the principle “is not sequence in time, but affinity in subject, and which aims, by comparing together works of the same _ kind, to arrive, with greater ease and certainty than is ‘possible by the chronological method, at a just estimate of their relative merits. To effect this critical aim, it is evident that a classification of the works which compose a literature is an essential pre-requisite. This we shall now proceed to do. With the critical process, for which _ the proposed classification is to serve as the foundation, _ we shall, in the present work, be able to make but scanty progress. Some portions of it we shall attempt, with the view rather of illustrating the conveniences of the method, than of seriously undertaking to. fill in the vast outline which will be furnished by the classification. First of all, what is literature? In the most extended sense of the word, it may be taken for the whole written thought of man; and, in the same acceptation, a national } 29% 341 342 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. literature is the whole written thought of a particular nation. But this definition is too wide for our present purpose: it would include such books as “ Fearne on Contingent Remainders,” and such periodicals as “ The Lancet” or “ The Shipping Gazette.” If the student of literature were called upon to examine the stores of thought and knowledge which the different professions have collected and published, each for the use of its own members, his task would be endless. We must abstract, therefore, all works addressed, owing to the speciality of their subject-matter, to particular classes of men; e.g., law books, medical books, works on moral theology, rubrical works, &c.; in short, all strictly professional literature. Again: the above definition would include all scientific works, which would be practically incon- venient, and would tend to obscure the really marked distinction that exists between literature and science. We must further abstract, therefore, all works in which the words are used as ciphers or signs for the purpose of communicating objective truth, not as organs of the writer’s personality. All strictly scientific works are thus excluded. In popularized science, exemplified by such books as “ The Architecture of the Heavens,” or “The Vestiges of the Natural History of the Creation,” the personal element comes into play: such books are, therefore, rightly classed as literature. What remains after these deductions is literature in the strict or nar- rower sense; that is, the assemblage of those works which are neither addressed to particular classes, nor use words merely as the signs of things, but which, treating of subjects that interest man as man, and using words as the vehicles and exponents of thoughts, appeal to the general human intellect and to the common human heart. Literature, thus defined, may be divided into, — ————————— ¥ EIPC POETRY. 3438 1. Poetry. 2. Prose writings. For the present, we shall- confine our attention to poetry. The subject is so vast as not to be easily man- ageable; and many of the different kinds slide into each other by such insensible gradations, that any classifica- tion must be to a certain extent arbitrary: still the fol- lowing division may perhaps be found useful. Poetry may be classed under eleven designations : 1,' epic} 2, dramatic; 8, heroic; 4, narrative; 5, didactic; 6, sa- tirical and humorous; 7, descriptive and pastoral; 8, lyrical Gneluding ballads and sonnets); 9, elegiac ; 10, epistles; 11, miscellaneous poems; the latter class including all those pieces (very numerous in modern times) which cannot be conveniently referred to any of the former heads, but which we shall endeavor further to subdivide upon some rational principle. Epic Poetry: ‘‘ Paradise Lost,’’ Minor Epic Poems. The epic poem has ever been regarded as in its nature the most noble of all poetic performances. Its essential properties were laid down by Aristotle in the Poetics, more than two thousand years ago, and they have not varied since; for, as Pope says, — ** These rules of old, discovered, not devised, Are nature still, but nature methodized.” The subject of the epic poem must be some one great complex action. ‘The principal personages must belong to the high places of society, and must be grand and elevated in their ideas. The measure must be of a sonorous dignity, befitting the subject. The action is developed by a mixture of dialogue, soliloquy, and nar- rative. Briefly to express its main requisites, the epic poem treats of one great complex action, in a grand style, and with fulness of detail. 344 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. English literature possesses one great epic poem, — ~ Milton’s * Paradise Lost.” Not a few of our poets have wooed the epic Muse; and the results are seen in such poems as Cowley’s “ Davideis,” Blackmore’s “ Prince Arthur,” Glover’s “ Leonidas,” and Wilkie’s “ Epigo- niad.” But these productions do not deserve a serious examination. The “ Leonidas,” which is in blank verse, possesses a certain rhetorical dignity, but has not enough of variety and poetic truth to interest deeply any but juvenile readers. Pope’s translation of the “Ihad”. may in a certain sense be called an English epic; for, — while it would be vain to seek in it for the true Homeric spirit and manner, the translator has, in compensation, adorned it with many excellences of hisown. It abounds with passages which notably illustrate Pope’s best quali- ties, — his wonderful intellectual vigor, his terseness, brilliancy, and ingenuity. But we shall have other and better opportunities of noticing these characteristics of that great poet. The first regular criticism on the ‘“ Paradise Lost” is found in “ The Spectator,” in a series of articles written by Addison. Addison compares Milton’s poem to the “‘ Tlad” and the “ Aneid,” first with respect to the choice of subject, secondly to the mode of treatment; and in both particulars he gives the palm to Milton. Dr. Johnson, in his “ Life of Milton,” speaks in more discriminating terms : — “ The defects and faults of ‘ Paradise Lost’ (for faults. and defects every work of man must have), it is the business of impartial criticism to discover. As, in display- ing the excellence of Milton, I have not made long quo- - tations, because of selecting beauties there had been no end, I shall in the same general manner mention that which seems to deserve censure; for what Englishman — EPIC POETRY. 345 ean take delight in transcribing passages which, if they lessen the reputation of soa Ss diminish in some degree the honor of our oye a4 Coleridge, in his “ Literary Remains,” gives a criticism of the “‘ Paradise Lost,” parts of which are valuable. _ He appears to rank Milton as an epic poet above Homer and above Dante. Lastly, Mr. Hallam, in his.“ History of European Literature,’ while he does not fail to point out several defects in “ Paradise Lost,” which Addison and other critics had overlooked, yet inclines to place the poem, as a whole, above the “ Divina Commedia ” of Dante. In our examination of the poem, we shall consider, 1, the choice of subject; 2, the artistic structure of the work; 38, details in the mode of treatment, whether relating to personages, or events, or poetical scenery ; 4, the style, metre, and language of the poem. 1. With regard to the choice of subject, it has been repeatedly commended in the highest terms. Cole- ‘ridge, for instance, says, “In Homer, the supposed importance of the subject, as the first effort of con- federated Greece, is an after-thought: of the critics; and the interest, such as it is, derived from the events themselves, as distinguished from the manner of repre- senting them, is very languid to all but Greeks. It is a Greek poem. The superiority of the ‘ Paradise Lost’ is obvious in this respect, that the interest tran- -scends the limits of a nation.” There cannot, of course, be two opinions with regard to the importance and universal interest of the subject ‘of the “ Paradise Lost,” considered in itself; but whether it is a surpassingly good subject for an epic poem, is a different question. One obvious difficulty r Heonnected with it is its brevity, and deficiency in inci- P eis aos 346 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. dent: it is not sufficiently complex. Compare the subjects chosen by Homer, Virgil, and Tasso. The wrath of Achilles, its causes, its consequences, its implacability in spite of the most urgent entreaties, its final appeasement, and the partial reparation of the calamities to which it had led, form one entire whole, the development of which admits of an inexhaustible variety in the management of the details. Similarly, the settlement of Aineas in Italy, involving an account, by way of episode, in the second and third books of the *“* Auneid,”’ of the circumstances under which he had been driven from Troy, with a description of the obsta- cles which were interposed to that settlement, whether by divine or human agency, and of the means by — which these obstacles were finally overcome, and the end foreshadowed from the commencement attained, — this subject again, though forming one whole, and capable of being embraced in a single complex concep- tion, presents an indefinite number of parts and inei- dents suitable for poetic treatment. In both cases, tradition supplied the poet with a large original stock of materials; upon which, again, his imagination was free to re-act, and either invent, modify, or suppress, according to the requirements of his art. In Tasso’s — great epic, the subject of which is the triumphant conclusion of the first crusade, and the deliverance of © Jerusalem from the unbelievers, the materials are evi- dently so abundant that the poet’s skill has to be exer- | cised in selection, rather than in expansion. Now, let us see how the case stands with regard to Milton’s subject. Here the materials consist of the first three chapters in the Book of Genesis, and a few verses in the Apocalypse; there is absolutely nothing more. © But it may be said, that as Tasso has invented many incidents, and Virgil also, so Milton had full liberty to : P| EPIC POETRY. 34 Tt amplify, out of the resources of his own imagination, the brief and simple notices by which Scripture con- veys the narrative of the fall of man. Here, however, his subject hampers him, and rightly so. The subjects taken by Virgil and Tasso fall within the range of ordinary human experience; whatever they might in- vent, therefore, in addition to the materials which they had to their hands, provided it were conceived with true poetic feeling, and were of a piece with the other portions of the poem, would be strictly homogeneous with the entire subject-matter. But the nature of Milton’s subject did not allow him this liberty of amplification and expansion. That which is recorded of the fall of man forms a unique chapter in history; fall experience presents us with nothing like it; and fthe danger is, lest if we add any thing of our own to fthe narration —so brief, so apparently simple, yet withal so profoundly mysterious — which is presented to us in Holy Writ, we at last, without intending it, produce something quite unlike our original. Whether Milton has succeeded in avoiding this danger, is a point which we shall consider presently ; but that he felt the difficulty is clear, for he has avoided as much as possi- ble inventing any new incident, and, to gain the length required for an epic poem, has introduced numerous long dialogues and descriptive passages. 2. The internal structure of this poem, as a work of art, has been admired by more than one distinguished eritic. There is, Coleridge observes, a totality observ- able in the ‘‘ Paradise Lost:” it has a definite begin- ning, middle, and end, such as few other epic poems can boast of. The first line of the poem speaks of the disobedience of our first parents; the evil power which led them to disobey is then referred to; and the circumstances of its revolt and overthrow are + 348 - HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. } E briefly given. The steps by which Satan proceeds on his mission of temptation are described in the second and third books. In the fourth, Adam and Eve are first introduced. Part of the fifth, the sixth, seventh, and eighth books are episodical, and contain the story in detail of the warin heaven between the good and the rebel angels, the final overthrow and expulsion of the latter, and the creation of the earth and man. All this is related to Adam by the angel Raphael, to serve him by way of warning, lest he also should fall into the sin of disobedience and revolt. In the ninth book occurs the account of the actual transgression. In the tenth we have the sentence pronounced, and some of the immediate consequences of the fall described. The greater part of the eleventh and twelfth books is another episode, being the unfolding to Adam, by the archangel Michael, partly in vision, partly by way of narrative, of the future fortunes of his descendant. At the end of the twelfth book we have the expulsion of Adam and Eve out of Paradise, with which the poem naturally closes. | ‘The Paradise Lost’? thus forms one connected whole; and it is worked out with great vigor and care-. fulness of treatment throughout. Many passages, espe- cially at the beginnings of the books, have a character of unsurpassed dignity and sublimity; the language, though often rough or harsh, and sometimes grammati-- cally faulty, is never feeble or wordy; and a varied learning supplies the poet with abundant material for simile and illustration. Still the difficulty before men- tioned, as inherent in the choice of the subject, seems to extend its evil influence over the structure of the poem. The fact of his materials being so scanty, obliged Milton to have recourse to episodes; hence the long narratives of Raphael and Michael. Through j Z | sl a EPIC POETRY. 849 nearly six entire books, out of the twelve of which the poem is composed, the main action is interrupted and in suspense, —a thing which it is difficult to justify upon any rules of poetic art. For what is an episode ? It is a story within a story; it is to an epic poem what a parenthesis is to a sentence; and just as a paren- thesis, unless carefully managed and kept within narrow limits, is likely to obscure the meaning of the main sentence, so an episode, if too long, or unskilfully dovetailed into the rest of the work, is apt to introduce ‘a certain confusion into an epic poem. Let us observe the manner in which the father of poetry, — he who, in the words of Horace, — ‘‘ Nil molitur inepte,”’ — ‘of whom Pope says, !— * Thence form your judgment, thence your maxims bring, And trace the Muses upward to their spring,’’ — Let us see how far Homer indulged in episode. The ‘use of the episode is twofold: it serves either to make known to the reader events antecedent or subsequent in time to the action of the piece, or to describe con- temporary matters which, though connected with, are not essential to, and do not help forward, the main action. A long narrative of what is past, and a long prophecy of what is to come, are therefore both alike episodical. Of the former we have an example in the second and third books of the “A‘neid ;”’ of the latter, ‘im the eleventh and twelfth books of the “ Paradise Lost.” As an instance of the contemporary episode, we may take the story of Olinda and Sofronio, in the ‘second canto of the ‘‘Gerusalemme Liberata.” Now Homer, although in the “liad” he informs us of many 7 " a”, sPt a) . 4 | 1 Essay on Criticism, i. 300 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. circumstances connected with the siege of Troy, whic! had happened before the date when the poem com mences, seems purposely to avoid communicating then in a formal episode. He scatters and interweave these notices of past events in the progress of the mair action so naturally, yet with such perfection of art that he gains the same object which is the pretext fon historical episodes with other poets, but without tha interruption and suspension of the main design, which however skilfully managed, seems hardly consistent with equal perfection. Thus Achilles, in the long speech in the ninth book, to the envoys who are en- treating him to succor the defeated Greeks, introduces, without effort, an account of much of the previous history of the great siege. So again Diomede, in the second book, when dissuading the Greeks from embark- ing and returning home, refers naturally to the events which occurred at Aulis before the expedition started, in a few lines, which, as it were, present to us the whole theory of the siege in the clearest light. Homer, therefore, strictly speaking, avoids in the “ [iad ” the use of the episode altogether. Virgil, on the other hand, adopts it; the second and third books of the “Aineid” are an episodical narrative, in which AEneas relates to Dido the closing scenes at Troy, and his own subsequent adventures in the Mediterranean. Tasso. uses the episode very sparingly, and prefers the contem- porary to the historical form. But, when we come to the “ Paradise Lost,” we find that nearly half the poem Is episodical. Several disadvantages hence arise. First of all, the fact implies a defect in point of art; since the action or story developed either in a dramatic or an epic poem ought to be so important, and so complete in itself, as not to require the introduction of explanatory or decorative statements nearly as long as the progres- = yy EPIC POETRY. dol ‘sive portions of the poem. If the episode be explan- -atory, it proves that the story is not sufficiently clear, simple, and complete for epic purposes; if decorative, that it is not important enough to engross the reader’s attention without the addition of extraneous matter. ‘In either case, the art is defective. Again, this arrange- ‘ment is the source of confusion and obscurity. A reader not very well acquainted with the peculiar structure of the poem, opens the “ Paradise Lost” at hazard, and finds himself, to his astonishment, —in a work whose subject is the loss of Paradise, — carried ' back to the creation of light, or forward to the building ' of the tower of Babel. 3. We are now to consider in some detail, how Milton has treated his subject, how he has dealt with the difficulties which seem inherent in the selection. A certain degree of amplification— the materials being 'so scanty—was unavoidable: has he managed the amplification successfully ? In some instances he cer- | tainly has; for example, in the account of the tempta- | tion of Eve, in the ninth book, the logic of which is very ingeniously wrought out by supposing the serpent to ascribe his power of speech and newly awakened intelligence to the effects of partaking of the fruit of the ‘forbidden tree, and by putting into his mouth various plausible arguments designed to satisfy Eve as to the motives of divine prohibition. But in other passages we cannot but think that the amplification has been most unsuccessful. For example, take the war in. heaven. In the Apocalypse (chap. xi.) it is mentioned in these few words: “ And there was war in heaven: Michael and his angels fought with the dragon; and the dragon fought, and his angels, and they prevailed not, neither was their place found any more in heaven. And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, 352 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. who is called the Devil and Satan, who seduceth the whole world: and he was cast unto the earth, and his angels were cast out with him.” Such, and no more than this, was the knowledge imparted in prophetic vision to the inspired apostle in Patmos, regarding these supernatural events. Milton has expanded this brief text marvellously: the narrative of the revolt and war in heaven takes up two entire books. And strange work indeed he has made of it! The actual, material swords and spears; the invention of cannons, cannon- balls, and gunpowder by the rebel angels; the grim Puritanical pleasantry which is put in the mouth of Satan when first making proof of this notable discovery, just such as one might fancy issuing from the lips of Cromwell or Ireton on giving orders to batter down a cathedral; the hurling of mountains at one another by the adverse hosts, a conceit borrowed from Greek my- thology and the war of the Titans against the gods, — ‘¢Ter sunt conati imponere Pelio Ossam Scilicet, atque Oss frondosum involvere Olympum 3” lastly, the vivid description, exceedingly fine and poet- ical in its way, of the chariot of the Messiah going forth to battle, drawn by four cherubic shapes, —all this, though fitting and appropriate enough if the subject were the gods of Olympus or of Valhalla, grates discordantly upon our feelings when it is pre- sented as a suitable picture of the mysterious event which we call the fall of the angels, and as an expan- sion of the particulars recorded in the sacred text. In truth, Milton is nowhere so solemn and impressive as in those passages where he reproduces almost verbatim the exact words of Scripture ; e.g., in the passage in the tenth book, describing the judgment passed upon man after his transgression. Where he gives the freest EPIC POETRY. oo play to his invention, the result is least happy. The dialogues in heaven, to say nothing of the undisguised Arianism which disfigures them, are either painful or simply absurd, according as one regards them seriously “or not. Pope, whose discernment nothing escaped, has touched this weak point in his “ Imitations of Horace.” Hallam himself has admitted that a certain grossness and materialism attach to Milton’s heaven and heavenly inhabitants, far unlike the pure and ethereal colors with which Dante invests the aigets and blessed spirits pre- sented in his ** Paradiso.” Turning now to the personal element in the poem, we find, as Johnson shows at length, that, as the subject chosen is beyond the sphere of human experience, so the characters described are deficient in human interest. So far as this is not the case, it arises from Milton hav- ing broken through the trammels which the fundamental conditions of his subject imposed on him. Of all the personages in the ‘* Paradise Lost,” there is none whose proceedings interest us, and even whose sufferings engage our sympathies, like those of Satan. But this is because he is not represented as the Bible represents him, — namely, as the type and essential principle of all” that is evil and hateful. There seems to be a conflict in the mind of Milton between the Scriptural type of Satan, and the Greek conception of Prometheus. The fallen archangel, driven from heaven and doomed to everlasting misery by superior power, yet with will unconquered and unconquerable, cannot but recall the image of the mighty Titan chained to the rock by the vengeance of Jove, yet unalterably defiant and erect in soul. It is clear that the character of Satan had greater charms for Milton’s imagination, and is there- fore presented more prominently, and worked out with | 1 “In quibbles angel and archangel join,” &c. 30* 304 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. more care, than any other in the poem. Devoted, him- self, to the cause of insurrection on earth, he sympa- thizes against his will with the author of rebellion in heaven, —against his will; for he seems to be well aware, and to be continually reminding himself, that — Satan ought to be represented as purely evil: yet he constantly places language in his mouth which is incon- sistent with such a conception. For instance: — “* Yet not for those, Nor what the potent Victor in his rage Can else inflict, do I repent or change, — Though changed in outward lustre, that fixed mind And high disdain from sense of injured merit, That with the Mightiest urged me to contend.”’ Is not this much more like Shelley’s Prometheus than ~ the Satan of the Bible? It has been often said, and it seems true, that the hero or prominent character of the ‘“‘ Paradise Lost” is Satan. Throughout the first three books the attention is fixed upon his proceedings. Even after Adam and Eve are introduced, which is not till the fourth book, the main interest centres upon him; for they are passive, he is active; they are the subject of plots, he the framer of them; they, living on without any definite aim, are represented as falling from their happy state through weakness, and in a sort of helpless predestined manner (we speak, of course, of Milton’s representation only, not of the fall as it was in itself) ; while he is fixed to one object, fertile in expedients, courageous in danger, and, on the whole, successful in his enterprise. Clearly Satan is the hero of the ‘‘ Paradise Lost.” And, apart from the incon-— gruity referred to, the character is drawn in such grand — outlines, and presents such a massive strength and sub- limity, as none but a poet could have portrayed. The following lines describe him, when marshalling the hosts of his followers : — EPIC POETRY. aoe ‘* He, above the rest - In shape and gesture proudly eminent, Stood like a tower: his form had not yet lost All its original brightness, nor appeared Less than archangel ruined, and the excess Of glory obscured: as when the sun new risen Looks through the horizontal misty air, Shorn of his beams; or from behind the moon, In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs. Darkened so yet shone Above them all the archangel.” He consoles himself for his banishment from heaven with reflections worthy of a Stoic philosopher :— ‘*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 frée: 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 much of the portraiture of Adam, Milton seems to be unconsciously describing himself. His manly beauty, his imperious claim to absolute rule over the weaker sex, the grasp of his intellect, and the delight he feels in its exercise, his strength of will, yet suscep- tibility to the influence of female charms, —all these characteristics, assigned by the poet to Adam, are well “known to have in an eminent degree belonged to him- self. Eve, on the other hand, is represented as a soft, yielding, fascinating being, who, with all her attrac- Be : 356 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. tions, is, in moral and intellectual things, rather a hinderance than a help to her nobler consort; and there -are many suppressed taunts and thinly veiled allusions, which, while they illustrate Milton’s contempt for the sex, and somewhat Oriental view of woman’s relation to man, can scarcely be misunderstood as glancing at his own domestic trials. To illustrate what has been said. we will quote a few passages. The first is one of surpassing beauty :— “Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native honor clad, In naked majesty, seemed lords of all; And worthy seemed, for in their looks divine The image of their glorious Maker shone: For contemplation he and valor formed; For softness she, and sweet attractive grace; He for God only, she for God in him: His fair large front and eye sublime declared Absolute rule; and hyacinthine locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad.’? — Book iv. Eve thus unfolds her conception of the relation in which she stands to Adam : — ‘To whom thus Eve, with perfect beauty adorned: — ‘My author and disposer, what thou bidst Unargued I obey: so God ordains ; God is thy law, thou mine: to know no more Is woman’s happiest knowledge and her praise.’ ’? — Ibid. Adam, while expressing the same view, owns the invin- cibility of woman’s charm : — ‘For well I understand in the prime end Of nature her the inferior, in the mind And inward faculties, which most excel; In outward also her resembling less His image who made both, and less expressing The character of that dominion given ee oe ee o. fi, a: oie EPIC POETRY. Ot O’er other creatures; yet when I approach Her loveliness, so absolute she seems, And in herself complete, so well to know Her own, that what she wills to do or say Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best; All higher knowledge in her presence falls Degraded; wisdom in discourse with her Loses discountenanced, and like folly shows.’’ — Book viii. Even in the fall, his superior intellect asserts itself: — ‘** He scrupled not to eat Against his better knowledge; not deceived, But fondly overcome with female charm.’’ — Book ix. Is there not, again, a touch of autobiography in the re- proaches which Adam heaps upon Eve in the following lines ? — ** This mischief had not then befallen, And more that shall befall, — innumerable Disturbances on earth through female snares, And straight conjunction with this sex; for either He never shall find out fit mate, but such As some misfortune brings him, or mistake; Or whom he wishes most shall seldom gain, Through her perverseness, but shall see her gained By a far worse,” &c. — Book x. ‘Eve’s beautiful submission makes her stern lord relent. It is well known that Milton’s first wife, in similar sup- pliant guise, appeased his resentment, and obtained her pardon : — “She ended weeping; and her lowly plight Immovable, till peace obtained from fault Acknowledged and deplored, in Adam wrought Commiseration; soon his heart relented Towards her, his life so late, and sole pelisht, Now at his feet submissive in en ess.’’— Ibid. y _ The seraph Abdiel is one of the grandest of Beets creations. Led away at first in the ranks of the rebel angels, he recoils with horror when he learns the full 308 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. scope of their revolt, and returns to the courts of heaven : — ** So spake the seraph Abdiel, faithful found Among the faithless, faithful only he; Among innumerable false, unmoved, Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified, His loyalty he kept, his love, his zeal: Nor number nor example with him wrought To swerve from truth, or change his constant mind, Though single. From amidst them forth he passed Long way through hostile scorn, which he sustained Superior, nor of violence feared aught; And, with retorted scorn, his back he turned On those proud towers to swift destruction doomed. — Book v. By poetical scenery is meant the imaginary framework ~ in space in which the poem is set, — the stage, with its accessories, on which the characters move, and the ac- tion is performed. In the ‘* Paradise Lost,” as in the ‘¢ Divina Commedia,” this is no narrower than the en- tire compass of the heavens and the earth. But there is a remarkable difference between them, which, in ~ point of art, operates to the disadvantage of the Eng- / lish poet. In the fourteenth century no one.doubted the truth of the Ptolemaic system ; and Dante’s astron-_ omy is as stable and self-consistent as his theology. The earth is motionless at the centre; round it, fixed in concentric spheres, revolve the ‘seven planets,’ o£ which the moon is the first, and the sun the fourth: enclosing these follow in succession the sphere of the fixed stars, that of the empyrean, and that described as_ the primum mobile. The geography of the Inferno, an abyss in the form of an inverted cone, extending down- wards in successive steps to the centre of the earth, and that of the Purgatorio, a mountain at the Antip- odes, rising in the form of a proper cone by similar steps, till the summit is reached whence purified souls © i, — a ae EPIC POETRY. 359 are admitted to the lowest sphere of the Paradiso, are equally logical and distinct. But in the seventeenth century the Copernican system was rapidly gaining the belief of all intelligent men; and Milton,.in his poem, wavers between the old astronomy and the new. In the first three books the Ptolemaic system prevails: upon any other, Satan’s expedition in search of the new-created earth becomes unintelligible. After strug- giing through chaos, he lands upon the outermost of the spheres that enclose the earth: — ‘* Meanwhile upon the firm opacous globe Of this round world, whose first convex divides The luminous inferior orbs, enclosed From chaos and the inroad of darkness old, Satan alighted walks.’’ — Book iii. Hither ‘fly all things transitory and vain;” hither come the “ eremites and friars”” whom Milton regards with true Puritanic aversion, and those who thought to make sure of Paradise by putting on the Franciscan or Dominican habit on their death-bed: — “They pass the planets seven, and pass the fixed, And that crystalline sphere whose balance weighs The trepidation talked, and that first moved.”’ On his way down from hence to the earth, Satan, still in accordance with the Ptolemaic system, passes through the fixed stars, and visits the sun. But in sub- sequent parts of the poem an astronomy is suggested which revolutionizes the face of the universe, and gives us the uncomfortable feeling that all that has gone before is unreal. The stability of the earth is first questioned in the fourth book : — ‘** Uriel to his charge Returned on that bright beam, whose point now raised Bore him slope downward to the sun, now fallen 360 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. Beneath the Azores; whether the prime orb, Incredible how swift, had thither rolled Diurnal, or this less volubil earth, By shorter flight to the east, had left him there.” In the eighth book, Adam questions Raphael as to the celestial motions, but is doubtfully answered: upon either theory, he is told, the goodness and wisdom of God can be justified; yet the archangel’s words imply some preference for the Copernican system : — ‘*What if the sun Be centre to the world, and other stars, By his attractive virtue and their own Incited, dance about him various rounds ? Or save the sun his labor, and that swift Nocturnal and diurnal rhomb supposed, Invisible else above all stars, the wheel Of day and night; which needs not thy belief, If earth, industrious of herself, fetch day Travelling east, and with her part averse From the sun’s beam meet night.”’ 4, It remains to say a few words upon the style, metre, and language of the poem. The grandeur, pregnancy, and nobleness of the first are indisputable. It is, however, often rugged or harsh, owing to the frequency of defects in the versification. It is distin. guished by the great length of the sentences: the thread of thought winding on through many a paren, thesis or subordinate clause, now involving, now evolvy- ing itself, yet always firmly grasped, and resulting in grammar as sound as the intellectual conception is dis- tinct. This quality of style is perhaps attributable to — Milton’s blindness: he could not write down as he com- posed, nor could an amanuensis be always at hand; he — therefore may have acted on the principle that one long | sentence is more easily remembered than two or three | short ones. | ous” for ‘ meeting,’ and “pretended ” for ‘‘drawn before” (Latin preten- EPIC POETRY. 361 A series of admirable papers upon Milton’s versifica- tion may be found in Johnson's ** Rambler.” To it the reader is referred, the subject being not of a kind te admit of cursory treatment. The language of the poem does not come up to the standard of the purest English writers of the period. It is difficult to understand how Milton, having the works of Bacon, Shakspeare, and Hooker before him, could think himself justified in using the strange and barbarous Latinisms which disfigure the ‘ Paradise Lost.” Such terms as ‘procinct,” ‘“ battallious,” *parie,” and such usages, or rather usurpations, of words, as “frequent” in the sense of ‘“ crowded,” ‘«‘ pontifical’ in the sense of ‘“ bridge-making,” ‘‘ obvi-. ’ “ dissipation ”’ for ‘+ dispersion,” tus), were never employed by English writers before Milton, and have never been employed since. Nor does he import Latin words only, but Latin and even Greek constructions. Examples of Greek idioms are, ‘And knew not eating death,” and ‘*O miserable of happy” (ahs é& pwaxapiov). Latin idioms occur frequently, and sometimes cause obscurity, because, through the absence of inflections in English, the same collocation of words which is perfectly clear in Latin is often capable of two or three different meanings in English. A few examples are subjoined: ‘“ Or hear’st thou rather” (i.é., wouldst thou rather be addressed 99 as) “pure ethereal stream;” ‘Of pure, now purer air meets his approach;” ‘So as not either to pro- voke, or dread new war provoked” (where it is not clear at first sight, whether ‘“ provoked” should be rendered by ‘‘ suscitatum,” or ‘‘ lacessitos’’); ‘ How camest thou speakable of mute,” &c. After all, it is easy to be hypercritical in these mat- 31 362 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. ters. The defence, however, of such a minute analysis lies in the fact of its being exercised on a work truly great. We notice the flaws in a diamond, because it is a diamond. No one would take the trouble to point out the grammatical or metrical slips in Blackmore’s “Creation.” It is from the conviction that the renown of the ‘‘ Paradise Lost’ is, and deserves to be, imper: ishable, that critics do not fear to show that it is wrong to regard it with a blind, indiscriminate admiration. Of the father of poetry himself it was said, — ** Aliquando bonus dormitat Homerus.’”’ In a note ‘are given a few passages from the poem, which have passed into proverbs, current sayings, or standard quotations.! Dramatic Poetry.—Its kinds: Shakspeare, Addison, Milton. Invented by the Greeks, the drama attained in their hands a perfection which it has never since surpassed. To them we owe the designation of tragedy and com- edy, the definitions of each kind according to its nature and end, and the division into acts. The leading char- acteristics of dramatic composition have remained un- 1 “ Awake, arise, or be forever fallen.” ‘¢ With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout, Confusion worse confounded.” ‘* At whose sight all the stars Hide their diminished heads.”’ ‘* Not to know me, argues yourselvés unknown.” ** Still govern thou my song, Urania, and jit audience find, though few.” ‘* With a smile that glowed Celestial rosy red.’’ ** And over them triumphant Death his dart Shook, but delayed to strike.’ ie DRAMATIC POETRY. — 363. altered ever since; but the Greek definition of tragedy was gradually restricted, that of comedy enlarged, so that it became necessary to invent other names for intermediate or inferior kinds. With the Greeks, a tragedy meant “ the representation of a serious, complete, and important action,” and might involve a transition from calamity to prosperity, as well as from prosperity to calamity.! By a comedy was meant a representa- tion, tending to excite laughter, of mean and ridicu- lous actions. Thus the “ Eumenides” of AZschylus, the “ Philoctetes”’ of Sophocles, and the “ Alcestis,” “ Helena,” and others of Euripides, though called trage- dies, do not end tragically in the modern sense, but the reverse. But by degrees it came to be considered that every tragedy must have a disastrous catastrophe, so that a new term, “ tragi-comedy,’’ — which seems to have first arisen in Spain, — was invented to suit those dramas 1n which, though the main action was serious, the conclusion was happy. As tragedy assumed a narrower meaning, comedy obtained one proportionably more extensive. Of this a notable illustration is found in Dante, who though he did not understand by the ‘“ tragic style’ what we understand by it, but merely the style of grand and sublime poems such as the “ Auneid,” yet named his own ereat work “La Commedia,” as intending to rank it with a great variety of poems in the middle or ordinary style, not sublime enough to be tragic, and not pathetic enough to be elegiac. In England the term “ comedy ” was used all through the Elizabethan age in a loose sense, which would embrace any thing between a tragi- comedy and a farce. Thus “ The Merchant of Venice” is reckoned among the comedies of Shakspeare, though, except for the admixture of comic matter in the minor characters, it is, in the Greek sense, just as much a 1 Aristotle, Poet. 6. 364 ‘HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. tragedy as the “ Alcestis.”” In the seventeenth century, the term began to be restricted to plays in which comic or satirical matter preponderated. A shorter and more unpretending species, in one or at most two acts, in which any sort of contrivance or trick was permissible in order to raise a laugh, so that the action were not taken out of the sphere of real life, was invented, under the name of “farce,” in the eighteenth century. The best and most characteristic of English plays belong to what is called the romantic drama. The classical and the romantic drama represent two preva: lent modes of thought, or streams of opinion, which, parting from each other and becoming strongly con- trasted soon after the revival of letters, have ever since contended for the empire of the human mind in Europe. The readers of Mr. Ruskin’s striking books will have learnt a great deal about these modes of thought, and will, perhaps, have imbibed too unqualified a dislike for the one, and reverence for the other. Referring those who desire a full exposition to the pages of that elo-— quent writer, we must be content with saying here, that the classical drama was cast in the Greco-Roman _ mould, and subjected to the rules of construction (the dramatic unities) which the ancient dramatists ob-_ served; its authors being generally men who were _ deeply imbued with the classical spirit, to a degree | which made them recoil with aversion and contempt — from the spirit and the products of the ages that had — intervened between themselves and the antiquity which — they loved. On the other hand, the romantic drama, though it borrowed much of its formal part (e. g., the — division into acts, the prologue and epilogue, the occa-_ sional choruses, &c.) from the ancients, was founded — upon and grew out of the romance literature of the middle ages; its authors being generally imbued with a4% 7 DRAMATIC POETRY. 365 the spirit of Christian Europe, such as the mingled influences of Christianity and feudalism had formed it. National before all; writing for audiences in whom taste and fine intelligence were scantily developed, but in whom imagination and feeling were strong, and faith habitual,—the dramatists of this school. were led to reject the strict rules of which Athenian culture exacted | the observance. ‘To gratify the national pride of their hearers, they dramatized large portions of their past history, and in so doing scrupled not to violate the unity of action. They observed, indeed, this rule in their tragedies, at least in the best of them, but utter- ly disregarded the minor unities of time and _ place, because they knew that they could trust to the imagi- nation of their hearers to supply any shortcomings in the external illusion. In the play of “ Macbeth ” many years elapse, and the scene is shifted from Scotland to England and back again without the smallest hesitation. The result is, that art gains in one way, and loses in another. We are spared the tedious narratives which are rendered necessary in the classical drama by the strict limits of time within which the action is bounded. On the other hand, the impression produced, being less concentrated, is usually feebler and less determinate. It would be a waste of time to enter here, in that cursory way which alone our limits would allow, into any critical discussion of the dramatic genius of Shak- speare. The greatest modern critics in all countries have undertaken the task, a fact sufficient of itself to dispense us from the attempt. Among the numerous treatises, large and small, — by Coleridge, Hazlitt, Mrs. Jameson, Guizot, Tieck, Schlegel, Ulrici, &c.,— each containing much that is valuable, we would single out Guizot’s as embodying, in the most compact and conve- nient form, the results of the highest criticism on Shak- speare himself, on his time, and on his work. Ay r 366 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. Our literature possesses but few dramas of the classi- cal school, and those not of the highest order. The most celebrated specimen, perhaps, is Addigon’s * Cato.” But weak and prosaic lines abound in it, such as, — ‘Cato, I’ve orders to expostulate;” “Why will you rive my heart with such expressions ? ”? and the scenes between the lovers are stiff and frigid. Yet the play is not without fine passages ; as when the noble Roman, who has borne unmoved the tidings of the death of his son, weeps over the anticipated ruin of his country : — 7 ‘“*’Tis Rome requires our tears; The mistress of the world, the seat of empire, The nurse of heroes, the delight of gods, That humbled the proud tyrants of the earth, And set the nations free, — Rome is no more!” On the whole, Cato’s character is finely drawn, and well adapted to call forth the powers of a first-rate actor. His soliloquy at the end, beginning, — “Tt must be so: Plato, thou reasonest well,” &e. has been justly praised. Milton’s “Samson Agonistes” is constructed upon the model of a Greek tragedy. The choral parts are written in an irregular metre, which, however, is full of harmony. Though. not suited for representation before an average audience, and though the labored, compressed diction, while it everywhere recalls the great mind of Milton, deviates from any objective Standard of beautiful expression, this piay is one of those which continually rise upon our judgment. In it the genius of Handel has inseparably linked itself, in our conceptions, with the verse of Milton. a a ee eS a. HEROIC POETRY. 367 Heroic and Mock-Heroic Poetry: ‘“‘The Bruce,” “The Cam- paign,” ‘‘Rape of the Lock.” As the unity of the epic poem is derived from its being the evolution of one great complex action, so the unity of the heroic poem proceeds from its being the ‘record of all or some of the great actions of an indi- - vidual hero. Like the epic, it requires a serious and dignified form of expression; and consequently, in English, employs nearly always either the heroic coup- let, ora stanza of not less than seven lines. Heroic poetry has produced no works. of extraordinary merit in any literature. When the hero is living, the registra- tion of his exploits is apt to become fulsome; when dead, tedious. Boileau has perhaps succeeded best; the heroic poems which Addison produced in honor of Marlborough and William III., in hope to emulate the author of the “ Epitre au Roi,” are mere rant and fus- tian in comparison. Our earliest heroic poem, “ The ‘Bruce of Barbour,” ! is, perhaps, the best; but the short ‘romance metre in which it is written much injures its effect. A better specimen of Barbour’s style cannot be selected than the often-quoted passage on freedom : — “A! fredome is a noble thing! . Fredome mayss man to have liking: Fredome all solace to man givis; He livys at ease, that freely livys!. A noble hart may have none ease, Na ellys nocht that may him please, Gif fredome failyhe; for fre liking Is yharnyt? ower all other thing. Na he, that aye has livyt fre, May nocht knaw weill the propyrté, The angyr, na the wrechyt dome,? That is couplyt to foul thyrldome.* Bot gif he had assayit it, Then all perquer ® he suld it wyt; -1See p. 40. ? Yearned for. * Wretched doom, * Thraldom. ° Perfectly. ra 368 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. And suld think fredome mar to pryss, Than all the gold in warld that is. Thus contrar thingis ever mar, , Discoweryngis of the tothir are! And he that thryll? is, has nocht his: All that he has embandownyt is Till? his lord, quhat evir he be, Yet has he nocht sa mekill fre As fre wyl to live, or do That at hys hart hym drawis to.” Addison’s heroic poem, “ The Campaign,” contains the well-known simile of the angel, which called forth the admiration and munificence of Godolphin. The story runs as follows: In 1704, shortly after the battle of Blenheim, Godolphin, then lord treasurer, happening to meet Lord Halifax, complained that the great victory had not been properly celebrated in verse, and inquired if he knew of any poet to whom this im- 4 portant task could be safely intrusted. Halifax replied — that he did indeed know of a gentleman thoroughly — competent to discharge this duty, but that the indivi-— dual he referred to had received of late such scanty | recognition of his talents and. patriotism, that he doubted if he would be willing to undertake it. Lord Godolphin replied that Lord Halifax might. rest as- sured, that whoever might be named should not go unrewarded for his trouble. Upon which, Halifax named Addison. Godolphin sent a common friend to Addison, who immediately undertook to confer immor- tality on the Duke of Marlborough. The poem called “The Campaign ” was the result. Godolphin saw the manuscript when the poet had got as far as the once celebrated simile of the angel, which runs thus: — Se eesee - e “So when an angel, by divine command, With rising tempests shakes a guilty land, * Meaning, “‘explain their opposites,’ 2 Thrall. peak Ke HEROIC POETRY. 369 Such as of late o’er pale Britannia past, Calm and serene he drives the furious blast, And, pleased the Almighty’s orders to. perform, Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm.”’ Lord Godolphin, it is said,! was so delighted with this not very reverent simile, that he immediately made Addison a commissioner of appeals. But this favorable judgment of the poem has been reversed by later-criticism. ‘“‘ The Campaign,” taken as a whole, is turgid yet feeble, pretentious yet dull; it has few of the excellences, and nearly all the faults, which heroic verse can have. With the heroic we may class its travesty, the mock- heroic. And here the inimitable poem of ‘“* The Rape of the Lock” will occur to every one; in which Pope, with admirable skill, and perfect mastery over all the resources of literary art, has created an artistic whole, faultless no less in proportion and keeping than in the finish of the parts, which, in its kind, remains unap- proached by any thing in English, and probably in European, literature. The slight incident on which the poem was founded is well known. Among the triflers who fluttered round the sovereign at Hampton Court, ‘* Where thou, great Anna, whom three realms obey, Dost sometimes counsel take, and sometimes tea,”’ were Belinda (Miss Arabella Fermor), and the Baron (Lord Petre). Small-talk, badinage, flirtation, scan- dal, — ** At every word a reputation dies,’? — are insufficient to fill the vacant hours; and for these “idle hands ” some mischief is soon found to do. ‘The Baron, borrowing a pair of scissors from one of the 1 See the Biographia Britannica, 370 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. maids of honor, Clarissa, audaciously cuts off one of ey two curling locks of Belinda’ s back hair: “ Just then Clarissa es with tempting grace, A two-edged weapon from her shining case: So ladies in romance assist their knight, Present the spear, and arm him for the fight. He takes the gift with reverence, and extends The little engine on his fingers’ ends; This just behind Belinda’s neck he spread, As o’er the fragrant steams she bent her head. Swift to the lock a thousand sprites repair; A thousand wings, by turns, blow back the hair! And thrice they twitched the diamond in her ear; Thrice she looked back, and thrice the foe drew near, Just in that instant, anxious Ariel sought The close recesses of the virgin’s thought, As, on the nosegay in her breast reclined, He watched the ideas rising in her mind; Sudden he viewed, in spite of all her art, An earthly lover lurking at her heart. Amazed, confused, he found his power expired, Resigned to fate, and with a sigh retired. The peer now spreads the glittering forfex wide, To enclose the lock; now joins it to divide. Even then, before the fatal engine closed, A wretched sylph too fondly interposed; — Fate urged the shears, and.cut the sylph in twain: (But airy substance soon unites again). The meeting points the sacred hair dissever — From the fair head forever and forever.”’ The liberty was resented by the lady; and a breach between the two families was the result, in the hope of healing which Pope wrote this poem. So far the real nearly coincided with the fictitious facts. But Pope, unwilling to leave the matter in an unsettled and indeterminate state, — an error which Dryden did not — avoid in the *“* Absalom and Achitophel,” — contrived, with the happiest art, to crown the incident with a_ poetically just and satisfying conclusion. The insulted — and enraged Belinda commands her beau, Sir Plume, — HEROIC POETRY. 371 “Sir Plume, of amber snuff-box justly vain, And the nice conduct of a clouded cane,” — to extort the lock from the Baron. He makes the attempt, but in vain. The two parties now muster their forces, and engage in deadly strife ; these to keep, those _ to win back, the lock. Belinda, through the dexterous application of a pinch of snuff, has the Baron at het mercy; and the lock is to be restored. But, lo! it has vanished, and is hunted for everywhere in vain. Many theories are framed to account for its disappearance ; but the poet was privileged to see it wafted upwards to the skies, where, transformed into a comet sweeping by with “a radiant trail of hair,’ the lover takes it for Venus, and the astrologer for some baleful luminary, foreshowing — i ** The fate of Louis, and the fall of Rome.” Lightness, grace, airy wit, playful rallying; every thing, in short, that is most alien to the ordinary characteris- tics of the English intellect, are found in this poem. It is a keen, sunny satire, without a spark of ill-nature, on’ the luxury and vanity of a society impregnated with ideas borrowed from the court of the Grand Monarque, from classical revivals, and Renaissance modes of thought. It may be noted that the continual association of contrasted. ideas is one of the chief sources of the wit with which the poem flashes and runs over, as with lambent flames of summer lightning. Belinda’s guardian sylph cannot discover the nature of - the danger which threatens her, — ** Whether the nymph shall break Diana’s law, Or some frail china jar receive a flaw; Or stain her honor, or her new brocade; Forget her prayers, or miss a masquerade,”’ 4 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. So, again, — ‘The merchant from the Exchange returns in peace, And the long labors of the toilet cease.”’ And, — “¢ Not louder shrieks to pitying heaven are cast When husbands, or when lapdogs, breathe their last.”’ The trivial is raised to the rank of the important, and, as it were, confounded with it, that both may appear as so much plastic material in the hand of the master. This is the very triumph of art. | Narrative Poetry: Romances, Tales, Allegories, Romantic Poems, Historical Poems. Narrative poetry is less determinate in form than any, of the preceding kinds. The narrative poem so far resembles the epic, that it also is concerned with a particular sequence of human actions, and permits of the intermixture of dialogue and description. It differs from it in that it does not require either the strict unity or the intrinsic greatness of the epic action. In the epic, the issue of the action is involved in the fundamental circumstances, and is indicated at the very outset. The first two lines of the ‘Iliad” contain the germ or theme which is expanded and illustrated through the twenty-two books which follow. The course of a narrative poem is in general more like that of real life: events occur and are described which have no obvious internal relation either to each other or to some one ground plan; and a conclusion in which th mind reposes, and desires nothing beyond, — an essen- tial requirement in the epic,—ais not to be strictly exacted from the narrative poem. But, even if th epic unity of design were observed, the narrative poe NARRATIVE POETRY. 873 would still be distinguishable from the higher kind, either by the inferior greatness of the subject, or by the lower quality of the style. An epic poem, as was said before, treats of one great complex action, in a lofty style, and with fulness of detail. In a narrative poem, it will be invariably found that one of these ele- ments is wanting. It will be convenient to divide narrative poems into five classes,—1, romances; 2, tales; 3, allegories; 4, romantic poems; 5, historical poems. 1. The romances, or gests, in old English, with which our manuscript repositories abound, were mostly trans- lated or imitated from French originals during the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries. In the former portion of this work a general description was - given of these remarkable poems, so that it is unneces- sary here to enter upon any questions connected with their origin or subject-matter. We shall now present the reader with an analysis of a curious romance, not belonging to one of the great cycles, which may serve as a sample of the whole class. It is the romance of Sir Isumbras, and is one of these abridged by Ellis : — Sir Isumbras was rich, virtuous, and happy; but in the pride of his heart he was lifted up, and gradually became forgetful of God. An angel appears to him, and denounces punishment. It is lke the story of Job: his horses and oxen are struck dead, his castle burnt down, and many of his servants killed. Then, with his wife and three sons, he sets out on a pilgrimage | to the Holy Sepulchre. On the way, the two elder children are carried off, one by a lion, the other by a leopard.. At last they come to the “ Greekish Sea;” a ‘Saracen fleet sails up; the Soudan is enamoured of the wife, and deprives Sir Isumbras of her by a forced sale, the purchase-money being counted down upon the 32 374 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. knight’s red mantle. The lady is immediately sent back to the Soudan’s dominions in the capacity of queen. Shortly after this the misery-of Sir Isumbras is completed by the abduction of his only remaining son by a unicorn, during a brief interval in which he was vainly pursuing an eagle which had seized upon the mantle and the gold. Jn fervent contrition he falls on his: knees, and prays to Jesus and the Virgin. He obtains work at a smith’s forge, and remains in this employment seven years, during which he forges for himself a suit of armor. A battle between a Christian — and a Saracen army takes place not far off; Sir Isum- bras takes part in it, and wins the battle by his valor, killing his old acquaintance the Soudan. After his wounds are healed, he takes a scrip and pike, and goes on pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Here he stays seven years in constant labor, mortification, and penance ; at. last, — ; ‘* Beside the burgh of Jerusalem He set him by a well-stream, Sore wepand for his sin; And as he sat, about midnight, There came an angel fair and bright, And brought him bread and wine: He said, Palmer, wel thou be: The King of Heaven greeteth wel thee; Forgiven is sin thine!”’ He wanders away, and at length arrives ata fair castle belonging to a rich queen; he begs for and receives food and lodging. The queen, after a conversation with him, resolves to entertain the pious palmer in the castle. After a sojourn here of many months, Sir Isumbras finds one day in an eagle’s nest his own red mantle with the Soudan’s gold in it. He bears it ta his chamber, and the recollections it awakens completely — overpower him. He becomes so altered that the queen, dad NARRATIVE POETRY. 815 in order to ascertain the cause, has his room broken open; when the sight of the gold explains all, and mutual recognition ensues. Sir Isumbras tells his Saracen subjects that they must be forthwith converted. They, however, object to such summary measures, and rise in rebellion against him and his queen, who stand absolutely alone in the struggle. In the thick of the very unequal contest which ensues, three knights, mounted respectively on a lion, a leopard, and a unicorn, come in opportunely to the rescue; and by their aid Sir Isumbras gains a complete victory. These, of course, are his three lost sons. For each he obtains a kingdom ; and, all uniting their efforts, they live to see the inhabit- ants of all their kingdoms converted. “They lived and died in good intent: Unto heaven their souls went, When that they dead were; Jesu Christ, Heaven’s King, Give us aye his blessing, And shield us from harm!’’ Such, or similar to this, is the usual form of conclu- sion of all the old romances, even those, as “* The Seven Sages, for instance,” of which the moral tone is extremely questionable. - A portion of the great romance of “ Arthur” has been given to us in a modern dress by Tennyson. Few readers of poetry are unacquainted with his beautiful poem of “ Morte d’Arthur,” a modern rendering of the concluding part of the- romance bearing that title. “The Idyls of the King” are renderings of so many particular passages or episodes in the same great romance. , The immediate source from which the laureate drew his materials ‘was Sir Thomas Malory’s compilation of ‘‘ The Historie of King Arthur,’’ made by him ‘“‘ out of certeyn bookes of Frensche”’ about 376 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. the year 1470, and printed by Caxton in 1485. This work was in prose, like the French originals from which it was taken, and was compiled from the romances of ‘‘ Merlin,’’ “ Lancelot,” ‘* Tristan,” the ‘‘ Queste du St. Grall,’’? and the ‘‘ Mort Artus.’’ 1 2. Tales form the second class of narrative poems. The tale is a poem in which, as a general rule, the agencies are natural; in which the chief interest hes in the story itself, and the manner in which it is unfolded, not in the style, or language, or peculiar humor of the author; lastly, in which neither is the action on a large scale, nor are the chief actors great personages. The earliest, and still by far the best col- lection of such tales which English literature possesses, is the “ Canterbury Tales”? of Chaucer. In connection with this work, we shall endeavor to draw out in some detail the proofs which it affords of the solidity and originality of Chaucer’s genius. In every great writer there is a purely personal ele- ment, and there is also a social element. By the first, which is also the highest in kind, he is what he is, and soars freely in the empyrean of creative imagination ; by the second, he is connected with and modified by the society in which he moves, the writers whom he follows or admires, and even the physical characters of the spot of earth where he resides. It is chiefly under these latter relations that we propose to consider the genius of Chaucer. _ | The English society in which he moved was already far beyond those comparatively simple relations which we ascribe to the society of feudal times. In the eyes of an old romance-writer, mankind fall naturally and conveniently under these four divisions: sovereign — princes, knights, churchmen, and the commonalty. For 1 See Mr. T. Wright’s edition of Sir Thomas Malory’s ‘“ Historie” (1858). : NARRATIVE POETRY. 377 this fourth, or proletarian class, he entertains a supreme contempt: he regards them as only fit to hew wood ‘and draw water for princes and knights; and nothing delights him more than to paint the ignominious rout -and promiscuous slaughter of thousands of this base- born multitude by the hand of a single favorite knight. There certainly was a time — before great cities rose to wealth and obtained franchises, when feudal castles were scattered like hail over the North of Europe, and private war was universal and incessant, — at which this picture of society had much truth in it. And, as usually happens, the literature which had sprung up under, and which was adapted only to, such a state of things, continued to be produced from the force of habit, after the face of society had become greatly altered. Shutting their eyes to the progress of things around them; overlooking, or else bewailing as an innovation and a degeneracy, the constant accumulation and growing power of wealth obtained by industry, and the consequent rise of new classes of men into social importance, — the romance-writers, as a body, continued rather to adapt their translations or original effusions to the atmosphere of the baronial hall, and to the established order of ideas in the knightly under- standing, than to seek for sympathy among classes which they dreaded while affecting to despise. But it is characteristic of genius, first, to have a pro- found insight. into the real; then boldly to face it; lastly, by the art which is its inseparable companion, to reproduce it under appropriate forms. Thus it was with Chaucer in the England of the fourteenth century. He had no literary models to work by —in his own lan- guage at least — except the antiquated and unreal feu- dal portraits above referred to; but he had sympathies as large as the nature of man, a soul that could not 32* | 378 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. endure a dead form or a mere conventionality, and a: intellect which arranged the human beings around hin according to their qualities, —by what they were, rathe than by mah. they were called. He felt, as bes did that — “ The rank is but the guinea stamp; The man’s the gowd for a’ that.” And accordingly, in that wonderful gallery of portraits the prologue to the ‘* Canterbury Tales,’’ we have th existing aspects and classes of English society describec with a broad and impartial hand. The knightis indeec there, — one figure among many, nor does Chaucer, like Cervantes, present him in a ridiculous light, for knight hood in the fourteenth century was still a reality, not piece of decayed pageantry, as in the sixteenth; but he and his order appear as what they actually were, — thai is, as one element in society amongst many. They dc not, as in the pages of romance, cast all other orders of laymen into the shade. Churchmen, again, are, on the whole, represented without partiality and without bit. terness. There may be a tinge of Puritanism in the keenness of some of the invectives against ecclesiastical personages; but it is not more than a tinge. On the whole, Chaucer may be truly said to “ Nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice ;”’ and if we have an affected prioress, a roguish friar, and a hypocritical pardoner, we have, on the other side, the clerk of Oxenford, with his solid worth and learning, and the well-known character of the good parish priest. But besides the knight, the squire, and the ecclesiastical persons, a crowd of other characters come upon th canvas, and take part in the action. There is th NARRATIVE POETRY. 379 _Frankelein, the representative of the sturdy, hospitable, somewhat indolent English freeholder, whom, however, participation in the political and judicial system intro- duced by the energetic Norman had made a better and more sterling person than were his Saxon ancestors. Then we have the mixed population of cities, represented by the merchant, the man of law, the shipman, the Doc- “tour of Physike, and the good Wife of Bath, — all from ‘the middle classes; and by the haberdasher, the carpen- ‘ter, the webbe (weaver), Sc., from the lower. The ‘inferior ranks of the rural population are represented by the ploughman, the miller, and the reve. Viewed in this light, as a picture of contemporary society, the prologue is certainly the most valuable part ‘of the “Canterbury Tales.” And what does this pic- ture show us? Not that distorted image which the feu- ‘dal pride of the great lords, humored by the sycophancy of the minstrels, had conjured up in the romances, but the real living face of English society, such as Chris- tianity and the medieval Church, working now for seven centuries upon the various materials submitted to their influence, had gradually fashioned it to be. Doubtless — it shows many evils, — the profanation of sacred call- ings, the abuse of things originally excellent, ill-repressed tendencies to sloth, luxury, and licentiousness ; but it shows also a state of things in which every member of society, even the humblest, had recognized rights, and was not sunk beneath the dignity of man. We have the high and the low, the rich and the poor; but the high are not inordinately high, and the low are not debased. ‘The cement of religion binds together the whole social fabric, causing the common sympathies of its members to predominate above the grounds of estrangement. It might have been Senet that not only the pro- logue, but many of the tales which are put in the 380 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. mouths of the characters there described, would be strongly illustrative of English life; but this is not the case. Chaucer, like Shakspeare, borrowed most of his stories from the various collections which he found ready to his hand; and these were not of English growth, nor was their scene laid in England. When he attempts, in imitation of Boccaccio, to invent humorous tales of his own (e.g., the ‘* Miller’s Tale,” the “ Friar’s Tale,” &c.), he falls short of his prototype; for though he is not more coarse than Boccaccio, and though his humor is matchless, we miss that keen wit and exquisite beauty of style, which, with all that there is to con- demn, we cannot help admiring in the Italian writer. One or two of Chaucer's original tales are both coarse and dull. In the ‘“Sompnour’s Tale,’ it must be con- fessed, the dénotiment of the story is exceedingly humor- ous; but the joke is too broad for modern taste. The ‘“‘Nonnes Prestes Tale” is also very diverting. — Among the writers to whom Chaucer was indebted, whether for ideas or materials, there were none to whom his obligations were so considerable as to the great Italians of the fourteenth century. The ‘“ Knight’s Tale” is taken from Boccaccio; the *“ Clerke’s Tale,” from Petrarch ; and the story of Pugilin or Ugolino, in the “ Monk’s Tale,” is borrowed from the well-known passage in Dante. But of Chaucer it can be truly said, ‘Nihil quod tetigit, non ornavit.” The exquisite grace. and tenderness with which the story of ‘“ Patient Griz- zel”’ is related are all his own; and the fresh, breezy j air of the greenwood, which we seem to inhale in read ing parts of the “ Knight’s Tale,” betokens a Teutonic not an Italian imagination. | ‘Lastly, let us endeavor to trace the influence of ex- ternal nature upon Chaucer’s poetical development. I must be borne in mind, —indeed, Chaucer’s phraseology be ot iv NARRATIVE POETRY. 381 constantly brings the fact before us, —that to the En- glish poet of the fourteenth century Nature was far from being the pruned, tamed, and civilized phenome- non that she was and is to the poets of this and the eighteenth century. Chaucer speaks naturally, not ficuratively, of the greenwood, by which he means what is now called in the Australian colonies “ the bush,’ — that is, the wiid woodland country, from which the original forests have never yet been removed by the hand of man. Even in Shakspeare’s time, large por- tions of England still fell under this category ; so that. he, too, could naturally sing of the “greenwood tree,” and found no difficulty in describing, in**‘ As You Like It,” what an Australian would call bush life, —that is, life on a free earth and under a free heaven; not tray- élling by turnpike roads, nor haunted by the dread of trespass and its penalties, but permitting men to rove at large, and, in Shakspeare’s phrase, “ to fleet the time carelessly as in the golden world.” This condition of external nature gives a largeness and freshness to the poetry which arises under it; the scent of the woods and the song of the birds seem to hang about the verse, and ‘‘ sanctify the numbers.” But, again, observe the eminent healthiness, the well- dalanced stability, of Chaucer’s mind. He is no sickly naturalist; he does not turn with disgust from town ife to **babble o’ green fields;” he neither feels nor uffects such a scorn or disapprobation of man and so- “lety as to be driven to take refuge in the untarnished oveliness of nature, in order to find fit materials for poetical creations. Human society, no less than ex- ernal nature, is in the eyes of Chaucer beautiful and renerable: it, too, comes from the hand of God; it, too, supplies fit themes for poetry. ~ With Shakspeare and Spenser, but pre-eminently 382 - HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. with the former, the casé is much the same. In Shak. speare there is none of that morbid revulsion against the crimes or littlenesses of society which drove Byron and Shelley into alienation and open revolt against it; nor, again, is there that estrangement from active life and popular movement which makes Wordsworth the poet of the fields and mountains, not of man. In the pages of the great dramatist, who truly “holds the mirror up to nature,’ not external only but human, we behold society in all its varied aspects, by turns repellant and attractive, yet in the main as establishing noble and dignified relations between man and man. The following extracts are taken,— one front the ‘¢ Clerke’s,”’ the other from the *‘ Nonnes Prestes Tale.” The much-enduring Grisildes is thus described : — if ‘* Among this pore folk there dwelt a man Which that was holden porest of hem alle; But heighe God som tyme sende can His grace unto a litel oxe stalle. Janicula men of that thorp him calle. A doughter had he, fair y-nough to sight, And Grisildes this yonge mayden hight. But though this mayden tender were of age, Yet in the breste of her virginite Ther was enclosed ripe and sad corrage; And in gret reverence and charite ‘ Hir olde pore fader fostered sche: A few scheep, spynnyng, on the fold sche kept, Sche nolde not ben ydel til sche slept. And whanne sche com hom sche wolde brynge Wortis and other herbis tymes ofte, The which sche shred and seth! for her lyvyng, And made hir bed ful hard, and nothing softe. And ay sche kept hir fadres lif on lofte,? 1 Boiled. 2 Kept on lofte, i.e., sustained, up- lift-ed; from the Anglo-Saxong lyft, air. NARRATIVE POETRY. With every obeissance and diligence, That child may do to fadres reverence.”’ 383 The confusion in the poor widow’s household, after the fox has carried off her cock Chaunticleere, is thus humorously described : — “ The sely wydow, and hir doughtres two, Herden these hennys crie and maken wo, And out at dores starte thay anon, And saw the fox toward the wood is gone, And bar upon his bak the cok away; They criden ‘Out! harrow and wayleway! Ha, ha, the fox!’ and after him thay ran, And eek with staves many another man; Ran Colle our dogge, and Talbot, and Garlond, And Malkin with a distaff in hir hond; Ran cow and calf, and eek the veray hogges, So were they fered for berkyng of the dogges, And schowting of the men and wymmen eke, Thay ronne that thay thought hir herte breke, Thay yelleden as feendes doon in helle; The dokes criden as men wold hem quelle;! The gees for fere flowen over the trees; Out of the hyve came the swarm of bees; So hidous was the noyse, a benedicite ! Certes he Jakke Straw, and his meynie,? Ne maden schoutes never half so schrille, Whan that thay wolden eny Flemyng kille, As thilke day was maad upon the fox.”’ To whatever period of our literature we may turn, a multitude of tales present themselves for review. Gower’s ‘“‘Confessio Amantis” is in great part com- posed of them, the materials being taken from the “ Gesta Romanorum,” or from collections of French fabliauz. Dryden’s so-called “Fables” are merely translations or modernizations of tales by Ovid, Chau- cer, and Boccaccio. “The Knight’s Tale,” or ‘“ Pala- 1 Kill, 2 Band or retinue, 384 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. : : | mon and Arcite,” and the “‘Nun’s Priest’s Tale,” are those which he selected from Chaucer. Falconer’s “Shipwreck,” a popular poem in its day, is hardly worth quoting from. The smooth and sounding verse betrays the careful student of Pope; but there is no force of imagination, no depth or lucidity of intellect. Crabbe’s Tales show great narrative and dramatic skill, and contain some pathetic passages. Perhaps in | all of them the moral is pointed with too much pains ; the amiable writer had never felt that the true worth — of poetry transcends any set didactic purpose. “Oh! to what uses shall we put The wild wood-flower that simply blows? And is there any moral shut Within the bosom of the rose?’’! Parnell’s ‘‘ Hermit,” a didactic tale, contains thed famous blunder—real or apparent — which Boswell — solemnly submitted for Johnson’s critical opinion. It — occurs in the following lines : — i ‘To clear this doubt, to know the world by sight, | To find if books and swains reported right; ‘ For yet by swains alone the world he knew, Whose feet came wandering o’er the nightly dew.” 3. Allegories. — According to the etymology of the word, ‘‘allegory ” means the expressing of one thing by | means of another. And this may serve as a loose gen- eral definition of all allegorical writing; for it will embrace not only the personification of human quali-— ties, which is the ordinary subject of allegory, but also the application of any material designation to a subject to which it is properly inapplicable; as when Langlande speaks of the castle of Caro, and Bunyan of the city of Destruction, and the town of Apostasy. But, in 1 Tennyson’s Fairy Princess, NARRATIVE POETRY. 385 addition to the general notion of medial representation above stated, the word ‘allegory’ involves also by usage the idea of a narrative. It embraces two kinds: 1, allegories proper; and, 2, fables. The proper alle- gory has usually a didactic, but sometimes a satirical purpose ; sometimes, again, it blends satire with instruc- tion. The author of the famous allegorical satire of “ Reynard the Fox” thus describes at the conclusion (ve quote from Goethe’s version) the didactic inten- tion of his satire: ‘‘ Let every one quickly turn himself to wisdom, shun vice, and honor virtue. ‘This is the sense of the poem; in which the poet has mingled fables and truth, that you may be able to discern good from evil, and to value wisdom, that also. the buyers of this book may from the course of the world receive daily instruction. For so are things constituted; so will they continue; and thus ends our poem of Reynard’s nature and. actions. May the Lord help us to eternal glory ! Amen.”’ } ? In Langlande’s allegorical ‘* Vision of Piers Plow- man,” the satirical purpose so preponderates, that we have thought it best to class the work under the head of Satire. The great majority of the allegorical poems of our early writers have didactic aims more or less definite. Chaucer’s beautiful allegory of the “ Flower and the Leaf” has the following symbolical meaning, as Speght in his argument expresses it: ‘** They which honor the flower, a thing fading with evety blast, are such as look after beauty and worldly pleasure; but they that honor the leaf, which abideth with the root, notwithstanding the frosts and winter storms, are they which follow virtue and enduring qualities, without regard of worldly respects.” The following extract is from the concluding portion of the poem :— a3 386 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. “< ‘Now, faire Madame,’ quoth I, ‘If I durst aske, what is the cause and why, That knightes have the ensigne of honour, Rather by the leafe than the floure ?’ ‘ Soothly, doughter,’ quod she, ‘‘ this is the trouth:— For knightes ever should be persevering, To seeke honour without feintise or slouth, Fro wele to better in all manner thinge; In signe of which, with leaves aye lastinge They be rewarded after their degre, Whose lusty green may not appaired be, But aye keping their beaute fresh and greene; For there nis storme that may hem deface, Haile nor snow, winde nor frostes kene; Wherefore they have this property and grace. And for the floure, within a little space Wol they be lost, so simple of nature They be, that they no grievance may endure.’ ” The allegorical works of Lydgate and Hawes have not sufficient merit to require special notice. Some account of Dunbar’s and Lyndsay’s allegories was given in our notice of those poets:' an extract from “The Thistle and the Rose ” is subjoined : — “Than callit scho all flouris that grow on field, Discryving all their fassiouns and effeirs ;. Upon the awful THRISSILL scho beheld, And saw him keipit with a busche of speiris; Considering him so able for the weiris, A radius crown of rubeis scho him gaif, And said, In field go forth, and fend the laif.? And, sen thou art a king, thou be discreit ; Herb without vertew thou hold nocht of sic pryce, As herb of vertew and of odour sweit; And lat no nettil vyle and full of vyce Hir fallow? to the goodly flour-de-lyce: Nor lat no wyld weid full of churlicheness, Compair hir till the lilleis nobilness: 1 See pp. 55, 57. 2 Defend the rest. 3 Jain herself, NARRATIVE POETRY. 387 Nor hald no udir flour in sic denty As the fresche Rois, of cullour reid and quhyt; For gif thou dois, hurt is thyne honesty, Considering that no flour is so perfyt, So full of blissful angellik bewty, Imperiall birth, honour, and dignite.”’ We pass on to the great allegorical masterpiece of the Elizabethan period, — Spenser’s “ Faerie Queen.” In this poem, the Gothic or romantic spirit is even yet more decisively in the ascendent than in the plays of Shakspeare, although under the correction of the finer feeling for art which the Renaissance had awakened. Its great length causes it to be little read at the present _ day ; and yet a true lover of poetry, when once he has taken the book up, will find it difficult to lay it down. The richness of the imagery, the stately beauty of the style, above all, that nameless and indescribable charm which a work of true genius always bears about it, make one forget the undeniable prolixity with which the design of the poem is worked out. It is dedicated to Queen Elizabeth; and in a letter to Sir Walter Raleigh, which is generally prefixed to the work, the author has explained his plan : — ** The general end of all the booke is to fashion a gentleman or noble person in vertuous and gentle discipline; which for that I conceived shoulde be most plausible and pleasing, being coloured with an historical fiction, the which the most part of men delight to read, rather for variety of matter than for profite of the ensample, I chose the Historye of King Arthure, as most fit for the excellency of his person, being made famous by many men’s former workes, and also farthest from the danger of envy, and suspicion of present time. In which I have followed all the antique poets historicall; ... by ensample of [whom] I labour to pourtraict in Arthure, before he was king, the image of a brave knight, perfected in the twelve private Morall Vertues, as Aristotle hath devised: the which is the purpose of these first twelve bookes.”’ After saying that he conceives Arthur to have “seen 388 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. in a dreame or vision the Faerie Queen, with whose excellent beautie ravished, he, awaking, resolved to seeke her out,” he proceeds : — ‘¢Tn that Faerie Queen I mean Glory in my general intention, but in my particular, I mean the most excellent and glorious person of — our soveraine the Queene, and her kingdom in Faerie Laad. And | yet, in some places els, I do otherwise shadow her;’ namely as the — huntress Belphoebe. ‘So, in the person of Prince Arthure I set forth Magnificence in particular; which Vertue, for that (according to Aristotle and the rest) it is the perfection of all the rest, and | containeth in it them all, therefore in the whole course I mention the » deed of Arthure applyable to that Vertue, which I write of in that booke. But of the twelve other Vertues, I make twelve other knights the patrones for the more variety of the history.’ ” f 2 ‘ Some idea of the nature of the poem, and of the depth and richness of Spenser’s imagination, may be gained from the following brief analysis of the twelfth canto of the second book, which contains the ‘“ Legend | of Sir Guyon, or of Temperance.” Sir Guyon, under the guidance of a palmer, is voy- aging towards the Bower of Blisse, the abode of Acrasia (Intemperance). The boat has to pass between the Gulf of Greedinesse and a magnetic mountain. Escaped from these dangers, they coast by the Wan- dering Islands: then they run the gauntlet between a quicksand and a whirlpool. A “ hideous host” of sea- monsters vainly endeavor to terrify them. Then they sail near the Bay of the Mermaids, who sing more _enchantingly than the Sirens; but Guyon turns a deaf ear. At last they reach the desired land, and proceed to the Bower of Blisse. Rejecting the cup of wine tendered by the Dame er Guyon presses forwar through the garden : ‘“‘ Eft soones they heard a most melodious sound, Of all that might delight a dainty eare, Such as at once might not on living ground, Save in this paradise be heard elsewhere; NARRATIVE POETRY. 889 Right hard it was for wight that did it heare, To read what manner musicke that mote bee; For all that pleasing is to living eare Was there consorted in one harmonie: Birds, voices, instruments, winds, waters, all agree. The joyous birdes, shrouded in chearefull shade, Their notes unto the voice attempred sweet; Tl’ angelicall soft trembling voices made To th’ instruments divine respondence meet; The silver-sounding instruments did meet With the base murmure of the waters’ fall; The waters’ fall, with difference discreet, Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call; The gentle warbling wind low answered to all.”’ Then from the lips of an unseen singer there issues an inthralling Epicurean strain : — ‘ The whiles some one did chaunt this lovely lay: ‘Ah! see, whoso fayre thing dost faine to see, In springing flowre the image of thy day! Ah! see the virgin rose, how sweetly she Doth first peepe forth with bashful modestee, That fairer seemes the lesse ye see her may! Lo! see, soon after how more bold and free Her bared bosome she doth broad display ; Lo! see soon after how she fades and falls away! ‘So passeth, in the passing of a day Of mortall life, the leafe, the bud, the fiowre; Ne more doth flourish after first decay, That erst was sought to deck both bed and bowre Of many a lady, and many a paramoure! Gather therefore the rose whilst yet is prime, For soon comes age that will her pride deflowre; Gather the rose of love whilst yet is time, Whilst loving thou mayst loved be with equall crime.’ ”? But Guyon holds on his way unswervingly, and at last comes upon Acrasia, whom he seizes and binds, together with her lover, a foolish, dissipated youth with the strangely modern name of Verdant. Then the knight breaks:down all those pleasant bowers ‘ with vigour J. 33" 390 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. 2 pittilesse ;’’ and the palmer turns back into their natu- ral shape a crowd of persons whom Acrasia had, Circe- like, transformed into animals. So ends the canto. The metre of “The Faerie Queen”? was formed by Spenser from the Italian ottava rima, or eight-line stanza (said to have been invented by Boccaccio), by the addi- . tion of a ninth line, two syllables longer than the rest. This, however, is not the only distinction, for the inter-_ nal organization of the two stanzas is widely different. That of Spenser closely resembles in this respect the Chaucerian heptastich, the essential character of — both being fixed by the rhyming of the fifth line to the fourth. Strike out from the Spenserian stanza the sixth and seventh lines, rhyming respectively to the eighth and fifth, and cut off the two extra syllables in the last line, and you have at once the Chaucerian heptastich. It cannot be denied that the Spenserian is a more subtly constructed stanza than the ottava rima ; yet, from its length, it tends to become unwieldy, and therefore requires to be managed with the utmost skill. The use of it with Spenser seems to have become a sort — of second nature: when employed by others, even by — so considerable a poet as Byron, it does not escape from being occasionally wearisome. Thomson, in his “ Castle of Indolence,” succeeded — remarkably well in imitating the roll of the Spenserian stanza. The first canto, which, as Dr. Johnson observes, ‘opens a scene of lazy luxury that fills the imagination,” dilates with evident gusto on the pleasures of a life of in- — dolence. Thomson himself is described in the following — stanza, said to have been written by Lord Lyttleton: — “A bard here dwelt, more fat than bard beseems, Who void of envy, guile, and lust of gain, On virtue still and virtue’s pleasing themes Poured forth his unpremeditated strain ; NARRATIVE POETRY. 8391 The world forsaking with a calm disdain, Here laughed he careless in his easy seat ; Here quaffed, encircled with the joyous train, Oft moralizing sage: his ditty sweet He loathed much to write, ne cared to repeat.”’ In the second canto the haunt of ‘lazy luxury”’ is broken in upon by the “ Knight of Arts and Industry,” who destroys the castle, and puts to flight its inmates. The other form of allegorical composition is the fable or apologue, in which, under the guise of things said or done by the inferior animals, tendencies in human nature are illustrated, maxims of practical wis- dom enforced, and the besetting vices and inconsisten- cies of man exposed. Fables are short, because they are severally confined to the illustration of a single maxim or tendency, and would inculcate their moral less strikingly were the story enveloped in many words. In this kind of composition, the only considerable met- rical work in our literature is Gay’s Fables. The idea of versifying Aisop was taken by Gay from Lafontaine, but executed with far inferior power and grace. The following is a fair sample of the collection : — “THE TURKEY AND THE ANT. **In other men we faults can spy, And blame the mote that dims their eye, Each little speck and blemish find; To our own stronger errors blind. A turkey, tired of common food, Forsook the barn, and sought the wood; Behind her ran an infant train, Collecting here and there a grain. ‘Draw near, my birds!’ the mother cries: ‘ This hill delicious fare supplies: Behold the busy negro race, See millions blacken all the place! Fear not; like me, with freedom eat; An ant is most delightful meat, 392 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. How blessed, how envied were our life, Could we but ’scape the poulterer’s knife! But man, cursed man, on turkeys preys, And Christmas shortens all our days. Sometimes with oysters we combine, Sometimes assist the savory chine; From the low peasant to the lord, The turkey smokes on every board. Sure, men for gluttony are cursed, Of the seven deadly sins the worst.’ An ant, who climbed beyond her reach, Thus answered from the neighboring beech: — ‘Ere you remark another’s sin, Bid your own conscience look within: Control thy more voracious Dill, Nor fora breakfast nations kill.”’ 2 A variety of other fables and apologues in verse lie — scattered over the literary field, some of which are sufficiently spirited and entertaining. Among the best | of these are Mrs. Thrale’s “Three Warnings,” and _ Merrick’s ‘‘ Chameleon.” 4. By romantic poems, the name assigned to the = fourth subdivision of narrative poetry, we mean poems _ in which heroic subjects are epically treated, after the — manner of the old romances of chivalry, yet in which ~ neither the subject nor the form rises to the true — dignity of the epic. Such poems are essentially the ~ fruit of modern times and modern ideas. Between the — period of the Renaissance, when the production of © metrical romances ceased, and the close of the eighteenth century, the taste of European society pre- | ferred, both in art and literature, works modelled upon ; the masterpieces of Greek and Roman genius, and_ recoiled with an aversion, more or less sincere, from all” that was Gothic or medieval. In such. a period, a romantic poem, had it appeared, would have been crushed by the general ridicule, or smothered under the- general neglect. But, towards the close of the ~ NARRATIVE POETRY. 8938 eighteenth century, a re-action set in; and the romantic poems of Scott and his imitators are one among many of its fruits. “The Lay of the Last Minstrel,” the earliest of these productions (1805), exhibits the influence of the old romances much more decidedly than those of later’ date. Expressions and half-lines constantly occur in it, which are transferred unaltered from the older com- positions; and the vivid and minute description of Branksome Hall, with which the poem opens, is exactly in the style of the graphic old Trouvéres : — “Nine and twenty knights of fame Hung their shields in Branksome Hall; Nine and twenty squires of name Brought them their steeds.to bower from stall; Nine and twenty yeomen tall Waited, duteous, on them all: They were all knights of mettle true, Kinsmen to the bold Buccleuch. Ten of them were sheathed in steel, With belted sword, and spur on heel: They quitted not their harness bright Neither by day nor yet by night° They lay down to rest, With corslet laced, Pillowed on buckler cold and hard; They carved at the meal With gloves of steel, And they drank the red wine through the helmet harred. Ten squires, ten yeomen, mail-clad men, Waited the beck of the warders ten; Thirty steeds, both fleet and wight, Stood saddled in stable day and night, Barbed with frontlet of steel, I trow, And with Jedwood-axe at saddle-bow; A hundred more fed free in stall: Such was the custom of Branksome Hall.’’ The popularity of the “ Lay ” naturally induced Sectt to go on working in the same mine: “ Marmion” came 394. HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. out in 1808, and “The Lady of the Lake” in 1810. “Marmion,” though it has fine passages, is faulty as a poem. ‘The introductions to the cantos, addressed to six of his friends, are so long, and touch upon such a variety of topics, that the impressions they create interfere with those which the story itself is intended to produce; nor have they much intrinsic merit, if we except that to Wilham Rose, containing the famous memorial lines on Pitt and Fox. In “The Lady of the Lake,” Scott’s poetical style reaches its acme. Here the romantic tale culminates: the utmost that can be expected from a kind of poetry far below the highest, and from a metre essentially inferior to the heroic, is here attained. The story is conducted with much art; the characters are interesting, the scenery glorious, the versification far less faulty than in ‘“ Marmion.” Byron’s Oriental tales —‘‘ The Giaour,” “ The Cor- sair,’ “The Bride of Abydos,” &c.—are but imitations, © with changed scenery and accessories, of Scott’s roman- tic poems, though they displaced them for a time in the © public favor. But ‘The Lady of the Lake ” will prob-— ably outlive “ The Corsair,” because it appeals to wider and more permanent sympathies. The young, the vehe- | . ment, the restless, delight in the latter, because it reflects — and glorifies to their imagination the wild disorder of their own spirits: the aged and the calm find little in it to prize or to commend. But the former poem, besides — that “hurried frankness of composition which pleases” soldiers, sailors, and young people of bold and active disposition,” ! has attractions also for the firm, even mind of manhood, and the pensiveness of age. The truth and vividness of its painting, whether of manners or of nature, delight the one; the healthy buoyancy of tone, recalling the days of its youthful vigor, pleasantly inter- ests the other. | 1 Life of Scott: Diary. NARRATIVE POETRY. | 395 The following extract is from the well-known Pirate S gone with which “ The Corsair” opens : — ** O’er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, Our thoughts as boundless and our souls as free, Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, Survey our empire, and behold our home. These are our realms; no limits to their sway: Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey. Ours the wild life in tumult still to range From toil to rest, and joy in every change. Oh, who can tell? — not thou, luxurious slave, Whose soul would sicken o’er the heaving wave; Not thou, vain lord of wantonness and ease, Whom slumber soothes not, pleasure cannot please, — Oh! who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried, And danced in triumph o’er the waters wide, The exulting sense, the pulse’s maddening play, That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way; That for itself can woo the approaching fight, And turn what some deem danger.to delight ; That seeks what cravens shun with more than zeal, And, where the feebler faint, can only feel, — Feel to the rising bosom’s inmost core, Its hope awaken and its spirit soar ?”’ Moore’s “ Lalla Rookh”’ is also a romantic poem, more musical and more equably sustained than those of Byron, but inferior to his in force, and to Scott’s both in force and nobleness. One passage we will give: it is that in which the Peri, whose admission to Paradise depends upon her finding a gift for the Deity which will be meet for his acceptance, and who has already vainly offered the heart’s blood of a hero fallen in his country’s defence, and the last sigh of a maiden who had sacrificed her life for her lover, finds at last the acceptable gift, in the tear of penitence shed by one who had seemed hardened in crime : — “* But, hark! the vesper-call to prayer, As slow the orb of daylight sets, Is rising sweetly on the air From Syria’s thousand minarets, 896 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. The boy has started from the bed Of flowers, where he had laid his head, And down upon the fragrant sod Kneels, with his forehead to the south, Lisping the eternal name of God From purity’s own cherub mouth, And looking, while his hands and eyes Are lifted to the glowing skies, Like a stray babe of Paradise, Just lighted on that flowery plain, And seeking for its home again. Dh, twas a sight, — that heaven, that child, — A scene which might have well beguiled Even haughty Eblis of a sigh For glories lost, and peace gone by. And how felt he, the wretched man Reclining there, while memory ran O’er many a year of guilt and strife, Flew o’er the dark field of his life, Nor found one sunny resting-place, Nor brought him back one branch of grace ? ‘There was a time,’ he said, in mild Heart-humbled tones, ‘ thou blessed child! When, young and haply pure as thou, I looked and prayed like thee; but now’ — He hung his head: each nobler aim And hope and feeling, which had slept From boyhood’s hour, that instant came Fresh o’er him, and he wept — he wept!” 5. The historical poem is a metrical narrative of public events, extending over a period more or less pro- longed of a nation’s history. It lies open to the obvious objection, that, if the intention be merely to communi- cate facts, they can be more easily and clearly described in prose; if to write something poetically beautiful, the want of unity of plan, and the restraints which the his- torical style imposes on the imagination, must be fatal to success. Hence the rhyming chronicles of “ Laya- mon,” * Robert of Gloucester,” and “ Robert Manning,” though interesting to the historian of our literature, ar DIDACTIC POETRY. 397 of no value to the critic. In Dryden’s “ Annus Mirab- ilis,” the defects of this style are less apparent, because the narrative is confined to the events of one year, and that year (1666) was rendered memorable by two great calamities, neither of which was unsusceptible of poetic treatment, — the Great Plague, and the Fire of London. Yet, after all, the “ Annus Mirabilis” is a dull poem; few readers would now venture upon the interminable series of its lumbering stanzas. Didactic Poetry: ‘‘The Hind and Panther,” ‘“‘Essay on Man,” *« Essay on Criticism,” ‘‘ Vanity of Human Wishes.” _ We have now arrived at the didactic class of poems, those, namely, in which it is the express object of the 'writer to inculcate some moral lesson, some religious tenet, or some philosophical opinion. Pope’s “ Essay on -Man,” Dryden’s “ Hind and Panther,” and many other well-known poems, answer to this description. All, or very nearly all, the Anglo-Saxon poetry com- posed subsequently to the introduction of Christianity, bears a didactic character. Of Cadmon, the Venerable Bede remarks, that he “never composed an idle verse ;” ‘that is to say, his poetical aims were always didactic. A large proportion also of the English poetry produced ‘in the three centuries following the Conquest had direct instruction in view. Most of Chaucer’s allegories point — to some kind of moral; but the father of our poetry seems to have thought, that, when a writer desired to be purely and simply didactic, he should employ prose; for the only two of the *“* Canterbury Tales ” which answer to that description — ‘“‘ The Parson’s Tale on Penance,” and *“* The Tale of Melibeus,” enforcing the duty of the forgiveness of injuries — are in prose. Shakspeare never wrote a didactic poem, though there is no limit to the -suggestiveness and thought-enkindling power of his preg- ihe 398 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. nant lines. The same may be said of Milton; yet, as might be expected from the extreme earnestness of the man, a subordinate didactic purpose is often traceable, not only in the ‘“ Paradise Lost,” but in the “ Comus,” the ‘“ Lycidas,” and even the “Sonnets.” The earliest regu- lar didactic poem in the language is “The Hind and Panther” of Dryden, who, it will be remembered, was always a good and ready prose-writer, who developed his poetical talent late, and who, but for his marvellous genius for rhyme, which grew constantly with his years, would have preferred, one might fancy, prose to verse for a religious polemic, as he had preferred it twenty years before for an essay on the drama. However, we must be thankful, that, by indulging his genius in this instance, he has left us a very extraordinary specimen of metrical dialectics. : ‘‘ The Hind and Panther” cannot properly be called an allegory, for over the greater portion of it there is no second meaning in reserve ; the obvious sense is the only one. The interlocutors and mute personages are allegorical, and that is all. Instead of Bossuet and Burnet, we have the Hind and the Panther; but the expressions which are put in the mouths of the animals are, for the most part, precisely those which might have been put in the mouths of the divines. In the two following extracts the rival disputants are introduced to the reader : — **A milk-white hind, immortal and unchanged, Fed on the lawns, and in the forest ranged ; Without unspotted, innocent within, She feared no danger, for she knew no sin: Yet had she oft been chased with horns and hounds, And Scythian shafts; was often forced to fly, And doomed to death, though fated not to die.” The Independents, Quakers, Free-thinkers, Anabap- tists, Socinians, and Presbyterians, are next enumerated, oe DIDACTIC POETRY. 399 under the emblems of the bear, the hare, the ape, the boar, the fox, and the wolf. The lion, whose business, as king of beasts, is to keep order in the forest, is, of course, James IJ. The Panther is then introduced :— ““The panther, sure the noblest next the hind, And fairest creature of the spotted kind; Oh, could her inborn stains be washed away, She were too good to be a beast of prey! How can I praise or blame, and not offend, Or how divide the frailty from the friend ? Her faults and virtues lie so mixed, that she Not wholly stands condemned, nor wholly free. Then, like her injured lion, let me speak; He cannot bend her, and he would not break. If, as our dreaming Platonists report, There could be spirits of a middle sort, Too black for heaven, and yet too white for hell, Who just dropped half way down, nor lower fell; So poised, so gently she descends from high, It seems a soft dismission from the sky.” The first two books are taken up with doctrinal dis- cussions. The third opens with a long desultory conversation, partly on politics, partly on pending or recent theological controversies (that between Dryden and Stillinefleet, for instance), partly on church parties and the sincerity of conversions. ‘The language put in the mouth of the hind often jars most absurdly with the gentle, magnanimous nature assigned to her; and in her sallies and rejoinders the tone of the coarse unscru- pulous party-writer appears without the least disguise. This conversation is ended by the panther proposing to relate the tale of the swallows. By these birds the English Catholics are intended, who, following the foolish counsels of the martin (Father Petre, James’s trusted adviser), are expelled from their nests, and perish miserably. A conyersation follows on the poli; ny 400 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. tics of the Church of England. Viewed in the light of subsequent events, the confidence expressed by the hind in the panther’s immovable adherence to her non- resistance principles excites a smile. The hind next volunteers the story of the pigeons, by whom are meant the Anglican clergy. Their ringleader, the buzzard, is a satirical sketch of Burnet, an important actor in the intrigues which brought on the Revolution. By following the buzzard’s counsel, the pigeons draw down upon themselves the righteous wrath of the farmer (James II.). The poem then ends abruptly. The most remarkable didactic poem in the language is Pope’s “‘ Essay on Man,” written in 1782. Mandeville and others had recently impugned the benevolence and sanctity of the Deity by pointing out a variety of evils and imperfections in the system of things, and assert- ing that these were necessary to the welfare and stabil- ity of human society. This is the whole argument of “The Fable of the Bees.” Pope in his Essay under- takes to ‘‘ vindicate the ways of God to man.” And how does he do so? Not—with regard to physical -evil— by admitting, indeed, with the apostle, that the ‘‘whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain to- gether,” but connecting its imperfect condition with the original sin and fall of moral agents; not— with regard to moral evil — by tracing it to man’s abuse of his free will, permitted but not designed by his Creator, and to the ceaseless activity of evil spirits; but, by representing evil, moral as well as physical, to be a part of God’s providential scheme for the government of the universe, to be, in fact, not absolutely and essen- tially evil, but only relatively and incidentally so: — “¢ All partial evil, universal good.’’ All this was pointed out, shortly after the appearance § DIDACTIC POETRY. A401 of the essay, in a criticism from the pen of Crousaz, a Swiss professor. Warburton, in the commentary which he attached to a new edition of the poem in 1740, re- ; plied to the strictures of Crousaz, and with much pains and ingenuity endeavored to give an innocent meaning to all the apparently questionable passages. Ruffhead, in his Life of Pope, gives it as his opinion that Warburton completely succeeded. Johnson was more clear-sighted. In his Life of Pope, after saying that Bolingbroke supplied the poet with the principles of the Essay, he adds, “ These principles it is not my business to clear from obscurity, dogmatism, or falsehood.” And again, “The positions which he transmitted from Bolingbroke he seems not to have understood, and was pleased with an interpretation which made them ortho- dox.” But what sense but one is it possible to attach to such passages as the following ? — ““Tf plagues or earthquakes break not heaven’s design, Why, then, a Borgia or a Catiline ? Who knows but He, whose hand the lightning forms, Who heaves old Ocean, and who wings the storms, Pours fierce ambition in a Ceesar’s mind, Or turns young Ammon loose to scourge mankind ? From pride, from pride, our very reasoning springs ; Account for moral as for natural things: Why charge we heaven in those, in these acquit ? In both, to reason right is to submit.” Evidently God is here made not the permitter only, but the designer, of moral evil. Again, — “¢ Submit, in this or any other sphere, Secure to be as blest as thou canst bear.”’ From this dictum, left unguarded as it is, it might be ‘inferred that virtue, and the acting in obedience to conscience or against it, had nothing to do with man’s blessedness. Again, — 34* 402 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. ‘* Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, A hero perish, or a sparrow fall.”’ Yet we are told, “ You are of more value than many sparrows.” Phenomena in the moral world are here confounded with phenomena in the natural. With God there is neither small nor great in a material sense; so far these lines convey a just lesson. But how can any thing which affects the welfare of a human soul — be it that of a ‘“‘ hero” or of a pauper — be measured by a standard of material greatness ? Alive to the weak points in the morality of the Essay, Pope wrote ‘“‘ The Universal Prayer,” as a kind of com- pendious exposition of the meaning which he desired to be attached to it. In this he says that the Creator, — ‘*Binding Nature fast in fate, Left free the human will.”’ How this can be reconciled with the suggestion to — ‘* Account for moral as for natural things,’? — Warburton never attempted to explain. Mr. Carruthers, in his Life of Pope, speaks of this controversy as if it could have no interest for people of the present generation, who read the Essay for the sake of its brilliant rhetoric and exquisite descriptions, and do not trouble themselves about the reasoning. But, whether they are conscious of it or not, the moral tone of the poem does influence men’s minds, as the use which is constantly made of certain well-known lines sufficiently demonstrates.!. It was necessary, therefore, 1 For instance: — ‘* For forms of government let fools contest: Whate’er is best administered is best. - For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight: His can’t be wrong whose life is in the right, In faith and hope mankind may disagree, But all the world’s concern is charity.” DIDACTIC POETRY. 403 _ to commence our notice of the poem with this brief criticism of its general drift. We now proceed to. quote one or two passages from this wonderful produc- ‘tion, which is stamped throughout with an intellectual force which was perhaps never exceeded among the gons of men. i { ! ae ** Lo! the poor Indian, whose untutored mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind: His soul proud science never taught to stray ' Far as the solar walk or milky way; Yet simple nature to his hope has given, Behind the cloud-topped hill, an humbler heaven; Some safer world in depth of woods embraced, Some happier island in the watery waste, Where slaves once more their native land behold, No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold. To be, contents his natural desire: He asks no angel’s wing, no seraph’s fire; But thinks, admitted to. that equal sky, His faithful dog shall bear him company.’’ The optimism which is the philosophical key-note of _ the Essay, which Leibnitz had rendered fashionable by his “‘ Theodicea,” and Voltaire was to turn into ridicule in his ‘“‘Candide,” is thus summed up at the end of _ the first part: — “Submit, in this or any other sphere, Secure to be as blest as thou canst-bear; Safe in the hand of one disposing Power, Or in the natal or the mortal hour. 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 following analysis of fame is from the fourth part: — 404 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. ‘‘What’s fame? A fancied life in others’ breath, A thing beyond us, e’en before our death; Just what you hear, you have; and what’s unknown, The same (my lord) if Tully’s or your own. All that we feel of it begins and ends In the small circle of our foes and friends; To all beside, as much an empty shade As Eugene living, or a Cesar dead; Alike or when or where they shone or shine, Or on the Rubicon or on the Rhine. A wit’s a feather, and a chief a rod: An honest man’s the noblest work of God. All fame is foreign but of true desert, Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart. One self-approving hour whole years outweighs Of stupid starers, and of loud huzzas; And more true joy Marcellus exiled feels, Than Cesar with a senate at his heels,”’ “The Essay on Criticism” must also be classed among didactic poems. In it Pope lays down rules, in emulation of Horace’s famous Epistle “‘ De Arte Poeti- ca,’ of Boileau’s ‘‘ Art de Poesie,’’ and Roscommon’s “ Kissay on Translated Verse,” for the guidance, not of the writers, but of the critics, of poetry. The depth and sincerity of the admiration with which Pope looked up to the ancient masters of song appear from many passages of this brilliant Essay, particularly from the peroration of the first part, which, though somewhat marred by the anti-climax at the end, is replete with a nervous strength— the poet’s voice quivering, as it were, with suppressed emotion, yet not less clear or musical for the weakness — which it is easier to feel than to describe. | “* Still green with bays each ancient altar stands, Above the reach of sacrilegious hands; Secure from flames, from envy’s fiercer rage, Destructive war, and all-involving age. DIDACTIC POETRY. ; 405 See, from each clime the learned their incense bring! Hear, in all tongues consenting peans ring! In praise so just let every voice be joined, And fill the general chorus of mankind. Hail, bards triumphant! born in happier days, . Immortal heirs of universal praise! Whose honors with increase of ages grow, As streams roll down, enlarging as they flow; Nations unborn your mighty names shall sound, And worlds applaud that must not yet be found! Oh! may some spark of your celestial fire, The last, the meanest, of your sons inspire, (That on weak wings from far pursues your flights, Glows while he reads, but trembles as he writes), To teach vain wits a science little known, — To admire superior sense, and doubt their own.”’ _ Johnson’s poem on the “ Vanity of Human Wishes” is imitated from the tenth Satire of Juvenal. The strik- ing passage on Hannibal (‘‘ expende Hannibalem,” &c.) is transferred to Charles XII. of Sweden. The lines will bear quotation : — “On what foundations stands the warrior’s pride, How just his hopes, let Swedish Charles decide. A frame of adamant, a soul of fire, No dangers fright him, and no labors tire; O’er love, o’er fear, extends his wide domain, Unconquered lord of pleasure and of pain. No joys to him pacific sceptres yield: War sounds the trump, he rushes to the field; Behold surrounding kings their powers combine, And one capitulate, and one resign; Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain; ‘Think nothing gained,’ he cries, ‘ till nought remain; On Moscow’s walls till Gothic standards fly, And all be mine beneath the Polar sky.’ The march begins in military state, And nations on his eye suspended wait; Stern Famine guards the solitary coast, And Winter barricades the realms of Frost; He comes, nor want nor cold his course delay. Hide, blushing Glory, hide Pultowa’s day! 406 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. The vanquished hero leaves his broken bands, And shows his miseries in distant lands; Condemned a needy supplicant to wait, While ladies interpose, and slaves debate. But did not chance at length her error mend ? Did no subverted empire mark his end ? Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound ? Or hostile millions press him to the ground ? - His fall was destined to a barren strand, A petty fortress and a dubious hand; He left the name, at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.”’ Satirical Poetry. — Moral, Personal, Political: Hall, Pope, Byron, Butler, Dryden, Churchill, Wolcot. The didactic poet assumes the office of an educator ; the satirist, that of a censor morum. The first has the same relation to the second which the schools of a country have to its courts of justice. One aims at forming virtue, and imparting wisdom; the other, at scourging vice, and exposing folly.. According to its” proper theory, satire is the lynch law of a civilized” society; it reaches persons, and punishes acts, which the imperfections of legal justice would leave unchasg tised. But could not such persons and acts be more efficaciously influenced by warnings of a didactic nature ? should they not be left to the philosopher and the divine? ‘The satirist answers, No: there is a cee of offenders so case-hardened in vanity and selfishness as to be proof against all serious admonition. ‘To these the dictum applies, — q , 4 1 ** Ridiculum acri Fortius et melius magnas plerumque secat res.” The only way of shaming or deterring them is to turn the world’s laugh against them; to analyze then conduct, and show it up before the public gaze as intrinsically odious and contemptible. He does not SATIRICAL POETRY. - A407 expect thereby to effect any moral improvement in them, but rather to shame and deter others who might be preparing to imitate them; just as a good system of police is favorable to morality, by diminishing the tempations and the returns to wrong-doing. The satirist therefore professes a moral purpose : — “Hear this and tremble, you who escape the laws ; Yes, while I live, no rich or noble knave Shall walk the world in credit to his grave; To Virtue only and her friends a friend, The world beside may murmur or commend.” } Satirical poetry is divisible into three classes, — moral, personal, and political. By the first is meant that general satire on contemporary morals and manners, of which Horace, Juvenal, and Pope furnish us with such admirable examples. Personal satires are those which are mainly directed against individuals, as Dryden’s «© MacFlecknoe,” and “ English Bards and Scotch Re- viewers.” Political satires are written in the interest of a party in the state; the most famous instance is Dryden’s *“* Absalom and Achitophel.” In purely personal satire, the chances are so small in favor of the chastisement being administered with pure impartiality and justice, that the world rightly attaches less value to it than to moral satire. The occasions when personal satire becomes really terrible are those when, in the midst of a general moral satire on prevailing vices or follies, the acts and character of individuals are introduced by way of dlustrating the maxims that have just been enunciated. The attack then has the appearance of being unpremeditated, as if it had been simply suggested by the line of reflection into which the poet had fallen; and its effect is pro- portionally greater. Pope well understood this’ princi- ple, as we shall presently see. 1 Pope’s Imitations of Horace, 408 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. In the middle ages, moral satire generally seized upon ecclesiastical abuses. The ‘Land of Cockaygne ” (assigned by Warton to the end of the eleventh cen- tury, but which must be at least a century later) is a satire on the indolence and gluttony into which the monastic life, when relaxed, has occasionally fallen. ‘*The Vision of Piers Plowman” is in great part satiri- cal, directing its attacks chiefly against the higher. secular clergy. The satires of Donne and Hall (the first of which received the honor of modernization from Pope) are too rough and harsh to have much poetical value. For a specimen of Hall’s powers in this way, we take the following picture of a chaplain in a country house, at the end of the sixteenth century : — / ‘* A gentle squire would gladly entertaine Into his house some trencher-chapelaine, Some willing man that might instruct his sons, And that would stand to good conditions: — First, that he lie upon the truckle-bed, Whiles his young maister lieth o’er his head; Secondly, that he do, on no default, Ever presume to sit above the salt; Third, that he never change his trencher twice; Fourth, that he use all common courtesies, Sit bare at meales, and one halfe rise and wait; Last, that he never his younge maister beat. All these observed, he could contented be, To give five markes and winter liverie.”’ Swift’s satire, strong and crushing as it is, is so much the less effective, because it seems to spring, not from moral indignation, but from a misanthropical disgust at mankind. Pope excelled in satire, as in every thing else that he attempted, and must be ranked with the few really great satirists of all time. Not that his indig- nant denunciations were not frequently prompted by SATIRICAL POETRY. 409 personal pique and irritated vanity ; but his fine taste usually enabled him to mask his personal feelings under the veil, more or less transparent, of a stern and stoical regard for virtue. His satirical writings in verse consist of the four ‘* Moral Essays,” in the form of epistles, addressed to several persons; the Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, also called ‘The Prologue to the Satires,”’ ‘ The Imitations of Horace” (six in the heroic couplet, and two in octo-syllabics, after the manner of Swift), “ The Epilogue to the Satires,” and the “ Dun- ciad.” Of the moral Essays, the first, ‘Of the Knowl- edge and Characters of Men,” is, till just at the close, rather descriptive than satirical. In the second, “ On the Characters of Women,” he dashes at once into satire. In contrast to those empty-headed, frivolous fair ones, whose “true no-meaning puzzles more than wit,’ he draws the celebrated character of Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough : | **But what are these to great Atossa’s mind, Scarce once herself, by turns all womankind: Who, with herself or others, from her birth Finds all her life one warfare upon earth ; Shines in exposing knaves, and painting fools, Yet is whate’er she hates and ridicules. No thought advances, but her eddy brain Whisks it about, and down it goes again. Full sixty years the world has been her trade, The wisest fool much time has ever made. Offend her, and she knows not to forgive ; Oblige her, and she’ll hate you while you live; But die, and she’ll adore you: then the bust And temple rise, then fall again to dust. Last night her lord was all that’s good and great; A knave this morning, and his will a cheat. Strange! by the means defeated of the ends, By spirit robbed of power, by warmth of friends, By wealth of followers! without one distress, Sick of herself, through very selfishness! 35 410 - HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. Atossa, cursed with every granted prayer, Childless with all her children, wants an heir. To heirs unknown descends the unguarded store, Or wanders, heaven-directed, to the poor.’’ In the third essay, on ‘“* The Use of Riches,” after — the beautiful description of “« The Man of Ross,” who, — with “five hundred pounds a year,” made his benefi- cent influence felt in all the country round, occurs, by way of contrast, the picture of the closing scene of © Charles II.’s splendid favorite, the second Duke of Buckingham : — ‘‘TIn the worst inn’s worst room, with mat half hung, The floors of plaster, and the walls of dung, On once a flock-bed, but repaired with straw, With tape-tied curtains never meant to draw, The George and Garter dangling from that bed Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red, Great Villiers lies — alas! how changed from him, That life of pleasure, and that soul of whim, Gallant and gay, in Cliveden’s proud alcove, The bower of wanton Shrewsbury and love; Or just as gay at council, in a ring Of mimic statesmen, and their merry king. No wit to flatter left of all his store! No fool to laugh at, which he valued more; There, victor of his health, of fortune, friends, And fame, this lord of useless thousands ends !’? Pope perhaps took up this particular character from the ambition of rivalling Dryden, who, as we shall see pre- sently, wrote a owen piece of satire upon Bucking- ham, in his “ Absalom and Achitophel.” The fourth essay satirizes the various kinds of bad taste, but con- tains no passages particularly suitable for citation, In the epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, — one of the bright-" est, wittiest, and most forcible productions of the human intellect, — after lashing the minor poets of the day, all whom — SATIRICAL POETRY. A411 ‘‘his modest satire bade translate, And owned that nine such poets made a Tate,”— "the poet proceeds to strike at higher game : — ** Peace to all such! but were there one whose fires True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires: Blessed with each talent, and each art to please And born to write, converse, and live with ease; Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne, View him with scornful yet with jealous eyes, And hate for arts that caused himself to rise; Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And, without sneering, teach the rest to sneer; Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike; Alike reserved to blame or to commend, A timorous foe, and a suspicious friend; Dreading e’en fools, by flatterers besieged, And so obliging that he ne’er obliged; Like Cato, give his little senate laws, And sit attentive to his own applause; While wits and Templars every sentence raise, And wonder with a foolish face cf praise — Who but must laugh, if such a man there be? Who would not weep, if Atticus 1 were he?” It would be easy to multiply extracts from the “ Imi- _tations of Horace” which follow; but we must leave the reader to study them for himself. Sketches of his own boyhood, concise but weighty criticisms on English poets, savage attacks on the objects of his hate (Lord Hervey, for instance), and noble descriptions, some- what jarring therewith, of the ideal dignity and equity of satire, —all this and more will be found in these wonderful productions. The two which are written in the manner of Swift show a marked inferiority to the rest. In the “ Dunciad”’ personal satire predominates; but 1 Addison. 412 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. there are passages of more general bearing in which Pope rises to the full height of his genius. Such «4 passage is the description of the approach of the empire of Dulness, at the end of the poem: — ‘‘She comes! she comes! the sable throne behold Of Night primeval, and of Chaos old. Before her, Fancy’s gilded clouds decay, And all its varying rainbows die away. Wit shoots in vain his momentary fires, The meteor drops, and in a flash expires. See skulking Truth to her old cavern fled, Mountains of casuistry heaped o’er her head! Philosophy, that leaned on Heaven before, Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more, Physic of metaphysic begs defence, And metaphysic calls for aid on sense! See mystery to mathematics fly! In vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die. Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires, And unawares Morality expires. Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine: Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine! Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restored ; Light dies before thy uncreating word: Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall; And universal darkness buries all.” In personal satire, the main object is the exposure of an individual or individuals. Skelton’s satires on Wol- sey are perhaps the earliest example in our literature. Dryden’s “ MacFlecknoe” is an attack on Shadwell, a rival dramatist and a Whig, and therefore doubly obnoxious to the Tory laureate. Churchill’s satires, though much extolled by his contemporaries, have little interest for modern readers. Gifford’s ‘ Baviad and — Meeviad ” is a clever satire in two parts, in the manner of Pope, on the affected poets and poetesses of the — Cruscan school, so called after Della Crusca, an Italian, ~ SATIRICAL POETRY. 413 the corypheus of this namby-pamby tribe. The follow- ing extract will give an idea of its merits :— | ** Lo, Della Crusea! In his closet pent, He toils to give the crude conception vent; Abortive thoughts, that right and wrong confound, Truth sacrificed to letters, sense to sound, False glare, incongruous images, combine, And noise and nonsense clatter through the line. *Tis done. Her house the generous Piozzi lends, And thither summons her blue-stocking friends ; The summons her blue-stocking friends obey, Lured by the love of poetry and tea.”’ In the “English Bards and Scotch Reviewers,” Byron, with the reckless petulance of youth, held up to ridicule nearly all the poets of his day, — Scott, Words- worth, Coleridge, Southey, Moore, &c. In later life, how- ever, he made ample amends for several of these attacks, to which irritation against “The Edinburgh Review,” and the feeling of power, rather than any serious dislike of his brother poets, had impelled him. The point and spirit of the poem fall off after the first two hundred lines; and it becomes at last absolutely tedious. The following extracts will serve to illustrate the bold and dashing character of this satire. The first regards Southey : — ** Next see tremendous Thalaba come on, Arabia’s monstrous, wild, and wondrous son; Domdaniel’s dread destroyer, who o’erthrew More mad magicians than the world e’er knew. Immortal hero! all thy foes o’ercome, Forever reign — the rival of Tom Thumb! Since startled metre fled before thy face, Well wert thou doomed the last of all thy race, Well might triumphant genii bear thee hence, Illustrious conqueror of common-sense.”’ The next is on Wordsworth : — ‘¢ Next comes the dull disciple of thy school, That mild apostate from poetic rule, 35* 414 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. The simple Wordsworth, — framer of a lay As soft as evening in his favorite May; Who warns his friend to ‘ shake off toil and trouble, And quit his books, for fear of growing double ;’ Who, both by precept and example, shows That prose is verse, and verse is merely prose; Convincing all, by demonstration plain, Poetic souls delight in prose insane, And Christmas stories tortured into rhyme Contain the essence of the true sublime. Thus, when he tells the Tale of Betty Foy, The idiot mother of her ‘idiot boy,’ A moon-struck silly lad who lost his way, And, like his bard, confounded night with day, So close on each pathetic point he dwells, And each adventure so sublimely tells, That all who view the ‘idiot in his glory’ Conceive the bard the hero of the story.”’ ' Political satire castigates, nominally in the interest of virtue, but really in the interest of a party, the wicked or contemptible qualities of the adherents of the opposite faction. The two most notable exemplifi- cations in our literature are Butler’s “* Hudibras” and Dryden’s “ Absalom and Achitophel.” The figures o Sir Hudibras and Ralpho — the one intended to repre sent the military Puritan, half hypocrite, half enthu slast, — “who built his faith upon . The holy text of pike and gun;” the other meant to expose a lower type of Puritarz character, in which calculating craft, assuming the mask of devotion without the reality, made its profits out of the enthusiasm of others —are satirical crea- tions which, if not equal to Don Quixote and Sancho, can never lose their interest in the country which pro- duced the originals. | The satirical portraits in ‘“ Absalom re Achitophel ” are drawn with a masterly hand. They include the = SATIRICAL POETRY. 415 leading statesmen and politicians of the Whig party towards the end of the reign of Charles II. The occa- sion of the satire was furnished by a plot, matured by the busy brain of Shaftesbury, for placing on the throne at the king’s death his natural son the Duke of Mon- mouth, to the exclusion of his brother the Duke of York. The story of Absalom’s rebellion supplied a par- allel, singularly close in some respects, of which Dryden availed himself to the utmost. . Absalom is the Duke of ~ Monmouth; Achitophel, his crafty adviser, is the Earl of Shaftesbury; David stands for Charles II.; Zimri, for the Duke of Buckingham, &c. Some of the characters, though men of mark at the time, have ceased to figure in history; and the satire on them interests us but little. But the sketches of Shaftesbury, Halifax, Buckingham, ‘and Titus Oates, derive an interest, independently of the skill and vigor of the drawing, from the historical importance of the persons represented. Shaftesbury is thus described : — ** Of these the false Achitophel was first, A name to all succeeding ages curst: For close designs and crooked counsels fit, Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit; ”’ Here follow the lines given above at p. 216; after which the poet proceeds, — “‘ A daring pilot in extremity, Pleased with the danger when the waves went high, He sought the.storms; but, for a calm unfit, Would steer too nigh the sands, to boast his wit. Great wits are sure to madness near allied, And thin partitions do their bounds divide; Else why should he, with wealth and honor blest, Refuse his age the needful hours of rest? Punish a body which he could not please, Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease; And all to leave what with his toil he won To that unfeathered two-legged thing, a son?” 416 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. Halifax, known as the “ Trimmer,” who defeated the Exclusion Bill, is the subject of a few laudatory lines: — Jotham, of piercing wit and pregnant thought, Endowed by nature, and by learning taught To move assemblies, who but only tried The worse a while, then chose the better side; Nor chose alone, but turned the balance too: So much the weight of one brave man can do.” The following sketch of the Duke of Buckingham may be compared with that by Pope (see p. 438), — ‘Some of their chiefs were princes of the land: In the first rank of these did Zimri stand; A man so various, that he seemed to be Not one, but all mankind’s epitome: Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, Was every thing by fits, and nothing long; But, in the course of one revolving moon, Was chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon ; Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking, Blest madman, who could every hour employ With something new to wish or to enjoy ! In squandering wealth was his peculiar art; Nothing went unrewarded but desert. Beggared by fools, whom still he found too late, He had his jest, and they had his estate. He laughed himself from court; then sought relief By forming parties, but could ne’er be chief: For, spite of him, the weight of business fell On Absalom and wise Achitophel; Thus wicked but in will, of means bereft, He left no faction, but of that was left.” Oates, the chief witness in the Popish plot of 1680, . is the object of a long rolling fire of invectives, from which we can only extract a few lines :— ‘“‘ His memory, miraculously great, Could plots exceeding man’s belief repeat: Which therefore cannot be accounted lies, For human wit could never such devise, SATIRICAL POETRY. 417 Some future'truths are mingled in his book; But, where the witness failed, the prophet spoke ; Some things like visionary flight appear ; The spirit caught him up, the Lord knows where, And gave him his rabbinical degree, Unknown to foreign university.” Churchill’s “ Prophecy of Famine ” was an unworthy attack upon the Scotch, written when the author was closely linked with the demagogue John Wilkes, and betokening his influence. The minister, Lord Bute, had given places in England to several of his country- men ; hine alle lachryme! There is no proper arrange- ment in the poem, no evidence of a concerted plan ; the writer seems to have fired off his small arms just as it might happen, shooting wildly and rapidly, in the vague notion that some of the shot might hit. In the early portion of the satire, the wit consists, according to Churchill’s usual manner, in the ironical ascription to the Scotch of virtues, the bad qualities opposite to which are supposed to be notoriously prominent in their national character. Two Scotch shepherds, Jockey and Sawney, are then introduced, bewailing, in alternate strophes, the sad condition of their country since the fatal day of Culloden: they are joined by the goddess Famine, who prophesies the approaching exaltation of the nation through the advent of a Scotchman (Lord Bute) to power, who will enable his countrymen to fatten upon the riches of England. The names of de- mocracy and liberty become hateful in the mouths of Wilkes, Churchill, and Co., of whom it might truly be said, in the words of Milton, — “‘ License they mean when they cry liberty.’’ Politically and socially this middle part of the cen- tury was a dull and despicable period, in which the only objects that relieve the gloom are the genuine enthu- 418 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. siasm of Burke on the one hand, and the keen, cold, caustic good sense of Horace Walpole on the other. The allusions in Walpole’s letters to Churchill’s works, as they successively appeared, are full of point and truth; in fact, the whole age, in its meanness and false assumption, its hypocrisy and its corruption, is wonder- fully photographed in the correspondence of that intel- ligent patrician, who made no fuss and endured none, — who saw things just as they were, and had the gift of setting them down just as he saw them. If it be a marked descent from Dryden to Churchill, it is a still deeper fall from Churchill to Peter Pindar. John Wolcot, a native of Devonshire, was educated by — his uncle, an obscure medical practioner at Fowey, to his own profession. The natural vulgarity of his mind was never corrected, nor his irrepressible conceit ever rebuked, by the association with his betters at a univer-_ sity. In the society of a small country town he was an oracle, a marvel of genius; there his sallies were applauded, his ribaldry mistaken for satire, his obscenity for humor, and his low smartness for wit. It would be difficult to name a literary work exhibiting a more piti- ful debasement of the human intellect than “The ~ Lousiad,” published in 1786. The backstairs tattle of the royal household had, it seems, spread a story that an animal of that description had made its appearance on the king’s plate at dinner, who had ordered the heads of all the cooks and scullions to be shaved in consequence. Upon this incident, real or imaginary, Wolcot founded what he calls an heroic-comic poem in five cantos, at the end of which, in servile imitation of Pope, he makes the Zephyr transport the animal to the skies, and transform him into a planet, which is there- upon discovered by Herschel, and solemnly named “ The Georgium Sidus.” | SATIRICAL POETRY. 419 It may perhaps be said, Is not Peter Pindar the English Beaumarchais? does he not, like him, turn ' sham greatness inside out, and demolish the supersti- _ tious awe with which privileged persons and classes are ; surrounded in the imaginations of the vulgar? No, he is not comparable to Beaumarchais ; for Beaumarchais did a solid and necessary work, and he did not. Con- tinental kings, before the French Revolution, however personally despicable they might be, were formidable, because the political system was despotic, because they ' wielded an enormous power irresponsibly, and could ' consign to a perpetual dungeon by their lettres de cachet, unless prudence restrained them, any private citizen who might offend them. Yet traditional reverence and ‘mistaken piety surrounded these kings with a halo of majesty and sanctity in their people’s eyes; he therefore ‘who undermined this reverence, who exhibited kings and queens as just as miserable forked’ bipeds, just as silly, greedy, and trifling, as men and women in general, did a good and-necessary work as one of the pioneers ‘of freedom. But in England, in the eighteenth century, _ kings had no such powers; religious worship, thought, and its expression, were almost entirely free;! our political liberties were in the main secure; no king could send an Englishman to prison at his own caprice, _ or subject him to arbitrary taxation, or deprive him of representation in parliament. What serious harm, then, could the utmost conceivable folly, malignity, and even profligacy, in the king and the royal family do to the people at large? None whatever; there was therefore no object sufficient to justify a satire, no dignus vindice nodus. On the other hand, the mere fact of the Hano- verian family being seated on the throne, — however it might surround itself with German menials and wait- 1 Of course I am not speaking of Ireland. * 420 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. ing women like Madame Schwellenberg, whom Wolecot lashes with indignant patriotism, — constituted, in the eyes of every Englishman of sense, a standing protest on behalf of the sovereign right of the people to con- trol its own destinies, and as such should have made — that limited and muzzled royalty sacred from assault. A man who wrote so much, and whose tongue, as he says of himself, ‘¢So copious in a flux of metre, Labitur et labetur,”’? — could not but say a good thing occasionally. The postscript to his “Epistle to James Boswell, Esq.,” being a supposed conversation between Dr. Johnson and the author, contains a well-known sally : — P.P. ‘Ihave heard it whispered, Doctor, that, should you die before him, Mr. Boswell means to write your life.”’ Johnson. ‘Sir, he cannot mean me so irreparable an injury. Which of us shall die first, is only known to the great Disposer of events; but, were I sure that James Boswell would write my life, I do not know whether I would not anticipate the measure by taking his.” - Since Dryden we have had no _ political satirist eom- parable to Moore. In “ The Fudge Family in Paris,” the letters of Mr. Phelim Fudge to his employer, Lord Castlereagh, are an ironical picture of European society from the point of view of the Holy Alliance. ‘* The Parody on a Celebrated Letter” —that addressed by the Prince Regent to the Duke of York in 1812—isa piece of cutting satire, in which every line has its open or covert sting. Among the many shorter poems which fall under the a ——eEEeeEee-,tlc tr OO description of political satire, none has attained greater — notoriety than “ Lilliburlero,” or better deserved it than ‘The Vicar of Bray.” The doggerel stanzas of the 1 Apologetic Postscript to Ode upon Ode. j PASTORAL POETRY. 491 former were sung all over England about the time of the landing of William III., and are said to have con- tributed much to stir up the popular hatred against James. “The Vicar of Bray” is a witty narrative of the changes in political sentiment which a beneficed clergyman, whose fundamental principle it is to stick to. his benefice, might be supposed to undergo between the reigns of Charles II. and George I. The first and the last stanzas are subjoined : — ** In good King Charles’s golden days, When loyalty no harm meant, A zealous high-church man I was,. And so I got preferment. To teach my flock I never missed, Kings are by God appointed, And cursed are they that do resist, Or touch the Lord’s anointed ; And this is law, &e. The illustrious house of Hanover, And Protestant succession, To them I do allegiance swear — While they can keep possession ; For in my faith and loyalty I never more will falter, And George my lawful king shall be — Until the times do alter; And this is law, I will maintain Until my dying day, sir, That, whatsoever king shall reign, Pll be the Vicar of Bray, sir.” Pastoral Poetry; Spenser, Brown, Pope, Shenstone. Of the pastoral poetry of Greece, such as we have in the exquisite “Idyls” of Theocritus, our English specimens are buta weak and pale reflection. The true pastoral brings us to the sloping brow of the hill, while the goats are browsing below; and on a rustic seat, »pposite a statue of Priapus, we see the herdsmen 36 422 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. singing or piping, yet shunning to try their skill in the midday heats, because they fear to anger Pan, who then ‘rests, being a-weary, from his hunting.”! Even Virgil’s ‘‘ Eclogues,”’ graceful and musical as they are, possess but a secondary excellence: they are merely imitations of Theocritus, and do not body forth the real rural life of Italy. The only English poetry which bears the true pastoral stamp is that of Burns and other Scottish writers, and for this reason: that, like the Greek pastoral, it is founded on reality ; it springs out of the actual life and manner of thought of the Scottish peasant. If it is rough-hewn and harsh in comparison with its Southern prototype, that is but saying that the Scottish peasant, though not despicably endowed, is neither intellectually nor esthetically the equal of the Greek. | The chief pastoral poems that we have are Spen- sers ‘“‘Shepherd’s Kalendar,” Drayton’s ‘ Eclogues,”’ Browne’s “ Britannia’s Pastorals,’” and Pope’s and Shenstone’s ‘ Pastorals,” besides innumerable shorter pieces. It is scarcely worth while to make extracts. Browne’s so-called pastorals ought rather to be classed as descriptive poems, since they are destitute of that dramatic character which the true pastoral (which is, in fact, a rudimentary drama) should always possess. “ Britannia’s Pastorals’’? are in two books, each containing five “‘songs’’ or cantos. A thread of narrative runs through them, but does not furnish much that is interesting, either in character or in incident. The conduct of the story of Marina and her lovers is far too discursive. Each song is introduced by an “‘argument,’’ asin the “‘ Faerie Queen ;”” and the coloring of the whole work is strongly Spenserian. But the digressions and intercalated discussions on all sorts of matters, chiefly however, amatory, make it very tedious reading. A’ true feeling for natural beauty, a special love for the scenery of his native Devon, and | a corresponding power of rich and picturesque description, are Browne’s chief merits. | 1 Theocritus, Idyl I. DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. 498 Pope, in the introduction to his “ Pastorals,” explained his conception of a pastoral poem, as of an ideal picture _ of the simplicity and virtue, the artless manners, fresh " affections, and natural language of the golden age, apart - alike from courtly refinements and realistic coarseness. - fm executing this conception he is very happy, espe- cially in the third and fourth pastorals. Shenstone’s « Pastoral Ballad’ has some delicately turned phrases ; _ we subjoin a stanza or two: — _ “ When forced the fair nymph to forego, ay What anguish I felt at. my heart! Yet I thought — but it might not be so— ’T was with pain that she saw me depart. She gazed, as I slowly withdrew, 4 My. path I could hardly discern ; * So sweetly she bade me adieu, I thought that she bade me return.”’ The nymph proves faithless ; and “ disappointment ”’ is the burden of the concluding part or canto of the y poem :— | “* Alas! from the day that we met, What hope of an end to my woes? When I cannot endure to forget The glance that undid my repose. Yet time may diminish the pain: The flower, and the shrub, and the tree, Which I reared for her pleasure in vain, In time may have comfort for me.”’ Descriptive Poetry: ‘“‘Polyolbion,” ‘‘Cooper’s Hill,” “ The Seasons.” This kind of poetry labors under the want of definite form and scope: it is accumulative, not organic; and consequently is avoided, or but seldom used, by the greater masters of the art. The most bulky specimen of descriptive verse that we possess is Drayton’s “ Poly- olbion;’’ the most celebrated, Thomson’s ‘“ Seasons.” 494 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. The “ Polyolbion” is a sort of British gazetteer; it describes the most noted spots or towns in every English county, with historical illustrations. The poem shows great imaginative as well as descriptive power; so that one wonders at the patient industry with which a man whose gifts qualified him for higher things must have worked out his dull task. The diction is simple and strong, and tends to the Saxon side of the language, as the following extract shows : — “Of Albion’s glorious isle, the wonders whilst I write, The sundry varying soils, the pleasures infinite, - Where heat kills not the cold, nor cold expels the heat, The calms too mildly small, nor winds too roughly great, Nor night doth hinder day, nor day the night doth wrong, The summer not too short, the winter not too long, — : What help shall I invoke to aid my Muse the while? Thou genius of the place! this most renowned isle, Which livedst long before the all-earth-drowning flood, Whilst yet the earth did swarm with her gigantic brood, Go thou before me still, thy circling shores about, Direct my course so right, as with thy hand to show Which way thy forests range, which way thy rivers flow, Wise genius, by thy help that so I may desery How thy fair mountains stand, and how thy valleys lie. “Cooper’s Hill,’ by Sir John Denham, has the beautiful and often-quoted passage descriptive of the Thames : — ‘Thames — the most loved of all the Ocean’s sons By his old sire —to his embraces runs, Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea, Like mortal life to meet eternity. Though with those streams he no resemblance hold Whose foam is amber, and their gravel gold, His genius and less guilty wealth to explore, Search not his bottom, but survey his shore, — O’er which he kindly spreads his spacious wing, And hatches plenty for the ensuing spring; Nor then destroys it with too fond a stay, Like mothers which their infants overlay, DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. , 495 Nor with a sudden and impetuous wave, Like profuse kings, resumes the wealth he gave; No eee inundations spoil The mower’s hopes, nor mock the ploughman’s toil; But godlike his unwearied bounty flows; First loves to do, then loves the good he does; Nor are his blessings to his banks confined, But free and common as the sea, or wind, When he, to boast or to disperse his stores, Full of the tributes of his grateful shores, Visits the world, and, in his flying towers, Brings home to us, and makes both Indies ours; _ Finds wealth where ’tis, bestows it where it wants; Cities in deserts, woods in cities, plants; So that to us no thing, no place, is strange, * While his fair bosom is the world’s exchange. Oh might I flow like thee, and make thy stream My great example, as it is my theme! — Though deep yet clear, though gentle yet not dull, Strong without rage, without o’erflowing full.” Of Pope’s “ Windsor Forest,” Johnson has remarked, “The design of ‘Windsor Forest’ is evidently taken from ‘* Cooper’s Hill,’ with some attention to Waller’s poem on ‘The Park.’ ... The objection made by Dennis is the want of plan, or a regular subordination of parts terminating in the principal and original design. There is this want in most descriptive poems; because, as the scenes which they must exhibit successively are all subsisting at the same time, the order in which they are shown must by necessity be arbitrary, and more is not to be expected from the last part than the first.” Thomson’s ‘‘ Seasons,” a poem in blank verse, in four books, bears some resemblance, though no comparison, to Virgil’s ‘‘Georgics.’’ The descriptions of the appear- ances of nature, the habits of animals, and the manners of men, are generally given with truthful and vivid delineation. The more ambitious flights (if a fine panegyric on Peter the Great be excepted) — in which he paints great characters of ancient or modern story, 36* 426 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. or philosophizes, or plays the moralist — are less success-| ful. Even in describing nature, Thomson betrays a. signal want of imagination; he saw correctly what was before him, the outward shows of things, but never had a glimpse of — | “ The light that never was on sea or land, The inspiration, and the poet’s dream.”’ There are passages from which the author might be set down as a pantheist; but poets are often inconsis- tent; and, as Pope disclaimed the fatalism which seems to be taught by the ‘‘ Essay on Man,” so Thomson might have declined to father the pantheism which seems to pervade the following lines, if expressed in sober prose. : — ‘¢ What is this mighty breath, ye sages, say, That in a powerful language, felt, not heard, Instructs the fowls of heaven, and through their breast These arts of love diffuses ?— what but God? Inspiring God! who, boundless Spirit all, And unremitting energy, pervades, Adjusts, sustains, and agitates the whole.”’ A passage at the end of ‘Spring ”’ contains a well-known line: — ‘* Delightful task! to rear the tender thought, To teach the young idea how to shoot, To pour the fresh instruction o’er the mind, To breathe the enlivening spirit, and to fix The generous purpose in the glowing breast.” The lines on the robin, in ‘*‘ Winter,” are in Thomson’s best manner : — ‘* The fowls of heaven, Tamed by the cruel season, crowd around The winnowing store, and claim the little boon Which Providence assigns them. One alone, The redbreast, sacred to the household gods, a By ie bs y LYRICAL POETRY. 427 Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky, In joyless fields and thorny thickets leaves His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man His annual visit. Half afraid, he first Against the window beats; then, brisk, alights On the warm hearth; then, hopping o’er the floor, Eyes all the smiling family askance, And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is; Till, more familiar grown, the table-crumbs Attract his slender feet.”’ Lyrical Poetry: Devotional, Loyal, Patriotic, Amatory, Bacchanalian, Martial. Lyrical poetry, as its name denotes, implied originally ‘that the words were accompanied by lively music. A rapid movement, and a corresponding rapidity in the "verse, are essential to it. It is the glowing utterance of minds, not calm and thoughtful, but excited and impas- Sioned; it appertains, therefore, to the affective and emotional side of human nature, and has nothing to do with the reasoning and meditative side. Wordsworth, in pursuance of a poetical theory, published in his » youth a collection of “ Lyrical Ballads ;” but they were , - not lyrical, because there was no passion in them, and »much reflection. In later life, he wisely changed their designation. _ There are certain main lyrical themes, corresponding to the passions and emotions which exercise the most agitating sway over'the human heart. These are, devo- ‘tion, loyalty, patriotism, love, war, and revelry. We will take each theme separately, and, from among the innumerable lyrical compositions which adorn our litera- ture, select a very few as a sample of the riches of the Jand. The task of selection is much facilitated by the recent publication of a book called “ The Golden Treas- ury,” being a collection of the best songs and lyrics in the language, admirably edited by Mr. Palgrave. 498 HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. 1. Among devotional lyrics there is none nobler than” Milton’s “Christmas Ode.” Hallam pronounced it to be | “perhaps the finest ode in the English language.” Prose Works, 42. - Cheke, Sir John. . . = seaaan Chesterfield, Lord (1694-1773) 494 Chillingworth, Wm. 1644) ; oo Cee Chubb, Thos. (1679-1747) (1602- . 209 His Prophec y of Famine, A1T, Cibber, Colley (1671-1757) . 245 { Clarendon, Edward Hyde, ' Lord (1609-1674)... 204 His History e the Rebel- lion, 480. . 28a Churchill, Chas. (1731-1764) 264 Ye ——— | INDEX. - PAGE, ' Cleveland, John (1613-1659) ; . 169, 174 = Cobbett, Wm. (1762-1835) . 339 _ Coleridge, Hartley (1796- Coleridge, S.. T. (1772- -1834) His Poems and Plays,/ 323, 337 Colet, Dean (1465-1519) . . 62 : Collier, Jeremy (1650-1726) . 200 a Collins, Anthony (1676-1729) 287 © Collins, William (1720-1756) 264 Colman, Geo. (1733-1794) . 274 Yowley, Abr. (1618-1667) 161-167 rp His Duvideis, 163; Poem Of a PitneeiGo: Plays, id.; Bi Mistress, ib., 441; Pindar- e. iques, 166. © Cowper, Wm. (1731-1800) . 267 SeLiS Castaway, 447; Lines on his Mother’ s Pictur €, 452 5 Poa a ne! Task, 268. e -Coxe, William (1747-1829) . 488 ~ Crabbe, Geo. (1754-1882). . 320 His Tales, 384. ~ Cranmer, Thos. (Abp.) (1489- fee, ©1556) . | Crashaw, Rich. (circa 1650) 171 © Cromwell, Oliver (1658) 156, 157 __ His specches, 204, 404. Crowne, John (circa 1700) . 199 _ Cudworth, Hales (1617-1688) a 211, 503 z Comedies, Karly English. . 99 =) Congreve, Wm. (1669-1728) . 199 - Cook, Capt. (1728-1779) . . 287 | Corbet, Rich. (Bp.) (1582- ; a 173 | DANIAEL, Sam. (1562-1619) . 87 © Darwin, Dr. E. (1731-1802) . 273 " Davenant, Sir Wm. (1605- fm ~~ - 1668) eee eke e : > His Gondibert, ib. ® Davies, Sir J. (1570-162 ee F Davy, Sir Humphrey (L77S— me 61829) “Wretoe, Daniel (1661-1731) 240, 50 Deists, the English . eal “ ppekker, Thomas (circa 1638) Bd ly ‘His Plays Sie 118 - Denham, Sir. John (1615- 1668) . ak WHO His Cooper’ 3 ; Hill, “424, 46 2 Pg eg ae 492 | 541 PAGE. Descriptive Poetry . . . . 423 Dialect, Scottish . ea ey Didactic Poetry . . 897-406 Dodwell, H. Spee 1711) . . 499 Donne, John (1573-1631). . 89 His Satires, 408; Poems, 90; Sermons, 136. Douglas, Gawain (1474-1522) 56 Doyle, Dr. James ( Bp.) (1787- 1884) . . 310 Drama, Englis sh, History of, 95, 195, 243, 274, 337 Dramatic poetry. . . . . 362 Dramatic wiities<: 1.) ve ries Drayton, Mich. (1563-1631) 58, 89 His Nymphidia, 90, 454; Polyolbion, 90. Drummond, William (1585- GAO Ss ae ence re: Dryden, Jolin (16 ne 1700) 18 {-!91 His Plays, 186, 195-197; Dramatic Poesy, 196; Fables, 383; Annus Mirabilis, 897; Hind and Panther, 189, 398; Absalom and Achitophel, 187, 415; Religio Laici, 188. Dunbar, Wm. (1521?) 25.1054 His Thistle and Rose, ib. . 386 Dyer, John (1700-1758) . . 242 Essay of EDGEWORTH, Miss (1767- 1849) ’ 339 Edws ards, Bryan (1743- ~1801 i 49) Blegiat Potiry: i) a. sais Ellis, Geo. (1753-1815). 2738, 464 Elmham, Thomas (flor. 1440) 22 Elphinstone, Hon. M. (1779- 1859) . SB hicieeaeee Elyot, Sir Thomas dor Gish Soon peeeoaa His Governour, ib. Englands Helicon ..... 73 Tinglish language, a evalence ot : 25 Epic Poetry LSE gE te 343-362 Erasinus (1467-1536). ea Ge Erskine, Thos., Lord (1750- 1 i019 eee «281 Etherege, Sir G. (flor. 1670) . 99 Evelyn, John (1620-1706) 206, 494 1 CINE OS Vee ORR CS Fabyan, Rob. (1512). sea 68 Fairfax, Edw. (1682) . . . 76 542 INDEX. PAGE. 3 . PAGE. Falconer, Wm. (1730-1769) Godwin, Wm. (1756-1836) 265, 384 278, 298 Farquhar, Geo. (1678-1707) . 245 His Political Justice, 298. Fell, Dr. John (Bp.) (1625- Goldsmith, Oliver (1728- LGSO) Sco od ee NS aes, te OO 1774) . as Feltham, Owen - (1608?- His Poems, 266; Plays, 1660 ?) 2k8 275; Vicar of Wakefield, Fenton, Elijah (1683-1730) . 286 Ferguson, Adam (1724-1816) 486 Ferrers, George (LO TO}S Pn Fanos PACGIONS WOTKS Ole coe lofi Field, Dr. Rich. (1561-1616) His Book of the Church _. + Fielding, H. (1707-1754) 277, Wilmer, Sir Robert (1688) His Patriarcha, 508. Fletcher, John (1576-1625) . His Plays, ib. Foote, Sam. (1721-1777) . 275 Forbes, Wm. (Bp.) (1585- LOSE) ee tae thee ine ae eee Ford, John (1586-1639?) . . 116 His Plays, ib. Fordun, John (1377). Patios Fortescue, Sir J. (circa 1485) 67 Foster, John (1770-1848) . 514 Foxe, John (1517-1587) 132 His Acts and Monuments, ib. Francis, Sir (1740- LS LS) erie ae, Rei We Froissart, John (1333-1401) . 21 Fuller, Thos. (1608-1661) 87, 204 His Worthies of England, 204. Philip GALE, Thos. (1636-1702) . 202 Garth, Dr. Sam. (1665-1718) 239 His ‘Dispensary, ib. Gascoyne, Geo, (1540-1577) . 106 His Notes on verse, 123. Gataker, T. (1574-1654) . 202 Gay, John (1688-1732) « 235 His Begqar’s Opera, 246. Geoffrey of Monmouth (1154) 16 Gibbon, Edw. (1737-1794) 286 His Decline and Fall of the . Roman Empire, 486; Me- moirs, 491. Gifford, Wm. (1757-1826) . His Baviad and Meviad, 412, gece , Humphrey, Duke Laer: Glover, Rich. (1712-1785) > His Leonidas, ib, 274 bo co oe Oe £926: 278; his Histories, 286. Gorboduc, tragedy of 100 Gore, Mrs....°-) (2) 33a Gosson, Ste. (1554-1623) . 124 Gower, John (1820-1402 ?) His Confessio Amantis, 35, 383; other Poems, 33; 30.) semen Grafton, Rich. (circa 1572) 2) 70 Grattan, Henry (1746-1820) . 281 Gray, Thos. (1716-1771) . . 262 His Elegy, ib., 449; Bard, 492. Greene, Rob. (1598)> 4. 73 sags His Plays, 151. Grocyn, Wm. (1519) 22 7erGe Crote, George = . [ae Grotius, Hugo”. Soe 31 HAILES, Lord (1726-1792) . 480 Hakluyt, Rich. (1553-1616) . 164 Hales, Alex, (1245) 7 #5 sees Halifax, Charles Montague, Earl of (1661-1715) . : Hall, Edward (1547) Pe Hall, Jos. (Bp.) (1574-1656) . His Meditations, 218; his Satires, 85, 408. Hall, Robert (1764-1831) . Hallam, Henry (1777-1859) . His History of European Literature, 517. Hamilton, Sir W. (1788-1856) 503, 504 Hammond, H. (1605-1660) . Harding, Thomas (1512-1572) Hardyng, John (circa 1462) . His Chronicle, ib. Hare, Julius (1795-1855) . 500 — Harr ington, James (161 1- GELS 218 Harrington, Sir John (1561— LOL Pee <> +) Harrison, William - . 124 Hartley, David (1705-1757) . 506 His work On Man, 296. Hawes, Ste. (1509) . . 49 Hawkeswor th, “Drie: (1715- 1773) . ° ’ ° Pig 4 e , (284 ee Se ee a a Pee ee Te eee mente j : b, ; INDEX. 7 PAGE. |. Hazlitt, Wm. (1778-1830) . 340 Heber, Reginald (Bp.) (1783- 1826)... » oot Hemans, Felicia (1794- 1835) 337 Henryson, Rob. (circa 1500). 54 - _ Herbert, Geo. (1593-1632) . 172 His Sacred Poems, ib. Heroic Poetry .. . 361 Herrick, Robert (1591- 1661) . 175 His Hesperides, ib. merschel sit John. . . . 504 Heywood, John (1565) . . 100 Heywood, Thos. (circa 1640) 118 Higgins, John (circa 1590) . 53 Hill, Rowland (1745-1838) . 340 History ; . . . 419-490 Hobbes, Thos. (1588-1679) Ah ie} His political theories, 509. Hogg, Jas. (1772-1835) . 313, 337 ‘Holinshed, Raph. (circa 1580) 124 Home, John (1722-1808) . . 274 Hood, Thomas (1793-1845) . 336 Hooke, Nath. (1763) . . . 486 _ Hooker, Rich. (1553-1600) 135 His Heolesiastical Polity, ib ib. Hooper (Bp.). Hope, Thos. (1767-1 831) ae? 46 Hume, David (1711-1776) 284, 507 His JIdistory of England, 284; Philosophical Works, 294, Humor, Works of. .-.. . 467 Hutcheson, Francis (1694- oe eee fia. =. 206 PALM RLUDES. . . . . 100 Isumbras, Sir, Romance of . 373 JACOBITE Songs. .. . 48l James I, (1566-1625) His Basilicon Doron . . 187 pames, Wim. (1827). . . . 490 Jeffrey, Francis, Lord (1773- 1850) . w « O14 Jewel (Bp. ) (1522-1571) oe dot His Apology and Defence, ib. Johnson, Sam. (1709-1784) 258-261, 405 His Trene, 274; Rasselas, 278; Pamphlets, 282; Ram- bler sort: G0; 284 Jonson, Ben. (1 574-1637) 112-114 His Sad Shepherd, 160; Poems, ib, 043 PAGE. JOWMAlISMy Tie 5 eet Junius, Letters of . « .-. 281 KAYE,. John (circa 1470) . 58 Keats, John (1795-1821) . . 815 Keble, John (1866) 2... 2840 Kippis, Andrew (1725-1795) . 492 Knolles, Rich. (1545 ?-1610) . 180 Knowles, Sheridan (born in BL IE pooh oro ni a. plped tt «Taleo meee LAMB, Charles (1775-1835) . 340 Landon, Letitia E. (1802- 1888) . Gocay, ieee Lanigan, Dr. (1758-1828) . . 488 Lardner, Dr. Nath. (1684 1768) . PSP Wee «cas Latimer (Bp. ) (1490-1555) ren b Latitudinarian Divines . 211 Laud, Wi. ann (1573- 1645) are « 154 Laureated Poets . : De BO Law, Wm. ( 1686-1761) . 260, 500 Layamon, (jior: 1200)... 1% Lee; Nat..(1692) .° . « . 198 Leighton (Abp.) (1611-1684) 211, 498 MPA ON foo) i. ae Leslie, Charles (1650-1722) . 499 Lightfoot, John ee le 212 Lilliburlero , P 420 Linacre, Thomas (1464 2- 1524) . 61 Locke, John (1632-1704) O15, 216 His ’ Essay, ib. 505; Trea- tises on Government . . . 510 Lockhart, J. G. (1794-1854) . 3840 His Life of Scott, 493. Lodge, T. (1563 ?-1625) . . 129 Lombard, Peter (Abp.) . . 15 Lovelace, Col. Rich. (1618- LGSS ee LS, Sn pc aE Le His Songs, 431. Lowth, Rob. (Bp.) (1710- 1787) P . 276 Ludlow, Edm. " (1620-1693) . 204 His Memoirs, 480. Lydgate, John (1375-1430 ?) 38, 52 Lyly, John (1554-1608) . . 121 Lyndsay, Sir David (1490- 1580). : Ree Se Lyrical Poetry ~ . 427-445 Lytton, Sir E. Bulwer, . . 400 544 PAGE, MACAULAY, Lord (1800- 2) ART, beat 444 . Mackenzie, Henry (1745-18 31) His Novels, 278. Mallet, Dav id (1703-1765) -. 290 Malmesbury, William of (flor. 1140) . 16 Malory, Sir Thomas | (flor. 1470) His Historie of King ‘Ar- thur . 315 Manning, Robert ( ‘(flor. 1310) it Mariana. . . 150 Marini . . 161 Marlowe, Chr. “(1 564-1593) . 101 His Plays, id. Marston, John (flor. 1604) 85, 98 His Satires, 94; Plays, 117. Martineau, Harriet... 340 Marvell, Andrew (1620- 1678) 3, 206 Mason, W. (1725-1797) . si 274 Massinger, Philip (1584-1640) 116 May, Thomas (1595-1650) . 205 Meres, Francia 50 524. 14 2688 Merrick, James (1720-1769) . 392 Middleton, Conyers (1683- i MES) Pees Aten lee Cee Middleton, Thomas (1570 ?- 1627): re aS is 8: Mill, James (1773-1836) . . 489 Mill, John Stuart .- . ... 504 Miluer, John (Bp.) (1762- bah Deter 340 Milton, John (1608-1674) 176-184 His Areopaygitica, 209, 509; Christmas Ode, 428 ; Comus, 178; Lycidas, 448° Eleqy on Bishop Andrewes, 137; Paradise Lost, 184, 345- 362; Samson Agonistes, a6é 3; prose-writings, 179, 17. r Miracle Playset. 25 we. eo Mirrour for Magistrates, The 53 Mitford, Wm. (1743-1827) 286, 339 Montgomery, James (1771- 1854) . Bos Nee Per a Moore, Edward (1712-1757) . 274 Moore, Thomas (1780-1852) 313, 333-336, 485 His Satires, 420; Sacred Songs, 430; Lalla Rookh, 395. Moral Plays . . 98 More, Henry (1614-1687) 211, 506 | INDEX. PAGE More, Sir T. (1480-1535) . 68, 71 His Utopia, yee History of Edward V., Murphy, yan (1727-1805) 274 NAPIER, Sir W. 3 2 eee Narrative Poetry ~ 57). Neal, Daniel (1678-1743) . . 488 Newman, Dr. J..Ho see Newspapers, Origin of. . -. 124 Newton, Sir Isaac (1642-1727) 221 Niceols, Richard 52.) eae Noble, Mark (1827)... eer Norton, Thomas (1584) . . 100 Novel, Rise of ‘the’. .3) meg. OCCAM, Wm. of (1800-1347) 15 Oratory) io . 472 Orme, Robert (1728-1801) . 489 Otway, Thomas (1651-1685) . 198 PAINE, Thos. (1787-1809) 297 Paley, William (1743-1805) ; His Moral and Political Philosophy, 297. : Paris, Matthew (circa 12 59) . 16 Parnell, Thos. (1679-1718) . 236 His Hermit, 384. Parsons, Robert (1546-1610) 133 Pastoral Poetry .4 2.2 eeeeen Pearson, John (Bp.) (1612- 1686). 212, 498 Pecock, Reginald (Bp. ) (cir cal { 1390-1460 )) shows tEBG Pepys, Samuel (1682-1708) . 206 Percy {BR oi OO Perkins, Wm. ( 1558-1608) . 498 Petrarch... 4)\J.2)47) ee Phaier, Thomas (1560) . . 53 Philips, Ambrose (1671-1749) 242 Philips, Edw’d (1630-1686?) 493 Philips, John (1676-1708) 243 Philosophy . ; 503, 511 Pitseus, John (1560-1616) . 492 Pitt, William (1759-1806) . 286 Pocoke, Edw’d (1604-1691) . 276 Pole, Cardinal (1500-1558) . 65 Pollok, Robert (1798-1827) . 337 Pool, Matthew (1624-1679) . 498 Pope, A. (1688-1744) 226-284, 242, 302 His Windsor Forest, 425; Satires, 411, 412; Hssay on - Men, 244, 400; Eloisa to _ Abelard, 451: PAGE. Essay on : Criticism, 257, 404: Moral Beieey,; Dre. B.C. -Puttenham, Geo. (circa 1585) meope,Si Thomas... . . Porson, Richard (1752-1808) 276 gPotter, J. (Abp. aa ell Priestley, Dr. Joseph (1'733- Prior, Matthew (1666-1721) . QUARLES, Francis Essays, 409; Rape of the Lock, 369; Iliad, 344; Dun- ciad, 281. 65 202, 499 . 207 238 prizs 1304) Pur chas, Sam (1577-1628) His Pilgrimage, ib. 340 51 His Art of English Poesy . 123 (1592- ye ee, S168, 452 RADCLIFFE, Mrs. (1'764- 1823). . . 279 Raleigh, Sir W. (i 552-1618). 95 His History of the World, 130; Odservations on Trade ad Commerce, 192; Pre- - royative of Parlianent, ib.; Poems, 95. Ramsay, Allan (1685-1757) . 243 Rapin, Paul (1661-1725) . . 488 Reid, Dr. Thos. (1710-1796) . 293 His Philosophical Works, ab. 500. Renard, The Fox. . 68, 385 Reynolds, Sir Joshua (1723- A792) 23 ee OU Ricardo, David (1772- -1823) . 34) Richardson, Sam. (1689-1761) 276 » His Novels, 432. ‘Robertson, Wm. (1721-1793) 285 -Roscommon, Wentworth Dil- Roinances, Metrical Mud, tne os . . 2. 203 . 318 . 392 394 385 Romantic Poems, by Scott by Byron . by Moore . lon, Earl of (1633-1684) . 191 Rowe, Nich. (1673-1718) . Nes 16 Rowley, Win. (circa 1620) Royal Society, foundation of BTS. “Ruffhead, Owen (1723 ?-1769) 493 vib: His Life of Pope, 286. . be -4G* INDEX. 545 PAGE. Rushworth, John (1606-1690) 204 Ruskin, John Hike . 340 Russell, Dr. WV. (1748-1794) . 286 Rymer, Thee (1688-1714). 21 SACKVILLE, Thos. (1536- POO oe ee SB Da LOO TRIssG0rDodue 3 ye eee Sanderson, Rob. (Bp-) ape 1663) : : ; 498 Satirical Poetry 403-421 Savage, Richard (1698-1743) 241 Scotus, Duns. . 15 Scott, Sir Walter (1771-1832) 307-315, 837, 3388 His Poetry, 397-311, 434, 444; Novels, 810-314, 450. Selden, John (1584-1654). . 198 Settle, Elkanah (1648-1724) 199 pewell, Wm... 2.5 2 840 Shadwell, Thos. (1640-1692) 199, 199 Shakspeare, Wim. (1564-1616) 87, 102-110, 368 His Life. 104; Comedies, 106; Tragedies, 108; His- torical Plays, 110; Poems, 83. Sheffield, Lord (1649-1721) . Shelley, Perey Bysshe Pe 1829); 1. jae. B16 L 817 His Ilellas, 436: Skylark, 455; Cloud, 455. Shenstone, Wm. (1714-1763) 264 His Pastoral Ballad, 423. Sheridan, R. B.. (1751-1817) Sherlock, 275, 280 Win. 1707) . prs ( 1641- ; . . 496 Shirley, James at 598 +1668) 119 Sidney, Sir Philip (1554-1 586) 123 His Arcadia, 121; Defence ‘of Poesie, 123. 516. Skelton, John (1529) : . 49 Smith, Adam (1723-1790) . 293 His Theory of Moral Senti- ments, 296; Wealth of Na- tions, 298. Smith, Sydney (1777-1845) . 389 His Peter Plymley’s Letters, 469, Smith, James and Horace . 337 Smith, Sir Thomas. . 64 sSmollett, Tobias (1721- vit) 546 INDEX. PAGE. PAGE. : Southern, Thos. (1659-1746) 245 | Tiptoft, Earl of Worcester 47 Southey, Robert (1774-1843) . 309 His Thalaba, &c., 325. Southwell, Robt. ( 1560-1596) 84 Speed, John (1552-1629) . . 128 Spenser, Edmund (1553-1599) His Faerie Queen, 80, 387; Shepherd’s Calendar, 16; State of Ireland, 80, 150; Ruines of Time, 81; Teares of the Muses, ib. ; minor. poems, 79. Stanley, T. (1625-1678) . 202 Stanley, Dr. Arthur. . . 340 Steele, Richard (1671-1729) . 245, 254-256_ Sterne, Laurence (1718-1768) 277 His Tristram Shandy, 468; Sentimental Journey, 468. Stewart, Dugald (1753-1828) Stillingfleet, Edward (1635- 1699) : Suckling, Sir John 1641) . Surrey, Earl of ( 1516-154") ‘ His Songes and Sonnettes, 293 499 (1609- 175 51 Swift, Jonathan (1667-1745) His Cadenus and Vanessa and other poems, 236; Gul- liver’s Travels, 249; Pam- phlets, 251; Drapier’s Let- ters; (2513 ~ Battle. of* the Books, 257, 469; Tale of a Tub, 251, 464; Conduct of the Allies, 477. 229 . 346 207-209 His Holy Living and Holy Dying, 500. Temple, Sir W. (1628-1698) . Te RACK CTAM. eine teh ov Theology .. . . 495-502 Thirlwail, C. (Bp J ; Thrale, Mrs. se aa ee venir Thomson, James (1700-1748) 237 His Seasons, 425; Castle of Indolence, 390; Sophonisba, 244. . Tickell, Thomas (1686-1740) 241 Tindall, Dr. Matthew (1657- LTS Ae rtra a eeee er ee TASSO (1544-1595). Taylor, Jeremy (1613-1667) 247 Toland, John (1669-1722) 287, 493 Tourneur, Cyril-( flor. 1612) . 118 Travers, Walter (circa 1600) 135 Tucker, Abr. (1705-1774). . 297 UDALL, Nicholas (1506- 1564) 99 Usher, James’ (Abp.) (1581- 1656)... . see VANBRUGH, Sir John (1672-1726) . . 245 Vancouver, Capt. ( 1750-1798) Pa Vicar of Bray, The . Vives, Ludovicus . ; 3 Voltaire (1694-1778) 131, 278, 285 WACE, Richard (flor. 1170) 17 Wall, William (1646-1728) . 496 Waller, Edmund (1605-1687) 170 | His Poems, ib. Walpole, Horace (1717-1797) 279 His Memoirs of George I1., 483; Letters, ib., 418; “Anec- dotes of Painting, 301; Cas- tle of Otranto, 279. Walsh, William (1663-1709) . Walsingham, Thomas (circa 1440). . : Walton, Bryan (1600-1661) . 498 Walton, Izaak (1593-1683) 135, 205 Warburton, W. (Bp.) (1698- ITO) Reee . 290 Warner, William ( born about 227 1558) | ; 86. His ‘Albion’ Ss England, id. Warton, Thomas (1729-1790) 264 His History of English Poetry, 286. Waterland, Dan. (1683-1740) 497 Watts, Isaac (1674-1748) . . 246 Webbe, William (flor. 1586) . 128 Webster, John (flor. 1620) . 116 Wesley, John (1703-1791) 292 Whately, Rich. {Abp.) 1787- 1863) . . 340, 504 White, H. Kirke (1785-1806) ) 837 Whitlocke, Bulstrode (1605- 1676) . snk ge Whole Duty of Man, The . 500 ee William (1759- 33) Wilkie William (1721-1772) . Bad ie SRE cn ne ON aa, | eee ee mee 7 Wood, Anthony (1632-1695) 205 Wordsworth, William (1770- POUL wos ; 327-333 His Excursion, 331, Wotton, Sir Henry (1568- 1639) . ; by aid Wotton, Dr. (1666-1726) apg ty Re ON ee ee oe ee Ln INDEX d4T = PAGE. PAGE. Wilkins, John Bp.) (1614- Wyat, Sir Thomas (1503- s. ©1672 ep as 1541). Wiseman, Nich. (Cardinal) . 340 Wycherley, Wm. (1640-1715) _ Wither, George (1588-1667) . 182 199, 228 His Satires, 1838. Wyeclif, John (1324-1884). . 23 Woleot, Dr. (1738-1819) . 273 His Translation of the His Lousiad, &c., 418. Bible, 43; Sermons, &c., Wolsey, Cardinal (1471- 1530) 44, 64, 132 Wynton, Andrew (died 1420) 40 (1681- YOUNG, Edward : . 244 1765) His Nig ght Thoug ghits, 263. ZINZENDORF, Count . . 292 LIST OF EXTRACTS. ARNOLD’S Lectures on eke ern. History . BACON’sS Essays . Barbour, The Bruce Beattie’s : Min strel Burke’s Speech at Bristol Appeal from New to Old Whigs 2%. Burns’s Scots wha hae. Mary Morison. . Builer’s Hudibras Byron’s Corsair . . English Bards. . Estimate of Pope. CAREW’S Songs . Chaucer’s Cler, ke’s Tale. : Flower and Leaf . Nun's Priest’s Tale z Churehill’s Night Clarendon’s History Cleveland’s Hue and Cry . Coventry Mysteries . Cowley’s Songs . b Lines on Oliver Cromwell . Cowper’s Boadicea . His Castaway . Lines on a Bull Crabbe’s Borough SE PAGE, PAGE, Dryden’s Hind and Panther . 398 A487 Lines to Congreve . . .. 199 Prologue to Aurungzebe . 197 Dunbar’s Thistle and Rose . 386 513 | Dyer’s Grongas Hill . . . 242 307 266 474. | Gay’s Fables’. . > aes Gifford’s Baviad > . Gaia cere . 43 . 442 | Hauu’s Satires .- 2) eee 193 | Herrick’s Songs . 1.) Sees 395 . 413 . . 478 | JACOBITE Song. . . 432 Johnson’s Vanity os Human Wishes . . mere) ye . 440 Lives of the Poets. ot ga Soe . 882 | Jonson’s To Celia . . 2. 450 . 386 Epitaph » 2. .) See 382 265 481 | LoVELACE’s To Althea . . 481 175 | Lydgate’s Daunce of eS Solent habre:... 4983 eee '. 89 . 441, 444 168 436 | MARSTON’s Satyres . . 85, 94 437 | Marvell’s Poems... esa sea 207 | Milton’s Areopagitica. . . 510 321 DARWIN’S Loves of the Plants 273 Davies’ Nosce Teipsum Denham’s Cooper’s Hill . Douglas, Gawain Drayton’ 8 Polyolbion ..... Dryden’s Absalom and gl Ophea, Alexander’ s Feast 548 e e 424 Apology for Smect yn 476 Christmas Ode. . . 428 Lycidas . esc , 448 Paradise Lost e + aes 354-360 Comus. Scuaie 178 Moore’s Ir ish Melodies 435-443 Lalla Rookh . . . 395 ‘Sound the loud Timbrel —. 430 NAPIER’S Peninsular War . 490 —— LIST OF EXTRAOTS. j PAGE. OCCLEVE’S De Regimine . . 87 PETER PINDAR, Epistle to James Boswell . shiva) AZO Pope’s Dying Christian . . 429 REGU ws . » 446 Essay on Criticism » » £04 wesavion Man... . 401 Moranfssays . . . . . 409 SCureR . 410, 411 Rape of the Lock. af te. Be O10 ree ee. . 234 RALEIGH’s Epitaph . . . 448 History . 485 Romance of Sir Isumbras . did Scott, Sir Walter, Lay of the Last Minstrel . 3, 434 Marmion. . Geeta LG) Shakspeare’s Cymbeline 446 Henrg. vill, . es O4 inp Obie 6) re a Measure for Measure . 439 Shelley’s eas fume». 449 Cloud. . eee. 3. 6 AD2 Hellas. Pipeeemeie . 6 437 Skylark e ° ° e sc ° ° 455 549 PAGE. Shenstone’s Pastoral Ballad 423 Sidney, Sir Philip, Defence of Poesy . foo Skelton’s Phyll yp Spar owe . 50 Spenser’s Faerie Queen 388 Ruines of Time. 451 Teares of the Muses . 81 Sterne’s Sentimental Journey 468 Surrey’s Sonnets. . . . 488 Swift’s Conduct of the Allies AT? Sydney Smith’s sae y’s Let- BOP SS cess. sal er ane . 470 TAYLOR’S Holy Dying . . 500 Thomson’s Castle of Indolence 390 SCUSONS Mths.) om Tae Picas Of Bray, TRE so a Aol 171 86 WALLER, Lines on Old Age. Warner’s Albion’s England . Wither’s Songs . . 440 Wordsworth’s Prelude. 328 Intimations of Immor tality 327 Michael . . . . 400 Wyat, Sir Thomas, Stanzas . 438 Wyclif’s Sermons ... . 44 a eae tia . ¢ ek Sy ies aie < OF { ‘ ; ‘. it - 1 . ‘ 4 r { ' i Y SUMMARIES OF LITERARY PERIODS. HG) ey, v ( CzpMON (a.D. 680; author of a Scripture oun we | Poets .... ; History in alliterative verse). va «ei z ae ) { The author of Beowulf. . 2 s oi | v op apes Kina ALFRED. 7 g . |.8 Ropert or GLoucesTer (author of a q o e | Si | rhyming Chronicle). eee). bs ie Poets ... 4 Roperr MANNING. * dw | Fie The author of Havelok, the earliest known iia fle. English romance. o gO rl Ricuarp Rois (A.D. 1840, author of the "ay © : = y, Pricke of Conscience, a moral poem). Bo A L & Royal Society founded; Sir Isaac } NEwTon. 5 ee : | Literature of the Kighteenth Century, 1'700-1800. (Chap. VI.) Prose Writers. cS) am 3S | fa] HH A General... Scholars... iviartate: | ; | Thoviog at Writers. , SUMMARIES OF LITERARY PERIODS. bol Age of Anne: Pork, Appri-| Gray. SON, Prior, Gay, Swirr.’| GOLDSMITH. THOMSON. JOHNSON. SHENSTONE. COWPER. YOUNG. BURNS. CHURCHILL. ADDISON. STEELE, | ROWE. FARQUHAR. Sir JouN VANBRUGH. | R. B. SHERIDAN. SWIFT. DEFOR. The Essayists: ADDISON, STEELE, &c.; BrNJa- \/ MIN FRANKLIN.* The Novelists: RICHARDSON, FIELDING, STERNE, SMOLLETT, GOLDSMITH, &c. Dr. JOHNSON. EDMUND BURKE. The Orators: Lord CHATHAM, BuRKE, Fox, ALEXANDER HAMILTON,* HENRY GRATTAN. The author of the Letters of Junius. JAMES BOSWELL. Dr. BENTLEY. Bishop LOWTH. Dean ALDRICH. | POCOCKE. PCRSON. /{ Burner. ROBERTSON. RAPIN. GIBBON. HuME. ‘T. WARTON. The English Deists: ToLanp, TINDAL, BOLING- BROKE, &c. The Apologists: BENTLEY; Bishops BERKELEY, BUTLER, and WARBURTON; PALEY. CoNYERS MIDDLETON. Bishop CHALLONER. JONATHAN EDWARDS.* BERKELEY (Idealism). Hume (Scepticism). REID, / Brown, Common-sense Philosophy. / DUGALD STEWART, Bishop BUTLER, Philosophical } HUTCHESON, Writers ..| ADAM SMITH, Moral Philosophy. HARTLEY, PALEY, BURKE, > WituiAM Gopwuy, } Political Philosophy: | THOMAS PAINE, Apam Situ (Political Economy). [Nore. — American writers are distinguished by an asterisk.] 558 (Chap. VIL.) Anglo-American Literature of Modern Times, 1800-1850. SUMMARIES OF LITERARY PERIODS. Sir WALTER SCOTTY. WORDSWORTH. SOUTHEY. COLERIDGE. BYRON. SIELLEY. MOoRE. KEATS. B CRABBE. 2 CAMPBELL. o T. Hoop. Leiria HemMans (and many minor poets). R. H. Dana.* p F. HALLECK.* , W. C. BRYANT.* 3 H.W. LONGFELLOW.* *% ( SHERIDAN KNOWLES. 8 | JOANNA BalLiin. a | LYTTON-BULWER. ( Oratory Canaints Henry Ciay,* DANIEL WEBSTER,” O'CONNELL, Sir ROBERT PEEL, E. EVERETT.” Essayists : ; Lams, Hazuitr, Professor WILSON, JEFFREY, vi TIRVING,* De QUINCEY, EMERSON.* Novelists : General ...4 Jane AUSTEN, SCOTT, GODWIN, J. FENIMORE Coorer,* BULWER, DICKENS, THACKERAY, HAWTHORNE.* WILLIAM COBBETT. SYDNEY SMITH THOMAS CARLYLE. 2 JOHN RUSKIN. i GEORGE TICKNOR.* mony = y W. MITFORD. G. GROTE. J. LINGARD. T. B. MACAULAY. 2 | Historians. .. T. ARNOLD. G. BANCROFT.* = H. HALLAM. CARLYLE. ai | W. H. PRESCOTT.* W. E. CHANNING.* | RICHARD, WHATELY. ca J. MILNER. E. B. PUSEY. Writers .. | S..T. COLERIDGE. J. H. NEWMAN. ROBERT HALL. Cardinal WISEMAN. Sir JAMES MACKINTOSH. COLERIDGE. ; : JEREMY BENTHAM. Philosophical } J yyp RicaRvo. Writers «+ | Wrare.y. JOHN STUART MILL. Sir WILLIAM HAMILTON. [NoTE. — American writers are distinguished by an asterisk.} ee ea wed neon fi ie Ah ; : ‘\ . Sie Aine i huh This book is due at the LOUIS R. WILSON LIBRARY on the last date stamped under “Date Due.” If not on hold it may be © renewed by bringing it to the library. ; DATE DUE DATE DUE » : RET. | | DEC 18 p002 | zoe | cam Fate tiie Bi Bes 4 rd Pa | iE, © a is Sees) err IT toe hig Sf bs 68's on SR MEIRE GL F eietf 2 she maritiat ; au yeee er 4 sede ae nib ae > ve sa ina meta a Rabe 8s a Keg Otay since nie 4 = “ i %. ak se eter areca air he eae WAT TET pth OE PS Ta ee oe eee eer a ee ee