{"1": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3597", "width": "2274", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.\\nChap. Copyright No..\\nSlielf\u00e2\u0080\u009e_f R 8S\\n-rib\\nUNITED STATES OF AMERICA.", "height": "3466", "width": "2332", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3466", "width": "2332", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3466", "width": "2332", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3466", "width": "2332", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3466", "width": "2332", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3466", "width": "2332", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "Original engraving by G. Vertue.", "height": "3466", "width": "2332", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "A HISTORY\\nOF\\nENGLISH LITERATURE\\nF. v. n. painter, A.m., d.d.\\nBY\\nProfessor of Modern Languages and Literature in Roanoke College,\\nAuthor of A History of Education, Introduction to English\\nLiterature, Introduction to American Literature, etc.\\noX*ic\\nSIBLEY DUCKER\\nBOSTON CHICAGO", "height": "3466", "width": "2332", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0011.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "9257\\nLibrary of Conqrese\\nTwo Copies Received\\nJUN 21 1900\\n^r#^v^\\nDflive A# tt\\nJUN 22 1900\\nM\u00c2\u00ab\\n64096\\nCopyright, 1899,\\nBy SIBLEY DUCKER.\\nNortooolJ ^ress\\nJ. S. Cushing Co. Berwick Smith\\nNorwood Mass. U.S.A.", "height": "3466", "width": "2332", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0012.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "Ii\u00c2\u00a3titcat\u00c2\u00a3ti to\\nMR. ORLANDO LEACH", "height": "3466", "width": "2332", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0013.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3466", "width": "2332", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0014.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "PREFACE\\nThis book is, in the main, an expansion of the text of\\nthe author s Introduction to EngHsh Literature. The\\nhistorical surveys and the biographical and critical sketches\\nare more extended, and nearly twice as many authors are\\ntreated at length.\\nThe large number of authors treated has prevented the\\nuse of illustrative extracts other than those given in the bio-\\ngraphical and critical sketches. It is expected that the\\nbook will be supplemented by the reading or careful study\\nof complete masterpieces, the selection of which is left to\\nthe judgment of the teacher.\\nThis work traces the course of English literature in its\\norganic development. It presents a survey of the whole\\nfield, and reveals to the student the position and relations\\nof the great English writers. The use of separate, unre-\\nlated texts, without such a comprehensive survey, results\\nin fragmentary and unsatisfactory knowledge.\\nConsiderable attention has been given to the historical\\nand social conditions that largely determine the character\\nof literature. The influence of race, epoch, and surround-\\nings has been clearly pointed out and thus, not only the\\nhistory, but also the philosophy, of English literature has\\nbeen in a measure presented.\\nThis work is intended to be, not a cyclopaedia of English\\nliterature, but a practical text-book. In the judgment of\\nthoughtful teachers this fact will justify the omission of\\nmany names which would serve only to confuse and bur-\\nden the student s memory. It is believed that as many\\nauthors have been treated at length as can be profitably", "height": "3466", "width": "2332", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0015.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "vi PREFACE\\nstudied in our schools and colleges. For the sake of\\ngreater completeness, a list of less important writers,\\ntogether with their principal works, is prefixed to each\\nperiod.\\nIt is hoped that the comparatively full and sympathetic\\ntreatment of the great English authors will tend to awaken\\ninterest in literature, and give a clearer insight into its\\nnature and beauty. Unusual prominence has been given\\nto the writers of the nineteenth century.\\nAs an aid to many teachers and students, a list of some\\nof the best and most accessible books relating both to the\\ngeneral subject of English literature and to particular\\nauthors has been given in an appendix. Not a few refer-\\nences have been given, also, to magazine and review arti-\\ncles of special interest or value. As nearly all of these\\nworks have been used in the preparation of the present vol-\\nume, the writer wishes to refer to them as his authorities.\\nIt is hoped that the list of books appended as a general\\nguide for reading will prove acceptable to a large number\\nof students. It is designed to include only such books\\nas have gained, by reason of some excellence or other,\\na noteworthy or permanent place in English literature.\\nMany admirable books have been omitted for, with so\\ngreat an abundance of literary treasures, the effort has\\nbeen, not to extend, but to shorten the list.\\nThe author and pubUshers wish to express their great\\nindebtedness to Mr. Frederick Keppel, of New York City,\\nfor the use of his large collection of authentic and finely\\nexecuted portraits. It is believed that the literary map and\\nthe numerous illustrations will add much to the interest and\\nusefulness of the book.\\nF. V. N. PAINTER.\\nSalem, Va.,\\nDecember 26, 1899.", "height": "3466", "width": "2332", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0016.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS.\\nINTRODUCTION.\\nLiterature in its largest sense National literature English\\nliterature Its excellence Moulding influences Race\\nEpoch Environment Personal elements Literature in a\\nnarrower sense Importance of literature As a social force\\nLiterary taste Periods of English literature\\nI.\\nOLD ENGLISH OR ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD.\\n(500-1066.)\\nEnglish language composite Original inhabitants of British Isles\\nRoman conquest Anglo-Saxon invasion Character of\\nAnglo-Saxons Their religion Missionary work of Au-\\ngustine Influence of Christianity Education Alcuin\\nBede Anglo-Saxon language DiiTerent dialects Poetry\\nand gleemen Principle of Anglo-Saxon poetry Its char-\\nacteristics Value of Anglo-Saxon literature Caedmon,\\nBeowulf Other poems Alfred the Great\\nII.\\nMIDDLE ENGLISH OR FORMATIVE PERIOD.\\n(1066-1400.)\\nLimits of period Normans Their character Norman Con-\\nquest Modern English Social condition of England\\nExisting evils Literary development Esteem for learning\\nTrouvere poetry Chanson de Roland Arthurian\\nvii", "height": "3466", "width": "2332", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0017.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "viii CONTENTS.\\nPAGE\\ncycle Italian influence History, romance, religion\\nAnglo-Saxon Chronicle Latin Chronicles Lyrical poe-\\ntry Layamon s Brut Robert of Gloucester Robert\\nManning Wycliflfe Ormin Langland Gower Geof-\\nfrey Chaucer 31\\nin.\\nFIRST CREATIVE OR ELIZABETHAN PERIOD.\\n(1558-1625.)\\nInterest of period Barren era after Chaucer Revival of learn-\\ning Inventions Caxton and the printing-press The\\nReformation Condition of England Elizabeth s character\\nGeneral progress Influence on thought and character\\nPre-Elizabethan literature Old ballads Thomas More\\nEarl of Surrey Sir Thomas Wyat Elizabethan outburst\\nof literature Ascham Lyly Sidney Hooker Raleigh\\nElizabethan lyrics Sackville, Daniel, Drayton Origin\\nof drama Miracle plays Moralities First comedy and\\ntragedy Theatres Minor dramatists Ben Jonson\\nEdmund Spenser Francis Bacon William Shake-\\nspeare 67\\nIV.\\nCIVIL WAR OR PURITAN PERIOD.\\n(1625-1660.)\\nPuritan ascendency Civil and religious conflicts Pohcy of\\nCharles I. Petition of Right Bad advisers of king\\nHouse of Commons Independents Voluntary exiles\\nCivil War The commonwealth Puritanism unfavorable to\\nliterature Decay of drama Jeremy Taylor Earl of\\nClarendon Baxter Isaak Walton Metaphysical poets\\nJohnson s criticism Edmund Waller Abraham Cowley\\nJohn Milton John Bunyan 153", "height": "3466", "width": "2332", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0018.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS. ix\\nV.\\nFIRST CRITICAL OR QUEEN ANNE PERIOD.\\n1 660-1 745.)\\nPAGE\\nPuritan extreme Reaction French influence Natural sci-\\nence Transition Greater toleration Deism Augustan\\nAge English influence Social condition Woman\\nWitchcraft Rise of Methodism Reading public Clubs\\nPeriodicals Diarists, Evelyn and Pepys John Locke\\nSteele Rise of the novel Defoe Richardson Fielding\\nSamuel Butler James Thomson Edward Youn^\\nJohn Dryden Joseph Addison Alexander Pope\\nJonathan Swift 195\\nVI.\\nAGE OF JOHNSON.\\n(1745-1800.)\\nCharacteristics of period Transition Brotherhood of man\\nDeclaration of Independence Democratic tendencies\\nAdvancing intelligence Newspapers Moral and religious\\nimprovement Philanthropy England a world-power\\nResults on English character Oratory Pitt, Burke His-\\ntorical writing Hume, Robertson Romantic movement\\nEffects Humanity Nature Samuel Johnson Oli-\\nver Goldsmith Edward Gibbon William Cowper\\nRobert Burns\\nVII.\\nAGE OF SCOTT.\\n(1800-1832.)\\nFavorable political conditions Triumphs of democracy Periods\\nnot sharply defined Effect of French Revolution Growing\\nintelligence Periodicals Critics Jeffrey, Hazlitt, Lamb,\\nWilson, Lockjiart History Hallam, Mitford Promi-\\n273", "height": "3466", "width": "2332", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0019.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "X CONTENTS.\\nPAGB\\nnence of women Ann Radcliffe Maria Edgeworth\\nJane Austen Poetry Thomas Campbell John Keats\\nRobert Southey Thomas Moore Sir Walter Scott\\nLord Byron William Wordsworth Samuel Tay-\\nlor Coleridge Percy Bysshe Shelley Thomas De\\nQuiNCEY 367\\nVIII.\\nVICTORIAN AGE.\\n(1832-1900.)\\nGrandeur of the age Inventions Notable era Scientific in-\\nvestigation Practical tendencies Educational advance-\\nment Periodical press International relations Political\\nprogress Social improvement Religion and philanthropy\\nCreative and diffusive literature Essay writing History\\nFiction Realism and romanticism Poetry Thomas\\nBabington Macaulay Charlotte Bronte William\\nMakepeace Thackeray Charles Dickens George\\nEliot Elizabeth Barrett Browning Robert\\nBrowning Alfred Tennyson Thomas Carlyle\\nMatthew Arnold John Ruskin 473\\nAPPENDIX.\\nLiterary Map of England Facing page 671\\nBooks of Reference 671\\nBooks Worth Reading 683", "height": "3466", "width": "2332", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0020.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "ILLUSTRATIONS\\nPortrait of Chaucer\\nPortrait of Spenser, with facsimile of autograph\\nPortrait of Bacon, with facsimile of autograph\\nPortrait of Shakespeare, with facsimile of autograph\\nInscriptions\\nThe Mary Arden Cottage\\nStratford on Avon\\nPortrait of Milton, with facsimile of autograph\\nPortrait of Bunyan, with facsimile of autograph\\nPortrait of Uryden, with facsimile of autograph\\nPortrait of Addison, with facsimile of autograph\\nPortrait of Pope, with facsimile of autograph\\nPortrait of Swift, with facsimile of autograph\\nPortrait of Johnson, with facsimile of autograph\\nPortrait of Goldsmith, with facsimile of autograph\\nPortrait of Gibbon, with facsimile of autograph\\nPortrait of Cowper, with facsimile of autograph\\nPortrait of Burns, with facsimile of autograph\\nThe Tarn O Shanter Inn\\nThe Auld Brig o Doon\\nPortrait of Scott, with facsimile of autograph\\nEllen s Isle\\nScott s Tomb\\nPortrait of Byron, with facsimile of autograph\\nPortrait of Wordsworth, with facsimile of autograph\\nFrontispiece\\nFACING PAGE\\n144\\n167\\n181\\n240\\n258\\n288\\n302\\n332\\n349\\n360\\n365\\n383\\n389\\n396\\n397\\n410", "height": "3466", "width": "2332", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0021.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "XI 1\\nILL USTRA TIOiVS.\\nGrasmere\\nThe Poet s Seat\\nPortrait of Coleridge, with facsimile of autograph\\nGreta Hall\\nPortrait of Shelley, with facsimile of autograph\\nPortrait of De Ouincey, with facsimile of autograph\\nPortrait of Macaulay, with facsimile of autograph\\nPortrait of Bronte, with facsimile of autograph\\nPortrait of Thackeray, with facsimile of autograph\\nPortrait of Dickens, with facsimile of autograph\\nGadshill Home of Dickens\\nPortrait of Eliot, with facsimile of autograph\\nPortrait of Browning (E. B.), with facsimile of autograph\\nPortrait of Browning (Robert), with facsimile of autograph\\nHouse in which Browning died, Venice\\nPortrait of Tennyson, with facsimile of autograph\\nTennyson s Walk at Farringford\\nPortrait of Carlyle, with facsimile of autograph\\nCarlyle s Monument\\nPortrait of Arnold, with facsimile of autograph\\nFox How the Arnold Home\\nPortrait of Ruskin, with facsimile of autograph\\nBrantwood Ruskin s Home\\nLiterary map with index\\nFACING PAGE\\n416\\n418\\n425\\n437\\n442\\n459\\n488\\n504\\n519\\n535\\n542\\n552\\n568\\n585\\n601\\n603\\n617\\n622\\n636\\n639\\n640\\n656\\n669\\nBetween 670 and 671", "height": "3466", "width": "2332", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0022.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nINTRODUCTION.\\nLiterature in its largest sense National literature English litera-\\nture Its excellence Moulding influences Race Epoch\\nEnvironment Personal elements Literature in a narrower sense\\nImportance of literature As a social force Literary taste\\nPeriods of English literature.\\nIn its largest sense, literature includes all the written\\nrecords of man. It presents the thoughts, emotions, and\\nachievements of the human family. Its vast extent ren-\\nders it absolutely impossible for any person to become\\nacquainted with more than a very small part of it. The\\ngreatest libraries of the world now contain more than\\na million volumes, to which thousands are added every\\nyear.\\nThis general or universal literature is made up of\\nnational literatures. A national literature is composed of\\nthe literary productions of a particular nation. After\\nreaching a state of civilization, every nation accumulates\\na body of writings that express the thoughts, feelings, and\\nachievements of its people. Thus we have the literature\\nof Greece, of Rome, of Germany, of England, and of other\\nnations, both ancient and modern.", "height": "3466", "width": "2332", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0023.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "2 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nEnglish literature embraces the writings of the people\\nof Great Britain. It covers a period of about twelve hun-\\ndred years; and five hundred years ago it had in Chaucer\\none of the world s great writers. It shares in the greatness\\nof the English people. It combines French vivacity with\\nGerman depth and in its scope, variety, and excellence\\nit is second to no other. No department of literature has\\nbeen left uncultivated. Poets have sung in sweet and\\nlofty strains novelists have portrayed every phase of\\nsociety orators have convinced the judgment and moved\\nthe heart scientists have revealed the laws of the physi-\\ncal world historians have eloquently told of the past\\nand philosophers have deeply pondered the mysteries of\\nexistence.\\nThis literature is a heritage in which all English-speak-\\ning people may feel a just pride. It is a subject to which\\nthey should give careful study. It embodies the best\\nthought and the noblest feeling of the English people\\nand an acquaintance with it leads not only to greater\\nbreadth of culture, but also to a profounder insight into\\nEnglish history and English character. Standing in close\\nrelation to us, it naturally possesses a deeper interest than\\nthe literature of any other country.\\nLiterature is influenced or determined by whatever\\naffects the thought and feeling of a people. Among the\\nmost potent influences that determine the character of a\\nliterature are race, epoch, and sitrronndings This fact\\nshould be clearly understood, for it renders a philosophy\\nof literature possible. We cannot fully understand any\\nwork of literature, nor justly estimate its excellence, with-\\nout an acquaintance with the national traits of the writer.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0024.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "INTRODUCTION.\\nthe general character of the age in which he lived, and\\nthe physical and social conditions by which he was sur-\\nrounded. The relation between literature and history is\\nvery intimate.\\nThe human family is divided into several races, which\\nare distinguished from one another by different physical\\nand mental characteristics. The Caucasian is clearly dis-\\ntinguishable from the African, not only by his fairer skin\\nand straighter hair, but also by his superior intellectual\\npowers. Within the same race we discover similar, though\\nless clearly marked, differences. Apart from noticeable\\nphysical differences, the Teuton, with his serious, reflec-\\ntive, persistent temper, is quite unlike the Celt, with his\\nvivacity, wit, and ready enthusiasm. No two nations are\\nexactly ahke in form and in mind. These differences,\\nwherever found, are naturally reflected in literature, which\\nis the expression of the life of the soul.\\nEvery age has its peculiar interests, culture, and ten-\\ndencies. With the ancient Jewish nation, religion was a\\npredominant interest. In the Elizabethan Age, culture\\nwas far more general than at the period of the Norman\\nConquest. The present century is characterized by its\\ndemocratic tendencies. Whatever may be the epoch, its\\npeculiarities will inevitably be reflected in its literary pro-\\nductions. An acquaintance with the general character of\\nan age gives a deeper insight into its literature.\\nThe third formative influence in literature is environ-\\nment or the prevailing physical and social conditions. The\\nliterature produced in the presence of a sterile soil and\\nrigorous climate is different in tone and color from that\\nproduced in the midst of fruitful fields and under sunny", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0025.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "4 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nskies and, in like manner, its quantity and quality are\\naffected, to a greater or less degree, by a state of war or\\npeace, intelligence or ignorance, wealth or poverty, free-\\ndom or persecution.\\nBut it is a mistake to suppose that race, epoch, and sur-\\nroundings will explain everything in literature. There is\\na personal element of great importance. From time to\\ntime, men of great genius appear, and rising by native\\nstrength high above the level of their age, become centres\\nof a new and mighty influence in literature. This truth is\\nexemplified by Homer in Greece, Luther in Germany, and\\nChaucer in England, each of whom exerted an incalcula-\\nble influence upon the subsequent literary development of\\nhis country.\\nThe word literature, which up to this point has been\\nused in its large, general sense, has also a restricted mean-\\ning, which it is important to understand, and with which\\nwe are principally concerned in this work. In any liter-\\nary production we may distinguish between the thoughts\\nthat are presented, and the manner in which they are pre-\\nsented. We may say, for example, The sun is rising\\nor, ascending to a higher plane of thought and feeling,\\nwe may present the same fact in the language of\\nThomson\\nBut yonder comes the powerful King of Day,\\nRejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud,\\nThe kindling azure, and the mountain s brow\\nIllumed with fluid gold, his near approach\\nBetoken glad.\\nIt is thus apparent that the interest and value of litera-\\nture are largely dependent upon the manner or form in", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0026.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "INTRODUCTION. 5\\nwhich the facts are presented. In its restricted sense,\\nliterature includes only those works which are polished or\\nartistic in form. Poetry, fiction, essays, and oratory are\\nits principal forms, though history and scientific treatises\\noften reach an excellence that makes them literature in the\\nnarrower sense. The classic works of a literature are\\nthose which present ideas of general and permanent inter-\\nest in a highly finished or artistic manner.\\nThe importance of literature, both in its larger and its\\nnarrower sense, can hardly be over-estimated. Books are\\nthe treasure-houses, in which the intellectual riches of all\\npast ages have been permanently stored. Literature is\\nour principal means of acquiring a knowledge of the\\nachievements of our race, and of rising to the highest\\nplane of intellectual and spiritual culture. By means of\\nliterature we reach beyond the narrow limits of our own\\nlife and experience, and appropriate the best intellectual\\nand spiritual results of all ages and all civilized peoples.\\nLiterature is a great force in the world. Books, as\\nMilton said, are not absolutely dead things, but do con-\\ntain a potency of life in them to be as active as that soul\\nwas whose progeny they are nay, they do preserve as in\\na vial the purest efficacy and extraction of that living in-\\ntellect that bred them. I know they are as lively, and as\\nvigorously productive, as those fabulous dragon s teeth;\\nand being sown up and down, may chance to spring up\\narmed men. Many of the great religious, social, and\\npolitical movements of the Christian era have stood in\\nclose relation to literature. The Christian church to-day\\nowes its development and character chiefly to the writings\\nof the New Testament. The great intellectual movement", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0027.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "6 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nof the fifteenth century, to which we give the name of\\nRenaissance, was largely due to a revived study of the\\nliterary treasures of ancient Greece. The American and\\nFrench revolutions at the close of the last century owed\\ntheir origin and vitality, in no small degree, to the views\\nof human rights previously promulgated in the writings of\\na few clear-sighted patriots and philosophers and to-day\\nthe power of literature is so generally recognized that\\nevery party, sect, or organization deems it necessary to\\nhave its printed organ, and to promulgate its views\\nthrough tracts and books.\\nIt is not easy to acquire the literary taste that is satisfied\\nonly with what is excellent in thought and expression.\\nGood taste in literature is a combination of adequate\\nknowledge, delicate feeling, and sound judgment. It goes\\nhand in hand with general culture. Natural gifts facili-\\ntate its acquirement, but in every case it is the result of\\nextensive reading and careful study. The guiding hand\\nof a competent teacher is at first almost indispensable.\\nOur great writers, almost without exception, serve a long\\napprenticeship. As in the acquisition of language, it is\\nnecessary to begin with what is simple and easy. We\\nrise to the mountain summits of thought and feeling,\\nas to the summit of the Alps, by slow and laborious\\nsteps.\\nThe history of EngHsh literature, following the devel-\\nopment of the English language, may be divided into three\\ngeneral periods\\nI. The Old Enghsh or Anglo-Saxon Period, extending\\napproximately from 500 to 1066 a.d., the date of the Nor-\\nman Conquest. The literature of this period is written in", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0028.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "INTRODUCTION. 7\\nOld English or Anglo-Saxon, with very little admixture\\nwith other languages.\\n2. The Middle English or Formative Period, extending\\napproximately from 1066 to 1400, the date of Chaucer s\\ndeath. This period is characterized by the loss of Old\\nEnglish inflections, and by the introduction of a large\\nFrench element through the Norman Conquest.\\n3. The Modern English Period, extending approxi-\\nmately from 1400 to the present time. It is characterized\\nby the fixed forms of our expanded language, and by its\\nvaried and unsurpassed literature. It is subdivided, as\\nwill be hereafter noted, into several subordinate periods,\\naccording to the literary or social movements of the time.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0029.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0030.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "OLD ENGLISH OR ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD.\\nREPRESENTATIVE WRITERS.\\nPoetry.\\nCaedmon (f 680).\\nAuthor of Beowulf.\\nProse.\\nAlcuin (735-804).\\nBede (673-735).\\nAlfred the Great (849-901).", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0031.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0032.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "I.\\nOLD ENGLISH OR ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD.\\n(500-1066.)\\nEnglish language composite Original inhabitants of British Isles\\nRoman conquest Anglo-Saxon invasion Character of Anglo-\\nSaxons Their religion Missionary work of Augustine Influ-\\nence of Christianity Education Alcuin Bede Anglo-Saxon\\nlanguage Different dialects Poetry and gleeman Principle of\\nAnglo-Saxon poetry Its characteristics Value of Anglo-Saxon\\nliterature Caedmon, Beowulf Other poems Alfred the\\nGreat.\\nThe English nation, like the English language, is com-\\nposite. The principal element in both, coming chiefly\\nfrom the Angles and Saxons, is Teutonic. Through the\\nnative population of the British Isles Britons, Scotch,\\nand Irish there has gradually been introduced a Celtic\\nelement. The Danes, who in the ninth century estab-\\nHshed themselves in England and were afterward ab-\\nsorbed, strengthened the Teutonic element. Through the\\nNorman Conquest, in the eleventh century, a further Cel-\\ntic element was introduced. The infusion of this Celtic\\nstrain into the sturdier Teutonic stock has been peculiarly\\nfortunate, imparting to the EngUsh character a greater\\ndelicacy of feeling and a finer poetic sensibility. The\\ngreatness of English Hterature is due, in no small measure,\\nto this happy admixture of Teutonic and Celtic elements.\\nn\\nII", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0033.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "12 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThe original inhabitants of the British Isles, within his-\\ntoric times, were Celts a part of the first great Aryan\\nwave that swept over Europe. In a portion of Great Brit-\\nain, in Ireland, Scotland, and Wales, the Celtic ele-\\nment is still very strong. The Celts are a vigorous people,\\nadhering to their national customs with great tenacity.\\nThey possess a lively imagination, delicate feeHng, and a\\nready enthusiasm. They seem, however, to be lacking in\\nthe power of strong poHtical organization and this defect\\nmade them a prey, first to Roman, and later to Teutonic,\\ninvaders.\\nThe Romans under Caesar invaded Britain, 55 B.C., and\\npartly subdued it. In the following century Agricola ex-\\ntended the Roman conquest over the territory now in-\\ncluded in England, and reduced Britain to a Roman\\nprovince. Towns were built; military roads were con-\\nstructed Roman law was administered Christianity was\\nintroduced and a considerable commerce was developed.\\nCorn was exported, and the tin mines of Cornwall were\\nworked. But the native population, unlike what had\\ntaken place in Gaul and Spain, remained unassimilated\\nto the empire, and still clung, in large measure, to its lan-\\nguage and customs. When, after some four hundred\\nyears, the Roman forces were withdrawn, the Latin lan-\\nguage, with the exception of a very few words, disappeared\\nentirely. The principal relics of this Roman occupation\\nsurviving in our language to-day is the word street (from\\nthe Latin strata via, a paved way), and the words caster,\\ncester, and Chester (from the Latin castra, camp) in the\\nnames of places as, Lancaster, Worcester, and Win-\\nchester.", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0034.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "OLD ENGLISH OR ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD.\\n13\\nAfter the withdrawal of the Roman legions in the fifth\\ncentury, Britain was invaded by the Angles, Saxons, and\\nJutes Teutonic tribes that inhabited Schleswig, Jutland,\\nand adjacent territory on the Continent. The beginning\\nof this invasion is usually dated from 449, the year in\\nwhich Hengist and Horsa, according to the Anglo-Saxon\\nChronicle, landed on the shores of Kent. The invading-\\nTeutons, hated for their cruelty and their heathenism,\\nwere stubbornly resisted by the native Celts, and it was\\nnearly a hundred years before the Britons were finally\\ndriven back into Cornwall and Wales. They slowly re-\\ntired, as did the American Indians in this country, with-\\nout assimilation and beyond a few names of places, they\\nleft scarcely any trace in our language. The Saxons\\noccupied the south, and the Angles the north and centre\\nof Britain; and to the latter, who were the more numer-\\nous, belongs the honor of giving to the country its modern\\nname of England a word signifying the land of the\\nAngles.\\nIn the character of these Teutonic tribes are to be\\nfound the fundamental traits of the EngHsh people and of\\nEnglish literature. In their continental home they led a\\nsemi-barbarous and pagan life. The sterile soil and dreary\\nclimate fostered a serious disposition, and developed great\\nphysical strength. Courage was esteemed a leading vir-\\ntue, and cowardice was punished with drowning No other\\nmen were ever braver. They welcomed the fierce excite-\\nment of danger and in rude vessels they sailed from coast\\nto coast on expeditions of piracy, war, and pillage. Laugh-\\ning at storms and shipwrecks, these daring sea-kings sang\\nThe blast of the tempest aids our oars; the bellowing", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0035.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "14 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nof heaven, the howling of the thunder hurts us not the\\nhurricane is our servant, and drives us whither we wish to\\ngo.\\nWith an unconquerable love of independence, they pre-\\nferred death to slavery. Refined tastes and delicate in-\\nstincts were crushed out by their inhospitable surroundings\\nand their pleasures, consisting chiefly of drinking, gam-\\nbling, and athletic sports, were often coarse and repulsive.\\nYet under their coarsest enjoyment we discover a sturdy,\\nmasculine strength. They felt the presence of the mys-\\nterious forces of nature, and deified them in a colossal\\nmythology. Traces of their religion are seen in the names\\nof the days of the week. Wednesday is Woden s day,\\nthe god of war and the guardian of ways and boundaries\\nThursday is Thor s day, the god of thunder and storm\\nFriday is Frea s day, the goddess of peace, joy, and fruit-\\nfulness. Eostre, the goddess of dawn and of spring, lends\\nher name to the festival of the Resurrection. With these\\nTeutons the sense of obligation and duty was strong and\\nhaving once pledged fidelity to a leader or cause, they re-\\nmained loyal to death. They honored women and revered\\nvirtue. In a word, they possessed a native seriousness,\\nvirtue, and strength, which, ennobled by Christianity and\\nrefined by culture, raised their descendants to an eminent\\nposition among the nations of the earth.\\nThe Anglo-Saxon invasion swept away the British\\nchurch which had been established under Christian Rome.\\nA reign of paganism was once more introduced, and held\\nsway for a hundred and fifty years. Then occurred an\\nevent that changed the character of English history. In\\n597 Gregory, who filled the papal chair at Rome, sent St.", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0036.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "OLD ENGLISH OR ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD. 1 5\\nAugustine with a band of missionaries to labor among the\\nAnglo-Saxons. While yet an abbot, Gregory s interest\\nhad been awakened by the fair faces and flaxen hair of a\\ngroup of Saxon youths exposed for sale in the slave-market\\nat Rome. Who are they.? he asked. Angles, was\\nthe reply. It suits them well, he said, with faces so\\nangel-like. From what country do they come V From\\nDeiri, said the merchant. Be /ra exclaimed the\\npious monk, then they must be dehvered from the wrath\\nof God. What is the name of their king Aella, he\\nwas told. Aella! he replied, seizing on the word as of\\ngood omen, then shall Alleluia be sung in his land.\\nAugustine proceeded to Kent, where he was kindly re-\\nceived by Ethelbert. The king had married Bertha, a\\nFrankish princess of Christian training, through whose\\ninfluence his pagan prejudices had been largely overcome.\\nWhen, by means of interpreters, Augustine had set forth\\nthe nature of Christianity in a lengthy address, the king\\nsaid Your words and promises are very fair but as\\nthey are new to us, and of uncertain import, I cannot\\napprove of them so far as to forsake that which I have\\nso long followed with the whole EngHsh nation. But\\nbecause you are come from far into my kingdom, and, as\\nI conceive, are desirous to impart to us those things which\\nyou believe to be true and most beneficial, we will not\\nmolest you, but give you favorable entertainment, and take\\ncare to supply you with your necessary sustenance nor\\ndo we forbid you to preach and gain as many as you can\\nto your religion.\\n1 Latin, meaning \u00e2\u0080\u00a2from the wrath.\\n2 Bede, Ecclesiastical History, Bk. I. chap, xxv.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0037.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "1 6 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThe missionaries took up their residence at Canterbury.\\nChristianity made rapid progress. Within a year from the\\nlanding of Augustine upon the shores of Kent, Ethelbert\\nand thousands of his people became Christians. Mission-\\nary zeal carried the new religion to other parts of Eng-\\nland. Edwin, the powerful king of Northumbria, was led\\nto call a council for the purpose of considering its adop-\\ntion. An aged ealderman arose and spoke as follows\\nSo seems life, O King, as a sparrow s flight through the\\nhall where a man is sitting at meat in winter-tide with the\\nwarm fire lighted on the hearth, but the chill rain-storm\\nwithout. The sparrow flies in at one door and tarries.\\nfor a moment in the light and heat of the hearth-fire,\\nand then flying forth from the other, vanishes into the\\nwintry darkness whence it came. So tarries for a moment\\nthe life of man in our sight, but what is before it and what\\nafter it, we know not. If this new teaching tell us aught\\ncertainly of these, let us follow it.\\nThe native seriousness of the Anglo-Saxon character\\noffered a favorable soil for the growth of Christianity.\\nThe gospel was peculiarly adapted to the needs of this peo-\\nple. In restraining brutal pleasures, inculcating benevolent\\naffections, and promoting intellectual culture, it supplied\\nwhat was wanting in EngHsh character, and imparted\\nan element essential to the highest development of the\\nnational life. England was once more brought in line\\nwith the highest European civilization and the culture,\\narts, and sciences that had fled before the pagan con-\\nquerors returned with Christianity.\\nEducation followed in the wake of Christianity. The\\ncathedral and monastic schools became the principal edu-", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0038.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "OLD ENGLISH OR ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD. ly\\ncational agency. The course of instruction embraced the\\nso-called seven liberal arts, grammar, logic, rhetoric,\\narithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music, to which\\nseven years were devoted. Latin, the language of the\\nchurch, was made the basis of education, and nearly all\\ninstruction had a theological or ecclesiastical aim. The\\ngreat body of the people remained illiterate, and even\\nkings were sometimes unable to write their names. Their\\nenergies were absorbed in almost continual wars and in the\\nstern struggle to gain a liveHhood and under these con-\\nditions it is needless to say that beyond ecclesiastical or\\nmonastic circles literature hardly existed.\\nIn this period England had its share of ecclesiastical\\nscholars, among whom were Alcuin and Bede. The home\\nof the former was at York, one of the principal centres of\\nculture, where in j66 he became master of the cathedral\\nschool. Afterward he went to the Continent, residing at\\nthe court of Charlemagne. He reorganized the palace\\nschool, and afterward undertook to reform the system of\\neducation throughout the emperor s dominions. His nu-\\nmerous writings were occupied chiefly with theology and\\neducation. He wrote a number of text-books, and in the\\npreface of one of them he warmly commends study Oh\\nye, who enjoy the youthful age, so fitted for your lessons,\\nlearn Be docile. Lose not the day in idle things.\\nThe passing hour, like the wave, never returns again.\\nLet your early years flourish with the study of the\\nvirtues, that your age may shine with great honors.\\nUse these happy days. Learn, while young, the art of\\neloquence, that you may be a safeguard and defender of\\nthose whom you value. Acquire the conduct and man-", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0039.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "1 8 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nners so beautiful in youth, and your name will become\\ncelebrated through the world. But as I wish you not to\\nbe sluggish, so neither be proud. I worship the recesses\\nof the devout and humble breast.\\nIn a poem on the Saints of the Church of York,\\nAlcuin pays a beautiful tribute to ^Elbert, his predeces-\\nsor as master of the cathedral school, who, after instruc-\\ntion in the liberal arts, led his students to the Scriptures\\nThen, last and best, he opened up to view\\nThe depths of Holy Scripture, Old and New.\\nWas any youth in studies well approved,\\nThen him the master cherished, taught, and loved;\\nAnd thus the double knowledge he conferred\\nOf liberal studies and the Holy Word.\\nBede may be justly regarded as the father of Eng-\\nlish prose. From an interesting autobiographical sketch\\nat the close of his Ecclesiastical History, we learn the\\nleading events in his unpretentious life. He was born in\\n673, near the monastery of Jarrow in northern England.\\nAs pupil, deacon, and priest, he passed his entire life in that\\nmonastic institution. The leisure that remained to him\\nafter the faithful performance of his various official duties,\\nhe assiduously devoted to learning; for he always took\\ndelight, as he tells us, in learning, teaching, and writ-\\ning. He was an indefatigable worker, and wrote no\\nless than forty-five separate treatises, including works on\\nScripture, history, hymnology, astronomy, grammar, and\\nrhetoric, in which is embodied all the learning of his age.\\nHis scholarship and aptness as a teacher gave celebrity\\nto the monastic school at Jarrow, which was attended at\\none time by six hundred monks in addition to many secu-", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0040.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "OLD ENGLISH OR ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD.\\n19\\nlar students. His fame extended as far as Rome, whither\\nhe was invited by Pope Sergius, who wished the benefit\\nof his counsel. He led an eminently simple, devout, and\\nearnest Hfe. He decUned the dignity of abbot, lest the\\nduties of the office might interfere with his studies. As a\\nwriter he was clear, succinct, and artless. His Ecclesi-\\nastical History, which was composed in Latin, is our\\nchief source of information in regard to the early Anglo-\\nSaxon church. The credulity he exhibits in regard to\\necclesiastical miracles was characteristic of his time.\\nHis pupil Cuthbert has left us a pathetic account of his\\ndeath. Industrious to the last, he was engaged on an\\nAnglo-Saxon version of St. John. It was Wednesday\\nmorning, the 27th of May. One of his pupils, who was\\nacting as scribe, said to him Dearest master, there is\\nstill one chapter wanting do you think it troublesome to\\nbe asked any more questions He answered It is no\\ntrouble. Take your pen and write fast. In the after-\\nnoon he called his friends together, distributed a few sim-\\nple gifts, and then amidst their tears bade them a solemn\\nfarewell. At sunset his scribe said Dear master, there\\nis yet one sentence not written. He answered: Write\\nquickly. It is finished now, said the scribe at last.\\nYou have spoken truly, the aged scholar replied it is\\nfinished. Receive my head into your hands, for it is a\\ngreat satisfaction to me to sit facing the holy place where\\nI was wont to pray. And thus on the pavement of his\\nlittle cell, in the year 735, he quietly passed away with the\\nlast words of the solemn chant, Glory be to the Father,\\nand to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost.\\nThus closed the life of the first great English scholar.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0041.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "20 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nNot inaptly did later ages style him the Venerable Bede.\\nFirst among English scholars, first among EngHsh theo-\\nlogians, first among English historians, it is in the monk\\nof Jarrow that English literature strikes its roots. In the\\nsix hundred scholars who gathered round him for instruc-\\ntion, he is the father of our national education. In his\\nphysical treatises he is the first figure to which our science\\nlooks back.\\nThe Old English or Anglo-Saxon, which was first re-\\nduced to writing after the establishment of Christian\\nschools, belongs to the Aryan or Indo-European group of\\nlanguages. The other principal members of this group,\\nbesides the Teutonic branch to which the Anglo-Saxon\\nbelongs, are the Indie, the Iranic, the Hellenic, the Italic,\\nthe Celtic, and the Slavonic. They all sprang originally\\nfrom the same mother-tongue, the home of which is com-\\nmonly supposed to have been central Asia. Their rela-\\ntionship is clearly established by the substantial identity\\nof many words and grammatical forms. The following\\ndiagram shows the relative age and remoteness from each\\nother of these different branches or classes, together with\\nthe dates of their earliest literary records\\nA. Aryan or Indo-European Stock.\\n1. Indie, Sanskrit Vedas, 1500 B.C.\\n2. Iranic, Bactrian Avesta, 1000 B.C.\\n3. Hellenic, Greek, 800 B.C.\\n4. Italic, Latin, 200, B.C.\\n5. Teutonic, Gothic Bible, fourth century.\\n6. Celtic, eighth century.\\n7. Slavonic, Bulgarian Bible, fourth century.\\n8. Anglo-Saxon, eighth century.\\n1 Green, History of the English People, Vol. i.", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0042.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "OLD ENGLISH OR ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD. 21\\nThe Anglo-Saxon belongs to the Teutonic branch of the\\nAryan family, and is closely related, on the one hand,\\nto German, and on the other to Scandinavian. It is an\\ninflected language with four cases. In England it was\\ndivided into four dialects, the Northumbrian, the Mer-\\ncian, the Kentish, and the West Saxon. Most of our\\nAnglo-Saxon remains are in the West Saxon dialect,\\nthough it is from the Mercian, which was spoken in\\ncentral England, that modern English is most directly\\nderived. The Lord s Prayer in Anglo-Saxon, with an\\ninterlinear translation, will serve for illustration.\\nUre Faeder, thu the eart on heofonum, si thin nama gehalgod.\\nOur Father, thou zvho art in [the] heavens, be thy name hallowed.\\nTocume thin rice. Geweorthe thin willa on eorthan swa-swa\\nAlay come thy kingdorn. Be thy zvill on earth as\\non heofonum. Sele us to-daeg urne daeg-hwamlican hlaf. And\\nin l^the heave }is. Give us to-day our daily bread {loaf^. And\\nforgif us ure gyltas swa-swa we fogifath urum gyl-tendum. And ne\\nforgive us our guilts as we forgive our guilty ones. And not\\nlaed thu us on costnunge. Ac alys us from yfel. Si hit swa.\\nlead thou us into temptation. But release us from evil. Be it so.\\nThe first literature of a people is poetry. In national\\nas in individual life, the imagination is active during the\\nperiod of youth. Among the Anglo-Saxons, as among\\nsome other nations, narrative poems, before they were\\nreduced to writing, were sung by the wandering glee-\\nman,\\nA man of celebrity, mindful of rhythms,\\nWho ancient tradition treasured in memory,\\nNew word-groups found properly bound.\\nBeowulf, xiv.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0043.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "22 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThe most pleasing picture that comes to us from the\\nearly days of our English forefathers, is that of the scop or\\ngleeman at their feasts. While the stern warriors sit at\\ntheir long tables and quaff their mead in the large hall\\nhung with shields and armor, and lighted by great blazing\\nlogs on the hearth, the rude poet, to the sound of his\\nharp, recounts the deeds of heroes in rhythmical song.\\nThe principle of Anglo-Saxon poetry is not rhyme nor\\nmetre, but alliteration. Each line is divided into two parts\\nby a caesura, and two principal words of the first hemis-\\ntich, and one of the second, regularly begin with the same\\nconsonant. If these principal words begin with vowels,\\nthey are different. Parallelism the repetition of the\\nsame thought in different words, as in Hebrew poetry\\nis also common. The following extract from Beowulf\\nexhibits the Anglo-Saxon alliterative form\\nHis ^rmor of /ron o S. him he did then,\\nHis i^elmet from his /zead to his //enchman committed,\\nHis :/^ased-handled \u00c2\u00ab:/^ain-sword, ^/zoicest of weapons,\\nAnd ^ade him (^ide, with his ^battle-equipment.\\nThe language of Anglo-Saxon poetry is abrupt, ellipti-\\ncal, and highly metaphorical, but often of great energy.\\nThe range of ideas is necessarily limited. From what we\\nalready know of the life and character of the Angles and\\nSaxons, it is not difficult to understand the spirit of their\\npoetry. Not love, but war and religion form its leading\\nthemes. Its prevailing tone, especially of that portion\\nwhich contains an echo of the continental home of the\\nAngles and Saxons, is one of sadness. The inhospitable\\nclimate of northern Germany, and the stern struggle for", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0044.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "OLD ENGLISH OR ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD. 23\\nexistence on land and sea, made life a deeply serious thing.\\nHuman agency was felt to be weak in comparison with the\\ngreat invisible forces of nature. The sense of fate and\\ndeath weighed heavily on the Anglo-Saxon mind. Thus,\\nin The Wanderer, a poem of an unknown author, we\\nread\\nEarth is enwrapped in the lowering tempest,\\nFierce on the stone-cliff the storm rushes forth,\\nCold winter-terror, the night-shade is darjk^ ning.\\nHail-storms are laden with death from the north.\\nAll full of hardships is earthly existence\\nHere the decrees of the Fates have their sway\\nFleeting is treasure and fleeting is friendship\\nHere man is transient, here friends pass away.\\nEarth s widely stretching, extensive domain,\\nDesolate all empty, idle, and vain.\\nThe Anglo-Saxon literature that has been preserved to\\nus, though of small extent, is of incalculable value, not so\\nmuch for its intrinsic merit as for the light it throws on the\\nlife and character of our Teutonic ancestors. About thirty\\nthousand lines of poetry and a few prose works have come\\ndown to us. This literature, especially the poetical part of\\nit, shows us the force of thought and imagination which\\nthey possessed as a racial inheritance. It reveals to us\\ntheir manner of life but above all, it shows us the depth\\nof soul with which they contemplated the mysteries of ex-\\nistence, and the courage with which they met its inevitable\\nhardships and duties. The literature of the Anglo-Saxon\\nreveals to us a nation strong in its mental and moral poten-\\ntialities the substructure on which was to be built Eng-\\nlish and American civiUzation.\\n1 Translation of W. R. Sims.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0045.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "24 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nCaedmon, the earliest of English poets, lived in the\\nlatter part of the seventh century. He has with justice\\nbeen called the Milton of our forefathers and his\\npoems are strongly suggestive of Paradise Lost. He\\nseems to have been a laborer on the lands attached to\\nthe monastery of St. Hilda at Whitby, and was advanced\\nin years before his poetical powers were developed. When\\nat festive gatherings it was agreed that all present should\\nsing in turn, Caedmon was accustomed, as the harp ap-\\nproached him, quietly to retire with a humiUating sense\\nof his want of skill. Having left the banqueting hall on\\none occasion, he went to the stable, where it was his turn\\nto care for the horses. In a vision an angel appeared to\\nhim and said: Caedmon, sing a song to me. He an-\\nswered: I cannot sing; for that is the reason why I\\nleft the entertainment, and retired to this place. Never-\\ntheless, said the heavenly visitor, thou shalt sing.\\nWhat shall I sing t inquired the poet, as he felt the\\nmovement of an awakening power. Sing the beginning\\nof created things, said the angel.\\nHis mission was thus assigned him. In the morning\\nthe good abbess Hilda, with a company of learned men,\\nwitnessed an exhibition of his newly awakened powers\\nand concluding that heavenly grace had been bestowed\\nupon him, she bade him lay aside his secular habit and\\nreceived him into the monastery as a monk. Here he\\nled a humble, exemplary life in the exercise of his poetic\\ngifts. He sang the creation of the world, the origin\\nof man, and all the history of Genesis and made many\\nverses on the departure of the children of Israel out of\\nEgypt, and their entering into the Land of Promise, with", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0046.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "OLD ENGLISH OR ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD. 2$\\nmany other histories from Holy Writ by which he\\nendeavored to turn away all men from the love of vice,\\nand to excite in them the l9ve of, and application to, good\\nactions.\\nThe following description of the Creation illustrates\\nCaedmon s manner of amplifying the Scripture narra-\\ntive\\nThere was not yet then here,\\nExcept gloom like a cavern,\\nAny thing made.\\nBut the wide ground\\nStood deep and dim,\\nFor a new lordship\\nShapeless and unsuitable.\\nOn this with his eyes he glanced,\\nThe King stern in mind,\\nAnd the joyless place beheld.\\nHe saw the dark clouds\\nPerpetually press\\nBlack under the sky.\\nVoid and waste\\nTill that this world s creation\\nThrough the word was done\\nOf the King of Glory.\\nThough rude in form, Caedmon s Paraphrase contains\\ngenuine poetry. It is the product of admirable genius,\\nbut genius fettered by unfavorable surroundings and lack\\nof culture.\\nThe most important Anglo-Saxon poem that has de-\\nscended to us is Beowulf, a primitive epic of some three\\nthousand lines. It was probably composed in its present\\nform in the eighth century, but the events it celebrates\\n1 Bede, Ecclesiastical History.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0047.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "26 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nare of a much earlier date. It brings before us the spirit\\nand manners of our forefathers, before they left their\\ncontinental home. The hero of the poem is Beowulf\\nOf heroes then livmg\\nHe was the stoutest and strongest, sturdy and noble.\\nSailing to the land of the Danes, he slew a monster of\\nthe fens called Grendel, whose nightly ravages brought\\ndismay into Hrothgar s royal palace. After slaying the\\nfiend of the marshes and his mother beneath the waters,\\nBeowulf, loaded with presents and honors, returned to\\nSweden, where he became king, and ruled fifty years.\\nBut at last, in slaying a fire-dragon under the earth,\\nnigh to the sea-wave, he was mortally wounded. His\\nbody was burned on a lofty funeral pyre amidst the\\nlamentations of his vassals.\\nSuch in brief is the story of this epic of heroic daring\\nand achievement, in which the old Teutonic character is\\nreflected in its fulness. Its details are full of interest.\\nThe fierceness of northern seas and skies is brought\\nbefore us. We assist at mead-hall banquets, in which\\ngracious queens and beautiful maidens hand the ale cup.\\nThe loyalty of liegemen is beautifully portrayed. A stern\\nsense of honor prevails among the rude warriors\\nDeath is more pleasant\\nTo every earlman than infamous life is.\\nTheir courage is dauntless, and words count for less\\nthan actions. Beowulf thus states to the queen the object\\nof his visit\\nI purposed in spirit when I mounted the ocean,\\nWhen I boarded my boat with a band of my liegemen,", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0048.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "OLD ENGLISH OR ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD. 27\\nI would work to the fullest the will of }our people,\\nOr in foe s-clutches fastened fall in the battle.\\nDeeds I shall do of daring and prowess,\\nOr the last of my life-days live in this mead-hall.\\nThe poem concludes with the following lines in praise\\nof Beowulf\\nRound the dead-mound rode then the doughty-in-battle,\\nBairns of all twelve of the chiefs of the people,\\nMore would they mourn, lament for their ruler,\\nSpeak in measure, mention him with pleasure,\\nWeighed his worth, and his warlike achievements\\nMightily commended, as tis meet one praise his\\nLiegelord in words and love him in spirit,\\nWhen forth from his body he fares to destruction.\\nSo lamented mourning the men of the Geats,\\nFond-loving vassals, the fall of their lord,\\nSaid he was kindest of kings under heaven.\\nGentlest of men, most winning of manner,\\nFriendliest to folk-troops and fondest of honor.\\nOther Anglo-Saxon poems that deserve mention are\\nThe Seafarer, Deor s Complaint, The Fight at\\nMaldon, and Judith. The former deal with the hard-\\nships and sorrows of life the latter breathe the martial\\nspirit of the Teutonic race. Besides these and other secu-\\nlar poems, there is a cycle of religious poetry dating from\\nthe eighth or ninth centuries. It was stimulated by the\\nwork of Caedmon. Others after him, says Bede, tried\\nto make religious poems, but none could vie with him, for\\nhe did not learn the art of poetry from men, nor of men,\\nbut from God. This religious poetry is usually based on\\nScripture or on legends of saints. Cynewulf, a North-\\nTranslation of J. L. Hall.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0049.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "28 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\numbrian poet of the eighth century, was the author of\\nseveral religious poems of acknowledged excellence, among\\nwhich are the Passion of St. Juliana, the Christ, and\\nElene, or the Finding of the Cross.\\nNot many sovereigns deserve a place in literature be-\\ncause of their own writings. But Alfred was as great\\nwith the pen as with the sword. His history, around\\nwhich legendary stories have gathered, reads in its reality\\nlike a piece of fiction. Known ages ago as the darling\\nof the English, he grows in greatness with the passing\\nyears. The unfavorable surroundings of his life serve as\\na foil to set off his virtues.\\nHe was born in 849. A part of his childhood was spent\\nin Rome, while much of its ancient splendor still remained.\\nAt the residence of King ^thelwulf, his father, he learned\\nnot only the manly sports of the Anglo-Saxon youth,\\nrunning, leaping, wrestling, hunting, but also the vari-\\nous occupations pertaining to the household, the workshop,\\nand the tilling of the soil. He had a passion for the\\nheroic songs of his people, and even before learning to\\nread he had committed many of them to memory. Blessed\\nwith a healthful precocity of mind, he treasured up all this\\nvaried knowledge, and utilized it with rare wisdom in after\\nyears.\\nAt the age of twenty-three he ascended the throne, and\\nspent a considerable part of his subsequent life in con-\\nflict with the Danes, who in great numbers were making\\na descent upon the cultivated districts of England and\\nFrance for the sake of pillage. At one time he was re-\\nduced to the extremity of fleeing with a few followers\\nbefore the pagan invaders. But adversity, as with every", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0050.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "OLD ENGLISH OR ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD. 29\\nvigorous nature, called forth a greater energy and determi-\\nnation. Gathering about him a body of strong and true\\nmen, he at length turned upon the foe, surprised and de-\\nfeated them, and conquered a favorable peace. By the\\nsuperior military organization of his people, by the found-\\ning of an English navy, and, above all, by his preeminent\\nability as a commander, he succeeded in repelling all sub-\\nsequent attacks by the northern invaders, and saved Eng-\\nland to the Anglo-Saxon race.\\nIn the leisure that followed his treaties of peace, Alfred\\ndevoted himself assiduously to the elevation and welfare\\nof his people. He rebuilt ruined towns, restored demol-\\nished monasteries, established a fixed code of laws, and\\nencouraged every form of useful industry. The king him-\\nself set the example of diligent labor. By means of six\\nwax candles, which, lighted in succession, burned twenty-\\nfour hours, he introduced a rigid system into his work.\\nHe carried with him a little book in which he noted the\\nvaluable thoughts that occurred to him from time to time.\\nWhen he came to the throne, the learning which a century\\nbefore had furnished Europe with some of its most emi-\\nnent scholars had fallen into decay. To so low a depth\\nhas learning fallen among the English nation, he says,\\nthat there have been very few on this side of the Hum-\\nber who were able to understand the English of their ser-\\nvice, or to turn an epistle out of Latin into English and\\nI know that there were not many beyond the Humber who\\ncould do it.\\nWith admirable tact and wisdom he set about remedy-\\ning the evil. He studied Latin himself that he might\\nprovide his people with useful books he invited learned", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0051.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "30 ENGLISH LITERATURE,\\nscholars from the Continent to his court and he estab-\\nhshed in the royal palace a school for the instruction of\\nnoble youth. His efforts were grandly successful and\\nin less than a generation England was again blessed with\\nintelligence and prosperity. Among the books he trans-\\nlated into Anglo-Saxon were Bede s Ecclesiastical His-\\ntory Orosius s Universal History, the leading text-\\nbook on that subject in the monastic schools for several\\ncenturies and Boethius s Consolations of Philosophy, a\\npopular book among thoughtful people during the Middle\\nAges. These translations were not always literal. Alfred\\nrather performed the work of editor, paraphrasing, omit-\\nting, adding, as best served his purpose. In the work of\\nBoethius he frequently departed from the text to introduce\\nreflections of his own. To him belongs the honor of hav-\\ning furnished England with its first body of Hterature in\\nthe native tongue.\\nHe died in 901. The governing purpose of his life he\\npointed out in a single sentence This I can now truly\\nsay, that so long as I have lived, I have striven to live\\nworthily, and after my death to leave my memory to my\\ndescendants in good works. In him the Anglo-Saxon\\nstock reached its highest development. His character was\\nbased on a profound belief in the abiding presence of God.\\nBut rising above the ascetic spirit of his time, he devoted\\nhimself to the duties of his royal station. To great vigor\\nin action he added the force of patient and invincible en-\\ndurance. While he watched with capacious intellect over\\nthe interests of his entire realm, he led with great sim-\\nplicity a genial and affectionate life with his family and\\nfriends. After ages have made no mistake in calling him\\nAlfred the Great.", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0052.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "MIDDLE ENGLISH OR FORMATIVE PERIOD.\\nPRINCIPAL WRITERS.\\nHistory. Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (concluded 1154).\\nWilliam of Malmesbury (1095-1 142), Latin Chronicler. De Gestis\\nRegum Anglorum, etc.\\nMatthew Paris (i 195-1259), Latin Chronicler. Historia Major, etc.\\nMetrical Chronicles. Layamon (twelfth century), Brut/\\nor Chronicles of Britain.\\nRobert of Gloucester (f 1300), Rhyming Chronicles of Britain.\\nRobert Manning (t 1270), Chronicles of England.\\nReligion. John Wycliffe (i 324-1 384). Tracts, Sermons, Transla-\\ntion of the Bible.\\nOrmin (thirteenth century), Ormulum.\\nLangland (fourteenth century), Vision of Piers the Plowman.\\nMiscellaneous Poetry.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 John Gower (1327-1408), Speculum\\nMeditantis (French), Vox Clamantis (Latin), Confessio Amantis\\n(English), etc.\\nGREAf REPRESENTATIVE WRITER.\\nGeoffrey Chaucer.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0053.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0054.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "II.\\nMIDDLE ENGLISH OR FORMATIVE PERIOD.\\n(1066-1400.)\\nLimits of period Normans Their character Norman Conquest\\nModern Enghsh Social condition of England Existing evils\\nLiterary development Esteem for learning Trouv^re poetry\\nChanson de Roland Arthurian cycle Italian influence\\nHistory, romance, religion Anglo-Saxon Chronicle Latin\\nChroniclers Lyrical poetry Layamon s Brut Robert of\\nGloucester Robert Manning WyclifFe Ormin Langland\\nGower Chaucer.\\nThe designation Middle English or Formative Period is\\napplied to the centuries lying between the Norman Con-\\n(juest and the death of Chaucer. It is a period of great\\nimportance for English history and Enghsh literature.\\nEngland passed under a succession of alien rulers, the\\nstate of society underwent a great change, and our lan-\\nguage approached its modern form.\\nThe name of Normans is given to the Scandinavians\\nwho, at the beginning of the tenth century, conquered a\\nhome in the northern part of France. They speedily\\nadopted the language and customs of the subjugated\\ncountry, and rapidly advanced in refinement and culture.\\nBy intermarriage with the native population, a vivacious\\nCeltic element was introduced into the grave Teutonic dis-", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0055.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "34 ENGLISH LITERATURE,\\nposition. Though of kindred blood with the Anglo-\\nSaxons, the Normans, by their stay in France, developed\\na new, and in many respects admirable, type of character.\\nAlong with their native Teutonic strength they acquired\\na versatile and imitative temper, which made them accessi-\\nble to new ideas, and prepared them to be leaders in\\ngeneral progress. Losing their slow, phlegmatic tempera-\\nment, they became impulsive and impatient of restraint.\\nTheir intellects acquired a nimble quality, quick in dis-\\ncernment and instantaneous in decision. Delicacy of\\nfeeling produced aversion to coarse pleasures. They de-\\nlighted in a gay social life, with hunting, hawking, showy\\nequipage, and brilliant festivities. Diplomacy in a meas-\\nure supplanted daring frankness. Brilliant superficiality\\ntook the place of grave thoughtfulness. Such were the\\npeople that were to rule in England, to introduce their\\nlanguage and customs, and, amalgamated at last, to impart\\na needed element to the English character.\\nIn 1066 William, Duke of Normandy, landed on the\\nEnglish coast to enforce his claim to the English throne..\\nIn the battle of Hastings he gained a complete victory\\nover the force under Harold, and won the title of Con-\\nqueror. He distributed England in the form of fiefs\\namong his followers, and reduced the Anglo-Saxon popu-\\nlation to a condition of serfdom. Feudal castles were\\nerected in every part of England and the barons or lords,\\nsupported by the labors of a great body of dependants,\\nlived in idleness and luxury. These baronial residences\\nbecame centres of knightly culture. Here noble youths\\nacquired courtly graces, and wandering minstrels enter-\\ntained the assembled household with their songs. Brilliant", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0056.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "MIDDLE ENGLISH OR FORMATLVE PERL0l3. 35\\ntournaments from time to time brought together the\\nbeauty and chivalry of the whole realm. French became\\nthe social language of the ruling classes and the Anglo-\\nSaxons, reduced to servitude, were despised. It required\\nmany generations to break down this harsh antagonism.\\nBut toward the close of the period, especially in the\\nfourteenth century, the people of England became more\\nhomogeneous. The Normans coalesced with the Anglo-\\nSaxons, and added new elements to the Enghsh character.\\nAt the same time the Anglo-Saxon language, which had\\nhitherto maintained its highly inflected character, made a\\ngradual transition into modern English. It gave up its\\ncomplicated inflections, and received into its vocabulary a\\nhost of foreign elements, chiefly from the French. The\\nnew tongue, which gradually supplanted French and\\nLatin, gained official recognition in 1362, when it became\\nthe language of the courts of law and the following year\\nit was employed in the speech made at the opening of\\nParliament.\\nThe social condition of England in the thirteenth and\\nfourteenth centuries was intimately related to the first\\ngreat outbreak of English literature. A restraint was set\\nupon absolutism by the provisions of the Great Charter.\\nThe growth of cities and towns had been rapid, and there\\nexisted in all parts of England a wealthy and influential\\ncitizen class. The serfs of the time of the Conquest had\\nrisen to the rank of free peasants. Parliament was divided\\ninto two bodies, and the people acquired a growing influ-\\nence in the affairs of government. The amalgamation of\\nthe two races that had lived side by side for centuries was\\ngradually completed, and the great English nation, in its", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0057.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "36 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nmodern form, had its beginning a nation that in its type\\nof character is second to none in the history of the world.\\nBut many evils still existed. The nobility lived in lux-\\nury and extravagance, while the peasants lived in squalor\\nand want. The public taste was coarse, and the state\\nof morals low. Highwaymen rendered travel unsafe.\\nThrough gross abuses of its power and the extensive cor-\\nruption of its representatives, the church had in large\\nmeasure lost its hold upon the people. Immense reve-\\nnues, five times greater than that of the crown, were paid\\ninto the coffers at Rome. Half the soil of England was\\nin the hands of the clergy. The immorality of the friars\\nwas notorious, and provoked vigorous denunciation and\\nresistance. Yet there were faithful pastors and prelates,\\nwho, like Chaucer s poor parson, taught Christes lore\\nand followed it themselves and magnificent cathedrals\\nwere built to stand as objects of admiration for succeeding\\nages.\\nAs compared with the preceding period, literature\\nexhibits great expansion. It gained in variety and extent\\na result that was due to a number of cooperative causes.\\nThe crusades had a stimulating effect in Europe, and\\nbrought new ideas into vogue. The caliphs of Bagdad\\nand Cordova became rivals in the patronage of learning,\\nand for a time the Arabians became the intellectual lead-\\ners of Europe. Their schools in Spain were largely\\nattended by Christian youths from other European coun-\\ntries, who carried back with them to their homes the\\nArabian science, and through it gave a new impulse to\\nlearning in Christian nations.\\nDuring this period learning was held in greater esteem", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0058.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "MIDDLE ENGLISH OR FORMATIVE PERIOD. 37\\nand prosecuted with greater vigor throughout Christian\\nEurope. The monastic and cathedral schools were gen-\\nerally improved. The growth of towns and cities led to\\nthe estabhshment of burgher schools for secular education.\\nLearning was no longer confined to representatives of the\\nchurch. The first great universities were founded in this\\nperiod those of Bologna, Salerno, and Paris in the\\ntwelfth century. The oldest colleges of Oxford and Cam-\\nbridge date from this period. The universities were often\\nattended by enormous numbers of students from every part\\nof Europe there were as many as twenty thousand at the\\nUniversity of Paris at one time. A new fervor of study,\\nto use the words of Green, sprang up in the West from\\nits contest with the more cultured East. Travellers, like\\nAdelard of Bath, brought back the first rudiments of physi-\\ncal and mathematical science from the schools of Cordova\\nor Bagdad. In the twelfth century a classical revival re-\\nstored Caesar and Virgil to the hst of monastic studies.\\nThe scholastic philosophy sprang up in the schools of\\nParis. The Roman law was revived by the imperialist\\ndoctors of Bologna. The long mental activity of feudal\\nEurope broke up like ice before a summer s sun.\\nIn France the trouvere produced long narrative poems,\\nfull of legend, war, and chivalry. These poems are\\ngrouped in three principal cycles, of which Charlemagne,\\nAlexander, and King Arthur are respectively the heroes.\\nThey are known as Chansons de Geste, and were very\\npopular in France and England. They were sung or re-\\ncited by minstrels, and in England elevated the taste, sup-\\nplied literary materials, and exerted no small influence on\\n1 History of English People, Vol. i, 198.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0059.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "38 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nthe language. The principal poem of the Carlovingian cy-\\ncle is the Chanson de Roland, an epic of four thousand\\nlines, filled with chivalrous spirit and heroic deeds. The\\nhistoric event which it commemorates was the invasion of\\nSpain by Charlemagne in the eighth century. On the em-\\nperor s return, his rear-guard, under the command of\\nRoland, one of his principal paladins, was treacherously\\nattacked in the passes of the Pyrenees and slain. But\\nbefore he died Roland sounded his miraculous horn, and\\nCharlemagne, who was thirty leagues in advance, returned\\nand avenged his death. The poem dates from the eleventh\\ncentury and, according to an old chronicle, the minstrel\\nTaillefer rode in front of the Norman line at the battle of\\nHastings, and, while he tossed his sword in the air and\\ncaught it again, he sang the song of Roland. The fol-\\nlowing lines, describing Roland s death, will serve for\\nillustration\\nCount Roland lies beneath a pine,\\nHis pallid face is turned to Spain.\\nHis memory reverts unto the past,\\nRecalling countries he had won,\\nFair France, and all his family,\\nAnd Charlemagne, his sovereign lord,\\nAnd Frenchmen loyal unto him.\\nHe cannot keep from sighs and tears,\\nBut not forgetful of himself,\\nHe begs forgiveness of his Lord.\\nThe Arthurian cycle is still more important for Eng-\\nlish literature. Near the middle of the twelfth century,\\n1 Li quens Rollanz se jut desuz un pin\\nEnvers Espaigne en ad turnet sun vis.\\nDe plusurs choses a remembrer li prist, etc.\\nLines 2375-2384.", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0060.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "MIDDLE ENGLISH OR FORMATIVE PERIOD. 39\\nGeoffrey of Monmouth, a Welsh priest, wrote in Latin\\nwhat purported to be a history of Britain from the days\\nwhen Brut, the grandson of ^neas, landed on its shores,\\ndown to the death of Cadwallo in 689. It contains the\\nstory of the Celtic king, Arthur, and his Round Table. It\\ncrossed the Channel, where Norman trotiveres expanded\\nand completed the Arthurian legends. Rejturning to Eng-\\nland, these legends, as we shall see, were embodied in a\\nlong and popular Middle English or semi-Saxon epic, con-\\ntaining the characters and incidents rendered familiar in\\nTennyson s Idyls of the King.\\nItaly exerted an influence scarcely less than that of\\nFrance upon the development of English literature. In\\nthe thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, Italy was in ad-\\nvance of the rest of Europe in intellectual culture. Before\\nChaucer was born, Dante had written the Divina Com-\\nmedia, one of the world s imperishable poems. Petrarch,\\nwhose life covers the first three-quarters of the fourteenth\\ncentury, was an enthusiastic student of the ancient classics.\\nHe may justly be regarded as the forerunner of the hu-\\nmanists, who in the following century brought about the\\ngreat intellectual movement known as the revival of learn-\\ning. Boccaccio, his great contemporary, gave himself\\nlikewise to the study of antiquity. He translated the\\nIliad and the Odyssey but his principal work was\\nthe Decameron, a collection of a hundred stories, to\\nwhich, as will appear later, our literature is considerably\\nindebted. The culture of Italy not only stimulated intel-\\nlectual activity in England, but also furnished models and\\nmaterials for literary work.\\nDuring the period under consideration, the course of", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0061.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "40 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nEnglish literature follows three principal streams, history,\\nromance, and religion. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle,\\nwhich contains the history of Britain from the invasion\\nof Caesar, was completed in 1 1 54. Written in the form\\nof brief annals, it is the work of many successive hands.\\nKing Alfred edited and expanded it. It is the earliest\\nhistory of any Teutonic people in their own language.\\nFrom Alfred s time, says Freeman, the narrative\\ncontinues, sometimes full, sometimes meagre, sometimes\\na dry record of names and dates, sometimes rising to\\nthe highest flights of the prose picture or the heroic lay;\\nbut in one shape or other never failing us, till the pen\\ndropped from the hand of the monk of Peterborough, who\\nrecorded the coming of Henry of Anjou. It contains,\\namong other poems, The Battle of Brunanburh, under\\ndate of 937, commemorating a Saxon victory over the\\nNorthmen\\nThere was made flee the Northmen s chieftain,\\nBy need constrained, to the ship s prow\\nWith a little band. The bark drove afloat;\\nThe king departed on the fallow flood,\\nHis life preserved.\\nAmong other chronicles, which here require no further\\nmention, are the Latin works of William of Malmesbury in\\nthe twelfth, and of Matthew Paris in the thirteenth century.\\nLyrical poems of adventure and sentiment, in which\\nthe influence of the troubadour may perhaps be traced, are\\nnot unknown. Robin Hood ballads were popular. The\\nearliest English love-song that has been preserved was\\nwritten about the year 1200. The following extract is\\nmodernized in spelling", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0062.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "MIDDLE ENGLISH OR FORMATIVE PERIOD. 4 1\\nBlow, northern wind, send\\nThou me my sweeting blow\\nNorthern wind, blow, blow, blow.\\nShe is coral of goodness,\\nShe is ruby of rich fulness,\\nShe is crystal of clearness,\\nAnd banner of beauty.\\nThe following poem on spring, which was written near\\nthe beginning of the thirteenth century, is full of blithe\\npoetic feeling\\nSumer is i-cumen in\\nLhude 1 sing, cuccu\\nGroweth sed, and bloweth med,\\nAnd springeth the wde nu.\\nSing, cuccu, cuccu.\\nAwe bleteth after lamb,\\nLouth after calve cu,\\nBulluc sterteth, bucke verteth\\nMurie sing, cuccu.\\nWell sings the cuccu,\\nNe swik thou never nu.\\nSing, cuccu, nu,\\nSing, cuccu.\\nLayamon s Brut, or Chronicle of Britain, a poem of\\nthirty-two thousand lines, is a paraphrase of Wace s French\\nversion of Geoffrey of Monmouth s Chronicle, or Historia\\nBritonum. It dates near the beginning of the thirteenth\\ncentury. It retains the Anglo-Saxon or Old English vocab-\\nulary in its purity, less than fifty French words appearing\\nin the whole poem. Its grammatical forms are known as\\nsemi-Saxon, and its verse wavers between the Old English\\nalliteration and French rhyme and metre. All that is known\\n1 Loud. 2 Wood. Runneth. Nor such.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0063.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": "42 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nof the author is contained in the opening lines, in which he\\ngives an account of himself and his patriotic purpose.\\nA priest was in the land,\\nLayamon was he hight.\\nHe was Leovenath s son\\nGracious to him be the Lord!\\nHe dwelt at Earnley,\\nWhere are noble churches,\\nOn the Severn s bank\\nWell there he thought,\\nNqJ far from Radestone,\\nWhere he read books.\\nIt came in mind to him.\\nAnd in his chief thought,\\nThat he would of the English\\nThe noble deeds tell\\nWhat they were called,\\nAnd whence they came,\\nWho the English land\\nFirst possessed.\\nThere are two other metrical chronicles which are in-\\nteresting and valuable as showing the gradual change of\\nthe language during the Formative Period. Robert of\\n1 An preost wes on leoden,\\nLayamon wes ihoten.\\nHe was Leouenathe s sone\\nLithe him beo drihte\\nHe wonede at Ernleye,\\nAt aethelen are chirechen,\\nUppon Seuarne stathe\\nSel thar him thuhte,\\nOn fest Radestone,\\nTher he bock radde.\\nHit com him on mode\\nAnd on his mern thonke, etc.\\n(Cz 1205.)", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0064.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "MIDDLE ENGLISH OR FORMATIVE PERIOD. 43\\nGloucester wrote near the close of the thirteenth century.\\nHis work appears to be a translation of a French poem,\\nwhich is dependent chiefly on the older chronicles already\\nmentioned. It contains the story of King Lear, which\\nbegins as follows\\nAfter King Bathulf, Lear his son was king,\\nAnd reigned sixty years well through everything,\\nUpon the Soar he built a famous city.\\nAnd called it Leicester after his own name.\\nThree daughters had this king, the eldest Goneril,\\nThe middle one hight Regan, the youngest Cordelia.\\nThe father loved them all enough, but the youngest most\\nFor she was best and fairest, and to haughtiness drew least.\\nThe poem contains ten thousand lines. It will be noted,\\nin examining the original, that rhyme and metre, in imita-\\ntion of the French, has been fully adopted.\\nThe last of the metrical chroniclers was Robert Man-\\nning, who translated from a French original. His work\\ndates from about 1330, and, as will be seen, the language\\nhas made considerable progress toward the modern form.\\nLordynges that be now here,\\nIf ye will listene and lere\\nAll the storey of Inglande\\nAls Robert Manning wryten it fand,\\n1 Aftur Kyng Bathulf, Leir ys sone was kyng,\\nAnd regned sixti yer wel thoru alle thing,\\nUp the water of Soure a city of gret fame\\nHe endede, and clepede yt Leicestre, aftur ys owne name.\\nThre doghtren this kyng hadde, the eldeste Gornorille,\\nThe mydmost hatte Regan, the yongest Cordeille.\\nThe fader hem louede alle enogh, ac the yongost mest\\nFor heo was best and fairest, and to hautenesse drow lest.\\n\u00e2\u0080\u009eT (ay. 1275.)\\nLearn. 3 As.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0065.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "44 ENGLISH LITERATURE,\\nAnd on Inglysch has it schewed,\\nNot for the lerid hot for the lewed,^\\nFor tho that in this land wonn\\nThat the Latyn ne Frankys conn.\\nThe chronicle professes to give the history of England\\nfrom the tyme of Sir Noe to the last of the Celtic\\nkings.\\nReligion has a prominent place in literature. As one\\nof the great interests of our race, it has given rise, directly\\nand indirectly, to a vast body of writings. This is particu-\\nlarly true of the English people, whose history and char-\\nacter have led them to give much thought to ecclesiastical\\nand religious truth. The religious condition of England\\nduring the Middle English Period is reflected in several\\nnoteworthy works. The people of England were begin-\\nning to emancipate themselves from ecclesiastical tutelage\\nand while holding earnestly to religion, they were not slow\\nin recognizing errors of doctrine and immorality of life\\non the part of representatives of the church.\\nWycliffe, who has been called the morning star of the\\nReformation, was connected with the University of Ox-\\nford, where his learning, ability, and integrity gave him\\ngreat influence. He was strongly anti-papal in his feel-\\ning, and denied the right of the pope to interfere in tem-\\nporal matters. He maintained the preeminent authority\\nof the Scriptures in matters of faith and duty. He pro-\\nmulgated his doctrines in tracts, and through an itinerant\\nministry, whom he organized and instructed. His princi-\\npal claim, however, to a place in English literature, rests\\nupon his translation of the Bible, which was completed\\nLearned. Ignorant. Those. Dwell. Know.", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0066.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "MIDDLE ENGLISH OR FORMATIVE PERIOD. 45\\nabout 1380. It is regarded as the earliest Middle English\\nclassic, and Marsh calls it the golden book of Old Eng-\\nUsh philology. The following extract will illustrate its\\nstyle And he spak to hem this parable, and seide, What\\nman of you that hath an hundrith scheep, and if he hath\\nlost oon of hem, whethir he leeueth not nynti and nyne\\nin desert, and goith to it that perischide, til he fynde it\\nAnd whanne he hath foundun it, he ioieth, and leyith it\\non his schuldris and he cometh hoom, and clepith togidir\\nhise freendis and neighboris, and seith to hem. Be ye glad\\nwith me, for I have founde my scheep, that hadde per-\\nischid. And I seie to you, so ioye shal be in heuene on\\no synful man doynge penaunce, more than on nynti and\\nnyne iuste, that have no nede to penaunce.\\nWy cliff e s innovating and reformatory labors were not\\nto pass unchallenged. He was summoned before different\\necclesiastical courts, and condemned in several papal bulls\\nbut he escaped punishment through the patronage of pow-\\nerful friends, who sympathized with his teachings. He\\ndied in 1384. But his body was not permitted to rest in\\npeace. His doctrines having been condemned by the\\nCouncil of Constance, his body was exhumed and burned,\\nand the ashes scattered on the Avon. His fate has been\\ncelebrated by Wordsworth in one of his ecclesiastical\\nsonnets\\nThis deed accurst,\\nAn emblem yields to friends and enemies,\\nHow the bold teacher s doctrine, sanctified\\nBy truth, shall spread, throughout the world dispersed.\\nAn important work philologically is Ormulum, a met-\\nrical paraphrase of those portions of the New Testament", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0067.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": "46 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nappointed to be read in the daily service of the church,\\naccompanied by a homily. It is named from its author,\\nwho was\\nOrrmin bi name nemmneda.\\nThe orthography of the poem is peculiar, as Ormin\\nmade it a rule to double the consonant after each short\\nvowel. Its date may be fixed approximately at 1200. In\\nthe form in which it has come down to us, it comprises\\nabout twenty thousand lines. The following passage from\\nthe dedication will serve for illustration\\nNu, brotherr Wallterr, brotherr min\\nAffterr the flaeshess kinde\\nAnd brotherr min i Crisstenndom\\nThurrh fulluhht and thurrh trowwthe\\nAnd brotherr min i Godess hus,\\nYet o the thride wise,\\nThurrh thatt witt hafenn takenn ba\\nAn reghellboc to follghenn,^\\nUnnderr kanunnkess had and lif,\\nSwa summ Sannt Awwstin sette\\nIce hafe don swa summ thu badd,\\nAnd forthedd te thin wille,\\nIce hafe wennd inntill Ennglissh\\nGoddspelless hallghe lare\\nAfFterr thatt httle witt tatt me\\nMin Drihhtin^ hafethth lenedd.\\nStill more important, for its historical and literary value,\\nis Langland s **The Vision of William concerning Piers\\nthe Plowman, a poem of some twenty-five hundred lines,\\nretaining the old Saxon alliteration. It sets forth in seven\\n1 Through baptism. Both. As.\\n2 Third. One rule book to follow. Holy lore.\\nWe. 6 Canonhood. I-ord.", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0068.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": "MIDDLE ENGLISH OR FORMATIVE PERIOD. 47\\npassus or cantos a series of visions, in which the con-\\ndition of the State and the Church is clearly reflected.\\nItwas, says Marsh, a calm, allegorical exposition of\\nthe corruptions of the State, of the Church, and of social\\nlife, designed, not to rouse the people to violent resistance\\nor bloody vengeance, but to reveal to them the true causes\\nof the evils under which they were suffering, and to secure\\nthe reformation of those grievous abuses by a united exer-\\ntion of the moral influence which generally accompanies\\nthe possession of superior physical strength. It was\\nwritten about 1362, and attained a wide popularity, no\\nfewer than forty-five manuscripts being still extant. The\\nopening Unes are as follows\\nIn a somer seson whan soft was the sonne,\\nI shope me in shroudes 1 as I a shepe^ were,\\nIn habite as an heremite unholy of workes,\\nWent wyde in this world wondres to here.\\nAs on a May mornynge on Mah-erne hulles,^\\nMe byfel a ferly of fairy,^ me thoughte\\nI was wery forwandred and went me to reste\\nUnder a brode banke bi a bornes side,\\nAnd as I lay and lened and loked in the wateres,\\nI slombred in a slepyng it sweyved so merye.\\nJohn Gower, a contemporary and friend of Chaucer, was\\nof noble family. In dedicating a book to him, Chaucer\\nstyled him the moral Gower, a term which has since\\nadhered to his name and which indicates the prevailing pur-\\npose of his poetry. He wrote three principal poems,\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nthe Speculum Meditantis in French, which has been lost,\\n1 Arrayed myself in garments. Wonder of enchantment.\\n2 Shepherd. Weary with wandering.\\n3 Hills,\\n6 Brook. Sounded.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0069.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "48 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nthe Vox Clamantis in Latin, and the Confessio Aman-\\ntis in English. The Confessio Amantis, or Lover s\\nConfession, is a dialogue between a lover and a priest of\\nVenus. It is written in smooth iambic tetrameter verse,\\nand contains, somewhat after the manner of the De-\\ncameron, a succession of tales drawn from Ovid, French\\nChansons de Geste, the Bible, Boccaccio, and other\\nsources. Gower had some effect, says Hallam, in ren-\\ndering the language less rude, and exciting a taste for verse\\nif he never rises, he never sinks low he is always sensible,\\npolished, perspicuous. In the original prologue, Gower\\ntells us that the poem was written at the request of\\nRichard II., who met him while rowing on the Thames\\nAnd so befell as I came nigh\\nOut of my bote, whan he me sigh,\\nHe bad me come into his barge.\\nAnd whan I was with him at large,\\nAmonges other thinges said,\\nHe hath this charge upon me laid\\nAnd bad me do my besinesse,\\nThat to his highe worthynesse\\nSome newe thing I shoiilde boke,\\nThat he himself it mighte loke\\nAfter the forme of my writing.\\nThe language of Wychffe s version of the Bible and of\\nGower s Confessjo Amantis is in the Mercian dialect, or\\nin the language spoken in central England. Chaucer wrote\\nin the same dialect. It was largely through the influence of\\nthese three great writers, together with the influence of Ox-\\nford and Cambridge, that the language of central England\\ngained the ascendency over the dialect of northern and south-\\nern England, and became the mother of Modern EngHsh.", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0070.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "GEOFFREY CHAUCER, 49\\nGEOFFREY CHAUCER.\\nAbove all his contemporaries of the fourteenth century\\nstands the figure of Geoffrey Chaucer. Among all the\\nwriters that we have considered, he is the first to show the\\nspirit and freedom of the modern world. Two recent\\npoets have accorded him generous recognition and praise.\\nIn his Dream of Fair Women, Tennyson calls him the\\nmorning star of song,\\nDan Chaucer, the first warbler, whose sweet breath\\nPreluded those melodious bursts that fill\\nThe spacious times of great Elizabeth\\nWith sounds that echo still.\\nIn a sonnet on Chaucer, Longfellow says\\nHe is the poet of the dawn, who wrote\\nThe Canterbury Tales, and his old age\\nMade beautiful with song and as I read,\\nI hear the crowing cock, I hear the note\\nOf lark and linnet, and from every page\\nRise odors of ploughed field or flowery mead.\\nc\\nLike Homer in Greece, Chaucer stands preeminent in\\nthe early literature of England; and among the great\\nEnglish poets of subsequent ages, not more than three or\\nfour Shakespeare, Spenser, Milton, Tennyson deserve\\nto be placed in the same rank.\\nAs with some other great writers, comparatively little is\\nknown of Chaucer s life. The most painstaking investiga-\\ntions have been comparatively fruitless in details. He was", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0071.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "50 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nborn in London about 1340. His father was a vintner,\\nand it is not improbable that Geoffrey sometimes lent him\\nassistance. In the Pardoner s Tale there is an interest-\\ning passage which shows Chaucer s acquaintance with the\\ndifferent French and Spanish wines, and which contains\\na warning against the dangers of drunkenness\\nA lecherous thing is wyne, and dronkenesse\\nIs full of stryving and of wrecchednesse.\\nNothing definite is known in regard to his education.\\nThe opinion formerly held that he studied at Cambridge\\nor Oxford is without satisfactory foundation. Yet his\\nworks show that he was a man of learning. Besides his\\nknowledge of French and ItaUan, he was acquainted with\\nthe classics, and with every other branch of scholastic\\nlearning current in his day.\\nIn the year 1357 an authentic record shows him attached\\nto the housefiold of Lady Elizabeth, wife of Prince Lionel,\\nin the capacity of a page. This position was highly favor-\\nable to his general culture. It gave him the benefit of\\nsociety of the highest refinement, in personal attendance\\non a young and spirited prince of the blood. He had his\\nimagination fed by scenes of the most brilliant court fes-\\ntivities, rendered more imposing by the splendid tri-\\numphs with which they were connected. It secured him\\nthroughout his long career the advantage of royal patronage.\\nAbout the time he attained his majority, he fell in love\\nwith a lady of the court above his rank. His passion was\\nnot requited a fact that inspired his earliest poem, The\\nCompleynte unto Pite. For several years he dared not\\nreveal his affection and when at last he did so, he found", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0072.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "GEOFFREY CHAUCER. 5 I\\npity dead in the lady s heart. But still he pleads for love,\\nand vows a lasting fidelity\\nLet som streem of your light on me be sene\\nThat love and drede you, ay lenger the more.\\nFor, sothly, for to seyne, I here the sore,\\nAnd, though I be not cunning for to pleyne,\\nFor goddes love, have mercy on my peyne.\\nIn 1359 he accompanied Edward III. in an invasion of\\nFrance and having been captured by the French, he was\\nransomed by the EngHsh king for sixteen pounds. He\\nwas long attached to the court; he filled various pubHc\\noffices, and served on no fewer than seven diplomatic\\nembassies to the Continent. Among other positions, he\\nfilled the office of comptroller of customs in the port of\\nLondon but, Hke many others of strong literary bent, he\\nappears to have felt the irksomeness of his routine duties.\\nIn an autobiographic touch in the Hous of Fame, we\\nread\\nFor whan thy labour doon al is,\\nAnd hast y-maad thy rekeninges,\\nIn stede of reste and nevve thinges,\\nThou gost hoom to thy house anoon\\nAnd, also domb as any stoon,\\nThou sittest at another boke,\\nTil fully daswed is thy loke,\\nAnd livest thus as an hermyte.\\nAlthough thyn abstinence is lyte.\\nBefore going to Italy on a diplomatic mission in 1378,\\nChaucer appointed Gower as one of his trustees to repre-\\nsent him in his absence. This fact seems to prove the\\nexistence of intimate relations between the two poets. If\\n1 Dazed. 2 Little, small.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0073.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "52 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nwe may trust Gower s statement in a passage of the Con-\\nfessio Amantis, Chaucer was his disciple though cer-\\ntainly greater than his master.\\nAnd grete well Chaucer, when ye mete,\\nAs my disciple and my poete.\\nFor in the floures of his youth,\\nIn sondry wise, as he well couth,\\nOf dittees and of songes glade,\\nThe which he for my sake made.\\nThe lond fulfilled is over all.\\nWhereof to him in speciall\\nAbove all other I am most holde.\\nThe time and circumstances of Chaucer s marriage are\\ninvolved in obscurity, though it is tolerably certain that\\nhis domestic life was unhappy. At all events, his refer-\\nences to marriage in his earlier writings are decidedly\\ncynical. In the Lenvoy de Chaucer a Bukton, he\\nwarns his friend,\\nBut thou shalt have sorow-e on thy flesh, thy lyf,\\nAnd been thy wyves thral.\\nIn the Tale of the Wyf of Bathe, the knight, after\\na year s inquiry and consideration, returns to the queen,\\nand\\nMy lige lady, generally,^ quod he,\\nWommen desyren to have sovereyntee\\nAs wel over hir housbond as hir love.\\nAnd for to been in maistrie him above.\\nBut elsewhere he calls marriage a great sacrament,\\nand declares that\\nA wyf is Goddes gifte verrayly.\\n1 Confessio Amantis, Bk. VIII.", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0074.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "GEOFFREY CHAUCER. 53\\nIn 1390 Chaucer superintended the erection of scaffolds\\nin Smithfield for the use of the king and queen in viewing\\nthe tournament which took place there that year. He\\nwas no doubt present at the festivities. These facts will\\nexplain to us the minute acquaintance with the manner of\\nconducting tournaments which the poet displays in the\\nKnight s Tale. Some of the details there given may\\nbe taken from the Smithfield lists\\nThat such a noble theatre as it was\\nI dar wel sayn that in this world ther nas.\\nThe circuit a myle was aboute.\\nWalled of stoon, and diched al withoute.\\nBut his political career was not one of uninterrupted\\nprosperity. In 1386 he was elected a member of Padia-\\nment for the shire of Kent but the same year, through a\\nchange in the government, he lost his office of comptroller\\nof customs. This incident is supposed to have inspired\\nthe ballad on Truth\\nFlee fro the prees,i and dwelle with sothfastnesse,^\\nSuffyce unto thy good, though hit be smal\\nFor hord hath hate, and climbing tikelnesse,*\\nFrees hath envye, and wile blent overal/\\nIn 1399, when he was again ia financial straits, he sent\\nto King Henry IV. a complaint about his poverty. It is\\nentitled, A Compleynt to his Purs\\nTo you, my purse, and to non other wight\\nComplayne I, for you be my lady dere\\nI am so sorry, now that ye be light\\nCrowd. 3 Be content with.\\nTruth. 4 Instabihty.\\nHappiness fails everywhere.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0075.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "54 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nFor certes, but ye make me hevy chere,\\nMe were as leef be leyd upon my bere\\nFor whiche unto your mercy thus I crye\\nBeth hevy ageyn, or elles mot I dye.\\nThis serio-comic piece was not fruitless, and four days\\nafterward the king- doubled the poet s pension.\\nIn 1 391 Chaucer prepared a prose treatise on the use\\nof the astrolabe for his ten-year old son Lewis, who is\\nsupposed to have died not long afterward. In the\\npreface he apologizes for the use of English, to which,\\nhowever, his partiality is evident And Lewis, yif so be\\nthat I shewe thee in my lighte English as trewe conclu-\\nsions touching this matere, and naught only as trewe but\\nas many and as subtil conclusions as ben shewed in\\nLatin in any commune tretis of the Astrolabie, con me\\nthe more thank.\\nChaucer died in circumstances of comfort and peace\\nOct. 25, 1400. His body lies in Westminster Abbey,\\nwhere his tomb is an object of tender interest in the\\nfamous Poets Corner.\\nIn the Prologue to Sir Thopas, the host of the Tabard\\nand the leader of the Canterbury pilgrims draws the poet s\\nportrait. After a most pathetic tale related by the prior-\\ness, Harry Bailly was the first to interrupt the silence\\nAnd than at erst he loked upon me,\\nAnd seyde thus, what man arthow, quod he\\nThou lokest as thou woldest finde an hare,\\nFor ever upon the ground I see thee stare.\\nApproache neer, and loke up merily.\\nNow war you, sirs, and let this man have place\\nHe in the waast is shape as wel as I\\n1 Grant.", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0076.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "GEOFFREY CHAUCER. 55\\nThis were a popet in an arm t embrace\\nFor any womman, smal and fair of face.\\nHe semeth elvish by his countenance,\\nFor unto no wight dooth he daliaunce.\\nWhile the outward circumstances of Chaucer s life are\\nso imperfectly known, we have abundant means to judge of\\nhis character and attainments. He is revealed to us in his\\nwritings. While associated with the court life of his time,\\nhe did not surrender himself to its vices and empty fri-\\nvolities. He was not indifferent to the enjoyments of social\\nlife, but, at the same time, he set his heart on higher\\nthings. He recognized true worth wherever he found it,\\nregardless of the accident of birth or wealth. He seems\\nin no small measure to have embodied the integrity and\\ngentleness which he bravely ascribes to the character of\\nthe gentleman in the Tale of the Wyf of Bathe\\nBut for ye speken of swich gentillesse\\nAs is descended out of old richesse,\\nThat therefore sholden ye be gentil men,\\nSwich arrogance is nat worth an hen.\\nLoke who that is most virtuous alway,\\nPrivee and apert, and most entendeth ay\\nTo do the gentil dedes that he can,\\nAnd tak him for the grettest gentil man.\\nCrist wol, we clay me of him our gentillesse,\\nNat of our eldres for hir old richesse.\\nThough a man of large attainments, Chaucer was not\\noverborne by the weight of his learning. His individu-\\nality had free play. In common with many other great\\npoets, he was a prodigious borrower, using his lofty genius,\\nnot in the work of pure invention, but in glorifying ma-\\nIf this is spoken ironically, as seems to be the case, it indicates corpulency.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0077.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "56 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nterials already existing. He is a striking illustration of\\nthe personal element in literature. Gower and Langland\\nworked in the presence of the abundant literary materials\\nof the fourteenth century but only Chaucer had the abil-\\nity to lay hold of it and mould it into imperishable popular\\nforms.\\nHe spent much time in reading and writing. In the\\nLegend of Good Women, he says\\nAnd as for me, though that I can but lyte,\\nOn bokes for to rede I me delyte.\\nAnd to hem geve I feyth and ful credence,\\nAnd in myn herte have hem in reverence\\nSo hertely, that ther is game noon\\nThat fro my bokes maketh me to goon.\\nAnd, as we read in the Hous of Fame, he set his\\nwit,\\nTo make bokes, songes, dytees,\\nIn ryme, or elles in cadence,\\nand in his ardor of composition,\\nThou wolt make\\nA-night ful ofte thyn heed to ake,\\nIn thy studie so thou v^^rytest,\\nAnd ever-mo of love endytest.\\nChaucer s love of nature was remarkable, and rivalled\\nhis passion for books. He tells us that there is nothing\\ncan take him from his reading,\\nSave certeynly, whan that the month of May\\nIs comen, and that I here the fowles singe,\\nAnd that the floures ginnen for to springe,\\nFarwel my book, and my devocioun.", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0078.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "GEOFFREY CHAUCER. 57\\nHis poetic nature responded to the beauties of the\\nmorning landscape, the matin carols of the birds, and the\\nglories of the rising sun. The May-time, as may be seen\\nfrom the prologu e to the Legend of Good Women, was\\nhis favorite season and long before Burns and Words-\\nworth, he loved and sang of the daisy. The sight of this\\nflower, as it opens to the sun, lightened his sorrow\\nAnd down on knees anon right I me sette,\\nAnd, as I coude, this fresshe flour I grette\\nKneling alwey, til hit unclosed was,\\nUpon the smale, softe, swote gras.\\nChaucer s treatment of women in his works is full of\\ninterest. He is fond of satirizing the foibles supposed to\\nbe peculiar to their sex, and no pen was ever sharper.\\nBut he is not lost to chivalrous sentiment, and nowhere\\nelse can we find higher and heartier praise of womanly\\npatience, purity, and truth. He appears to have written\\nthe Legend of Good Women as a kind of amends for\\nthe injustice done the sex in his earlier writings. And\\nhis real sentiments, let us hope, are found in the fol-\\nlowing lines\\nAlas, howe may we say on hem but well,\\nOf whom we were yfostered and ybore,\\nAnd ben all our socoure, and trewe as stele,\\nAnd for our sake ful oft they suffre sore\\nWithout women were all our joy ylore.\\nThere are passages in his works that are very offensive\\nto modern taste but they are not to be charged so much\\nto Chaucer s love of indecency as to the grossness of his\\nage and to his artistic sense of fitness. This is his own", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0079.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "58 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\napology; and in the prologue to one of his most objection-\\nable stories he begs his gentle readers\\nFor Goddes love, demeth not that I seye\\nOf evel entente, but that I moot reherce\\nHir tales alle, albe they bettre or werse,\\nOr elles falsen som of my matere.\\nThen he adds the kindly warning\\nAnd therfore, who-so list it nat y-here,\\nTurne over the leef, and chese another tale.\\nThe circumstances of Chaucer s life, as will have been\\nnoted, were favorable for the work he was to do in Eng-\\nlish literature. Langland wrote for the common people\\nGower addressed himself to the educated Chaucer, with\\na broader spirit, prepared his works for every class. His\\ndiligence as a student, his familiarity with the best society\\nof his time, and his wide experience as a man of affairs\\nat home and abroad gave him great mental breadth.\\nWhen he reached the full maturity of his powers, he was\\nadmirably equipped in language, knowledge, and culture\\nto produce works of surpassing excellence. In the four-\\nteenth century, various dialects, as we have seen, existed\\nin England but from this linguistic confusion, to use the\\nwords of Marsh, The influence and example of Chaucer\\ndid more to rescue his native tongue than any other single\\ncause and if we compare his dialect with that of any\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0writer of an earlier date, we shall find that in compass,\\nflexibility, expressiveness, grace, and in all the higher\\nqualities of poetical diction, he gave it at once the ut-\\nmost perfection which the materials at his hand would\\nadmit of. He made the Midland dialect, which he", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0080.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "GEOFFREY CHAUCER. 59\\nused in common with Gower and Wycliffe, the national\\nlanguage.\\nI Chaucer s literary career may be divided into three\\nperiods. The first period, which extends to his Italian\\njourney in 1372, is characterized by the influence of\\nFrench models. The two most important works of this\\nperiod are the Book of the Duchesse, written in 1369\\non the death of Blanche, the first wife of John of Gaunt,\\nand a translation of the Roman de la Rose, a poem of\\ntwenty-two thousand fines dating from the preceding\\ncentury. It is an allegorical presentation of the whole\\nart of love. Only a part of Chaucer s translation, which\\nfollows the original closely, has been preserved.\\nThe second period, extending from 1373 to 1384, is\\ncharacterized by an Itafian influence, which showed itself\\nin a more refined taste and more elegant handling of ma-\\nterial. Within this period, Chaucer went to Italy on three\\ndifferent diplomatic missions. It is possible that he met\\nBoccaccio and Petrarch. Be that as it may, his mission\\nevidently led to a greater interest in Italian literature,\\nwhich was then the most notable in Europe, and from\\nwhich he borrowed some of his choicest stories. To the\\nItalian period are to be ascribed, among other poems,\\nTroilus and Criseyde, taken from Boccaccio, and the\\nHous of Fame, in which the influence of Dante can\\nbe clearly seen. Italy helped Chaucer to unfold and\\nmature his strong native powers.\\nThe third period in his literary career is distinctly\\nEnglish. Instead of depending upon foreign models,\\nthe poet walked independently in his conscious strength.\\nIt was during this period, extending from about 1384 to", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0081.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "6o ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nthe time of his death, that his greatest work the Can-\\nterbury Tales was produced. The idea of the work\\nseems to have been suggested by Boccaccio s Decam-\\neron. During the prevalence of the plague in Florence,\\nin 1 348, seven ladies and three gentlemen, all young, rich,\\nand cultivated, retire to a beautiful villa a few miles from\\nthe city and in order to pass the time more agreeably\\nin their seclusion, they relate to one another a series of\\ntales. Such is the plan of the Decameron.\\nChaucer adopted the idea of a succession of stories,\\nbut invented a happier occasion for their narration. One\\nevening in April a company of twenty-nine pilgrims, of\\nvarious conditions in life, meet at the Tabard, a London\\ninn, on their way to the shrine of Thomas a Becket at\\nCanterbury. At supper the jolly, amiable host offers to\\naccompany them as guide and in order to relieve the\\ntedium of the journey, he proposes that each one shall\\ntell two tales on the way to the tomb and the same num-\\nber on their return. The one narrating the best tale is\\nto receive a supper at the expense of the others.\\nThe poet joins the party; and in the Prologue he\\ngives us, with great artistic and dramatic power, a\\ndescription of the pilgrims. The various classes of Eng-\\nlish society a knight, a lawyer, a doctor, an Oxford\\nstudent, a miller, a prioress, a monk, a farmer, and.\\nothers are all placed before us with marvellous dis-\\ntinctness. It is a living picture of contemporary life,\\nshowing us the features, dress, manners, customs, and\\nsocial and religious interests of the English people\\nin the latter half of the fourteenth century. Nothing\\nescapes the microscopic scrutiny of the poet. Yet with", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0082.jp2"}, "81": {"fulltext": "GEOFFREY CHAUCER. 6 1\\nthis keenness of observation and wonderful power to\\ndetect the pecuHarities. and foibles of men, there is no\\nadmixture of cynicism. There is humor and satire, but\\nthey are thornless. All of Chaucer s later writings are\\npervaded by an atmosphere of genial humor, kindness,\\ntolerance, humanity.\\nChaucer begins his sketches of the Canterbury pil-\\ngrims with the knight, a model of chivalrous heroism.\\nNotwithstanding the great achievements of the knight\\nin various parts of Europe and Africa, he still\\nWas of his port as meke as is a mayde.\\nHe nevere yit no vileinye ne sayde\\nIn al his lyf unto no maner wight.\\nHe was a verray perfight gentil knight.\\nThe portrait of the prioress, Madame Eglantine,\\nThat of hire smylyng was ful symple and coy,\\nexhibits the poet s close observation\\nAt mete wel i-taught was sche withalle\\nSche leet no morsel from hire lippes falle,\\nNe wette hire fyngres in hire sauce deepe.\\nBut for to speken of hire conscience,\\nSche was so charitable and so pitous\\nSche wolde weepe if that sche sawe a mous\\nCaught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde.\\nThe decadence of the church the love of ease,\\npleasure, wealth, and power, that had taken possession\\nof many of its representatives is reflected in the\\nsketches of the monk, the friar, and the pardoner,\\nWhose walet lay byforn him in his lappe,\\nBret-ful of pardoun come from Rome al hoot.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0083.jp2"}, "82": {"fulltext": "62 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThe friar was a licentiate of his order, and\\nFul sweetely herde he confessioun,\\nAnd plesaunt was his absolucioun\\nHe was an esy man to geve penaunce,\\nTher as he wiste have a good pitaunce\\nFor unto a poure ordre for to give\\nIs signe that a man is wel i-schrive,\\nFor if he gaf, he dorste make avaunt,\\nHe wiste that a man was repentaunt.\\nBut in contrast with these unworthy representatives\\nof the church stands the poure Persoun of a toun,\\nshowing us that genuine piety was not extinct. Chaucer\\nseems to dwell with tender partiality upon the portrait\\nA good man was ther of reHgioun,\\nAnd was a poure Persoun of a toun\\nBut riche he was of holy thought and werke.\\nHe was also a lerned man, a clerk.\\nHe waytede after no pompe and reverence,\\nNe makede him a spiced conscience,\\nBut Cristes lore, and his apostles twelve^\\nHe taught, but first he folwede it himselve.\\nAmong other characters that must be dismissed with\\na word is the Oxford student,\\nAs lene was his hors as is a rake,\\nAnd he was not right fat, I undertake.\\nAnd the lawyer,\\nNowher so besy a man as he ther nas,\\nAnd yit he seemede besier than he was.\\nAnd the doctor,\\nWho kepte that he wan in pestilence\\nFor gold in physik is a cordial,\\nTherefore he loved gold in special.", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0084.jp2"}, "83": {"fulltext": "GEOFFREY CHAUCER. 63\\nThe tales that follow the Prologue the whole num-\\nber was never completed are admirably adapted to the\\ncharacter of the narrators. They include the whole circle\\nof mediaeval literature, the romance of chivalry, the\\nlegends of saints, the apologue and allegorical story, the\\ntheological treatise, and the coarse tale of immorality\\nand cunning. The tales are told with ease, rapidity, and\\ngrace. They abound in humor and pathos and among\\nall the works composed on the same general plan, the\\nCanterbury Tales is greatest.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0085.jp2"}, "84": {"fulltext": "64 ENGLISH LITERATURE,\\nADDENDUM ON CHAUCER S DICTION AND\\nVERSIFICATION.\\nThe language of Chaucer exhibits the fusion of Teutonic and French\\nelements. Dropping most of the Anglo-Saxon inflections, it passes\\nfrom a synthetic to an analytic condition, in which the relations of\\nwords are expressed, not by different terminations, but by separate\\nwords. It is essentially modern, but the following peculiarities are to\\nbe noted. The plural of nouns is usually formed by the ending es^\\nwhich is pronounced as a distinct syllable but in words of more than\\none syllable, the ending is s. Instead of es^ we sometimes meet with\\nis and iis. Some nouns which originally ended in an have cii or\\nas, asschen, ashes been, bees eyen, eyes. The possessive or genitive\\ncase, singular and plural, is usually formed by adding es as, his lordes\\nwerre (wars) foxes tales. But en is sometimes used in the plural as,\\nhis eyen sight. The dative case singular ends in e-, as, holte, bedde.\\nThe adjective is inflected. After demonstrative and possessive adjec-\\ntives and the definite article the adjective takes the ending e-, as, the\\nyonge sonne his halfe cours. But in adjectives of more than one\\nsyllable this e is usually dropped. The plural of adjectives is formed\\nby adding e-, as, sniale fowles. But adjectives of more than one\\nsyllable, and all adjectives in the predicate, omit the e. The compara-\\ntive is formed by the addition of ?r, though the Anglo-Saxon form re\\nis found in a few words as, derre, dearer ferre, farther. The per-\\nsonal pronouns are as follows\\nSINGULAR. PLURAL.\\nNorn. I, ich, ik we\\nPoss. min (myn), mi (my) our, oure\\nObj. me us\\nNorn, thou (thow, tow) ye\\nPoss. thin (thyn), thi (thy) your, youre\\nObj. the, thee yow, you", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0086.jp2"}, "85": {"fulltext": "GEOFFREY CHAUCER. 65\\nMasculine.\\nFeminine.\\nNeuter.\\nAll Genders.\\nNom. he\\nshe, sche\\nhit, it, yt\\nthei, they\\nPoss. his\\nhire, hir\\nhis\\nhere, her, hir\\nObj. him\\nhire, hir, here\\nhit, it, yt\\nhem\\nThe present indicative pkn-al of verbs ends in en or c, as, we loven\\nor love. The infinitive ends in en or e-, as, speken, speke.^ to speak.\\nThe present participle usually ends in yng or yjige. The past participle\\nof strong verbs ends in en or e, and (as well as the past participle of\\nweak verbs) is often preceded by the prefix y or answering to the\\nAnglo-Saxon and modern German ge; as, irontte, yclept. The following\\nnegative forms deserve attention 7ia?n, am not nys, is not 7ias,\\nwas not 7ierej were not ?iath, hath not nadde, had not nylle, will\\nnot nolde, would not 7tat, 7iot, 7ioot, know^s not. Adverbs are formed\\nfrom adjectives by adding e; as, bright e., brightly; deepe, deeply.\\nThe vowel sounds are closely akin to French and German. They\\nmay be indicated as follows a long a m father a short a in\\naha. long a in date; e short e in bed. /long ee in sleep\\ni short z in pi7i. O long in 7iote short o in 7tot. U long\\nFrench 71 or German u 71 short ti in f/ill. A/, ei ei in veil.\\nAn, aw ow in 7i02U. Ou, ow oit in tonr.\\nVersification. The prevailing metre in the Canterbury Tales is\\niambic pentameter in rhyming couplets. Occasionally there are eleven\\nsyllables in a line, and sometimes only nine. Shorty unemphatic\\nsyllables are often slurred over as,\\nSche gad ereth flour es par ty white and rede.\\nWords from the French usually retain their native pronunciation\\nthat is, are accented on the last syllable. Final e is usually sounded\\nas a distinct syllable except before h, a following vowel, in the personal\\npronouns oiire^ yojire, hire, here, and in many polysyllables. The ed\\nof the past indicative and past participle, and the es of the plural and\\nof the genitive, form separate syllables.\\nIn exemplification of the foregoing rules, the opening lines of the\\nPrologue are here divided into their component iambics:\\nWhan that April j le, with his schow res swoote\\nThe drought of Marche hath per ced to the roote,\\nAnd ba thed eve ry veyne in. swich licour.\\nOf which I vertue engen dred is the flour\\nF", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0087.jp2"}, "86": {"fulltext": "66 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nWhan Ze j phirus eek with his swe te breethe\\nEnspi I red hath in eve ry holte and heethe\\nThe ten dre crop pes, and the yon ge sonne\\nHath in the Ram his hal fe cours i-ronne,\\nAnd sma le few les ma ken me lodie,\\nThat sle pen al the night with o pen eye,\\nSo pri I keth hem nature in here corages\\nThanne Ion gen folk to gon on pil grimages,\\nAnd pal mers for to see ken straun ge strondes,\\nTo fer I ne hal wes, couthe in son dry londes\\nAnd spe cially from eve ry schi res ende\\nOf En I gelond to Caunt terbury they w^ende,\\nThe ho I ly blis ful mar tir for to seeke,\\nThat hem hath holp en whan that they were seeke.", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0088.jp2"}, "87": {"fulltext": "FIRST CREATIVE PERIOD.\\nPRINCIPAL WRITERS.\\nPre-Elizabethan. William Caxton (1422- 1491). First English\\nprinter, edited and printed ninety-nine works.\\nSir Thomas More (1478-1535). Lord Chancellor, author of\\nUtopia (1 5 16) and History of King Edward V. (iSU)-\\nHenry Howard, Earl of Surrey (1517-1547)- Poet who introduced\\nblank verse and the sonnet into English poetry.\\nSir Thomas Wyat (i 503-1 542). Poet, satirist, sonneteer, strictly\\nfollowing Italian models.\\nElizabethan Prose. Roger Ascham (15 15-1568). Tutor to\\nQueen Elizabeth, author of Toxophilus (1545) and the Schole-\\nmaster (1570).\\nJohn Lyly (i 553-1606). Author of Euphues (1580), and drama-\\ntist.\\nSir Philip Sidney (i 554-1 586). Author of Arcadia (159\u00c2\u00b0) and\\nThe Defense of Poesie (1595).\\nRichard Hooker (i 553-1600). Clergyman, and author of Eccle-\\nsiastical Polity (1592).\\nSir Walter Raleigh (1552-1618). Soldier, sailor, courtier, statesman,\\nhistorian, poet. Author of Discovery of Guiana (1596) and His-\\ntory of the World (161 4).\\nPoetry. Thomas Sackville, Earl of Dorset 1 536-1 608) Author\\nof Mirror for Magistrates (1563) and of first English tragedy,\\nGorboduc, acted before Queen Ehzabeth at Whitehall in 1561.\\nSamuel Daniel (i 562-1619). Author of Civil Wars (i 595-1604),\\na poetical history of the Wars of the Roses.\\nMichael Drayton (1563-1631). Author of Polyolbion (1613-\\n1622), a poem in thirty books descriptive of the topography of England.\\n67", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0089.jp2"}, "88": {"fulltext": "68 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nDrama. Christopher Marlowe (1564-1593). Author of Tam-\\nburlaine the Great, The Rich Jew of Malta, and Doctor John\\nFaustus a dramatist of great power, who has been called a second\\nShakespeare.\\nRobert Greene (i 560-1 592). Author of Alphonsus, King of\\nAragon, and other plays. In a pamphlet entitled A Groat s Worth\\nof Wit, he rails at Shakespeare as an upstart crow, beautified with\\nour feathers.\\nBen Jonson (i 573-1 637). Friend of Shakespeare, and author of\\nmany dramas, among which are Every Man in his Humor, Cyn-\\nthia s Revels, Sejanus, and The Alchemist.\\nPhilip Massinger T^ 15 84- 1640). Author of thirty-eight dramas,\\namong which are The City Madam, The Fatal Dowry, and A\\nNew Way to Pay Old Debts. The last still keeps its place upon\\nthe stage.\\nJohn Webster (date of birth and death unknown) was strong in\\nhandling terrible subjects. Among his plays are The Duchess of\\nMalfi and The White Devil, which Hazlitt says come near to\\nShakespeare.\\nThomas Dekker (i 570-1 637). Author of twenty-eight plays. His\\nSatiromastix satirizes Ben Jonson. In another of his plays occur\\nthe oft-quoted lines,\\nThe best of men\\nThat e er wore earth about him was a sufferer\\nA soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit\\nThe first true gentleman that ever breathed.\\nFrancis Beaumont (i 586-161 5) and John Fletcher (i 579-1625)\\nwere joint authors of fifty-two plays, among the best of which are The\\nMaid s Tragedy, Cupid s Revenge, and Philaster.\\nGREAT REPRESENTATIVE AUTHORS.\\nEdmund Spenser. Francis Bacon.\\nWilliam Shakespeare.", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0090.jp2"}, "89": {"fulltext": "III.\\nFIRST CREATIVE PERIOD.\\n(1558-1625.)\\nInterest of period Barren era after Chaucer Revival of learning\\nInventions Caxton and the printing-press The Reformation\\nCondition of England Elizabeth s character\u00e2\u0080\u0094 General prog-\\nress\u00e2\u0080\u0094Influence on thought and character Pre-EIizabethan lit-\\nerature Old ballads Thomas More Earl of Surrey\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Sir\\nThomas Wyat Elizabethan outburst of literature Ascham\\nLyly Sidney H ooker Raleigh Elizabethan lyrics Sack ville,\\nDaniel, Drayton Origin of drama Miracle plays Moralities\\nFirst comedy and tragedy Theatres Minor dramatists\\nBen Jonson Edmund Spenser Francis Bacon William\\nShakespeare.\\nThis period, which includes the reigns of Elizabeth and\\nJames I., is one of great interest. In the long course of\\nEnglish literature there is no other period that deserves\\nmore careful attention. It was the natural outcome of\\nforces that had been accumulating for a hundred years.\\nIt is sometimes called the Ehzabethan era, because the\\nsuccessful reign of that queen supplied the opportunity for\\na splendid manifestation of literary genius. Peace, prosper-\\nity, and general intelHgence are the necessary conditions\\nfor the creation of a great national literature a truth\\nthat finds abundant exemplification in the age of Pericles\\nin Athens, of Augustus in Rome, and of Louis XIV. in\\nFrance. While these conditions do not explain genius,\\n\u00e2\u0080\u0094V 69", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0091.jp2"}, "90": {"fulltext": "70 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nwhich must be referred to the immediate agency of the\\nCreator, they make it possible for genius to reaUze its best\\ncapabilities. The reign of Elizabeth, with its increase\\nof intelligence and national power, furnished the occasion\\nand the stimulus under which Spenser, Shakespeare,\\nand Bacon produced their immortal works. At one great\\nbound English literature reached an excellence that for\\nvariety of interest and weight of thought has scarcely\\nbeen surpassed.\\nThe century and a half lying between the death of\\nChaucer and the accession of Elizabeth was an era of\\npreparation. The potential forces that had called the\\nfather of English poetry into being seemed to subside, and\\nnot a single writer in either prose or poetry attained to the\\nfirst or even to the second rank. The cause of this liter-\\nary barrenness is to be found partly in the repression of\\nfree inquiry by the church and Parliament, partly in the\\nsocial disorders connected with the Wars of the Roses,\\nand partly in the varied and important interests that en-\\ngaged general attention.\\nThe century preceding the accession of Elizabeth was\\nan era of awakened mind and intellectual acquisition.\\nThe revival of learning was an event of vast importance,\\nnot only in the intellectual life of England, but also of all\\nEurope. It had its central point in the capture of Con-\\nstantinople by the Turks in 1453, which caused many\\nGreek scholars to seek refuge in Italy. As ancient learn-\\ning had already begun to receive attention there, these\\nscholarly fugitives were warmly welcomed. Noble and\\nwealthy patronage was not wanting and soon the classic\\nliterature of Greece and Rome was studied with almost", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0092.jp2"}, "91": {"fulltext": "FIRST CREATIVE PERIOD. 7 1\\nincredible enthusiasm. The popes received the new\\nlearning under their protection libraries were founded,\\nmanuscripts collected, and academies established.\\nEager scholars from England, France, and Germany sat\\nat the feet of Italian masters, in order afterward to bear\\nbeyond the Alps the precious seed of the new culture. Its\\nbeneficent effects soon became apparent. Greek was intro-\\nduced into the great universities of England. Erasmus,\\nthe most brilliant scholar of his time, taught at Oxford.\\nIt became the fashion to study the ancient classics, and\\nElizabeth, Jane Grey, and other noble ladies are said to\\nhave been conversant with Plato, Xenophon, and Cicero\\nin the original. The taste, the eloquence, the refined lit-\\nerary culture, of Athens and pagan Rome were restored to\\nthe world and gradually, by an insensible change, men\\nwere raised to the level of the great and healthy minds\\nwhich had freely handled ideas of all kinds fifteen centuries\\nbefore.\\nThe remarkable inventions and discoveries of the fif-\\nteenth century contributed, in a noteworthy degree, to\\nawaken intellect and lift men to a higher plane of knowl-\\nedge. The printing-press was invented about the middle\\nof the century, and in less than a decade it was brought to\\nsuch perfection that the whole Bible appeared in type\\nin 1456. It became a powerful aid in the revival of learn-\\ning. It at once supplanted the tedious and costly process\\nof copying books by hand, and brought the repositories of\\nlearning within reach of the common people.\\nThe printing-press was introduced into England about\\n1476, by William Caxton, who had learned the art of\\nprinting in Bruges. The following year appeared the", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0093.jp2"}, "92": {"fulltext": "72 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nDictes and Notable Wise Sayings of the Philosophers,\\nwhich is probably the first book printed in England. Cax-\\nton contributed materially to the advancement of English\\nletters. He was himself a translator and editor. He\\nprinted no fewer than ninety-nine works, among which\\nare Chaucer s Canterbury Tales, Gower s Conf essio\\nAmantis, and Malory s Morte d Arthur, from which\\nTennyson drew the materials for his Idyls of the King.\\nGunpowder, which had been invented the previous cen-\\ntury, came into common use, and wrought a salutary\\nchange in the organization of society. It destroyed the\\nmilitary prestige of the knightly order, brought the lower\\nclasses into greater prominence, and contributed to the\\nabolition of serfdom. The mariner s compass greatly fur-\\nthered navigation. Instead of creeping along the shores\\nof the Mediterranean or the Atlantic, seamen boldly ven-\\ntured upon unknown waters. In 1492 Columbus discovered\\nAmerica; and six years later Vasco da Gama, rounding\\nthe Cape of Good Hope, sailed across the Indian Ocean\\nto Calcutta. Voyages of discovery followed in rapid suc-\\ncession, new continents were added to the map, and the\\ngeneral store of knowledge was greatly increased.\\nThe greatest event in history since the advent of Christ\\nis the Reformation of the sixteenth century. It was essen-\\ntially a religious movement, which sought to correct the\\nerrors in doctrine and practice that had crept into the\\nchurch and long given rise to deep dissatisfaction. In\\nconnection with the cooperating influences spoken of in\\nthe preceding paragraphs, the Reformation began a new\\nstage in human progress, marking the close of the Middle\\nAges and the dawn of the modern era. There is scarcely", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0094.jp2"}, "93": {"fulltext": "FIRST CREATIVE PERIOD. 73\\nan important interest that it did not touch. It secured\\ngreater purity and spirituality in religion, contributed\\nmuch to the elevation of the laity and the advancement of\\nwoman, confirmed the separation of the secular and the\\necclesiastical power, established the right of liberty of\\nconscience, gave an extraordinary impulse to literature\\nand science, and, in a word, promoted all that distinguishes\\nand ennobles our modern civilization. From the time\\nof Spenser and Bacon there has been no great Enghsh\\nwriter who has not shown, directly or indirectly, the\\ninfluence of the Protestant Reformation.\\nWhen the reformatory movement, which began with\\nMartin Luther in Germany in 15 17, extended to England,\\nit found a receptive soil. Traditions of Wycliffe still sur-\\nvived the new learning was friendly to reform and men\\nof high civil and ecclesiastical rank had inveighed against\\nexisting abuses. Though Henry VIII. at first remained\\nfaithful to the Roman Catholic church, and even wrote\\na book against the German reformer, he afterward, for\\npersonal and selfish reasons, withdrew his support, and\\nencouraged the reformatory work of his ministers and of\\nParliament. In 1534 the Act of Supremacy was passed,\\nby which the king was made the supreme head of the\\nChurch of England, and empowered to repress and\\namend all such errors and heresies as, by any manner\\nof spiritual jurisdiction, might and ought to be lawfully\\nreformed.\\nWithout attempting to trace the general effects of the\\nReformation in England a factor that enters with a\\nmoulding influence into all the subsequent history of the\\ncountry some of its immediate results upon English lit-", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0095.jp2"}, "94": {"fulltext": "74 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nerature are briefly indicated. In 1526 Tyndale published\\nhis translation of the New Testament, which was followed\\nsoon afterward by other portions of the Bible. Nearly\\nevery year, for half a century, saw a new edition issue\\nfrom the press. Tyndale s translation was made with\\ngreat ability, and served as the basis of subsequent ver-\\nsions until, in 161 1, King James s version, embodying\\nall the excellences of previous efforts, gained general\\nacceptance.\\nThe Scriptures in English were seized upon with great\\navidity by the common people. The results were far\\nreaching and salutary. The study of the Bible stimulated\\nmental activity its precepts ennobled character and gov-\\nerned conduct its language improved the common speech\\nand its treasures of history and poetry added to the popu-\\nlar inteUigence. It gave an impulse to general education\\nand it became at once, what it has since remained, the\\noccasion of high scholarship and of a considerable body of\\nliterature. Latimer, whose vigorous sermons advanced\\nthe cause of the Reformation in different parts of England,\\nis a type of the unbroken line of able preachers whose\\ninfluence since upon the social, moral, and intellectual life\\nof the English people cannot be estimated. Religious\\nservices were conducted in English and in 1 549 the\\nBook of Common Prayer, which has been absorbed into\\nthe life of succeeding generations, was published, and its\\nuse, to the exclusion of all other forms, prescribed by law.\\nWhen Elizabeth ascended the throne in 1558, the for-\\ntunes of England were at a low ebb. The people were ex-\\nasperated by Mary s misgovernment and persecution, and\\nthe bitter animosity between Protestants and Catholics was", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0096.jp2"}, "95": {"fulltext": "FIRST CREATIVE PERIOD. 75\\napparently beyond reconciliation. Humiliated by defeat\\nin France, the country was threatened with invasion.\\nThere was neither army nor navy. If God start not\\nforth to the helm, wrote the Council in an appeal to the\\ncountry, we be at the point of greatest misery that can\\nhappen to any people, which is to become thrall to a for-\\neign nation. By the marriage of Mary, Queen of Scots,\\nto the dauphin of France, Scotland became a new menace.\\nThese were some of the difficulties Elizabeth encountered\\non assuming the sovereignty. In dealing with them she\\nshowed extraordinary courage and wisdom and in a long\\nreign of forty-five years she raised England to the front\\nrank among European nations, and awakened in the Eng-\\nlish people an aggressive and dauntless spirit.\\nAs a woman, the character of Elizabeth is far from\\nadmirable. She was vain, coarse, haughty, vindictive, pro-\\nfane, mendacious. But as a queen, she in large measure\\njustified the esteem in which she has been generally held.\\nShe was earnest, prudent, far-seeing, wise, and, above all,\\nunselfishly devoted to the interests of her realm. She sur-\\nrounded herself with able counsellors and, as a rule, her\\nadministration was characterized by a spirit of moderation.\\nShe extinguished the fires of persecution that had been\\nlighted under Mary and, though exacting outward con-\\nformity to the established religion, she made no inquisition\\ninto the private opinions of her people.\\nEngland gradually became Protestant in spirit and the\\nhead of the Protestant movement in Europe. The succes-\\nsive dangers arising from fanatical conspiracies were hap-\\npily averted. The papal bull of excommunication, which\\nabsolved the English people from their allegiance to the", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0097.jp2"}, "96": {"fulltext": "j6 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nqueen, came to nothing; the Jesuit emissaries failed in\\ntheir attempt to incite a revolt and finally the combined\\nefforts of the Papacy and of Spain to subdue England and\\nreestablish Catholicism by force were frustrated by the\\ndestruction of the Armada. With these triumphs over\\nfoes at home and abroad, England acquired a new self-\\nrespect and confidence, and entered upon her career of\\nmaritime and commercial preeminence.\\nIn spite of the difficulties and dangers belonging to the\\nearlier years of Elizabeth s reign, the interests of the peo-\\nple were wisely cared for. When coming into conflict with\\nParliament, the queen gracefully surrendered her despotic\\ntendencies. She abolished monopolies that had abused\\ntheir privileges and become oppressive. Salutary laws\\nwere passed for the employment of the mendicant classes,\\nwhich the cruel policy of preceding reigns had left as a\\nresiduum of discontent and menace to the country.\\nThe condition of the middle class was greatly improved.\\nBetter methods of tilling the soil gave a new impetus to\\nagriculture. The growth of manufactures was rapid. In-\\nstead of sending her fleeces to Holland, England developed\\nevery department of woollen manufacture. The mineral\\nproducts of the country iron, coal, tin were increased.\\nWith the wars in the Netherlands, which destroyed for a\\ntime the trade of Antwerp and Bruges, London became the\\ncommercial centre of Europe. At her wharves were found\\nthe gold and sugar of the New World, the cotton of India,\\nand the silk of the East. English vessels made their way\\neverywhere catching cod at Newfoundland, seeking new\\ntrade centres in the Baltic, and extending commerce in the\\nMediterranean.", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0098.jp2"}, "97": {"fulltext": "FIRST CREATIVE PERIOD. yj\\nThis activity in agriculture, manufacture, and commerce\\nbrought wealth and comfort. The dwellings were im-\\nproved. Carpets took the place of rushes the introduc-\\ntion of chimneys brought the pleasures of the fireside\\ngloomy castles, built for mihtary strength, gave place to\\nelegant palaces, surrounded by Italian gardens. Gram-\\nmar schools and colleges were established and the print-\\ning-press, freely used for the promulgation and defence of\\nfacts and opinions, advanced the general intelligence. A\\nlearned woman herself, EHzabeth lent her influence and\\nthat of her court to the cause of letters. While the\\ndungeon and the stake were crushing out intellectual\\nfreedom in Italy and Spain while France was distracted\\nby internal religious dissension while foreign oppression\\nwas destroying the trade of the Netherlands, England,\\nunder the prosperous reign of Elizabeth, was constantly\\ngaining in wealth, intelligence, and power.\\nThese outward conditions could not fail to have an\\ninfluence upon the thought and feeling of the English\\nnation and to manifest themselves in the literary produc-\\ntions of the time. The proud success achieved by Eng-\\nland in the face of great odds naturally aroused a vigorous\\nand dauntless spirit. The Englishman of that day be-\\ncame aggressive, persisted in the face of obstacles, drew\\nback before no dangers, despaired of no success. With\\nthe growing prominence of his country, his views became\\ncomprehensive and penetrating. He was forced to think\\nwith a large horizon. Called upon to deal with large\\ninterests, his intellect expanded and his character became\\nweighty engaged in conducting vast enterprises, he de-\\nveloped great executive powers.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0099.jp2"}, "98": {"fulltext": "78 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nLife became intense and rich in all its relations. No\\ninterest, whether social, political, commercial, or religious,\\nescaped attention. The energies of the English people\\nwere strung to the highest pitch, and wrought, in some\\ndepartments, the best results of which the Enghsh mind\\nis capable. Bacon took the whole circle of knowledge\\nas his field of inquiry. Spenser s Faery Queene, with\\nits unexampled richness of imagination, is a fountain from\\nwhich the poets of succeeding generations have drawn\\ninspiration. And Shakespeare, with his many-sided and\\ninexhaustible intellect, stands easily at the head of the\\nworld s great dramatists. With its great achievements, we\\nmay well call this t\\\\\\\\Q first creative period in our literature.\\nThere are a few productions and a few writers prior to\\nthe accession of Elizabeth that well deserve mention. It\\nwas during the period between Chaucer and the Virgin\\nQueen that the most famous of the old English ballads\\nwere written. In their simplicity, directness, and often\\ncrudeness of style, they possess a charm that a more cul-\\ntivated age cannot successfully imitate. Not a few of\\nthem celebrate the fearless conflicts of the Scottish border\\nand the lawless deeds of bold freebooters. Unwritten\\nsongs of the people of the good yeomanry they\\ninvoke blessings upon they were recited by wandering\\nminstrels, and handed down by tradition from generation\\nto generation. In most cases their authors are unknown\\nand constantly undergoing changes and receiving addi-\\ntions, they may be said, not to have been composed, but to\\nhave grown. In them the rude life of the times the law-\\nlessness, daring, fortitude, passion is graphically depicted.\\nAmong the best known of these ballads is Chevy", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0100.jp2"}, "99": {"fulltext": "FIRST CREATIVE PERIOD. 79\\nChase, which describes with great simplicity and force\\na battle between Lord Percy of England and Earl Douglas\\nof Scotland. I never heard the old song of Percy and\\nDouglas, wrote Sir Philip Sidney in his Defense of\\nPoesie, that I found not my heart moved more than\\nwith a trumpet. Of a later version Addison wrote an\\ninteresting critique in the Spectator. In its oldest form\\nthe ballad begins as follows\\nThe Perse owt off Northombarlande,\\nAnd a vowe to God mayd he,\\nThat he wold hunte in the mountayns\\nOff Chyviat within dayes thre,\\nIn the mauger of doughte Dogles,\\nAnd all that ever with him be.\\nRobin Hood, the bold outlaw of Sherwood forest, is\\nthe centre of an interesting group of ballads. For a long\\ntime he was the people s ideal hero. Sir Walter Scott\\ncalled him the gentlest thief that ever was. But his\\npopularity, surpassing that of any EngUsh king of the\\ntime, was due, not to his deeds of violence, but to his\\ncourage, love of fair play, and open-handed generosity.\\nHis sympathies were with the yeomanry he took the\\npart of the oppressed; he robbed the rich to give to the\\npoor and though a good Catholic, who would hear three\\nmasses every day, he hated the extortions of bishops\\nand monks. There is no rancor in Robin Hood s fighting.\\nHe looks upon it as a manly test of strength, and with\\nSaxon honesty disdains to take any unfair advantage.\\nHe jokes with his antagonist, and after the fight is over\\ntakes him by the hand and receives him into the friend-\\nship of frank and fearless men.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0101.jp2"}, "100": {"fulltext": "80 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThen Robin took them both by the hands,\\nAnd danced round about the oke tree\\nFor three merry men, and three merry men,\\nAnd three merry men we be.\\nThere is a writer of prose in the pre-EHzabethan period\\nwho produced works still possessing considerable interest.\\nSir Thomas More, who was called in his day the greatest\\nwit in England, was born in 1478. He studied Greek at\\nOxford under Linacre and Grocyn, enthusiastic devotees\\nof the new learning. For a time he stood in high favor\\nwith Henry VHI., served on foreign embassies, became\\ntreasurer of the Exchequer, and finally rose to be Lord\\nHigh Chancellor in place of Wolsey. During the re-\\nformatory movement he remained a zealous adherent of\\nthe Papacy and when he refused to recognize the validity\\nof Henry s marriage with Anne Boleyn, and the king s\\nsupremacy over the English church, he was cast into the\\nTower and beheaded in 1535.\\nMore took part in the religious agitation of the time,\\nand wrote several theological treatises, which are not free\\nfrom coarseness and rancor. His Life of Edward the\\nFifth surpassed in clearness and purity of style any Eng-\\nHsh prose that had preceded it. But the work on which\\nhis fame as an author chiefly rests is his Utopia the\\nland of Nowhere which contributed a new word to our\\nlanguage. What is chimerical or fanciful we now charac-\\nterize as Utopian. The Utopia, like Plato s Republic,\\nwhich probably furnished the idea, is a description of an\\nideal commonwealth. It is a satire on the existing state of\\nsociety, its leading political and social regulations being the\\nreverse of what was then found in Europe. Not a few of", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0102.jp2"}, "101": {"fulltext": "FIRST CREATIVE PERIOD. 8 1\\nthe salutary changes of recent times were anticipated by\\nthe genius of More. In an age of religious persecution,\\nwhich as Lord High Chancellor he had sanctioned, he\\nmade it lawful for every man to favor and follow what\\nreligion he would, and that he might do the best he could\\nto bring others to his opinion, so that he did it peaceably,\\ngently, quietly, and soberly, without hasty and contentious\\nrebuking and inveighing against each other.\\nAmong the pre-Elizabethan poets there are two that\\ndeserve particular mention. The first of these is Henry\\nHoward, Earl of Surrey, whose writings introduced new\\nelements into English poetry. Born of a noble family in\\n15 17, spending his boyhood at Windsor Castle, educated\\nat Oxford, he received the best culture that England could\\ngive. He afterward travelled in France and Italy, and\\nin the latter country he familiarized himself with the\\nwritings of Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio. To his other\\nattainments he added military prowess, and in 1 542 he dis-\\ntinguished himself by his bravery in the memorable battle\\nof Flodden Field. Two years later he commanded the\\nEnglish army in an expedition against Boulogne, which he\\ncaptured.\\nAfter his return from Scotland, an escapade, which in\\nno way does him credit, resulted in a short imprisonment,\\nwhich he has rendered noteworthy by a whimsical poem.\\nWith two companions he had gone about the streets of Lon-\\ndon at midnight, indiscriminately breaking windows by\\nmeans of stone bows. Summoned before the Privy Coun-\\ncil, he pleaded guilty, and was sent for a season to Fleet\\nPrison. There he wrote a little Satire against the Citi-\\nzens of London, in which he explained that his object", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0103.jp2"}, "102": {"fulltext": "82 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nwas to warn them of their sins and since preaching had\\nfailed,\\nBy unknown means it liked me\\nMy hidden burthen to express,\\nWhereby it might appear to thee\\nThat secret sin hath secret spite\\nFrom justice rod no fault is free,\\nBut that all such as work unright\\nIn most quiet are next ill rest\\nIn secret silence of the night\\nThis made me with a reckless breast\\nTo wake thy sluggards with my bow.\\nTo Surrey belongs the merit of being the first to\\nintroduce blank verse and the sonnet into English poe-\\ntry, both of which he borrowed from Italy. Nearly all\\nhis poems are erotic and his sonnets have as their\\ngeneral subject the fair Geraldine, whom he wor-\\nshipped, it seems, with an unrequited love. The following\\nlittle poem, on the Means to Attain Happy Life, shows\\nhis style at its best\\nMartial, the things that do attain\\nThe happy life be these, I find\\nThe riches left, not got with pain\\nThe fruitful ground, the quiet mind,\\nThe equal friend no grudge, no strife\\nNo charge of rule, nor governance\\nWithout disease the healthful life\\nThe household of continuance\\nThe mean diet, no delicate fare\\nTrue wisdom joined with simpleness.\\nThe night discharged of all care,\\nWhere wine the wit may not oppress.", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0104.jp2"}, "103": {"fulltext": "FIRST CREATIVE PERIOD. 83\\nThe faithful wife, without debate\\nSuch sleeps as may beguile the night\\nContented with thine own estate,\\nNe wish for death, ne fear his might.\\nAn English Petrarch: no juster title, says Taine,\\ncould be given to Surrey, for it expresses his talent as\\nwell as his disposition.\\nSir Thomas Wyat, an intimate friend of Surrey s, and\\nlikewise an ornament of the court of- Henry VIII., was\\nborn in Kent in 1503. He studied at Cambridge and\\nOxford, where he took his degree at the early age of\\nfifteen, and afterward travelled extensively on the Con-\\ntinent. He spoke French, Italian, and Spanish and\\nin addition to his literary attainments he was skilled in\\nall knightly accomplishments. In 1539 he was sent as\\nan ambassador to the court of Charles V. in Spain.\\nUpon his death, in 1 542, Surrey wrote an elegy, in which\\nhe traced the character of the deceased courtier and\\npoet with a sympathetic hand\\nA visage stern and mild where both did grow\\nVice to contemn, in virtue to rejoice\\nAmid great storms, whom grace assured so,\\nTo live upright, and smile at Fortune s choice.\\nWhile sharing with Surrey the honor of introducing the\\nItaUan sonnet into English verse, Wyat has the distinction\\nof conforming strictly with his models. All his sonnets,\\nunHke those of his friend, are constructed according to the\\nrules now governing that difficult species of verse. The\\nfollowing extract from a poem, How to Use the Court,\\nwill illustrate the keenness of his satire", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0105.jp2"}, "104": {"fulltext": "84 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nFlee therefore truth, it is both wealth and ease\\nFor though that truth of every man hath praise,\\nFull near that wind goeth truth in great misease.\\nUse virtue, as it goeth now-a-days,\\nIn word alone to make thy language sweet,\\nAnd of thy deed yet do not as thou says\\nElse, be thou sure, thou shalt be far unmeet\\nTo get thy bread, each thing is now so scant.\\nIn the latter end of the same king (Henry the eight)\\nreigne, says an old writer, sprong up a new company\\nof courtly makers of whom Sir Thomas Wyat the elder\\nand Henry Earle of Surrey were the two chieftains, who\\nhaving travailed into Italy, and there tasted the sweete\\nand stately measures and stile of the Italian Poesie, as\\nnovices newly crept out of the schools of Dante, Ariosto,\\nand Petrarch, they greatly pollished our rude and homely\\nmanner of vulgar Poesie, from that it had bene before,\\nand for that cause may justly be sayd the first reformers\\nof our English meetre and stile.\\nComing now to the age of Elizabeth, to which has been\\ngiven the designation of the First Creative Period, we find\\nthat literature suddenly rises in amount and excellence.\\nThe forces slowly accumulating for a century quickly\\nburst into blossom. The number of writers, embracing\\nevery department of literature, is almost beyond estimate.\\nTranslations from the Latin, Greek, and Italian are nu-\\nmerous. It was at this time that Chapman s celebrated\\nversion of Homer romantic, laborious, Elizabethan\\nappeared. Poetry, in almost all its forms, is cultivated\\nwith monumental assiduity and success. Theology, as in\\nFoxe s Book of Martyrs and Hooker s Ecclesiastical\\nPolity, naturally claimed, in this age of religious agitation,", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0106.jp2"}, "105": {"fulltext": "FIRST CREATIVE PERIOD. 85\\nno small share of attention. Education, history, and phi-\\nlosophy, as we shall see, were all treated in noteworthy\\nproductions. Stories of travel and adventure, tales of\\nromance, and dramas of every description were all very\\npopular. The writings in these various departments are,\\nfor the most part, in a style that far surpasses anything\\nthat had preceded them, reflecting a higher order of cul-\\nture than England had previously enjoyed. It was an age\\nas extraordinary in its literary as in its political activity.\\nApart from the three great writers Spenser, Bacon, and\\nShakespeare reserved for special study, there are a few\\nothers who, on account of writings of permanent interest,\\ndeserve at least brief consideration.\\nRoger Ascham was educated at Cambridge, where he\\ndevoted himself assiduously to the ancient languages. He\\nchose as a motto ^^Qui docet discit, who teaches learns,\\nand began to give instruction in Greek as soon as he\\nhad learned the elements of that language. In 1537 he\\nwas appointed lecturer in Greek and attracted many stu-\\ndents, some of whom afterward became distinguished, by\\nhis skill and reputation as a teacher. He was fond of\\narchery, and in 1544 wrote a book entitled Toxophilus,\\nin which he commended the use of the bow as a worthy\\nrecreation. In the preface, while apologizing for the use\\nof English, he took occasion to say that the mother-\\ntongue, no less than Latin, might be written with scholarly\\ncare. He that will write well in any tongue, he says,\\nmust follow the counsel of Aristotle, to speak as the\\ncommon people do and so should every man understand\\nhim, and the judgment of wise men allow him. Many\\nEnglish writers have not done so, but using strange words,", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0107.jp2"}, "106": {"fulltext": "S6 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nas Latin, French, and Italian, do make all things dark\\nand hard.\\nIn 1548 Ascham was appointed to direct the studies of\\nLady Elizabeth a charge he fulfilled for two years. Not-\\nwithstanding his Protestant proclivities, he received the ap-\\npointment of Latin Secretary to Queen Mary, and discharged\\nhis duties with so much prudence that he escaped persecu-\\ntion and retained his position after the accession of Eliza-\\nbeth. He was held in high esteem by the Virgin Queen,\\nwith whom he renewed the classic studies of former days.\\nHe disapproved of the harsh discipline then in vogue in\\neducation. He set forth his educational views in his\\nScholemaster, which is the first noteworthy book in\\nEnglish on the subject of education. It is still worth read-\\ning. He laid special stress on gentleness in teaching and\\nin illustration of its value, he introduced an interesting ac-\\ncount of a visit he once paid to Lady Jane Grey. Before\\nI went into Germany, he says, I came to Broadgate in\\nLeicestershire, to take my leave of that noble Lady Jane\\nGrey, to whom I was exceeding much beholden. Her par-\\nents, the duke and duchess, with all the household, gentle\\nmen and gentlewomen, were hunting in the park. I found\\nher in her chamber reading Phaedon Platonis in Greek, and\\nthat with as much delight as some gentlemen would read a\\nmerry tale in Bocace. After salutation and duty done, with\\nsome other talk, I asked her why she would lose such pas-\\ntime in the park Smiling she answered me I wiss, all\\ntheir sport in the park is but a shadow to that pleasure I\\nfind in Plato. Alas good folk, they never felt what true\\npleasure meant. This love for literature she ascribed to\\nthe gentle skill of her teacher, who led her with such fair", "height": "3361", "width": "2248", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0108.jp2"}, "107": {"fulltext": "FIRST CREATIVE PERIOD. 8/\\nallurements to learning that she thought all the time noth-\\ning whiles she was with him.\\nJohn Lyly is the author of a famous work, which intro-\\nduced a new style of writing into EngUsh and added a\\nnew word to our language. The term EitpJmisniy denot-\\ning an affected elegance of language, points to his princi-\\npal work which, in the days of Elizabeth, enjoyed great\\npopularity. The Euphuistic style became the fashion at\\ncourt and ladies who were not adepts at it were little\\nesteemed in society. While adopting this style himself,\\nhe was still able to criticise it in those about him. It is\\na world, he says, *to see how Englishmen desire to hear\\nfiner speech than the language will allow, to eat finer bread\\nthan is made of wheat, to wear finer cloth than is wrought\\nof wool but I let pass their fineness, which can no way\\nexcuse my folly. This overstrained style has been satir-\\nized by Sir Walter Scott in his Monastery and a more\\ncorrect taste has happily abolished it from literature.\\nLyly began his literary career in 1579 with the publica-\\ntion of Euphues, or the Anatomy of Wit and two years\\nlater appeared his Euphues in England, which, like the\\npreceding work, attained immediate popularity. Euphues\\nis a well-bred young man of Athens, who visits Naples, a\\nplace of more pleasure than profit, and of more profit than\\npiety. Rejecting the wise counsels of a venerable friend,\\nwho admonishes him to serve, love, and fear God, he\\nlearns wisdom by bitter experience. At length he returns\\nto Athens, whence he writes letters of admonition to his\\nformer companion in ill-doing, who remained in Italy.\\nEuphues in England is a favorable account of English\\nlife, where the young Athenian found all the women fair,", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0109.jp2"}, "108": {"fulltext": "88 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nand all the social arrangements wise. Lyly wrote several\\nplays which were popular but during the last years of\\nElizabeth s reign his popularity declined before the rising\\nreputation of greater writers, and in 1606 it was his sad\\nlot to die poor and neglected.\\nScarcely any other writer of the Elizabethan era awakens\\ngreater interest than Sir Philip Sidney. Of noble birth, he\\nwas a distinguished scholar, a brave soldier, a promising\\nstatesman, a favored courtier, and a brilliant author in both\\nprose and poetry. His conception of chivalry was high-\\nerected thoughts seated in a heart of courtesy and no\\nother man of his time came nearer embodying in his life\\nand character this lofty ideal.\\nHe was born in Kent in 1554, the oldest child of Sir\\nHenry Sidney and Lady Mary Dudley, sister of Eliza-\\nbeth s favorite, the Earl of Leicester. After an Oxford\\ntraining, in which his remarkable ability became manifest,\\nhe travelled on the Continent, visiting the leading cities of\\nGermany and Italy, and making the acquaintance of great\\nscholars and statesmen. Returning to England after three\\nyears, he was introduced at court, and won the favor of\\nElizabeth, who regarded him, as she said, one of the\\njewels of her crown. At the great reception given the\\nqueen at Kenilworth he distinguished himself in the tour-\\nnament.\\nDuring a period of retirement from court life he wrote\\nhis Arcadia, a heroic romance in prose interspersed\\nwith verse in the ItaHan fashion. It did not appear till\\nafter his death. It is a lengthy production, and though it\\nexcited enthusiasm in its day, it is now, in spite of frequent\\nbeauties, generally regarded tedious. It contains a profu-", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0110.jp2"}, "109": {"fulltext": "FIRST CREATIVE PERIOD. 89\\nsion of Startling events, shipwrecks, abductions, pirates,\\nwicked fairies, and disguised princes, all described in\\nlanguage that often exhibits great elegance and beauty.\\nIn 1581 Sidney composed his Defense of Poesie, in\\nreply to the attacks\u00c2\u00bbof Puritans, who had stigmatized poets\\nas caterpillars of the commonwealth. This work, which\\nis still read with interest, shows a clear appreciation of the\\nfunction of poetry, and presents its arguments with manly\\nclearness and force. There is an absence of affected con-\\nceits, and the Euphuists are explicitly condemned. For\\nnow, he says, they cast sugar and spice upon every dish\\nthat is served to the table like those Indians, not content\\nto wear earrings at the fit and natural place of the ears,\\nbut they will thrust jewels through their nose and lips,\\nbecause they will be sure to be fine. He pronounces\\nthe poet monarch of all sciences. For he doth not only\\nshow the way, but giveth so sweet a prospect into the\\nway as will entice any man to enter into it.\\nSidney s poetical gifts found expression in a series of\\none hundred and eight sonnets addressed to Penelope\\nDevereux, upon whom he bestowed the poetic name of\\nStella. The ardent attachment they breathe seems to\\nhave been merely Platonic for at the time the poet was\\ncomposing them he was engaged to Fanny Walsingham,\\nwhom he shortly afterward married. They vary in excel-\\nlence, striking all the tones from a forced artificiality to a\\nnatural simphcity and sweetness.\\nStrongly Protestant in his feelings, he desired the queen\\nto become the defendress of the faith, and to place\\nherself at the head of a Protestant league. In 1585, when\\naid was sent to the Protestants in the Netherlands, who", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0111.jp2"}, "110": {"fulltext": "go ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nwere struggling against Spanish oppression, Sidney was\\nmade governor of Flushing, one of the towns ceded to\\nEngland. He took part in the investment of Zutphen the\\nfollowing year, and in a gallant attack upon a det3.chment\\nof Spaniards his thigh was shattered by a musket ball.\\nCarried from the field, mortally wounded, he asked for a\\ncup of water but as he was raising it to his lips, a dying\\nsoldier near him cast upon it a look of intense longing.\\nGive it to that man, said the magnanimous Sidney;\\nhis necessity is greater than mine.\\nIt is not frequent that religious controversy makes a\\npermanent contribution to literature. In subserving some\\nimmediate end, controversial writings are apt to be tem-\\nporary in their character and produced under the stress\\nof party spirit, they are often disfigured by partisan feel-\\ning. But the great work of Richard Hooker, the Laws\\nof Ecclesiastical Polity, which is a defence of the Estab-\\nlished Church, is an exception for the first book at least\\nhas won a permanent place in our literature. Avoiding\\nthe bitter spirit and scurrilous style common in the reli-\\ngious controversies of the time, he endeavored, with great\\nintegrity of purpose, to base his defence on fundamental\\nand changeless principles. In spite of certain faults of\\nstyle and defects of reasoning, his work has remained ever\\nsince an authority.\\nWhen Pope Clement said that he had never met with\\nan English writer that deserved the name of author, he\\nwas referred to the Ecclesiastical Polity and after\\nreading the first book, he felt constrained to say, There\\nis no learning this man hath not searched into nothing\\ntoo hard for his understanding this man, indeed, deserves", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0112.jp2"}, "111": {"fulltext": "FIRST CREATIVE PERIOD. 9 1\\nthe name of an author his books will get reverence by\\nage, for there is in them such seeds of eternity that, if the\\nrest be like this, they shall last till the last fire shall con-\\nsume all learning.\\nRichard Hooker was born in or near the city of Exeter\\nin 1553, of parents who were noted for virtue and industry.\\nIt was said of him in his early school days that he seemed\\nto be blessed with inward light. He was bred at Ox-\\nford, and at the age of twenty-eight took orders in the\\nEstablished Church, for which he was eminently fitted by\\nhis piety and scholarship. He married a silly clownish\\nwoman, who turned out to be a vixen but he bore his\\ndomestic discomfort with admirable resignation. If saints\\nhave usually a double share in the miseries of this life, he\\nsaid, I that am none ought not to repine at what my wise\\nCreator has appointed for me, but labor (as indeed I do\\ndaily), to submit mine to his will, and possess my soul in\\npatience and peace.\\nHe was drawn unwillingly into the controversies of the\\ntime for, as he said, God and nature did not intend him\\nfor contention, but for study and quietness. The Puri-\\ntans maintained that the Church of England needed a\\nfurther reformation that many of its usages savored too\\nmuch of Romanism that the traditions of men imposed\\nno binding obligation in ecclesiastical matters that the\\nEpiscopal form of government should be abolished and\\nthat the Word of God should be the only source, not only\\nof doctrine, but also of church usages and discipline.\\nIn opposition to these declarations, Hooker maintained\\n(i) that while the Scriptures are a perfect standard of\\ndoctrine, they are not a rule of discipline or government.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0113.jp2"}, "112": {"fulltext": "92 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\n(2) That the practice of the apostles is not an invariable\\nrule or law to the church in succeeding ages, because they\\nacted according to circumstances in its infantile state.\\n(3) That the Scriptures leave many things indifferent.\\n(4) That the church is a society like others, invested with\\npowers to make what laws it regards necessary or reason-\\nable for its well-being and government, provided they do\\nnot interfere with or contradict the laws and command-\\nments of Holy Scripture. And (5) that where the Scrip-\\nture is silent, human authority may interpose, having\\nrecourse to the reason of things and the rights of society.\\nWith these principles established, it was of course easy\\nto defend the particular rites and ceremonies of the\\nChurch of England. The following passage, with which\\nthe first book of the Ecclesiastical Polity closes, has\\noften been quoted, and is indeed a bit of magnificent\\nprose Wherefore, that here we may briefly end of law\\nthere can be no less acknowledged, than that her seat is\\nthe bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the world\\nall things in heaven and earth do her homage, the very\\nleast as feeling her care, and the greatest as not exempted\\nfrom her power both angels and men and creatures of\\nwhat condition soever, though each in different sort and\\nmanner, yet all with uniform consent, admiring her as the\\nmother of their peace and their joy.\\nSoldier, sailor, courtier, statesman, historian, poet\\nthese are the different characters in which Sir Walter\\nRaleigh appears. In that age of great men when\\nSpenser, Shakespeare, and Bacon were rendering England\\nfamous in literature, and Hawkins, Frobisher, and Drake\\nwere making her powerful on the sea the figure of", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0114.jp2"}, "113": {"fulltext": "FIRST CREATIVE PERIOD. 93\\nRaleigh is not dwarfed. In the momentous events of the\\ntime, which involved all subsequent history in the con-\\nflicts between Roman supremacy and Protestant indepen-\\ndence in the contest with Spain which was to decide the\\nsovereignty of the seas, and the peopling of the new\\nworld, he had, as counsellor of the queen and admiral of\\nthe fleet, no insignificant share. His versatility of genius\\nwas almost unexampled and to whatever form of ac-\\ntivity he turned his attention, he exhibited efficiency and\\nachieved distinction. His capacious mind was equally\\nat home in devising a comprehensive state policy, in\\nmanaging practical details, and in cultivating the graces\\nof literature.\\nBorn in 1552, near the city of Exeter in Devonshire, a\\ncounty that during the sixteenth century gave England\\nBishop Jewell, Sir Francis Drake, and Richard Hooker,\\nhe entered Oxford at the age of fourteen and distinguished\\nhimself as a rhetorician and philosopher. With strong\\nProtestant feeling, he went to France and fought as a\\nvolunteer in the Huguenot armies. In 1578 he joined an\\nexpedition sent to the Netherlands to oppose Don John of\\nAustria and a little later he accompanied his half-brother,\\nSir Humphrey Gilbert, on a voyage to America, the pur-\\npose of which was to antagonize Spanish interests. In\\n1580 he went with Lord Grey (whose secretary was\\nEdmund Spenser) to Ireland, which was then in a state\\nof insurrection, and distinguished himself by his energy\\nand courage. At the court in London he won the special\\nfavor of Queen Elizabeth, and became one of her principal\\ncounsellors. His tact was admirable. He was once attend-\\ning the queen on a walk and when, on coming to a muddy", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0115.jp2"}, "114": {"fulltext": "94 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nplace, she hesitated for a moment, Raleigh instantly spread\\nhis rich plush cloak in the way for her feet. He was made\\nin succession Captain of the Guard, Gentleman of the\\nPrivy Chamber, Lord Warden of the Stannaries, and Lord\\nLieutenant of Cornwall.\\nIn the conflict with Spain, Raleigh was of eminent ser-\\nvice. When the news reached London that the Armada\\nwas advancing, he posted himself, eager for the fray, off\\nthe southern coast of England, in order to fly at the flanks\\nof the invading fleet. In council he advocated the tactics\\nby which the Armada was defeated and England saved.\\nIn 1589 he made a visit to Ireland and renewed his friend-\\nship with Spenser. He brought the author of the Faery\\nQueene to London and introduced him at court a ser-\\nvice acknowledged in a poem entitled Colin Clout s Come\\nHome Again, in which Raleigh figures as the Shepherd\\nof the Ocean.\\nOf Raleigh s varied other services as naval commander\\nand explorer, there is not space to speak. With the death\\nof Elizabeth in 1603 his fortunes began to decline. He\\nincurred the displeasure of James I. First deprived of\\nhis oflices, he was finally imprisoned on a charge of con-\\nspiracy. In spite of his innocence, eloquent defence, and\\nadmirable bearing, he was adjudged guilty and sentenced\\nto death. The king did not venture to execute the sen-\\ntence and after being brought on the scaffold, Raleigh\\nwas reprieved and led back to the Tower. He employed\\nthe thirteen tedious years of his imprisonment in study,\\nand in 1614 he published his History of the World. It\\nis an unfinished work, coming down only to the year 170\\nB.C. As a record of facts, it has long since been super-", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0116.jp2"}, "115": {"fulltext": "FIRST CREATIVE PERIOD. 95\\nseded but it still possesses interest as the best specimen\\nof historical prose that had yet appeared in England.\\nRaleigh s large experience and practical sense preserved\\nhim from pedantry, while his reflections are often striking\\nand sometimes eloquent. O eloquent, just, and mighty\\ndeath he exclaims, whom none could advise, thou\\nhast persuaded what none hath dared, thou hast done\\nand whom all the world hath flattered, thou only hast cast\\nout of the world and despised thou hast drawn together\\nall the far-fetched greatness, all the pride, cruelty, and\\nambition of man, and covered it all over with these two\\nnarrow words, hicjacet!\\nApart from numerous prose writings epistolary, mari-\\ntime, geographical, political, and historical Raleigh felt\\nthe impulse of poetry. He contemplated an English epic\\nbut his busy life left him leisure for only a few miscellane-\\nous pieces, in which depth of sentiment is associated with\\nfelicitous expression. His reply to Marlowe s Passionate\\nShepherd is well known\\nIf all the world and love were young,\\nAnd truth in every shepherd s tongue,\\nThese pretty pleasures might me move\\nTo live with thee and be thy love.\\nThe man of deeds rather than of words is portrayed in\\nthe following lines\\nPassions are likened best to floods and streams\\nThe shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb\\nSo, when affections yield discourse, it seems\\nThe bottom is but shallow whence they come.\\nThey that are rich in words, in words discover\\nThat they are poor in that which makes a lover.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0117.jp2"}, "116": {"fulltext": "96 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThe lines he wrote the night before his execution pos-\\nsess a melancholy interest\\nEven such is timcj that takes in trust\\nOur youth, our joys, our all we have,\\nAnd pays us but with earth and dust\\nWho, in the dark and silent grave.\\nWhen we have wandered all our ways,\\nShuts up the story of our days\\nBut from this earth, this grave, this dust.\\nMy God shall raise me up, I trust.\\nThe poetic activity of the First Creative Period is\\nastonishing. The list of poets contains no fewer than two\\nhundred names, and many of them were prolific writers.\\nThe poetry of this time exhibits all the exuberant vigor of\\nyouth, and often also, as might be expected, a youth-\\nful immaturity. The choice of subjects is frequently\\nunhappy, and naturalness of style is often supplanted\\nby pedantic affectations. Except in the case of a few\\nmaster-spirits, the wine of poetry had not yet had time to\\nrun clear.\\nApart from the drama, the lyrical productions are by\\nfar the most successful, and some of them are admirable\\nin form and spirit, comparing favorably with the efforts of\\na later day. The Elizabethan lyric originated, not among\\nthe people, but largely among the cultured circles of the\\ncourt. The poets of this period were not inaptly styled\\ncourtly makers. The subjects are generally erotic, and\\nthe treatment prevailingly objective. What appeals to the\\nsenses, rather than to the reflective powers, is made promi-\\nnent. The lyrical measures are exceedingly varied, though\\nthe basis is almost always iambic. The influences pro-", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0118.jp2"}, "117": {"fulltext": "FIRST CREATIVE PERIOD. 97\\nducing this rich variety were threefold: (i) the old\\nnational metre with its assonance and alliteration; (2) the\\nmetrical forms of France and Italy, which were extensively\\nimitated; and (3) the classical metres, which were studied\\nwith enthusiasm.\\nThere are several lengthy poems Sackville s Mirror\\nfor Magistrates, Warner s Albion s England, Daniel s\\nCivil Wars, and Drayton s Polyolbion which can\\nnot be spoken of so favorably. They are indeed models of\\npatient authorship, and exhibit great skill in mechanical\\nverse-making but they have, as a rule, the serious defect\\nof being unreadable. Nothing but the most ardent patriot-\\nism can find them interesting. Most persons, after look-\\ning into these poems, will discover some basis for the\\nhumorous criticism of Lowell, who speaks of this age as\\nthe period of the saurians in Enghsh poetry, interminable\\npoems, book after book and canto after canto, like far\\nreaching vertebm that at first sight would seem to have\\nrendered earth unfit for the habitation of man. They most\\nof them sleep well now, as once they made their readers\\nsleep, and their huge remains lie embedded in the deep\\nmorasses of Chambers and Anderson. We wonder at the\\nlength of face and general atrabiHous look that mark the\\nportraits of the men of that generation, but it is no marvel\\nwhen even their relaxations were such downright hard\\nwork. Fathers, when their day on earth was up, must\\nhave folded down the leaf and left the task to be finished\\nby their sons a dreary inheritance.\\nWhen the Christian church gained the ascendency in\\nancient Rome, it set itself in opposition to dramatic repre-\\nsentations, which- at that time were characterized by lewd-\\nH", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0119.jp2"}, "118": {"fulltext": "98 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nness and brutality. Tertullian said that stage plays are\\nthe pomp of the devil; and Clement of Rome and Augus-\\ntine denounced the theatre in terms equally sweeping and\\nstrong. Under this opposition of the church, the dramas\\nof Greece and Rome fell into oblivion, except where out-\\ncast and wandering actors preserved some faint tradition\\nof them.\\nThe modern drama has an ecclesiastical origin. Itis be-\\nginnings are found in the Miracle plays, which, during the\\nlatter part of the Middle Ages, were common not only in\\nEngland, but throughout all Europe. These plays, some-\\ntimes called Mysteries, represented scenes in sacred his-\\ntory and in the lives of saints. They were written by\\necclesiastics, and performed under the auspices of the\\nchurch, in abbeys and cathedrals. At a time when preach-\\ning was unusual, they were employed to instruct the people\\nin the historical portions of the Scripture. Subsequently,\\nthey were performed by trading companies in the towns,\\nwho used movable platforms called pageants. In spite of\\ntheir religious origin and aim, these plays often degen-\\nerated into gross irreverence and buffoonery; and at their\\nbest, judged by present standards, they were crude inform\\nand style.\\nThe Miracle plays were succeeded by the Moralities,\\nwhich introduced as drmnatis pevsoncB the leading virtues\\nand vices. They satisfied a popular love of allegory, and\\nretained a hold on the public mind till the time of Eliza-\\nbeth. One of the last dramatic representations attended\\nby the queen was a Morality, entitled the Contention be-\\ntween Liberality and Prodigality, and performed in the\\nyear 1600. Sometimes, along with the virtues and vices,", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0120.jp2"}, "119": {"fulltext": "FIRST CREATIVE PERIOD. 99\\ncharacters from real life were introduced and by thus\\ntouching upon current events and existing manners, the\\nMorality gained an additional element of popularity. A\\nfurther approach to the modern drama was made by\\nthe Interludes, a sort of farcical representation invented\\nby John Hey wood early in the sixteenth century, and\\ndesigned to relieve the tediousness of the Miracle play or\\nMorality.\\nThe first English comedy was Ralph Royster Doyster,\\nwritten by Nicholas Udall, headmaster of Eton and trans-\\nlator of Terence. The exact date of its composition is not\\nknown, but it appeared prior to 1551. Unlike the Miracle\\nand Moral plays, it is divided into acts and scenes an\\nadvance in dramatic form suggested by classical models.\\nThe first regular tragedy, entitled Gorboduc, followed a\\nfew years later. It was written by Thomas Sackville, and\\nperformed before the queen in 1562. It exhibits the first\\napplication of blank verse to dramatic composition in\\nEngland. Like the comedy just spoken of, its form was\\naffected by Greek and Roman models, with which Sack-\\nville had become acquainted at Oxford and Cambridge.\\nIt is chiefly notable as introducing the splendid theatrical\\noutburst of the Elizabethan era. Before the close of the\\nsixteenth century there appeared a large number of drama-\\ntists, whose works possess not simply historical interest,\\nbut also intrinsic excellence. Among the predecessors of\\nShakespeare were Kyd, Lyly, Peele, Greene, and Marlowe.\\nSpecial buildings for dramatic entertainments were not\\nerected till late in the sixteenth century. Before that time\\nthe plays were acted in tents, wooden sheds, courtyards of\\ninns, and cock-pits the name pit, applied to the lowest", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0121.jp2"}, "120": {"fulltext": "100 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nplace in theatres, still suggesting this association. The\\nfirst building in London for dramatic purposes was erected\\nin 1576. It was speedily followed by others and before\\nthe close of the century eleven theatres were built, chiefly\\non the southern or Surrey bank of the Thames, in order to\\nbe beyond the jurisdiction of the Puritan city government.\\nThe most famous of these theatres, because of its associa-\\ntion with Shakespeare, was The Globe, so called from its\\nsign, which represented Atlas supporting the world, with\\nthe striking motto, Tottts niundus agit histrionem\\nThese early theatres were all built after the same model,\\nsuggested, no doubt, by the enclosed courts of inns. A\\ncentral platform served for the stage, which was surrounded\\nby seats except on one side reserved for a dressing room.\\nThe upper galleries, which extended around the entire\\nbuilding, were occupied by boxes. This arrangement gen-\\nerally led to the adoption of octagonal-shaped buildings.\\nMost of the theatres were uncovered, except immediately\\nover the stage. There was no movable scenery, and the\\nfemale parts were acted by men and boys. A placard,\\nbearing the name of Rome, Paris, or London, as the case\\nmight be, indicated the scene of the action. The plays\\nbegan in the forenoon, and were attended by people of\\nevery social condition. In spite of the opposition of the\\nPuritan corporation of London, the drama made rapid\\nprogress and in one generation it passed from infancy to\\nfull maturity, exhibiting a compass, strength, and majesty\\nunparalleled in the literary history of any other country.\\nTwenty-five years after the construction of the first\\ntheatre, the Merchant of Venice, Romeo and Juliet,\\nand Hamlet were presented on the stage. A large", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0122.jp2"}, "121": {"fulltext": "FIRST CREATIVE PERIOD. lOI\\nnumber of dramatic poets in London Greene, Marlowe,\\nShakespeare, Jonson, Beaumont, Fletcher, Massinger, and\\nothers were engaged in supplying the popular demand\\nfor plays and such was the genius of several of these\\nwriters that they would stand out with prominence but\\nfor the overshadowing figure of one consummate master.\\nIn the main, they were men of liberal culture; but fre-\\nquently their strength was wasted in licentious and in-\\ntemperate living. Many of them were actors, and began\\ntheir literary careers by retouching the plays of others.\\nAs the price of a drama was only from seven to twenty\\npounds, they were often in want of bread; and it is a\\ncurious fact that many of the details we have of their lives\\nare taken from the journal of a pawn-broker and money-\\nlender.\\nAmong the minor dramatists there is one that seems to\\ndeserve more particular mention. In the Poets Corner of\\nWestminster Abbey a slab bears the simple inscription,\\nO Rare Ben Jonson. Though two and a half centuries\\nhave ^passed since it was carved there, the literary world,\\nwith remarkable unanimity, has approved it as just. He\\nwas a strong, learned, large-minded, and big-hearted\\npiece of manhood John Bull personified, as Whipple\\nsuggests.\\nBen Jonson was born in London in 1573. After a brief\\ncourse at Cambridge, he became a soldier in the Nether-\\nlands, where he distinguished himself by his bravery. But\\nmilitary life had little charm for him, and after a single\\ncampaign he returned to London and connected himself\\nwith a theatre. As an actor he failed completely. But as\\na dramatic author he was more fortunate, and in 1 596 his", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0123.jp2"}, "122": {"fulltext": "102 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ncomedy, Every Man in his Humor, in which Shakespeare\\nacted a part, established his reputation. It was about this\\ntime that the acquaintance between the two dramatists be-\\ngan. We have a pleasing contemporary picture of them\\nas they met, along with Beaumont, Fletcher, and other\\npoets, at the Falcon Tavern, the home of the Mermaid\\nClub founded by Raleigh. Many were the wit combats,\\nsays Fuller, betwixt Shakespeare and Ben Jonson, which\\ntwo I behold like a Spanish great galleon and an English\\nman-of-war Master Jonson, like the former, was built far\\nhigher in learning solid, but slow in his performances.\\nShakespeare, with the English man-of-war, lesser in bulk,\\nbut lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack about\\nand take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his\\nwit and invention.\\nAfter the success of Every Man in his Humor, Jon-\\nson wrote, at pretty regular intervals, a series of dramas,\\nseveral of which Volpone, The Silent Woman, and\\nThe Alchemist occupy a high rank in dramatic litera-\\nture. But he was a lyrical as well as dramatic poet. It\\nhas even been contended that lyrical poetry was his special\\nsphere. However that may be, he undoubtedly possessed\\nlyrical gifts of a high order, as may be seen in the follow-\\ning well-known song\\nDrink to me only with thine eyes,\\nAnd I will pledge with mine\\nOr leave a kiss but in the cup,\\nAnd ril not look for wine.\\nThe thirst that from the soul doth rise\\nDoth ask a drink divine\\nBut might I of Jove s nectar sup,\\nI would not change for thine.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0124.jp2"}, "123": {"fulltext": "FIRST CREATIVE PERIOD. 103\\nI sent thee late a rosy wreath,\\nNot so much honoring thee\\nAs giving it a hope that there\\nIt could not withered be\\nBut thou thereon didst only breathe\\nAnd sent st it back to me\\nSince when it grows, and smells, I swear,\\nNot of itself, but thee.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0125.jp2"}, "124": {"fulltext": "104 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nEDMUND SPENSER.\\nFor more than one hundred and fifty years no poet\\nworthy to bear the mantle of Chaucer had appeared in\\nEngland. But, as we have seen, mighty movements had\\nbeen going on in Europe, the revival of letters, great\\ninventions and discoveries, and the widespread religious\\nmovement known as the Reformation. It was an age of\\ngreat thoughts and aspirations and of marvellous achieve-\\nment. The time had at length come, under the prosper-\\nous and illustrious reign of Elizabeth, for English greatness\\nto mirror itself in literature. A group of great writers\\narose. To Edmund Spenser belongs the honor of having\\nbeen the first genius to reflect the greatness of his age\\nand country in an imperishable poem, and to add new\\nlustre to a splendid period in English history.\\nAs with Chaucer, we have to lament the meagreness of\\ndetail connected with the life of Spenser. The year 1552,\\nwhich is determined by an incidental and not wholly con-\\nclusive reference in one of his sonnets, is commonly ac-\\ncepted as the year of his birth. The place of his birth,\\nnot otherwise known, is likewise determined by a passage\\nin his Prothalamion, a poem written near the close of his\\nlife:\\nAt length they all to merry London came,\\nTo merry London, my most kindly nurse,\\nThat to me gave this life s first native source,\\nThough from another place I take my name^\\nAn house of ancient fame.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0126.jp2"}, "125": {"fulltext": "Engraved by G. Yertue, 172:", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0127.jp2"}, "126": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0128.jp2"}, "127": {"fulltext": "EDMUND SPENSER. IO5\\nNothing is known of his parents but, as he was a char-\\nity student, it is to be inferred that they were in humble\\ncircumstances. He received his preparatory training at\\nthe Merchant Taylor School, and at the age of seventeen\\nentered Pembroke Hall, Cambridge, where he earned his\\nboard by acting as sizar or waiter. He took the degree\\nof Bachelor of Arts in 1572, and that of Master of Arts\\nfour years later. The particulars of his life at Cambridge\\nare, for the most part, matters of mere conjecture. We\\nmay safely infer from his broad scholarship that he was a\\ndiligent student. His writings show an intimate acquaint-\\nance, not only with classical antiquity, but also with the\\ngreat writers Chaucer, Dante, Tasso, Ariosto, Marot\\nof the dawning modern era.\\nA friendship with Gabriel Harvey, a fellow of Pembroke\\nHall, and an enthusiastic writer and educator, was not\\nwithout influence upon his poetical career. Harvey en-\\ncouraged Spenser in his early literary efforts but it is\\nfortunate that his advice failed to turn the poet s genius\\nto the drama. After leaving the university, Spenser spent\\na year or two in the north of England (it is impossible to\\nbe more definite), where he wrote his first important work,\\nThe Shepherd s Calendar. It was inspired by a deep\\nbut unfortunate affection for a country lass, who appears\\nin the poem under the anagrammatic name of Rosalinde.\\nHer identity, a puzzle to critics, remained for a long time\\nundetermined but an American writer, with great inge-\\nnuity, has shown almost beyond question that the young\\nlady was Rose Daniel, sister to the poet of that name.^\\nThe poem consists of twelve eclogues, named after the\\n1 See Atlantic Monthly, November, 1858.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0129.jp2"}, "128": {"fulltext": "I06 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nmonths of the year. It contains a variety of measures,\\nall of v/hich are distinguished for their harmony. Noth-\\ning so admirable in metre and phrase had appeared since\\nChaucer. Many archaic words were introduced under the\\nimpression, as we are told in a prefatory epistle addressed\\nto Harvey, that they bring great grace, and, as one would\\nsay, authority to the verse. Though less finished than\\nsome subsequent poems, The Shepherd s Calendar\\nshowed a master s touch and announced the presence of\\na great poet in England.\\nUpon the advice of Harvey, Spenser went to London.\\nHe met Sir Philip Sidney, by whom he was introduced\\nat court, and put in the way of preferment. He fell in\\nreadily with court life, wore a pointed beard and fashion-\\nable mustache, and acquired a light tone in speaking\\nof women a levity that soon gave place to a truly\\nchivalrous regard. In 1580 he was appointed secretary\\nto Lord Grey, deputy to Ireland, and accompanied that\\nofficial through the bloody scenes connected with the\\nsuppression of Desmond s rebellion. The duties assigned\\nhim were ably performed and, in recognition of his\\nservices, he received in 1586, as a grant, Kilcolman Castle\\nand three thousand acres of land in the county of Cork.\\nHere he afterward made his home, occasionally visiting\\nLondon to seek preferment or to publish some new work.\\nThough his home was not without the attraction of beauti-\\nful surroundings, he looked upon his life there as a sort\\nof banishment. In one of his poems he speaks of\\nMy luckless lot,\\nThat banisht had myself, like wight forlore,\\nInto that waste, where I was quite forgot.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0130.jp2"}, "129": {"fulltext": "EDMUND SPENSER. lO/\\nBut however disagreeable to the feelings of Spenser,\\nwho continued to feel a longing for the sweet civilities\\nof London, it can hardly be doubted that his experience\\nin Ireland was favorable to the development of his poetic\\ngifts, and found a favorable reflection in his greatest poem.\\nIt gave a vivid realism to his descriptions that in all prob-\\nability would otherwise have been wanting.\\nIn 1589 he was visited by Sir Walter Raleigh, to whom\\nhe read the first three books of the Faery Queene.\\nSeated in the midst of an attractive landscape, the poet\\nand the hero make a pleasing picture as they discuss\\nthe merits of a work that is to begin a new era in Eng-\\nlish literature. Raleigh was so delighted with the poem\\nthat he urged the author to take it to London advice\\nthat was eagerly followed. The poet was granted an\\naudience by Elizabeth, and favored with the patronage\\nof several noble ladies but further than a pension of\\nfifty pounds, which does not appear to have been regu-\\nlarly paid, he received no substantial recognition.\\nThis result was a disappointment to Spenser, who had\\nhoped that his literary fame would lead to higher political\\npreferment. In Colin Clout s Come Home Again, a\\npoem in which the incidents of this visit are embodied,\\nhe speaks of the court in a tone of disappointment and\\nbitterness. In a prefatory letter addressed to Raleigh,\\nwho figures in the poem under the title of Shepherd\\nof the Ocean, Spenser says that the work agrees with\\nthe truth in circumstance and matter and from this\\ndeclaration it may be inferred that his portrayal of\\ncourt life was drawn, not from imagination, but from\\nexperience.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0131.jp2"}, "130": {"fulltext": "I08 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nFor, sooth to say, it is no sort of life\\nFor shepherd fit to lead in that same place,\\nWhere each one seeks with malice, and with strife,\\nTo thrust down other in foul disgrace.\\nHimself to raise and he doth soonest rise\\nThat best can handle his deceitful wit\\nIn subtle shifts.\\nTo which him needs a guileful, hollow heart\\nMasked with fair dissembling courtesy,\\nA filed tongue furnisht with terms of art.\\nNo art of school, but courtiers schoolery.\\nFor arts of school have there small countenance.\\nCounted but toys to busy idle brains.\\nAnd there professors find small maintenance,\\nBut to be instruments of others gains.\\nNor is there place for any gentle wit\\nUnless to please it can itself apply.\\nIn Mother Hubbard s Tale, which exhibits Spenser s\\ngenius in satire, and is the most interesting of his minor\\npieces, he has spoken of the court in some vigorous lines.\\nThis poem was published in 1591 and though composed,\\nas the author tells us, in the raw conceit of youth, it\\nshows the touch of his mature years. No doubt it\\nexpresses his own bitter experience\\nFull little knowest thou that hast not tried\\nWhat hell it is in suing long to abide\\nTo lose good days that might be better spent\\nTo waste long nights in pensive discontent\\nTo speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow\\nTo feed on hope, to pine with fear and sorrow\\nTo have thy prince s grace, yet want her peers\\nTo have thy asking, yet wait many years\\nTo fret thy soul with crosses and with cares\\nTo eat thy heart through comfortless despairs", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0132.jp2"}, "131": {"fulltext": "EDMUND SPENSER, IO9\\nTo fawn, to crouch, to wait, to ride, to run.\\nTo spend, to give, to want, to be undone.\\nUnhappy wight, born to disastrous end.\\nThat doth his life in so long tendance spend\\nThe first three books of the Faery Queene were pub-\\nlished in 1590, and were received with an outburst of\\napplause. Spenser took rank as the first of living poets.\\nThe admiration of this great poem, says Hallam, was\\nunanimous and enthusiastic. No academy had been\\ntrained to carp at his genius with minute cavilling no\\nrecent popularity, no traditional fame (for Chaucer was\\nrather venerated than much in the hands of the reader)\\ninterfered with the immediate recognition of his suprem-\\nacy. The Faery Queene became at once the delight of\\nevery accomplished gentleman, the model of every poet,\\nand the solace of every scholar. Spenser remained in\\nLondon about a year in the enjoyment of his newly won\\nreputation and in the pursuit of preferment. But in the\\nlatter he was disappointed, and returned to Ireland, as we\\nhave seen, with a feeling of resentment toward the man-\\nners and morals of the court.\\nIn 1594 he married a lady by the name of Elizabeth\\nher family name remaining uncertain. In his Amoretti,\\nor Sonnets, he describes the beginning and progress of\\nhis affection. These sonnets are interesting, not only for\\ntheir purity and delicacy of feeling, but also for the light\\nthey throw on the poet s life. Whatever may have been\\nthe real character of the Irish maiden he celebrates, in\\nthe poems she is idealized into great beauty. It was only\\nafter a protracted suit that the poet met with encourage-\\nment and was able to say,", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0133.jp2"}, "132": {"fulltext": "no ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nAfter long storms and tempests sad assay,\\nWhich hardly I endured heretofore,\\nIn dread of death, and dangerous dismay.\\nWith which my silly bark was tossed sore\\nI do at length descry the happy shore,\\nIn which I hope ere long for to arrive\\nFair soil it seems from far, and fraught with store\\nOf all that dear and dainty is alive.\\nMost happy he that can at last atchyve\\nThe joyous safety of so sweet a rest\\nWhose least delight sufficeth to deprive\\nRemembrance of all pains which him opprest.\\nAll pains are nothing in respect of this\\nAll sorrows short that gain eternal bliss.\\nThe marriage, which took place in 1 594, was celebrated\\nin an Epithalamion, which ranks as the noblest bridal\\nsong ever written.\\nIn 1596 Spenser wrote his View of the State of Ire-\\nland, which shows, not the poet s hand, but that of a\\nman of affairs. It is rigorous in policy and inexorable in\\nspirit. He sees but one side of the subject. After an\\nelaborate review of the history, character, and institutions\\nof the Irish, which are pronounced full of evil usages,\\nhe lays down his plan of pacification. Garrison Ireland\\nwith an adequate force of infantry and cavalry give the\\nIrish twenty days to submit and after that time, hunt\\ndown the rebels like wild beasts. If they be well fol-\\nlowed one winter, ye shall have little work to do with\\nthem the next summer. Famine would complete the\\nwork of the sword and in less than two years, Spenser\\nthought, the country would be peaceful and open to Eng-\\nlish colonists. Submission or extermination this was", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0134.jp2"}, "133": {"fulltext": "EDMUND SPENSER. Ill\\nthe simple solution of the Irish problem he proposed.\\nBloody and cruel he recognized it to be; but holding\\nthe utter subjugation of Ireland necessary to the preser-\\nvation of English power and the Protestant religion, he\\nwould not draw back for the sight of any such rueful\\nobject as must thereupon follow.\\nIn 1598 Spenser was appointed sheriff of Cork; and\\nTyrone s rebellion breaking out soon afterward, Kilcol-\\nman Castle was sacked and burned. The poet and his\\nwife escaped with difficulty, and it is probable that their\\nyoungest child, who was left behind, perished in the\\nflames. In 1599 Spenser, overcome by misfortunes, died\\nin a common London inn, and was buried in Westminster\\nAbbey, near the tomb of his master, Chaucer. His life\\nwas full of disappointment. He never obtained the pre-\\nferment to which he aspired, and he felt his failure with\\nall the keenness of sensitive genius. And yet, under dif-\\nferent and happier circumstances, his great natural gifts\\nwould probably not have borne so rich fruitage.\\nAll that we know of Spenser is of good report. He\\nhad the esteem and friendship of the best people of his\\ntime; he was faithful in his attachments and irreproach-\\nable in his outward life. In his comparative seclusion he\\nwas able to forget the hard realities of his lot and to\\ndwell much of the time in an ideal world and the poetic\\ncreations, which he elaborated in the quietude of Kilcol-\\nman Castle, had the good fortune to gain immediate and\\nhearty recognition. He has been aptly styled the poet s\\npoet and it is certain that his writings, especially the\\nFaery Queene, have been a perennial source of inspira-\\ntion and power to his successors. Pope read him in his", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0135.jp2"}, "134": {"fulltext": "112 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nold age with the same zest as in his youth. Dryden\\nlooked up to him as a master; and Milton called him\\nour sage and serious poet, whom I dare be known to\\nthink a better teacher than Scotus or Aquinas.\\nAs already stated, the first three books of the Faery\\nQueene were published in 1590. Three more books\\nappeared in 1596 an interval that indicates the conscien-\\ntious labor Spenser bestowed upon his productions. The\\nplan of the work contemplated no fewer than twelve\\nbooks but in its present incomplete state it is one of\\nthe longest poems in the language. There is a tradition\\nthat three unpubhshed books were burned in the destruc-\\ntion of Kilcolman Castle, but it is probably without foun-\\ndation. The Faery Queene is Spenser s masterpiece.\\nKeenly sympathizing with all the great interests and\\nmovements of his time, he embodied in this work his\\nnoblest thoughts and feelings. Here his genius had full\\nplay and attained the highest results of which it was\\ncapable. In this poem the Elizabethan Age is reflected\\nin all its splendor.\\nThe stanza of the poem was the poet s own invention\\nand properly bears his name. It is singularly melodious\\nand effective, and has since been made the medium of some\\nof the finest poetry in our language, Burns s Cotter s\\nSaturday Night, Shelley s Revolt of Islam, Byron s\\nChilde Harold, and many other poems. Though some-\\nwhat difficult in its structure, Spenser handled it with\\nmasterly ease and skill, and poured forth his treasures of\\ndescription, narration, reflection, feeling, and fancy, without\\nembarrassment. A single stanza, descriptive of morning,\\nmust suffice by way of illustration", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0136.jp2"}, "135": {"fulltext": "EDMUND SPENSER. II3\\nBy this the northerne wagoner had set\\nHis sevenfold teme behind the stedfast starre\\nThat was in ocean waves yet never wet,\\nBut firme is fixt, and sendeth light from farre\\nTo al that in the wide deepe wandring arre\\nAnd chearefull chaunticlere with his note shrill\\nHad warned once, that Phoebus fiery carre\\nIn hast was climbing up the easterne hill.\\nFull envious that night so long his roome did fill.\\nThe poem is itself an allegory, a form that the poet took\\nsome pains to justify. In a prefatory letter addressed to\\nRaleigh, the author fully explains his plan and makes\\nclear what would otherwise have remained obscure. The\\ngenerall end, therefore, of all the booke, he says, is to\\nfashion a gentleman or noble person in vertuous and gen-\\ntle discipline. Which for that I conceived shoulde be\\nmost plausible and pleasing, beeing coloured with an his-\\ntoricall fiction, the which the most part of men delight to\\nread, rather for varietie of matter than for profit of the\\nensample I chose the historic of King Arthure, as most\\nfit for the excellencie of his person, beeing made famous\\nby many men s former works, and also furthest from the\\ndanger of envie, and suspicion of present time. Prince\\nArthur is the central figure of the poem, in whose person,\\nSpenser says, I sette forth magnificence in particular,\\nwhich vertue, for that (according to Aristotle and the rest)\\nis the perfection of all the rest and containeth in it them\\nall, therefore in the whole course I mention the deeds of\\nArthure appliable to that vertue, which I write of in that\\nbooke.\\nBy magnificence Spenser meant magnanimity, which, ac-\\ncording to Aristotle, contains all the moral virtues. Twelve", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0137.jp2"}, "136": {"fulltext": "114 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nother knights are made the representatives or patrons of\\nso many separate virtues. The Knight of the Red Cross\\nrepresents Jioliiiess Sir Guyon, temperance Britomartis,\\na lady knight, chastity and so on. But the allegory is\\ndouble. In addition to the abstract moral virtues, the\\nleading characters represent contemporary persons. The\\nFaery Queene stands for the glory of God in general, and\\nfor Queen Elizabeth in particular Arthur for magna-\\nnimity, and also for the Earl of Leicester the Red Cross\\nKnight for holiness, and also for the model Englishman\\nUna for truth, and also for the Protestant church Duessa\\nfor falsehood, and also for the Roman church, etc. But\\nin this second part of the allegory a close resemblance is\\nnot to be expected, as flattery often guides the poet s pen\\nor warps his judgment. While an acquaintance with the\\nallegory is necessary for a complete understanding of the\\npoem, it adds perhaps but little to the interest of perusal.\\nThe poem possesses an intrinsic interest as a narrative of\\nadventure and our sympathy with the actual personages\\nmoving before us causes us to lose sight of their typical\\ncharacter.\\nThe Faery Queene, it must be confessed, is defective\\nin construction. Spenser intended to follow the maxim of\\nHorace and the example of Homer and Virgil by plunging\\ninto the miidst of his story but he failed in his purpose,\\nand a prose introduction, in the shape of a letter to Raleigh,\\nbecame necessary to understand the poem. The methode\\nof a poet historicall is not such as of an historiographer.\\nFor an historiographer discourseth of affaires orderly as\\nthey were done, accounting as well the times as the ac-\\ntions but a poet thrusteth into the middest, even where it", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0138.jp2"}, "137": {"fulltext": "EDMUND SPENSER. II5\\nmost concerneth him, and there recoursing to the things\\nforepast, and divining of things to come, maketh a pleas-\\ning analysis of all. The beginning, therefore, of my his-\\ntorie, if it were to be told by an historiographer, should be\\nthe twelfth booke, which is the last where I devise that\\nthe Faery Queene kept her annuall feast twelve dales\\nupon which twelve severall dayes, the occasions of the\\ntwelve severall adventures hapned, which being under-\\ntaken by xii. severall knights, are in these twelve books\\nseverally handled and discoursed.\\nThe first book is the most interesting of all. In the\\nletter already quoted, it is explained as follows In the\\nbeginning of the feast there presented him selfe a tall,\\nclownish younge man, who falling before the Queene of\\nFaeries desired a boone (as the manner then was) which\\nduring that feast she might not refuse which was that\\nhee might have the atchievement of any adventure, which\\nduring that feast should happen that being granted, he\\nrested him selfe on the floore, unfit through his rusticitie\\nfor a better place. Soone after entred a faire ladie in\\nmourning weedes, riding on a white asse, with a dwarfe\\nbehind her leading a warlike steed, that bore the armes\\nof a knight, and his speare in the dwarfe s hand. She\\nfalling before the Queene of Faeries, complayned that\\nher father and mother, an ancient king and queene, had\\nbene by an huge dragon many yeers shut up in a brazen\\ncastle, who thence suffered them not to issew and there-\\nfore besought the Faery Queene to assigne her some one\\nof her knights to take on him that exployt. Presently\\nthat clownish person upstarting, desired that adventure;\\nwhereat the Queene much wondering, and the lady much", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0139.jp2"}, "138": {"fulltext": "Il6 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ngain-saying, yet he earnestly importuned his desire. In\\nthe end the lady told him that unlesse that armour which\\nshe brought would serve him (that is the armour of a\\nChristian man specified by Saint Paul, v. Ephes.) that\\nhe could not succeed in that enterprise, which being forth-\\nwith put upon him with due furnitures thereunto, he\\nseemed the goodliest man in al that company, and was\\nwell liked of the lady. And eftesoones taking on him\\nknighthood, and mounting on that strange courser, he\\nwent forth with her on that adventure where beginneth\\nthe first booke, viz.,\\nA gentle knight was pricking on the plaine, etc.\\nThe allegory of the Faery Queene is nowhere more\\nworthy of study than in the first book. Like Bunyan s\\npilgrim, the Red Cross Knight shows the conflicts of the\\nhuman soul in its effort to attain to holiness. This is the\\nsublimest of all conflicts. The knight, clad in Christian\\narmor, set forth to make war upon the dragon, the Old\\nSerpent. After a time the light of heaven is shut out by\\nclouds, and the warrior loses his way in the wandering\\nwood, the haunt of Error.\\nFor light she hated as the deadly bale,\\nAy wont in desert darkness to remaine,\\nWhere plain none might her see, nor she see any plain.\\nOnly after a long and bitter struggle, typifying the con-\\nflicts of the earnest soul in search of truth, does the Knight\\nsucceed in vanquishing this dangerous foe. This danger\\npassed, another follows. The hero, with his fair compan-\\nion, at length encounters", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0140.jp2"}, "139": {"fulltext": "EDMUND SPENSER. WJ\\nAn aged sire, in long blacke weedes yclad,\\nHis feet all bare, his beard all hoarie gray,\\nAnd by his belt his booke he hanging had\\nSober he seemde, and very sagely sad,\\nAnd to the ground his eyes were Iftwly bent,\\nSimple in shew, and voide of malice bad,\\nAnd all the way he prayed, as he went,\\nAnd often knockt his breast, as one that did repent.\\nThis was Archimago or Hypocrisy, who deceives the\\nKnight with his magic art. Truth is made to seem false-\\nhood, and falsehood truth. This deception is the cause of\\nall his subsequent trouble, his struggle with Sans Foy or\\nInfidelity, his companionship with Duessa or Falsehood,\\nhis sojourn and trials at the palace of Pride, and his cap-\\nture and imprisonment by the giant Orgoglio or Antichrist.\\nHe is finally delivered by Arthur, and conducted by Una\\nto the house of Holiness, where he is taught repentance.\\nSpiritual discipline frees him from all his stains, and sends\\nhim forth once more protected with his celestial armor.\\nHe meets the grim Dragon, and after a prolonged conflict\\ngloriously triumphs. The book naturally ends with his\\nbetrothal to Una or Truth, emblematic of eternal union.\\nThrough trials and suffering to final victory and truth\\nthis is the history of every earnest soul; and never before\\nwas it portrayed with such magnificent imagery and in\\nsuch melodious language.\\nAs will be readily comprehended, a striking feature of\\nthe poem is its unlikeness to actual life. In no small de-\\ngree it appears artificial and unreal. The personages are\\nsomewhat shadowy. A large part of the incident and sen-\\ntiment belongs to an ideal age of chivalry. All this is apt", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0141.jp2"}, "140": {"fulltext": "Il8 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nto affect the realistic or prosaic reader unpleasantly. But\\nthe poem should be approached in the spirit with which it\\nwas written. Instead of stopping to criticise the ideas,\\nfashions, and superstitions of the Middle Ages, we should\\nsurrender ourselves into the magician s hands, and follow\\nhim submissively and sympathetically through the ideal\\nrealms into which he leads us. The poem then becomes,\\nin the words of Lowell, the land of pure heart s ease,\\nwhere no ache or sorrow of spirit can come.\\nSpenser was surpassingly rich in imagination that\\nfaculty without which no great poem is possible. He pos-\\nsessed an extraordinary power for appreciating and por-\\ntraying beauty. His mind was extremely capacious and,\\ngathering all the literary treasures of the past, whether\\nmediaeval, classic, or Christian, he gave them new and\\nfadeless forms. His invention was almost inexhaustible.\\nHis facility in description sometimes betrayed him into\\ntedious excess. In his fondness for details, he occasionally\\nwrote passages that are simply nauseating. His style\\nlacks the classic qualities of brevity, force, and self-re-\\nstraint. But we shall nowhere else find a more flowing\\nand melodious verse, an atmosphere of finer sentiment,\\nand a larger movement or richer coloring. He may be\\nfairly styled the Rubens of English poetry. Every canto\\nof the Faery Queene presents passages in which\\nthought, diction, and melody are combined in exquisite\\nharmony.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0142.jp2"}, "141": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0143.jp2"}, "142": {"fulltext": "Houbraken.\\n$mn.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0144.jp2"}, "143": {"fulltext": "FRANCIS BACON. 119\\nFRANCIS BACON.\\nIn this era of great writers the name of Francis Bacon,\\nafter those of Shakespeare and Spenser, stands easily first.\\nHe was great as a lawyer, as a statesman, as a philoso-\\npher, as an author great in everything, alas but char-\\nacter. Though his position in philosophy is still a matter\\nof dispute, there can be little doubt that he deserves to\\nrank with Plato and Aristotle, who for two thousand years\\nruled the philosophic world.\\nIt is claimed by some critics that Bacon s method of\\nphilosophizing is wanting in either novelty or value, and\\nthat no investigator follows his rules. There is much truth\\nin this claim, and yet Bacon s influence in modern science\\nis preeminent. That which has counted for most in his\\nphilosophical writings is his spirit. In proud recognition\\nof modern ability and modern advantages, he threw off\\nthe tyranny of the ancients. It would indeed be dis-\\nhonorable, he says, to mankind if the regions of the\\nmaterial globe, the earth, the sea, the stars, should be so\\nprodigiously developed and illustrated in our age, and yet\\nthe boundaries of the intellectual globe should be confined\\nto the narrow discoveries of the ancients.\\nHe looked upon knowledge, not as an end in itself, to be\\nenjoyed as a luxury, but as a m^ans of usefulness in the\\nservice of men. The mission of philosophy is to amelio-\\nrate man s condition, to increase his power, to multiply\\nhis enjoyments, and to alleviate his sufferings. He dis-", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0145.jp2"}, "144": {"fulltext": "I20 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ncarded the speculative philosophy which seeks to build up\\na system from the inner resources of the mind. However\\nadmirable in logical acuteness and consistency, such sys-\\ntems are apt to be without truth or utility. The wit and\\nmind of man, says Bacon, **if it work upon matter, which\\nis the contemplation of the creatures of God, worketh\\naccording to the stuff and is limited thereby but if it\\nwork upon itself, as the spider worketh his web, then it\\nis endless and brings forth indeed cobwebs of learning,\\nadmirable for the fineness of thread and work, but of no\\nsubstance or profit.\\nHe constantly urged an investigation of nature, whereby\\nphilosophy might be planted on a solid foundation and\\nreceive continual accretions of truth. Investigation, ex-\\nperiment, verification these are characteristic features\\nof the Baconian philosophy and the powerful instruments\\nwith which modern science has achieved its marvellous\\nresults.\\nFrancis Bacon was born in London, Jan. 22, 1561.\\nHis father, Sir Nicholas Bacon, was a man full of wit and\\nwisdom, comprehensive in intellect, retentive to a re-\\nmarkable degree in memory, and so dignified in appear-\\nance and bearing that Queen Elizabeth was accustomed to\\nsay, My Lord Keeper s soul is well lodged. His mother\\nwas no less remarkable as a woman. She was the daugh-\\nter of Sir Anthony Cooke, tutor to King Edward VL,\\nfrom whom she received a careful education. She was\\ndistinguished not only for her womanly and conjugal vir-\\ntues, but also for her learning, having translated a work\\nfrom Italian and another from Latin.\\nThus Bacon was fortunate in his parents, whose intel-", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0146.jp2"}, "145": {"fulltext": "FRANCIS BACON. 121\\nlectual superiority he inherited, and also in the time of his\\nbirth, **when, as he says, learning had made her third\\ncircuit when the art of printing gave books with a liberal\\nhand to men of all fortunes when the nation had emerged\\nfrom the dark superstitions of popery when peace through-\\nout all Europe permitted the enjoyment of foreign travel\\nand free ingress to foreign scholars and, above all, when\\na sovereign of the highest intellectual attainments, at the\\nsame time that she encouraged learning and learned men,\\ngave an impulse to the arts and a chivalric and refined\\ntone to the manners of the people.\\nHe was delicate in constitution, but extraordinary in in-\\ntellectual power. Son of a Lord Keeper, a nephew of a\\nSecretary of State, he was brought up in surroundings\\nthat were highly favorable to intellectual culture and ele-\\ngant manners. His youthful precocity attracted attention.\\nQueen Elizabeth, delighted with his childish wisdom and\\ngravity, playfully called him her Young Lord Keeper.\\nWhen she asked him one day how old he was, with a deli-\\ncate courtesy beyond his years, he replied, Two years\\nyounger than your majesty s happy reign. His disposi-\\ntion was reflective and serious and it is related of him\\nthat he stole away from his playmates to indulge his spirit\\nof investigation.\\nAt the early age of thirteen he matriculated in Trinity\\nCollege, Cambridge, and, with rare penetration, soon dis-\\ncovered the leading defects in the higher education of the\\ntime. The principle of authority prevailed in instruction\\nto the suppression of free inquiry. The university was\\nengaged, not in broadening the field of knowledge by\\ndiscovery of new truth, but in disseminating simply the", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0147.jp2"}, "146": {"fulltext": "122 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nwisdom of the ancients. Aristotle was dictator, from\\nwhose utterances there was no appeal. In the univer-\\nsities, he says, all things are found opposite to the\\nadvancement of the sciences for the readings and exer-\\ncises are here so managed that it cannot easily come into\\nany one s mind to think of things out of the common\\nroad; or if, here and there, one should venture to use\\na liberty of judging, he can only impose the task upon\\nhimself without obtaining assistance from his fellows\\nand, if he could dispense with this, he will still find his\\nindustry and resolution a great hindrance to his fortune.\\nFor the studies of men in such places are confined and\\npinned down to the writings of certain authors, from\\nwhich, if any man happens to differ, he is presently\\nreprehended as a disturber and innovator.\\nThough meeting with little sympathy in his spirit of\\nfree investigation, Bacon still followed the bent of his\\ngenius. While yet a student, he planned the immortal\\nwork which was to influence the subsequent course of\\nphilosophy. His opinions of the defects existing in the\\nuniversities were only confirmed by age. Some years\\nafter leaving Cambridge, he advocated the establishment\\nof a college which should be devoted to the discovery of\\nnew truths a living spring to mix with the stagnant\\nwaters. He complained that there was no school for\\nthe training of statesmen, a fact that seemed to him\\nprejudicial, not only to science, but also to the state,\\nand that the weighty affairs of the kingdom were in-\\ntrusted to men whose only qualifications were a knowl-\\nedge of Latin and Greek, and verbal criticisms upon the\\ndead languages.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0148.jp2"}, "147": {"fulltext": "FRANCIS BACON. 1 23\\nAfter a residence of three years at the university, he\\nwent to Paris under the care of the Enghsh ambassador\\nat the French court. He was sent on a secret mission\\nto EHzabeth and discharged its duties with such abihty\\nas to win the queen s approbation. He afterward trav-\\nelled in the French provinces and met many distin-\\nguished men statesmen, philosophers, authors who\\nwere impressed by his extraordinary gifts and attain-\\nments. The death of his father recalled him to England\\nin 1579; and finding himself without adequate means to\\nlead a life of philosophic investigation, it became neces-\\nsary for him, as he expresses it, to think how to live,\\ninstead of living only to think.\\nThe two roads open to him were law and politics, and\\nwith his antecedents he naturally inclined to the latter.\\nHe applied to his uncle. Lord Burleigh, for a position\\nbut the prime minister, fearing, it is said, the abilities\\nof his nephew, used his influence to prevent the young\\napplicant from obtaining a place of importance and emol-\\nument. Thus disappointed in his hopes. Bacon was\\nreluctantly obliged to betake himself to the law. He\\ngave himself with industry to his calling, and in a few\\nyears attained distinction for legal knowledge and skill.\\nAs might naturally be supposed from the philosophic\\ncast of his mind, his studies were not confined to prece-\\ndents and authorities, but extended to the universal\\nprinciples of justice and the whole circle of knowledge.\\nIn 1590 he was made counsel-extraordinary to the queen\\na position, it seems, of more honor than profit.\\nWith this appointment began his political career. He\\nsought worldly honors and wealth, but chiefly, as there\\nly^", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0149.jp2"}, "148": {"fulltext": "124 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nis reason to believe, in order that he might at last enjoy\\na competency, which would allow him to retire from\\nofficial cares and pursue his philosophical studies with-\\nout distraction. In 1592 he was elected a member of\\nParliament from Middlesex. He advocated comprehen-\\nsive improvements in the law. On one occasion he in-\\ncurred the queen s displeasure by opposing the early\\npayment of certain subsidies to which the House had\\nconsented. When her displeasure was formally com-\\nmunicated to him, he calmly replied that he spoke in\\ndischarge of his conscience and duty to God, to the\\nqueen, and to his country.\\nHis connection with Parliament was characterized by\\nactivity, and his integrity at this time kept him from\\nsacrificing the interests of England at the foot of the\\nthrone. As an orator he became affluent, weighty, and\\neloquent. No man, says Ben Jonson, ever spake more\\nneatly, more pressly, more weightily, or suffered less emp-\\ntiness, less idleness in what he uttered no member of his\\nspeech but consisted of its own graces. His hearers\\ncould not cough or look aside from him without loss he\\ncommanded when he spoke, and had his judges angry and\\npleased at his devotion. No man had their affections\\nmore in his power the fear of every man that heard him\\nwas lest he should make an end.\\nIn 1594 the office of solicitor-general became vacant,\\nand Bacon set to work to obtain it. Every influence\\nwithin his reach was brought to bear upon the queen.\\nLord Essex, the favorite of Ehzabeth, interested himself\\nespecially in his behalf. But every effort proved unavail-\\ning. Bacon, like Spenser, felt the bitterness of seeking", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0150.jp2"}, "149": {"fulltext": "FRANCIS BACON. 1 25\\npreferment at court, and complained that he was Hke a\\nchild following a bird which, when almost within reach,\\ncontinually flew farther. I am weary of it, he said, as\\nalso of wearying my friends.\\nTo assuage his keen disappointment, Essex bestowed\\nupon him an estate, valued at eighteen hundred pounds,\\nin the beautiful village of Twickenham. The earl con-\\ntinued to befriend him through a long period. When\\nBacon wished to marry Lady Hatton, a woman of large\\nfortune, Essex supported his suit with a strong letter to\\nher parents. But in spite of Bacon s merit and his noble\\npatron s warmth, the heart of the lady remained un-\\ntouched and fortunately for Bacon, as a biographer sug-\\ngestively remarks, she afterward became the wife of his\\ngreat rival. Sir Edward Coke.\\nWhen, a few years later, Essex, through his imprudence,\\nincurred the queen s disfavor, and by treason forfeited his\\nlife. Bacon appeared against him. For this act he has\\nbeen severely censured. Macaulay, especially, in his fa-\\nmous essay, displays the zeal of an advocate in making\\nhim appear in a bad light, affirming that he exerted his\\nprofessional talents to shed the earl s blood, and his lit-\\nerary talents to blacken the earl s memory. Though it\\ncannot be maintained that Bacon acted the part of a high-\\nminded, generous friend, or that his course was in any\\nway justifiable, an impartial survey of the facts does not\\njustify Macaulay s severity.\\nIn 1597 Bacon published a collection of ten essays,\\nwhich were afterward increased to fifty-eight. If he had\\nwritten nothing else, these alone would have entitled him\\nto an honorable place in English literature. Though brief\\n1/", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0151.jp2"}, "150": {"fulltext": "126 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nin form, they are weighty in thought. The style is clear\\nand the language, as in the essay on Adversity, often\\nrises into great beauty. They were composed, as he tells\\nus, as a recreation from severer studies, but contain, never-\\ntheless, the richest results of his thinking and experience.\\nThey were popular from the time of their publication\\nthey were at once translated into French, Italian, and\\nLatin, and no fewer than six editions appeared during\\nthe author s life.\\nAn extract or two will illustrate their style. In the\\nessay on Adversity, he says\\nThe virtue of prosperity is temperance, the virtue of\\nadversity is fortitude, which in morals is the more heroical\\nvirtue. Prosperity is the blessing of the Old Testament,\\nadversity is the blessing of the New, which carrieth the\\ngreater benediction, and the clearer revelation of God s\\nfavor. Yet, even in the Old Testament, if you listen to\\nDavid s harp, you shall hear as many hearse-like airs as\\ncarols and the pencil of the Holy Ghost hath labored\\nmore in describing the afflictions of Job than the felicities\\nof Solomon. Prosperity is not without many fears and\\ndistastes and adversity is not without comforts and\\nhopes.\\nIn the essay on Studies, which is one of the most\\ncompact and thoughtful of them all, we find the oft-quoted\\npassage\\nStudies serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability.\\nTheir chief use for delight is in privateness and retiring\\nfor ornament, is in discourse and for ability, is in the\\njudgment and disposition of business for expert men can\\nexecute, and perhaps judge of particulars, one by one", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0152.jp2"}, "151": {"fulltext": "FRANCIS BACON. 12/\\nbut the general counsels, and the plots and marshalling of\\naffairs, come best from those that are learned. To spend\\ntoo much time in studies, is sloth to use them too much\\nfor ornament, is affectation to make judgment wholly by\\ntheir rules, is the humor of a scholar they perfect na-\\nture, and are perfected by experience for natural abilities\\nare like natural plants, that need pruning by study and\\nstudies themselves do give forth directions too much at\\nlarge, except they be bounded in by experience. Crafty\\nmen contemn studies, simple men admire them, and wise\\nmen use them for they teach not their own use, but that\\nis a wisdom without them and above them, won by obser-\\nvation. Read not to contradict and confute, nor to be-\\nlieve and take for granted, nor to find talk and discourse,\\nbut to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted,\\nothers to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and\\ndigested that is, some books are to be read only in parts,\\nothers to be read, but not curiously and some few to be\\nread wholly, and with diligence and attention.\\nThough it is through his other writings the Novum\\nOrganum and The Advancement of Learning that\\nhe has exerted the greatest influence, it is the Essays\\nthat have been most widely read, coming home, as he says,\\nto men s business and bosoms. Archbishop Whately\\nsaid I am old-fashioned enough to admire Bacon, whose\\nremarks are taken in and assented to by persons of ordi-\\nnary capacity, and seem nothing very profound but when\\na man comes to reflect and observe, and his faculties en-\\nlarge, he then sees more in them than he did at first,\\nand more still as he advances further his admiration of\\nBacon s profundity increasing as he himself grows intel-\\ny", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0153.jp2"}, "152": {"fulltext": "128 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nlectually. Bacon s wisdom is like the seven-league boots,\\nwhich would fit the giant or the dwarf, except only that\\nthe dwarf cannot take the same stride in them.\\nThe distinguished Scotch philosopher, Dugald Stewart,\\nbears similar testimony, which indeed is confirmed by the\\njudgment of every competent reader: The small volume\\nto which he has given the title of Essays, the b.est known\\nand the most popular of all his works, is one of those\\nwhere the superiority of his genius appears to the greatest\\nadvantage the novelty and depth of his reflections often\\nreceiving a strong relief from the triteness of the subject.\\nIt may be read from beginning to end in a few hours, and\\nyet after the twentieth perusal one seldom fails to remark\\nin it something overlooked before. This, indeed, is a\\ncharacteristic of all Bacon s writings, and is only to be\\naccounted for by the inexhaustible aliment they furnish to\\nour own thoughts, and the sympathetic activity they im-\\npart to our torpid faculties.\\nAfter the accession of James I. in 1603, whose favor he\\nmade great efforts to placate. Bacon rose rapidly in posi-\\ntion and honor. That year he was elevated to the order\\nof knighthood, and the following year appointed salaried\\ncounsel to the king a mark of favor almost without prec-\\nedent. In 161 3 he was advanced to the office of attorney-\\ngeneral. In 161 7 he was created Lord Keeper of the\\nGreat Seal of England a dignity of which he was proud\\nand the following year he was made Lord High Chancel-\\nlor, the summit of his ambition and political elevation.\\nFond of elegant surroundings, he lived in great state,\\nwith liveried servants, beautiful mansions, and magnificent\\ngardens. He was inconsiderate and lavish in his expendi-", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0154.jp2"}, "153": {"fulltext": "FRANCIS BACON. 1 29\\ntures and while laboring with conscientious fidelity to\\nimprove the laws of the kingdom and to facilitate the\\nadministration of justice, his personal character, it must\\nbe acknowledged, did not remain above suspicion and\\nreproach. He was unduly subservient to the king; and\\nto maintain his outward splendor, he accepted presents, if\\nnot bribes, from persons interested in his judicial decisions.\\nBeing tried by Parliament, he made confession to twenty-\\neight charges of corruption, whereupon he was condemned\\nto pay a fine of forty thousand pounds, to be imprisoned\\nin the Tower during the king s pleasure, and to be de-\\nbarred from any office in the state. Thus, in 1621, Bacon\\nfell from his high position, ruined in fortune and broken\\nin spirit. Though released from the Tower after an im-\\nprisonment of two days, and relieved also of the payment\\nof the fine, he never recovered from his disgrace.\\nIt is difficult now to determine the extent of his guilt.\\nIt is certain that he was not, what Pope pronounced him,\\nthe meanest of mankind. The truth probably is that he\\nwas morally weak rather than basely corrupt. Though\\nhe received presents or bribes, it can hardly be shown that\\nhe purposely perverted justice. It was not unusual for\\njudges at that day to receive presents. There is no\\nsufficient reason to doubt his sincerity and justice when\\nhe wrote For the briberies and gifts wherewith I am\\ncharged, when the book of hearts shall be opened, I hope\\nI shall not be found to have the troubled fountain of the\\ncorrupt heart, in a depraved habit of taking rewards to\\npervert justice howsoever I may be frail, and partake of\\nthe abuses of the time. He was, in some measure, a\\nvictim of secret enmity and parliamentary clamor; and in\\nK", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0155.jp2"}, "154": {"fulltext": "130 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nhis will he did wisely to appeal from the prejudice about\\nhim to the impartial judgment of posterity. For my\\nname and memory, he pathetically writes, I leave it\\nto men s charitable speeches, to foreign nations, and the\\nnext ages.\\nThe colossal cast of Bacon s mind is seen in his great\\nphilosophical scheme entitled the Instauratio Magna, or\\nthe Great Institution of True Philosophy, which embodies\\nhis principal writings. It was to consist of six parts, the\\ncompletion of which was necessarily beyond the power of\\none man or even of one age\\nI. Divisions of the Sciences. This part exhibits a\\nsummary, or universal description, of such science and\\nlearning as mankind is, up to this time, in possession of.\\nII. Novum Organum Precepts for the Interpretation of\\nNature. The object of the second part is the doctrine\\ntouching a better and more perfect use of reasoning in the\\ninvestigation of things, and the true helps of the under-\\nstanding; that it may by this means be raised, as far as\\nour human and mortal nature will admit, and be enlarged\\nin its powers so as to master the arduous and obscure\\nsecrets of nature.\\nIII. Phenomena of the Universe or, Natural and Ex-\\nperi^nental History on wJiicJi to found Philosophy. The\\nthird part of our work embraces the phenomena of the\\nuniverse that is to say, experience of every kind, and such\\na natural history as can form the foundation of an edifice\\nof philosophy.\\nIV. Scale of Understanding. The fourth part is\\nin fact nothing more than a particular and fully developed\\napplication of the second part.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0156.jp2"}, "155": {"fulltext": "FRANCIS BACON. 131\\nV. Preairsors or Anticipations of the Second Philosophy.\\nWe compose this fifth part of the work of those matters\\nwhich we have either discovered, tried, or added.\\nVI. Sound Philosophy, or Active Science. Lastly, the\\nsixth part of our work (to which the rest are subservient\\nand auxiUary) discloses and propounds that philosophy\\nwhich is reared and formed by the legitimate, pure, and\\nstrict method of investigation previously taught and pre-\\npared. But it is both beyond our power and expectation\\nto perfect and conclude this last part.\\nIn the first part of this vast scheme Bacon embodied,\\nin a revised form, the Advancement of Learning, his\\nearliest philosophical work, published in 1605. It made\\na complete survey of the field of learning, for the purpose\\nof indicating what departments of knowledge had received\\ndue attention, and what subjects yet needed cultivation.\\nIt is a rich mine of wisdom and learning. But the most\\ncelebrated part of the Instauratio Magna is the Novum\\nOrganum, in which Bacon s philosophical method is un-\\nfolded. It is written in the form of aphorisms, several of\\nwhich, including the first, are here given as indicating the\\ncharacter of the whole work\\nI. Man, as the minister and interpreter of nature, does\\nand understands as much as his observations on the order\\nof nature, either with regard to things or the mind, permit\\nhim, and neither knows nor is capable of more.\\nIX. The sole cause and root of almost every defect in\\nthe sciences is this that whilst we falsely admire and\\nextol the powers of the human mind, we do not search for\\nits real helps.\\nXIX. There are and can exist but two ways of investi-", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0157.jp2"}, "156": {"fulltext": "132 ENGLISH LITERATURE,\\ngating and discovering truth. The one hurries on rapidly,\\nfrom the senses and particulars to the most general axioms;\\nand from them as principles and their supposed indisputa-\\nble truth derives and discovers the intermediate axioms.\\nThis is the way now in use. The other constructs its axioms\\nfrom the senses and particulars, by ascending continually\\nand gradually, till it finally arrives at the most general\\naxioms, which is the true but unattempted way.\\nA well-known and valuable portion of the Novum\\nOrganum is the discussion of the influences which warp\\nthe human mind in the pursuit of truth. These warping\\ninfluences Bacon calls idols and his exposition of the\\nsubject, which cannot be fully inserted here, has never\\nbeen surpassed in analytical scope and power.\\nXXXIX. Four species of idols beset the human mind;\\nto which, for distinction s sake, we have assigned names,\\ncalling the first, idols of the tribe the second, idols of the\\nden the third, idols of the market the fourth, idols of\\nthe theatre.\\nXLI. The idols of the tribe are inherent in human\\nnature, and the very tribe or race of man. For man s\\nsense is falsely asserted to be the standard of things. On\\nthe contrary, all the perceptions, both of the senses and\\nthe mind, bear reference to man, and not to the universe,\\nand the human mind resembles those uneven mirrors,\\nwhich impart their own properties to different objects,\\nfrom which rays are emitted, and distort and disfigure\\nthem.\\nXLII. The idols of the den are those of each individ-\\nual. For everybody (in addition to the errors common to\\nthe race of man) has his own individual den or cavern,", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0158.jp2"}, "157": {"fulltext": "FRANCIS BACON. 1 33\\nwhich intercepts and corrupts the light of nature either\\nfrom his own peculiar and singular disposition, or from\\nhis education and intercourse with others, or from his read-\\ning, and the authority acquired by those whom he rever-\\nences and admires, or from the different impressions\\nproduced on the mind, as it happens to be preoccupied\\nand predisposed, or equable and tranquil, and the like\\nso that the spirit of man (according to its several disposi-\\ntions) is variable, confused, and, as it were, actuated by\\nchance and Heraclitus said well that men search for\\nknowledge in lesser worlds, and not in the greater or\\ncommon world.\\nXLIII. There are also idols formed by the reciprocal\\nintercourse and society of man with man, which we call\\nidols of the market, from the commerce and association of\\nmen with each other. For men converse by means of lan-\\nguage but words are formed at the will of the generality\\nand there arises from a bad and unapt formation of words\\na wonderful obstruction to the mind. Nor can the defini-\\ntions and explanations, with which learned men are wont\\nto guard and protect themselves in some instances, afford\\na complete remedy; words still manifestly force the under-\\nstanding, throw everything into confusion, and lead man-\\nkind into vain and innumerable controversies and fallacies.\\nXLIV. Lastly, there are idols which have crept into\\nmen s minds from the various dogmas of peculiar systems\\nof philosophy, and also from the perverted rules of demon-\\nstration, and these we denominate idols of the theatre.\\nFor we regard all the systems of philosophy hitherto re-\\nceived or imagined, as so many plays brought out and\\nperformed, creating fictitious and theatrical worlds.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0159.jp2"}, "158": {"fulltext": "134 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nHowever much men may differ in their estimate of\\nBacon s method and position in philosophy, all agree in\\nrecognizing his intellectual greatness. It would be easy\\nto fill pages with the glowing tributes that have been paid\\nhim, not only by English, but also by French and German,\\nwriters. Hallam, who is not given to inconsiderate pane-\\ngyric, says If we compare what mary be found in the\\nsixth, seventh, and eighth books De Augmentis in the\\nEssays, the History of Henry VII., and the various short\\ntreatises contained in his works on moral and political\\nwisdom, and on human nature, from experience of which\\nall such wisdom is drawn, with the Rhetoric, Ethics, and\\nPolitics of Aristotle, or with the historians most celebrated\\nfor their deep insight into civil society and human char-\\nacter with Thucydides, Tacitus, Philip de Comines, Ma-\\nchiavel, Davila, Hume, we shall, I think, find that one\\nman may almost be compared with all of these together.\\nAn able German scholar assigns Bacon a high rank as\\na philosopher and educator because he was the first to\\nsay to the learned men who lived and toiled in the lan-\\nguages and writings of antiquity, and who were mostly\\nonly echoes of the old Greeks and Romans, yea, who knew\\nnothing better than to be such There is also a present,\\nonly open your eyes to recognize its splendor. Turn away\\nfrom the shallow springs of traditional natural science,\\nand draw from the unfathomable and ever freshly flowing\\nfountain of creation. Live in nature with active senses\\nponder it in your thoughts, and learn to comprehend it,\\nfor thus you will be able to control it. Power increases\\nwith knowledge.\\n1 Raumer, Geschichte tier Padagogik.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0160.jp2"}, "159": {"fulltext": "FRANCIS BACON. 1 35\\nBacon had unswerving faith in the power of truth, and\\nhe confidently looked forward to a time when the value of\\nhis teachings would be recognized. The fulfilment of the\\nfollowing prediction establishes the character and mission\\nof the prophet I have held up a light in the obscurity\\nof philosophy, he says, which will be seen centuries\\nafter I am dead. It will be seen amid the erection of\\ntemples, tombs, palaces, theatres, bridges, making noble\\nroads, cutting canals, granting multitudes of charters and\\nliberties for comfort of decayed companies and corpora-\\ntions the foundation of colleges and lectures for learning\\nand the education of youth foundations and institutions\\nof orders and fraternities for nobility, enterprise, and\\nobedience but, above all, the establishing good laws for\\nthe regulation of the kingdom, and as an example to\\nthe world.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0161.jp2"}, "160": {"fulltext": "136 ENGLISH LITERATURE,\\nWILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.\\nFrom the time of Chaucer to the present day, England\\nhas produced many great writers almost colossal figures\\nin universal literature. Chaucer, Spenser, Bacon, Milton,\\nTennyson these are great names but by common con-\\nsent Shakespeare towers above them all. The case is not\\naltered when we take into account other nations. Greece\\nhad its Homer; Rome, its Virgil; Italy, its Dante; Ger-\\nmany, its Goethe France, its Hugo. But if the judgment\\nof competent critics were taken, Shakespeare would be\\nplaced on the throne as king among great writers, living\\nand dead.\\nIf the great dramatist had left an autobiography, we\\nshould esteem it one of our greatest literary treasures. If\\nsome Boswell had dogged his footsteps, noted carefully the\\nincidents of his everyday life, and recorded the sentiments\\nand thoughts that dropped spontaneously from his hps,\\nhow eagerly we should read the book to gain a clearer\\ninsight into the great master s soul. As it is, we are shut\\nup to very meagre records, to names and dates found in\\nbusiness accounts or legal documents and the greatest\\ngenius of all literature is concealed behind his works almost\\nin the haze of a myth. We are dependent, not upon his-\\ntory, but upon fancy, to fill up the measure of what must\\nhave been an interesting, varied, and bountiful life.\\nWiUiam Shakespeare w^as born in Stratford-on-Avon,", "height": "3361", "width": "2342", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0162.jp2"}, "161": {"fulltext": "Etched by Leopold Flaming after the Chandos painting.\\n7v^va^ ^CjU.ff^ ^f^-", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0163.jp2"}, "162": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0164.jp2"}, "163": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. I 37\\nApril 23, 1564. On his father s side, he was of Saxon\\nlineage on his mother s side, he was of Norman descent\\nand in his character the qualities of these two races\\nSaxon sturdiness and Norman versatility were exquis-\\nitely harmonized. His father, John Shakespeare, was a\\nglover, wool-dealer, and yeoman, who attained prominence\\nin Stratford as an alderman and bailiff. He was a man of\\nsubstantial qualities, and for many years lived in easy cir-\\ncumstances but afterward, when his son was passing into\\nearly manhood, he suffered a sad decline in fortune. Will-\\niam s mother, Mary Arden, was brought up on a landed\\nestate and besides inheriting from her the finer qualities\\nof his mind, the future poet probably learned under her\\ninfluence to appreciate the exceeding beauty of gentle and\\ntender womanhood.\\nHis education was received in the free school of Strat-\\nford, and included, besides the elementary branches of\\nEnglish, the rudiments of classical learning the small\\nLatin and less Greek which Ben Jonson attributed to\\nhim. His acquisitive powers were extraordinary and, as\\nis evident from his works, this elementary training, which\\nappears so inadequate, was afterward increased by rich\\nstores of learning and wisdom. He exhibits not only a\\nwide general knowledge, but also a technical acquaintance\\nwith several callings, including law, medicine, and divinity.\\nIn 1582, at the youthful age of eighteen, he married Ann\\nHathaway, who was eight years his senior. Whether the\\nmarriage was a matter of choice or, as some believe, a\\nnecessity forced upon him, does not clearly appear. His\\nwife, the daughter of a substantial yeomen, was not un-\\nworthy of him and the marriage was probably a love", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0165.jp2"}, "164": {"fulltext": "138 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nmatch, which proudly disdained the disparity in years. It\\nis assumed by many critics that the union was necessarily\\nan unhappy one but an examination of the evidence leads\\nto a different conclusion. In his sonnets there arCv several\\nloving passages that seem to refer to his wife and as soon\\nas he had acquired wealth in his theatrical career in the\\nmetropolis, he returned to Stratford to spend his last years\\nin the bosom of his family.\\nSeveral years after his marriage, at the age of twenty-\\ntwo, he went to London. There is a tradition that his\\ndeparture from Stratford was the result of a deer-stealing\\nescapade, for which he was sharply prosecuted by an irate\\nlandlord. Though the poaching is probably not a myth,\\nhis departure may be satisfactorily explained on other\\ngrounds. Conscious no doubt of his native genius, it was\\nbut natural for him to seek his fortune amidst the oppor-\\ntunities afforded in a large city.\\nHis poetic gifts and his acquaintance with the drama, as\\nlearned through visiting troupes in his native village, natu-\\nrally drew him to the theatre. He held at first a subordi-\\nnate position, and worked upward by degrees. He recast\\nplays and performed as an actor, for which his handsome\\nand shapely form peculiarly fitted him. The top of his\\nperformance, says an old historian, was the Ghost in his\\nown Hamlet. His progress was rapid, and at the end of\\nsix years he had achieved no small reputation. His suc-\\ncess aroused the envy of some of his fellow-playwrights\\nand Greene, in a scurrilous pamphlet, accused him of plagi-\\narism, calling him an upstart crow beautified with our\\nfeathers.\\nHis ability attracted the attention of the court and the", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0166.jp2"}, "165": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. I 39\\nnobility. To the young Earl of Southampton he dedicated\\nin 1593 his Venus and Adonis, which the poet, in a short\\nand manly dedicatory letter, styles the first heir of my\\ninvention and in return he is said to have received from\\nthat nobleman the princely gift of a thousand pounds. In\\nSpenser s Colin Clout s Come Home Again, we find this\\nreference to Shakespeare\\nAnd here, though last not least, is Aetion\\nA gentler shepherd may nowhere be found\\nWhose muse, full of high thought s invention,\\nDoth, like himself, heroically sound.\\nHis plays delighted Ehzabeth, who was a steady patron\\nof the drama and there is a tradition that the queen was\\nso pleased with Falstaff in King Henry the Fourth,\\nthat she requested the poet to continue the character in\\nanother play and to portray him in love. The result was\\nThe Merry Wives of Windsor.\\nUnlike many of his fellow-dramatists, Shakespeare\\navoided a life of extravagance and dissipation. He showed\\nthat high literary genius is not inconsistent with business\\nsagacity. Not content with being actor and author, he be-\\ncame a large shareholder in the Blackfriars and the Globe,\\nthe two leading theatres of his day. Wealth accumulated\\nand with an affectionate remembrance of his native town,\\nhe purchased in 1597 a handsome residence in Stratford.\\nHe continued to make judicious investments; and a careful\\nestimate places his income in 1608 at about four hundred\\npounds a year equivalent to $12,000 at the present time.\\nWe have several pleasing glimpses of his social life in\\nLondon. He had a reputation for civility and honesty", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0167.jp2"}, "166": {"fulltext": "I40 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nhe frequented the Mermaid, where he met Ben Jonson and\\nthe other leading wits of his day. Beaumont probably had\\nhim in mind when he wrote\\nWhat things have we seen\\nDone at the Mermaid Heard words that have been\\nSo nimble, and so full of subtile flame,\\nAs if that every one from whence they came\\nHad meant to put his whole wit in a jest,\\nAnd had resolved to live a fool the rest\\nOf his dull life.\\nThe following testimony of the rough, upright Ben\\nJonson is of special value I loved the man, and do\\nhonor his memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any.\\nHe was indeed honest, and of an open and free nature\\nhad an excellent phantasy, brave notions, and gentle\\nexpressions.\\nWith wealth and genius, it was not unnatural for the\\npoet to desire a higher social rank. Accordingly, we find\\nthat in 1599, no doubt through his influence, a coat-of-\\narms was granted to his father. He grew tired of the\\nactor s profession, chafing under its low social standing\\nand its enslaving exactions upon his time and person. In\\none of his sonnets he writes\\nAlas tis true I have gone here and there.\\nAnd made myself a motley to the view\\nGor d mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear,\\nMade old offences of affections new\\nMost times it is that I have looked on truth\\nAskance and strangely.\\nIt is probable that Shakespeare ceased to be an actor in\\n1604, though he continued to write for the stage, and pro-\\n41", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0168.jp2"}, "167": {"fulltext": "i/DtC.r^Rr i.iVM Gf.NK) .SoC\u00c2\u00bbATEM. i^1T M^J ONEH\\nIF;.ka/ TKGit KXVLVS tl^JET r)i.YMIV\u00c2\u00ab HABB\\niVh Bf^Sif,HCtR Wi/ Ca *,$T ho/ B/ so FAST/\\nl\u00c2\u00abA.jyrW// CANST fcNVK?/S Itefl H*Ti flA.ST\\nfAfM*:\u00c2\u00ab.Tf:NCO$r;SEHML i He HaH wkitt\\nI .urn i.r/iNG w*r. ir/T H\u00c2\u00abe. to sjkve his tt\\nHeF.RE LYFTH !NTKHRTt T^?. BOB\\\\ OkAnnR WIFF.\\nOFjA/lLLi-^M SH^Kf.SJ KAftF. ^^-HO i)KKrP,r THIS LIFE TH:\\nVBera tu maW.iu iac.vfeTii({ cl ?Ji. li\\n\\\\W mihi pro feiito nmncre 6aTca dabo\\nExfat.chriSt) corpus., ini,i.|,o tu.\\\\ 4\u00c2\u00bb::x\u00c2\u00abt\\nSed ui! vo^A ..ilent venjA ciloChri-Sv/fipfuTjiPt:\\nCteulA iictt tumiilo mater et asCta sx^vet\\nGood frend for Iesvs sake for beare,\\nTO Dice TIE DVST ENCLOASED VEARL\\nBlESE be f MAN SPAREJ-REI STONES,\\nAND CVRST BE HE MOVES MY BONEs\\nThe gravestones of Shakespeare and his wife Anne rest side by side\\nupon the second step of the altar in the chancel of Holy Trinity Church.\\nA flat stone with the large inscription deeply engraved upon it covers\\nShakespeare s remains. Of the two small inscriptions, the one at the\\nright is upon a brass plate set into the stone which rests upon the grave\\nof Shakespeare s wife Anne. The one upon the left\\nJudicio Pulium cenio Socratem arte Moronem\\nTerra tecit populus maeret Olumpus habet.\\nStay Passenger why goest thou by so fast,\\nRead, if thou canst, whom envious death has plast\\nWithin this monument, Shakspeare, withom\\nQuick Nature dide whose name doth deck ys. tombe\\nFar more than cost sith all yt. he hath writt\\nLeaves living art but page to serve his witt.\\nObiit Ano. Doi 1616.\\nEtatis 53. Die 23. Ap.\\nis upon a marble tablet directly below the Monumental Bust of Shake-\\nspeare.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0169.jp2"}, "168": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0170.jp2"}, "169": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. I4I\\nduced all his greatest masterpieces after that date. About\\n161 1 he retired to his native town to live in quiet domestic\\nenjoyment. How great the contrast with the excitements,\\nlabors, and vanities of his career in London The last\\nfive years of his life were spent in domestic comforts, local\\ninterests, the entertainment of friends, the composition of\\none or two great dramas, with an occasional visit to the\\nscene of his former struggles and triumphs. He died\\nApril 23, 1616, on the anniversary of his birth, and was\\nburied in the parish church of Stratford. If we may\\ncredit tradition, he rose from a sick bed to entertain\\nJonson and Drayton, and the convivial excesses of the\\noccasion brought on a fatal relapse. His tomb bears the\\nfollowing inscription\\nGood friend, for Jesus sake forbear,\\nTo dig the dust enclosed here\\nBlest be the man that spares these stones,\\nAnd curst be he that moves my bones.\\nSumming up his character, as gleaned from hints scat-\\ntered through the scanty biographic materials, Hudson\\njustly says: There is enough, I think, to show that in\\nall the common dealings of life he was eminently gentle,\\ncandid, upright, and judicious; open-hearted, genial, and\\nsweet in his social intercourses; among his companions\\nand friends full of playful wit and sprightly grace kind\\nto the faults of others, severe to his own quick to discern\\nand acknowledge merit in another, modest and slow of\\nfinding it in himself; while, in the smooth and happy\\nmarriage, which he seems to have realized, of the highest\\npoetry and art with successful and systematic prudence in", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0171.jp2"}, "170": {"fulltext": "142 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nbusiness affairs, we have an example of compact and well-\\nrounded practical manhood, such as may justly engage\\nour admiration and respect.\\nWere the meagre facts in the outward life of this great\\nman all that we know of him, how incomplete and unsatis-\\nfactory our knowledge But there is another life besides\\nthe outward and visible one a life of the soul. It is by\\nthe aims, thoughts, and feelings of this interior life that the\\ncharacter and greatness of a man are to be judged. Out-\\nward circumstances are, in a large measure, fortuitous at\\nmost they but aid or hinder the operations of the spirit\\nwithin plume or clip its wings. It is when we turn to\\nthis interior life of Shakespeare, and measure its creations\\nand experiences, that we learn his unapproachable great-\\nness. Many other authors have surpassed him in the\\nvariety and splendor of outward circumstances many\\nwarriors and statesmen and princes have been occupied\\nwith larger national interests but where is the man that\\ncan compare with him in the richness and extent of this\\nlife of the soul\\nThere is no class of society, from kings to beggars, from\\nqueens to hags, with which he has not entered into the\\nclosest sympathy, thinking their thoughts and speaking\\ntheir words. By his overpowering intuition, he compre-\\nhended, in all their extent, the various hopes, fears,\\ndesires, and passions of the human heart and, as occasion\\narose, he gave them the most perfect utterance they have\\never found. Every age and country early England,\\nmediaeval Italy, ancient Greece and Rome were all\\nseized in their essential features.\\nThere were no thoughts too high for his strong intellect", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0172.jp2"}, "171": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 43\\nto grasp and the great world of nature, with its mysteries,\\nits abounding beauty, its subtle harmonies, its deep moral\\nteachings, he irradiated with the light of his genius. If, as\\na poet has said, we live in thoughts, not years, in feelings,\\nnot in figures on the dial, how infinitely rich the quarter\\nof a century Shakespeare spent in London In com-\\nparison with his all-embracing experience, the career of an\\nAlexander, or Caesar, or Napoleon, with its far extending\\nambition and manifold interests, loses its towering great-\\nness for the English poet lived more than they all.\\nOne great ground of Shakespeare s preeminence is his\\nsanity. He was singularly free from the eccentricity and\\none-sidedness that so often accompany genius. His mar-\\nvellous power in seeing clearly and judging justly will be\\nmore clearly understood by comparing him with recent\\nschools or tendencies in literature. For nearly a century\\nthe literary world has been divided into romanticists and\\nreaHsts. The former emphasize the ideal side of life, and\\nin extreme types run into extravagance the latter empha-\\nsize what is actual in life, often showing preference for the\\nlow and immoral. Both tendencies represent truth in part;\\nbut in Shakespeare we find them held in equal balance.\\nThe ideal and the real are harmoniously blended in him as\\nin actual life. He saw and judged life in its completeness.\\nIt is a mistake to suppose that Shakespeare owed every-\\nthing to nature, and that in his productions he was guided\\nalone by instinct. This view was maintained by his earli-\\nest biographer, Rowe, who says Art had so little, and\\nnature so large a share in what Shakespeare did, that for\\naught I know the performances of his youth were the\\nbest.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0173.jp2"}, "172": {"fulltext": "144 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nBut Ben Jonson shows a keener discernment:\\nYet must I not give Nature all thy Art,\\nMy gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part.\\nFor a good Poet s made, as well as born.\\nAnd such wert thou.\\nAn examination of his works in their chronological order\\nshows that his genius underwent a process of development,\\nand was perfected by study, knowledge, and experience.\\nHis earliest dramas, such as Henry VL, Love s\\nLabor s Lost, Comedy of Errors, and The Two Gen-\\ntlemen of Verona, all of which were composed prior to\\n1 591, are lacking in the freedom and perfection of his\\nlater works. They show the influence of the contemporary\\nstage, and declamation often takes the place of genuine\\npassion.\\nBut after this apprentice work, the poet passed into the\\nfull possession of his powers, and produced, during what\\nmay be regarded the middle period of his literary career,\\nan uninterrupted succession of masterpieces, among which\\nmay be mentioned The Merchant of Venice, A Mid-\\nsummer Night s Dream, Romeo and Juliet, As You\\nLike It, Hamlet, and most of his English historical\\nplays. All these appeared before 1600. With increasing\\nage and experience, the poet passed on to profounder\\nthemes. It was during this final stage of his development\\nthat he gave King Lear, Macbeth, and Othello to\\nthe world, the two former in 1605 and the latter in 1609.\\nBut in one particular his earlier and his later dramas are\\nalike. The personality of the poet is concealed in them\\nall. He enters into sympathy with all his creations, but he\\ncan be identified with none. He is greater than any one", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0174.jp2"}, "173": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0175.jp2"}, "174": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0176.jp2"}, "175": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 45\\nof them, or than all of them combined for it is in him\\nthat they all originated and find their unity. Thus to\\ncreate and project into the world a large number of inde-\\npendent beings is an evidence of the highest genius.\\nByron could not do it for through all his works, whatever\\nmay be the names of his characters, we recognize the law-\\nless, passionate, misanthropic poet himself. The same is\\ntrue of Goethe and Victor Hugo, who embody in their\\nworks their didactic principles or their idealized experi-\\nence. Among the world s great writers, Shakespeare and\\nHomer almost alone are hidden behind their works Hke a\\nmysterious presence.\\nShakespeare possessed a profound knowledge of his art.\\nThis is obvious both from Hamlet s famous instruction to\\nthe players and from the structure of his dramas. He\\nhas been criticised for discarding classic rules but the\\ncensure is most unjust. Genius has an inalienable right to\\nprescribe its own creative forms. He laid aside the ham-\\npering models of antiquity in order to give the world a new\\nand richer dramatic form. The simple action of the ancient\\ndrama could not be adjusted to his great and complex\\nthemes. His works possess the one great essential char-\\nacteristic that of organic unity. After Shakespeare had\\ncompleted his apprenticeship, his dramas embody an almost\\nfaultless structure; they are not pieces of elaborate and\\nelegant patchwork, but of consistent and regular growth.\\nWe can but wonder at the range and power of that intel-\\nlect which grasped a multitude of characters, brought them\\ninto contact, carried them through a great variety of inci-\\ndents, portrayed with justice and splendor the profoundest\\nfeelings and thoughts, traced their reciprocal influence, and", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0177.jp2"}, "176": {"fulltext": "146 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nsymmetrically conducted the whole to a striking and pre-\\ndetermined conclusion.\\nIt scarcely detracts from his greatness that, instead of\\ninventing his themes and characters, he borrowed them\\nfrom history and literature. His borrowing was not slav-\\nish and weak. Whatever materials he appropriated from\\nothers, he reshaped and glorified and he is no more to be\\ncensured than is the sculptor who takes from the stone-\\ncutter the rough marble that he afterward transforms\\ninto a Venus de Medici or a Greek Slave. His works con-\\nstitute a world in themselves and with its inhabitants\\nwith Hamlet, Othello, Macbeth, Portia, Shylock, and many\\nothers we are as well acquainted as with the personages\\nof history.\\nWhen Chatham was once asked where he had learned\\nhis English history, he replied, In the plays of Shake-\\nspeare. Nowhere else could he have better caught its\\nspirit. In the historical plays of the great dramatist, the\\nmediaeval history of England is made to live again not\\nonly its leading events are brought before us, but also its\\nleading actors, animated by their moving passions. If\\nthe poet s work, says Green, echoes sometimes our\\nnational prejudice and unfairness of temper, it is instinct\\nthroughout with our English humor, with our English love\\nof hard fighting, our English faith in goodness, and in the\\ndoom that waits upon triumphant evil, our English pity\\nfor the fallen.\\nThe poet exhibits an almost perfect acquaintance with\\nhuman nature. His creations are not personified moral\\nqualities or individualized passions, but real persons.\\nThey are beings of flesh and blood but by their relations", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0178.jp2"}, "177": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 47\\nand reciprocal influence they are lifted above the dull and\\ncommonplace. Shakespeare removes the veil that hides\\nfrom common vision the awful significance of human in-\\nfluence, and reveals it in its subtle workings and mighty\\nresults. He enables us to see, beneath a placid or rippling\\nsurface, the deep currents that move society.\\nHis types of noble men and women Orlando, Hora-\\ntio, Antonio, Portia, Hermione, Desdemona, and many\\nothers are almost matchless. He furnishes us a gallery\\nof exalted manhood and womanhood. Their goodness is\\nbeautiful in its ease, simplicity, and naturalness. The\\ngood they do, in doing it, pays itself if they do you a\\nkindness, they are not at all solicitous to have you know\\n*and remember it; if sufferings and hardships overtake\\nthem, if wounds and bruises be their portion, they never\\ngrumble or repine at it. And the women, to quote\\nHudson further, are strong, tender, and sweet, yet never\\nwithout a sufficient infusion of brisk natural acid and\\npiquancy to keep their sweetness from palling on the\\ntaste they are full of fresh, healthy sentiment, but never\\nat all touched with sentimentality.\\nAs his mode of expression was always suited to his\\nchanging characters, he exemplified every quality of style\\nin turn. His faculties and taste were so exquisitely\\nadjusted, that his manner was always in keeping with his\\nmatter. He drew with equal facility on the Saxon and\\nthe Latin elements of our language, and attained with\\nboth the same incomparable results. He had a prodigious\\nfaculty for language, surpassing in copiousness every other\\nEnglish writer. The only term that adequately describes\\nhis manner of writing is Shakespearian a term that com-", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0179.jp2"}, "178": {"fulltext": "148 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nprehends a great deal. It includes vividness of imagina-\\ntion, depth of thought, delicacy of feeling, carefulness of\\nobservation, discernment of hidden relations, and what-\\never else may be necessary to clothe thought in expres-\\nsions of supreme fitness and beauty.\\nFar above every other writer of ancient or modern times\\nShakespeare voices, in its manifold life, the human soul.\\nThis fact makes his works a storehouse of riches, to which\\nwe constantly turn. Are we oppressed at times with a\\nmorbid feeling of the emptiness of life How perfectly\\nShakespeare voices our sentiment\\nLife s but a walking shadow, a poor player\\nThat struts and frets his hour upon the stage,\\nAnd then is heard no more it is a tale\\nTold by an idiot, full of sound and fury,\\nSignifying nothing.\\nOr again\\nWe are such stuff\\nAs dreams are made of, and our little life\\nIs rounded with a sleep.\\nIf we recognize the fact that somehow there is a myste-\\nrious power controlling our lives, we are told\\nThere s a divinity that shapes our ends,\\nRough-hew them how we will.\\nBut, as our consciousness tells us, we are not wholly at\\nthe mercy of this overruling agency\\nOur remedies oft in ourselves do lie,\\nWhich we ascribe to heaven the fated sky\\nGives us free scope, only doth backward push\\nOur slow designs when we ourselves are dull.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0180.jp2"}, "179": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1 49\\nWhat beautiful expression he gives to the trite observa-\\ntion that contentment is better than riches\\nTis better to be lowly born,\\nAnd range with humble livers in content,\\nThan to be perk d up in glistering grief.\\nAnd wear a golden sorrow.\\nWhat clear expression he gives to the indistinct feeling\\nof beauty that sometimes comes to us in the presence of\\nsome object in nature He surprises its secret, and\\nembodies it in an imperishable word\\nHow sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank\\nBut why multiply illustrations, when they are found on\\nalmost every page of his works\\nAnd what shall be said of Shakespeare s influence He\\nso entirely eclipsed his contemporary dramatists that their\\nworks are scarcely read. There are passages in his works\\nthat we could wish omitted panderings to the corrupt\\ntaste of the time. But they are exceptional, and at heart\\nthe poet s sympathy, as in the case of every truly great\\nman, is on the side of virtue. His writings, as a whole,\\ncarry with them the uplifting power of high thought, noble\\nfeeling, and worthy deeds.\\nMany of his thoughts and characters pass into the intel-\\nlectual life of each succeeding generation. Hamlet,\\nThe Merchant of Venice, and Romeo and Juliet are\\nread by nearly every young student; and to have read\\nany one of Shakespeare s masterpieces intelligently marks\\nan epoch in the intellectual life of youth. But his dramas\\ngive pleasure not alone to the young. With minds en-\\nriched by experience and study, we turn, in the midst of", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0181.jp2"}, "180": {"fulltext": "150 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nactive life, to his works for recreation and instruction. He\\nbut appears greater with our enlarged capacity to appre-\\nciate him. If he gathered about him a circle of cultivated\\nfriends and admirers in his life, he has shown himself still\\nstronger in death. The circle has widened until it com-\\nprehends many lands.\\nHe has exerted a noteworthy influence upon foreign\\nliterature, especially in Germany and France. Translated\\ninto the languages of these countries, his works have been\\nextensively studied, admired, and imitated. He is lectured\\non in German universities, and some of his ablest critics\\nhave been German and French. He has stimulated a\\nprodigious amount of intellectual activity and his biog-\\nraphers, editors, translators, critics, and commentators are\\nnumbered by the hundred. No other English author has\\ngathered about him such an array of scholarship and liter-\\nary ability.\\nThere is no abatement of interest in his works. Socie-\\nties are organized for their systematic study, and periodicals\\nare devoted to their illustration. There is no likelihood\\nthat he will ever be superseded; as he wrote in the proud\\npresentiment of genius,\\nNot marble, nor the gilded monuments\\nOf princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme.\\nFuture ages will turn to his works as a mirror of nature,\\nand find in them the most perfect expression of their deep-\\nest and most precious experience. It is safe to say that\\nhis productions are as imperishable as the English lan-\\nguage or the English race.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0182.jp2"}, "181": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0183.jp2"}, "182": {"fulltext": "1", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0184.jp2"}, "183": {"fulltext": "ADDENDUM ON THE DRAMA. 151\\nADDENDUM ON THE DRAMA.\\nThe essential thing in the drama is action. It is thus distinguished\\nfrom the epic, which narrates heroic deeds, and from the lyric which\\nexpresses intense emotion. The drama presents a series of grave or\\nhumorous incidents that terminate in a striking result. Its ultimate\\nbasis is found in our natural love of imitation and hence it is not\\nrestricted to any race or age or country. India and China, Greece and\\nRome, no less than modern nations, delighted in dramatic exhibitions,\\nand produced a notable dramatic literature. Obviously the drama is\\nnot inherently evil and if it has often been condemned by pagan sage\\nand Christian teacher, the condemnation has been evoked by the\\ndegeneracy and dissoluteness of the stage.\\nThe principal species of the drama are tragedy and comedy. Trag-\\nedy represents an important and serious action, which usually has a\\nfatal termination it appeals to the earnest side of our nature, and moves\\nour deepest feelings. Comedy consists in a representation of light and\\namusing incidents it exhibits the foibles of individuals, the manners\\nof society, and the humorous accidents of life. The laws of the drama\\nare substantially the same for both tragedy and comedy. There must\\nbe unity in the dramatic action. This requires that the separate inci-\\ndents contribute in some way to the development of the plot and to the\\nfinal result or denoiieineiit A collection of disconnected scenes, no\\nmatter how interesting in themselves, would not make a drama.\\nIn addition to unity of action, which is obviously the indispensable\\nlaw of the drama, two other unities have been prescribed from a very\\nearly day. The one is unity of time, which requires that the action fall\\nwithin the limits of a single day the other is unity of place, which re-\\nquires that the action occur in the same locality. While evidently arti-\\nficial and dispensable, these latter unities conduce to clear and concise\\ntreatment. Among the Greeks and Romans the three unities, as they\\nare called, were strictly observed they have been followed also by the\\nFrench drama but the English stage, breaking away in the days of\\nElizabeth from every artificial restriction, recognizes unity of action\\nalone.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0185.jp2"}, "184": {"fulltext": "152\\nENGLISH LITERATURE,\\nThe action of the drama should exhibit movement or progress, in\\nwhich several stages may be clearly marked. The introduciioii ac-\\nquaints us, more or less fully, with the subject to be treated. It usually\\nbrings before us some of the leading characters, and shows us the cir-\\ncumstances in which they are placed. After the introduction follows\\ngrowth or developjnent of the action toward the climax. From the\\ndays of Aristotle, this part of the drama has been called the tying of\\nthe knot, and it needs to be managed with great care. If the develop-\\nment is too slow, the interest lags if too rapid, the climax appears tame.\\nThe interest of a drama depends in large measure upon the success-\\nful arrangement of the climax^ or the point in wliich the opposing forces\\nimmediately confront each other. In our best dramas it usually occurs\\nnear the middle of the piece. From this point the action proceeds to\\nthe close or denouement. The knot is untied the complications in\\nwhich the leading characters have become involved are either happily\\nremoved, or lead to an inevitable catastrophe. Avoiding every digres-\\nsion, the action should go forward rapidly, in order not to weary the\\npatience and dissipate the interest of the spectator. The dmoue?nefit\\nshould not be dependent upon some foreign element introduced at the\\nlast moment, but should spring naturally from the antecedent action.\\nIn addition to the five principal parts just indicated introduction,\\nrise or tying of the knot, climax, fall or untying of the knot, and de-\\niioiie))ient there are three other elements or factors that need to be\\ndistinguished. The first is the cause or exciting impulse of the dra-\\nmatic action, and naturally stands between the introduction and the rise\\nor tying of the knot. The second is the cause or tragic impulse of the\\ncounteraction, and stands between the climax and the fall or untying\\nof the knot. The third is the cause or impulse that holds the action in\\ncheck for a moment before reaching its final issue, and stands between\\nthe fall and the denouejuent. The structure and eight component parts\\nof a complete drama may be represented in a diagram as follows\\nA Introduction.\\nB Rise or tying of knot.\\nC Climax.\\nD Fall or untying of knot.\\nDenouement.\\na Cause or exciting impulse.\\nb Tragic impulse.\\nc Impulse of last suspense.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0186.jp2"}, "185": {"fulltext": "CIVIL WAR OR PURITAN PERIOD.\\nPRINCIPAL WRITERS.\\nProse. Jeremy Taylor (1613-1667). Theologian and preacher.\\nAuthor of Liberty of Prophesying (1647), Holy Living and Dying\\n(1651), etc.\\nEdward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon (1608-1674). Statesman and\\nauthor of The History of the Rebellion (1702).\\nRichard Baxter (161 5-1 691). Theologian and preacher. Author\\nof The Saints Everlasting Rest (1649), -A Call to the Uncon-\\nverted (1657), The Reformed Pastor, and a hundred and fifty\\nother works.\\nIzaak Walton (1593-1683). Author of The Complete Angler,\\nand several excellent biographies, including that of Hooker.\\nSir Thomas Browne (1605-1682). Author of Religio Medici\\n(1643), Vulgar Errors (1646), and Urn Burial (1658).\\nPoetry. Edmund Waller (1605-1687). One of the principal\\nmetaphysical or artificial poets.\\nAbraham Cowley (1618-1667). The most popular poet of his time.\\nAuthor of The Mistress, a collection of love verses, Davideis, an\\nepic on David, The Late Civil War, etc.\\nFrancis Quarles (1592-1644). Author of Divine Emblems (1635),\\nmoral and religious poems, very popular in his day. Milton was forced\\nto wait, said Walpole, till the world had done admiring Quarles.\\nGeorge Herbert (1593-1632). Anglican clergyman, who wrote\\nThe Temple (1633), a collection of ecclesiastical poems, some of\\nwhich are still held in favor.\\nRobert Herrick (1591-1674). Anglican clergyman, who wrote\\nAnacreontic poems hardly in keeping with his profession,\\nGREAT REPRESENTATIVE WRITERS.\\nJohn Milton. John Bunyan.\\n153", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0187.jp2"}, "186": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0188.jp2"}, "187": {"fulltext": "IV.\\nCIVIL WAR OR PURITAN PERIOD.\\n(1625-1660.)\\nPuritan ascendency Civil and religious conflicts Policy of Charles I.\\nPetition of Right Bad advisers of king House of Commons\\nIndependents Voluntary exiles Civil War The commonwealth\\nPuritanism unfavorable to literature Decay of drama Jeremy\\nTaylor Earl of Clarendon Baxter Izaak Walton Meta-\\nphysical Poets Johnson s criticism Edmund Waller Abra-\\nham Cowley John Milton John Bunyan.\\nThough short, this period is worthy of careful study.\\nIn a brief space of time, the dominant spirit of England\\nwas completely changed. The Puritan element gained the\\nascendency and stamped its character on the representa-\\ntive literature of the time. The religious element of life\\ncame into greater prominence thought was turned from\\nthis world to the world to come, and in place of the com-\\nmon interests of humanity literature was largely occupied\\nwith religious truth. This difference, as compared with\\nthe preceding era, is clearly reflected in the great repre-\\nsentative writers. Spenser, Bacon, and Shakespeare reflect\\nlarge and secular phases of the spacious times of Elizabeth\\nMilton and Bunyan, in their greatest works, set forth the\\ntheological beliefs and religious experience of Christendom.\\nThis period is characterized by a great civil and religious\\nconflict. The antagonistic elements that had long existed\\nin England were brought into armed conflict for suprem-\\n155", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0189.jp2"}, "188": {"fulltext": "156 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nacy. It was a time of unrest, controversy, persecution,\\nand civil war a condition of things highly unfavorable\\nto literature. But for two great writers, who with vast\\ngenius voiced the deeper truths and aspirations of Puritan\\nEngland, it would be regarded as a period of literary\\ndecadence, not unlike that following the age of Chaucer.\\nAs it is, the largeness, variety, and freedom of the First\\nCreative Period are obviously lacking.\\nCharles I. ascended the throne in 1625 and moulded\\nhis policy according to high notions of the divine right of\\nkings. He sought to establish an absolute monarchy.\\nHe assumed a haughty tone in addressing the Commons,\\ntelling them to remember that parliaments were alto-\\ngether in his power for their calling, sitting, or dissolution,\\nand that, therefore, as he should find the fruits of them\\ngood or evil, they were to be, or not to be.\\nTwo Parliaments were convened in rapid succession,\\nbut showed themselves unyielding to the royal will. When\\nthe king demanded supplies, the Commons clamored for\\nredress of grievances. In each case the king dissolved\\nParliament and proceeded to levy taxes in defiance of\\nlaw. Resistance to the royal demands led to immediate\\nimprisonment and in order to exercise his tyranny the\\nbetter, he billeted soldiers among the people, and in some\\nplaces established martial law.\\nA third Parliament was called in 1629. Finding it still\\nmore determined in resisting his arbitrary and tyrannical\\nrule, the king resolved upon a change of tactics. After\\nmany attempted evasions, he was at last brought to\\nratify the Petition of Right, the second great charter of\\nEnglish liberty, which bound him not to levy taxes", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0190.jp2"}, "189": {"fulltext": "CIVIL WAR OR PURITAN PERIOD. 157\\nwithout the consent of \u00e2\u0080\u00a2Parliament, not to imprison any\\nperson except by due legal process, and not to govern by\\nmartial law.\\nThe rejoicing of the Commons over this victory was of\\nshort duration. The king was by nature insincere and\\nfalse, and, on principle, did not feel himself bound to keep\\nfaith with the people. After collecting the supplies that\\nhad been granted him, he violated the solemn pledge of\\nthe Petition of Right, and dissolved Parliament with every\\nmark of royal displeasure. For the following eleven years\\nno Parliament was called together, and the king ruled as\\na despot.\\nThroughout the whole course of his usurpation the king\\nwas surrounded by bad advisers. Among them was the\\nDuke of Buckingham, whom the Commons considered\\nthe grievance of grievances Laud, Archbishop of\\nCanterbury, who hated the Puritans more than he hated\\nthe Catholics and Thomas Wentworth, Earl Strafford,\\nwho had been won from the side of Parliament by bribes\\nand honors, and to whom Mr. Pym suggestively remarked,\\nYou have left us, but we will never leave you while your\\nhead is upon your shoulders. In natural sympathy with\\nthe king were the nobility of the realm and the prelates of\\nthe Established Church. With the supremacy of the\\ncrown, the position of the nobility would be guaranteed\\nagainst republican tendencies. Since Charles I. was a\\nzealous Episcopalian, the bishops had everything to gain\\nfrom his absolutism. They warmly defended the divine\\nright of kings. Here, then, we find two influential classes\\nwhich were bound to the king by common sympathies and\\ncommon interests. They were called Royalists.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0191.jp2"}, "190": {"fulltext": "158 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThe opposition, as we have seen, centred in the House\\nof Commons, who represented the great middle class of\\nEngland. They stood for constitutional government.\\nFor the most part they were Independents in religion and\\nlooked upon the usages and episcopal organization of the\\nAnglican Church as savoring of Romanism. They made\\nthe individual congregation the source of authority, and,\\nrejecting all human traditions, appealed to the Scriptures\\nalone as the standard of faith and practice. Their form of\\nworship was simple.\\nIn emancipating men from the arbitrary rule of an ex-\\nternal authority in religion, their principles were favorable\\nto human dignity and freedom. Though persecuted to a\\ngreater or less degree during the reigns of Elizabeth and\\nJames I., the Independents had increased. Their trials\\nhad made them an earnest and determined body. In con-\\ntrast with what they regarded the formalism and worldli-\\nness of the Established Church, many of them had gone\\nto the opposite extreme of ascetic rigor. They denounced\\nevery kind of amusement, excluded music and art from the\\nchurches, acquired a stern solemnity of countenance, and\\naffected a Scriptural style of speech.\\nTo escape the annoyances and persecutions to which\\nthey were exposed in England, thousands had voluntarily\\nexiled themselves in Holland, or braved the trials and dan-\\ngers of the New World. It will be readily understood that\\nmen of this character men of deep conviction, of high\\nconceptions of individual liberty, and of fearless courage\\ncould not be friendly to royal despotism. When placed\\nin power in the House of Commons, they were stubborn\\nand unyielding in their defence of constitutional liberty.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0192.jp2"}, "191": {"fulltext": "CIVIL WAR OR PURITAN PERIOD. 1 59\\nThey could not be deceived by promises nor terrified by\\nthreats. Thus constitutional government in the Commons\\nwas arrayed against despotism in the king.\\nAt last the resources of peace were exhausted, and in\\n1642 an appeal was made to arms. It is not necessary to\\nfollow the course of the Civil War. The gay Cavaliers\\nabout the king were no match for the serious Puritans.\\nI raised such men as had the fear of God before them,\\nsaid Cromwell, and made some conscience of what they\\ndid, and from that day forward, I must say to you, they\\nwere never beaten, and whenever they engaged against\\nthe enemy, they beat continually.\\nIn 1649 Charles I. was brought to the block. England\\nbecame a commonwealth, and with Cromwell as Lord Pro-\\ntector occupied a commanding position among European\\nnations. The Protector was everywhere feared. He sub-\\njugated Ireland from Spain he demanded the right of\\nfree trade with the West Indies he suppressed the Bar-\\nbary pirates of the Mediterranean he forced the pope\\nand Catholic rulers to cease their persecutions of Protes-\\ntants. In treating with foreign sovereigns, he insisted on\\nreceiving the formal honors paid to the proudest monarchs\\nof Europe. He returned two letters to Louis XIV. of\\nFrance because they were not, as he thought, properly\\naddressed. What, exclaimed the French king to Cardi-\\nnal Mazarin, must I call this base fellow Our dear\\nBrother Oliver Aye, replied the crafty minister,\\nor your father, if it will gain your ends or you will have\\nhim at the gates of Paris\\nHowever conducive to the political grandeur of England,\\nthe triumph of Puritanism was not favorable to the cause", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0193.jp2"}, "192": {"fulltext": "l6o ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nof letters. In the austere atmosphere of Puritanic piety\\nthere is little encouragement for art and literature.\\nThe aesthetic sentiment is suppressed by ascetic views of\\nlife. The literary impulse finds expression only in devo-\\ntional manuals, unadorned history, or severely logical the-\\nology. The idea of the beautiful is wanting, says Taine,\\nand what is literature without it t The natural expression\\nof the heart s emotions is proscribed, and what is a litera-\\nture without it They abolished as impious the free stage\\nand the rich poesy which the Renaissance had brought\\nthem. They rejected as profane the ornate style and the\\nample eloquence which had been established around them\\nby the imitation of antiquity and of Italy.\\nThe decline of the drama became inevitable. Puritanism\\nset itself not only against the theatre, but also against every\\nother form of worldly amusement. The very pastimes of\\nthe world, says Green, had to conform themselves to the\\nlaw of God. There were no more races, no more bull-bait-\\nings, no more cock-fighting, no more dances under the May-\\npole. Christmas had to pass without its junketings, or\\nmummers, or mince-pies. Prynne, a distinguished Puri-\\ntan lawyer, denounced players as the ministers of Satan,\\nand theatres as the Devil s chapels. In the presence of\\nthis hostile spirit, the splendid Elizabethan drama lan-\\nguished and died.\\nThere are several minor writers of this period who, on\\naccount of works of permanent interest, deserve some\\nattention. Jeremy Taylor was a distinguished clergy-\\nman of the Established Church, who in 1642, by his\\nMajesty s command, published an able treatise in de-\\nfence of the Episcopacy. His Liberty of Prophesy-", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0194.jp2"}, "193": {"fulltext": "CIVIL WAR OR PURITAN PERIOD. l6l\\ning was a plea for tolerance, and pointed out the\\nunre^onableness of prescribing to other men s faith, and\\nthe iniquity of persecuting differing opinion. In 1650\\nappeared his Holy Living, and the year following\\nhis Holy Dying, the two together making a devo-\\ntional volume of great excellence. Throughout the\\nconflicts of this period he was a zealous Royalist.\\nEdward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, by the express\\ncommand of Charles I., wrote a History of the Re-\\nbellion. He wrote as an apologist of the RoyaHst\\nparty but in spite of its partisan spirit, the History\\nof the Rebellion is a work of permanent value. The\\nauthor was a man of ability and a prominent actor in\\nthe events he describes. He takes us behind the scenes,\\nexhibiting the hidden springs of events. He strips his\\ncontemporaries of the prestige of birth and place, and\\nportrays them as they appeared in the intimacy of per-\\nsonal intercourse. And with all this, there are agree-\\nable touches of humor, many sage observations, and a\\ncourtly dignity of manner.\\nRichard Baxter, first an Anglican and afterward a\\nNonconformist minister, was an assiduous student, and\\nwrote no fewer than one hundred and fifty works.\\nBoswell once asked the great Dr. Johnson which of\\nBaxter s works he recommended to be read. Read any\\nof them, shouted the old Churchman, they are all\\ngood. This statement is rather strong; but two of\\nBaxter s works, his Saints Everlasting Rest and The\\nReformed Pastor, have become religious classics, though\\nless read now than formerly. In 1875 a statue was erected\\nby Churchmen and Nonconformists, as the inscription\\nM", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0195.jp2"}, "194": {"fulltext": "1 62 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nsays, to Baxter at Kidderminster the scene of his labors\\nfor nineteen years. On that occasion Dean Stanley\\ndelivered an address, in which he classed the great\\nNonconformist preacher among the men, not of words\\nalone like Milton, nor of deeds alone like Cromwell, but\\nof words and deeds together.\\nOne of the most pleasing literary figures of this period\\nis Izaak Walton. After accumulating a small fortune\\nas a linen-draper, he retired from business in 1543, and\\nbecame, as has been said, pontijix piscatoriim. For forty\\nyears he swayed his fishing-rod as a sceptre over a\\ncircle of congenial and admiring friends. His Com-\\nplete Angler, or the Contemplative Man s Recreation,\\npublished in 1653, is a delightful book, which has\\npassed through many editions both in England and this\\ncountry.\\nWith the exception of Milton, this period produced no\\ngreat poet. The large, creative spirit of the preceding\\nera, which reflected the grandeur and power of the Eng-\\nlish people, was succeeded by a narrow, artificial spirit,\\nwhich devoted its energies to the turning of small com-\\npliments and the tracing of remote resemblances. Since\\nthe time of Dr. Johnson, it has been customary to desig-\\nnate these writers, among whom we may mention Waller,\\nCowley, Quarles, Herrick, Suckling, and Carew, as meta-\\nphysical poets.\\nThe term artificial or fantastic would perhaps be more\\naccurately descriptive of their character. They were men\\nof learning, but took too much pains to show it. They\\nwrote not from the emotions of the heart, but from the\\ndeliberate choice of the will and hence they succeeded\\n1\\nJ", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0196.jp2"}, "195": {"fulltext": "CIVIL WAR OR PURITAN PERIOD, 1 63\\nnot in giving voice to nature, but only in pleasing a false\\nand artificial taste. They abound in far fetched and vio-\\nlent figures and though we may be surprised at their\\ningenuity in discovering remote resemblances, we smile at\\nthe incongruous result. Thus Carew sings\\nAsk me no more, whither do stray\\nThe golden atoms of the day\\nFor in pure love, heaven did prepare\\nThose powders to enrich your hair.\\nAsk me no more, whither doth haste\\nThe nightingale, when May is past\\nFor in your sweet dividing throat\\nShe winters, and keeps warm her note.\\nAsk me no more, where those stars light,\\nThat downwards fall in dead of night\\nFor in your eyes they sit, and there\\nFixed become, as in their sphere.\\nIt is not in such laborious conceits that nature finds a\\nvoice. Speaking of these poets, Dr. Johnson says Their\\nattempts were always analytic they broke every image\\ninto fragments and could no more represent, by their\\nslender conceits and labored particularities, the prospects\\nof nature, or the Scenes of life, than he who dissects the\\nsunbeam with a prism can exhibit the wide effulgence of\\na summer noon. What they wanted, however, of the\\nsublime, they endeavored to supply by hyperbole; their\\namplification had no limits they left not only reason but\\nfancy behind them; and produced combinations of con-\\nfused magnificence that not only could not be credited,\\nbut could not be imagined.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0197.jp2"}, "196": {"fulltext": "164 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nYet a happy trifle was now and then hit upon. At rare\\nintervals nature seems to have broken through the casing\\nof artificiaUty. Francis Quarles gives forcible poetic ex-\\npansion to Job s prayer, Oh that thou wouldest hide me\\nin the grave, that thou wouldest keep me secret, until thy\\nwrath be past\\nAh, whither shall I fly What path untrod\\nShall I seek out to escape the flaming rod\\nOf my off ended, of my angry God?\\nThere is a light, careless spontaneity about the little\\nsong of Herrick s beginning\\nGather the rose-buds while ye may,\\nOld Time is still a flying\\nAnd this same flower that smiles to-day\\nTo-morrow will be dying/\\nThe two leading representatives of the metaphysical\\nor artificial school were Edmund Waller and Abraham\\nCowley. The former was an orator as well as poet, and\\nserved many times in Parliament. He delighted the\\nHouse with his unfailing wit but if Bishop Burnet is\\nright, He was only concerned to say that which should\\nmake him applauded; he never laid the business of the\\nHouse to heart, being a vain and empty, though a witty,\\nman.\\nWaller lived on terms of famiUar intercourse with the\\nProtector, and celebrated him in a Panegyric, which\\nranks among the best of his longer poems\\nWhile with a strong and yet a gentle hand,\\nYou bridle faction and our hearts command,\\nProtect us from ourselves, and from the foe.\\nMake us unite, and make us conquer too.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0198.jp2"}, "197": {"fulltext": "CIVIL WAR OR PURITAN PERIOD. 1 65\\nAt the restoration of Charles II. he showed himself\\na pliant courtier, and indited some verses to the king\\nUpon his Majesty s Happy Return. He was received\\nwith favor at court. The king called the poet s atten-\\ntion to the fact that the lines addressed to himself were\\ninferior to those addressed to Cromwell. Ah, Sire,\\nreplied the quick-witted author, poets succeed better in\\nfiction than in truth.\\nThough he wrote serious poems, especially in his old\\nage, he was happiest in the lighter vein. He did not\\nthink deeply on great subjects, but expended his efforts\\nin maintaining a superficial elegance. Among his songs\\nthere is one sweeter than all the rest, beginning\\nGo, lovely rose\\nTell her that wastes her time and me,\\nThat now she knows\\nWhen I resemble her to thee,\\nHow sweet and fair she seems to be.\\nContemporary criticism is not always just. During the\\nlifetime of the two poets the fame of CowFey entirely\\neclipsed that of Milton. Posterity has reversed this\\nestimate and we may now ask with Pope\\nWho now reads Cowley? If he pleases yet,\\nHis moral pleases, not his pointed wit\\nForgot his epic, nay, Pindaric art.\\nBut the neglect into which he has fallen seems not\\nwholly deserved. He was the most popular poet of his\\nday and this popularity may be taken as indicative of\\nat least some degree of merit. While speaking of the\\ngeneral neglect of Cowley s works. Pope adds\\nBut still I love the language of his heart.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0199.jp2"}, "198": {"fulltext": "1 66 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nCowper said that he studied, prized, and wished that\\nhe had known ingenious Cowley. And Charles Lamb\\nconfesses that Cowley was very dear, though now out of\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2fashion. His somewhat voluminous poems contain many\\npassages that are well worth perusal. The Davideis\\nis an epic poem on the troubles of David. The gem of\\nthe poem is a lyric, which the enamoured David sings as\\na serenade beneath the window of Michal, the daughter of\\nSaul\\nAwake, awake, my lyre\\nAnd tell thy silent masters humble tale,\\nIn sounds that may prevail\\nSounds that gentle thoughts inspire,\\nThough so exalted she,\\nAnd I so lowly be.\\nTell her such different notes make all thy harmony.\\nAfter his death in 1667 he was buried with great pomp\\nin Westminster Abbey, where he lies between Spenser and\\nChaucer. Though the king had done little for the poet,\\nhe was not ignorant of the latter s worth and when the\\nnews of his death reached the court, his Majesty declared\\nthat Cowley had not left a better man behind him in\\nEngland.\\nc", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0200.jp2"}, "199": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0201.jp2"}, "200": {"fulltext": "r//vdPovL..... Ao-es Av//\\n3 First /offt i. /}ofr/i.^iu7/itSutyy.\\n1 ///^Next///. 1Lfrsty:in /n^t// f/w Last.\\nA7 7/z^//(v./ThirJ/^ /::v//.//A y{^;w^^^\\nEngraved by R. White. Early English portrait.\\n^pr\u00c2\u00a3n. fVlvUvn^", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0202.jp2"}, "201": {"fulltext": "JOHN MILTON, 1 6/\\nJOHN MILTON.\\nIn the period under consideration, Milton stands out in\\nalmost solitary grandeur. Intimately associated with the\\npolitical and religious movements of his time, and identi-\\nfied in principle and in life with the Puritan party, he still\\nrises grandly above the narrowness of his age. In one\\nwork at least he rivals the great achievements of the age\\nof Elizabeth. He deserves to be recognized as the sub-\\n\u00c2\u00bblimest poet of all times. The far-fetched conceit of Dry-\\nden, whose genuine appreciation of Milton at a time when\\nthe Puritan poet was not in fashion is much to his credit,\\nhardly surpasses the truth\\nThree poets, in three distant ages born,\\nGreece, Italy, and England did adorn.\\nThe first in loftiness of thought surpassed\\nThe next in majesty in both the last.\\nThe force of nature could no further go\\nTo make a third, she joined the other two.\\nJohn Milton was born in London, Dec. 9, 1608. His\\nfather, a man of the highest integrity, had been disin-\\nherited for espousing the Protestant cause but, taking\\nup the profession of a scrivener, he acquired the means of\\ngiving his son a liberal education. His mother, a woman\\nof most virtuous character, was especially distinguished\\nfor her neighborhood charities. The private tutor of\\nMilton was Thomas Young, a Puritan minister, who was", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0203.jp2"}, "202": {"fulltext": "1 68 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nafterward forced to leave the kingdom on account of his\\nreligious opinions. Milton showed extraordinary aptness\\nin learning; and when in 1624 he was sent to Cambridge,\\nhe was master of several languages and had read exten-\\nsively in philosophy and literature. He remained at the\\nuniversity seven years and took the usual degrees.\\nThe education of his time did not, however, meet with\\nhis approval, and in several of his works he has criticised\\nthe subjects and methods of study with astonishing inde-\\npendence and wisdom. His educational writings deserv-\\nedly rank him as one of the notable educational reformers\\nof modern times. And for the usual method of teaching\\narts, he says, I deem it to be an old error of universities,\\nnot yet well recovered from the scholastic grossness of\\nbarbarous ages, that, instead of beginning with arts most\\neasy (and those be such as are most obvious to the senses),\\nthey present their young, unmatriculated novices at first\\ncoming with the most intellective abstractions of logic and\\nmetaphysics so that they, having but newly left those\\ngrammatic flats and shallows, where they stuck unreason-\\nably long to learn a few words with lamentable construc-\\ntion, and now on the sudden transported under another\\nclimate, to be tossed and turmoiled with their unballasted\\nwits in fathomless and unquiet depths of controversy, do for\\nthe most part grow into hatred and contempt of learning,\\nmocked and deluded all this while with, ragged notions and\\nbabblements, while they expected delightful and worthy\\nknowledge.\\nMilton was designed by his parents for the church.\\nBut as he approached maturity, he perceived that his re-\\nligious convictions and ecclesiastical independence would", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0204.jp2"}, "203": {"fulltext": "JOHN MILTON, 1 69\\nnot allow him to enter the Established Church. We here\\nsee, perhaps, the effects of his Puritan training. Speaking\\nof this matter he says Coming to some maturity of years\\nand perceiving what tyranny had invaded the church, that\\nhe who would take orders must subscribe slave, and take\\nan oath withal, which unless he took with a conscience\\nthat he would relish, he must either perjure or split his\\nfaith, I thought better to prefer a blameless silence before\\nthe sacred office of speaking, bought and begun with ser-\\nvitude and forswearing.\\nIn 1632 he left the university, amidst the regrets of the\\nfellows of his college, and retired to his father s house at\\nHorton in Buckinghamshire. Here he spent five years in\\nlaborious study, in the course of which he perused all the\\nGreek and Latin writers of the classic period. He also\\nstudied ItaHan and was accustomed, as he tells us, to\\nfeast with avidity and delight on Dante and Petrarch.\\nTo use his own expression, he was letting his wings grow.\\nIn a letter to a friend he gives us some interesting par-\\nticulars in regard to his studies and habits of life. You\\nwell know, he says, that I am naturally slow in writing\\nand averse to write. It is also in my favor that your\\nmethod of study is such as to admit of frequent interrup-\\ntions, in which you visit your friends, write letters, or go\\nabroad but it is my way to suffer no impediment, no\\nlove of ease, no avocation whatever, to chill the ardor,\\nto break the continuity, or divert the completion of my\\nliterary pursuits.\\nIt was during this period of studious retirement that\\nhe produced several of his choicest poems, among which\\nare Comus, L Allegro, and II Penseroso. Comus", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0205.jp2"}, "204": {"fulltext": "I/O ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nis the most perfect mask in any language. But in none\\nof the works of Milton, says Macaulay, is his peculiar\\nmanner more happily displayed than in Allegro and the\\nPenseroso. It is impossible to conceive that the mech-\\nanism of language can be brought to a more exquisite\\ndegree of perfection. These poems differ from others\\nas attar of roses differs from ordinary rose water, the close-\\npacked essence from the thin diluted mixture. They are\\nindeed not so much poems as collections of hints, from\\neach of which the reader is to make a poem for himself.\\nEvery epithet is a text for a stanza.\\nAt the time these two poems were written, they stood\\nas the high-water mark of English poetry. In their sphere\\nthey have never been excelled. In spite of little inaccu-\\nracies of description (for Milton was too much in love with\\nbooks to be a close observer of nature), we find nowhere\\nelse such an exquisite delineation of country life and coun-\\ntry scenes. These idyls are the more remarkable because\\ntheir light, joyous spirit stands in strong contrast with the\\nelevation, dignity, and austerity of his other poems.\\nTake, for example, this picture from a description of\\nmorning scenes\\nWhile the cock, with lively din,\\nScatters the rear of darkness thin\\nAnd to the stack, or the barn door,\\nStoutly struts his dames before.\\nOr this picture from a description of evening\\nOft, on a plat of rising ground,\\nI hear the far-off curfew sound\\nOver some wide-watered shore,\\nSwinging slow with sullen roar.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0206.jp2"}, "205": {"fulltext": "JOHN MILTON. I /I\\nLycidas, published in 1637, is a pastoral elegy, com-\\nmemorating the death of Edward King, a young college\\nfriend, who was drowned in the Irish Sea. It is one of\\nthe noblest elegies in our language, full of subdued, classic\\nbeauty. It contains a celebrated passage denouncing the\\nmercenary character of the Anglican prelates. The pass-\\ning of Lycidas from death to celestial life is likened to the\\ncourse of the sun\\nSo sinks the day star in the ocean-bed,\\nAnd yet anon repairs his drooping head,\\nAnd tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore\\nFlames in the forehead of the morning sky.\\nAt length Milton began to tire of his country life and\\nto long for the pleasures and benefits of travel. In 1638\\nhe left England for a tour on the Continent. At Paris\\nhe met Grotius, one of the most learned men of his age,\\nwho resided at the French capital as ambassador from\\nthe Queen of Sweden. After a few days he went to\\nItaly and visited all the principal cities. He was every-\\nwhere cordially received by men of learning, who were\\nnot slow to recognize his genius. In his travels he pre-\\nserved an admirable and courageous independence. Even\\nunder the shadow of St. Peter s, he made no effort to\\nconceal his religious opinions. It was a rule, he says,\\nwhich I laid down to myself in those places, never to\\nbe the first to begin any conversation on religion but if\\nany question were put to me concerning my faith, to\\ndeclare it without any reserve or fear. For about\\nthe space of two months I again openly defended, as\\nI had done before, the reformed religion in the very\\nmetropolis of Popery.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0207.jp2"}, "206": {"fulltext": "1/2 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThe Italians, who were frugal in their praise of men\\nfrom beyond the Alps, received some of Milton s pro-\\nductions with marks of high appreciation. This had the\\neffect to confirm his opinion of his own power and to\\nstimulate his hope of achieving something worthy of\\nremembrance. I began thus to assent both to them,\\nand divers of my friends at home, he tells us in an\\ninteresting passage, and not less to an inward prompt-\\ning, which now grew daily upon me, that, by labor and\\nintense study (which I take to be my portion in this\\nlife), I might perhaps leave something so written to\\nafter-times as they should not willingly let die. He\\nwas about to extend his travels into Sicily and Greece\\nwhen the news of the civil commotions in England caused\\nhim to change his purpose; for I thought it base, he\\nsays, to be travelling for amusement abroad, while my\\nfellow-citizens were fighting for liberty at home.\\nNot being called to serve the state in any official\\ncapacity on his arrival in London, he rented a spacious\\nhouse in which he conducted a private school. He\\nsought to exemplify, in some measure at least, his edu-\\ncational theories. He held that languages should be\\nstudied for the sake of the literary treasures they con-\\ntain. He accordingly laid but little stress on minute\\nverbal drill and sought to acquaint his pupils with what\\nwas best in classic literature. A long list of Latin and\\nGreek authors was read. Besides, he attached much\\nimportance to religious instruction and on Sunday he\\ndictated to his pupils an outline of Protestant theology.\\nBut this school has called forth some unfavorable\\ncriticism upon its founder. Dr. Johnson, who delights", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0208.jp2"}, "207": {"fulltext": "JOHN MILTON. 1 73\\nin severe reflections, calls attention to the contrast be-\\ntween the lofty sentiment and small performance of the\\npoet, who, when he reaches the scene of action, vapors\\naway his patriotism in a private boarding-school. The\\nanimadversion is unjust. Though modestly laboring as\\na teacher, Milton s talents and learning were sincerely\\ndevoted to the service of his country. He has himself\\ngiven us what ought to be a satisfactory explanation.\\nAvoiding the labors of the camp, he says, in which\\nany robust soldier would have surpassed me, I betook\\nmyself to those weapons which I could wield with most\\neffect and I conceived that I was acting wisely when\\nI thus brought my better and more valuable faculties,\\nthose which constituted my principal strength and con-\\nsequence, to the assistance of my country and her hon-\\norable cause.\\nIn 1641 he published his first work in prose, Of\\nReformation in England, and the Causes that hitherto\\nHave Hindered It. It is an attack upon the bishops\\nand the Established Church. The same year appeared\\ntwo other controversial works, Of Prelatical Episco-\\npacy, which he maintains is without warrant from apos-\\ntolic times, and The Reason of Church Government,\\nwhich is an argument against prelacy. With these works\\nMilton threw himself into the bitter controversies of the\\nage. It was a matter, not of choice, but of duty. He\\nfelt called to add the weight of his learning and elo-\\nquence to the side of the Puritans, who were perhaps\\ninferior to their prelatical opponents in scholarship. He\\ntells us himself that he was not disposed to this man-\\nner of writing, wherein knowing myself inferior to my-", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0209.jp2"}, "208": {"fulltext": "1/4 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nself, led by the genial power of nature to ^another task,\\nI have the use, as I may account it, but of my left hand.\\nIn 1643, in his thirty-fifth year, Milton married Mary\\nPowell, daughter of a justice of the peace in Oxfordshire.\\nShe was of Royalist family and had been brought up in\\nthe leisure and gayety of affluence. It is not strange,\\ntherefore, that she found the meagre fare and studious\\nhabits of her husband s home distasteful. After a month\\nin this scholastic abode, she made a visit to her father s\\nhome, from which she refused to return. Her husband s\\nletters were left unanswered, and his messenger was dis-\\nmissed with contempt. Milton felt this breach of duty on\\nher part very keenly, and resolved to repudiate his wife\\non the ground of disobedience and desertion.\\nIn support of his course, he published in 1644 a treatise\\nentitled, The Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce, and\\nthe year following his Tetrachordon, or Expositions on the\\nFour Chief Places of Scripture which treat of Marriage.\\nHe maintains that indisposition, unfitness, or contrariety\\nof mind, arising from a cause in nature unchangeable, hin-\\ndering, and likely to hinder the main benefits of conjugal\\nsociety, which are solace and peace, is a justifiable ground\\nof divorce. As might be expected, he argued with great\\nskill; but he was smarting at the time under a sense of\\npersonal humiliation and wrong, and it may be doubted\\nwhether he himself afterward approved of his extreme\\nposition. His views were bitterly assailed.\\nAt last a reconciliation between him and his wife was\\neffected. When one day she suddenly appeared before\\nhim, and on her knees begged his forgiveness, his gener-\\nous impulses were deeply moved. He received her into his", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0210.jp2"}, "209": {"fulltext": "JOHN MILTON. 1 75\\nhome again, and ever afterward treated her with affection\\nand when her family, because of their RoyaUst sympathies,\\nfell into distress, he generously extended his protection to\\nher father and brothers. The incidents of this recon-\\nciliation are supposed to have given rise to a beautiful\\npassage in Paradise Lost, where Eve is described as\\nhumbly falling in tears and disordered tresses at the feet\\nof Adam, and suing for pardon and peace. And then\\nShe ended, weeping; and her lowly plight,\\nImmovable till peace obtained from fault\\nAcknowledged and deplored, in Adam wrought\\nCommiseration soon his heart relented\\nTowards her, his life so late, and sole delight.\\nNow at his feet submissive in distress\\nCreature so fair his reconcilement seeking.\\nHis counsel, whom she had displeased, his aid.\\nThis same year, 1644, saw the publication of two other\\ntreatises that will long survive. The one is the Are-\\nopagitica, or Speech for the Liberty of Unlicensed Print-\\ning, the other is his Tractate on Education. In the\\nlatter he has set forth in brief compass his educational\\nviews and made many suggestions for the improvement\\nof the current system. It has been pronounced Utopian\\nin character, but it is to be noted that many educational\\nreforms of recent years have been in the line indicated by\\nMilton.\\nHis definition of education, which has been often quoted,\\npresents a beautiful ideal. I call a complete and gener-\\nous education, he says, that which fits a man to perform\\njustly, skilfully, and magnanimously all the offices, both\\nprivate and public, of peace and war. But he does not", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0211.jp2"}, "210": {"fulltext": "^1\\n176 .ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ncontemplate practical efficiency in the secular duties of\\nlife as the sole end of education. Its highest aim is char-\\nacter. The end of learning is, he says, to repair the\\nruins of our first parents by regaining to know God aright,\\nand out of that knowledge to love him, to imitate him, to\\nbe like him, as we may the nearest by possessing our souls\\nof true virtue, which being united to the heavenly grace of\\nfaith makes up the highest perfection.\\nLanguages are to be studied in order to learn the useful\\nthings embodied in the literatures of those peoples that\\nhave made the highest attainments in wisdom. And\\nthough a linguist should pride himself to have all the\\ntongues that Babel cleft the world into, yet if he have not\\nstudied the solid things in them, as well as the words and\\nlexicons, he were nothing so much to be esteemed a learned\\nman as any yeoman or tradesman competently wise^in his\\nmother dialect only.\\nHe held that the subjects studied and the tasks imposed\\nshould be wisely adapted to the learner s age and prog-\\nress and he strongly denounces the preposterous exac-\\ntion which forces the empty wits of children to compose\\nthemes, verses, and orations, which are the acts of ripest\\njudgment and the final work of a head filled by long read-\\ning and observing with elegant maxims and copious inven-\\ntion. The outline of studies he proposes includes nearly\\nthe whole circuit of learning a curriculum of heroic\\nmould. Milton himself seems to have been conscious of\\nthe vastness of his plan; and he concludes the Tractate\\nwith the remark, That this is not a bow for every man to\\nshoot in that counts himself a teacher, but will require\\nsinews almost equal to those which Homer gave Ulysses.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0212.jp2"}, "211": {"fulltext": "JOHN MILTON. 1 7/\\nMilton continued to live in private, giving his life to\\ninstructing his pupils and to discussing questions relating\\nto the public weal. In 1649, two weeks after the execu-\\ntion of Charles I., he published his Tenure of Kings and\\nMagistrates, in which he undertook to prove that it is\\nlawful, and has been held so in all ages, for any who have\\nthe power, to call to account a tyrant or wicked king, and,\\nafter due conviction, to depose and put him to death.\\nThis treatise marked a turning-point in his career. The\\nCouncil of State of the new commonwealth, pleased with\\nhis courage and republicanism, called him to the secre-\\ntaryship for foreign tongues. It became his duty to pre-\\npare the Latin letters which were addressed by the\\nCouncil to foreign princes. Later he served as Crom-\\nwell s Latin Secretary an office he held throughout the\\nProtectorate.\\nHis literary and controversial activity, however, did not\\ncease in his official life. His Eikonoklastes, or Image-\\nbreaker, was written in 1649, to counteract the influence of\\nEikon Basilike, or Royal Image, a book that had an\\nimmense circulation and tended to create a reaction in\\npublic sentiment in favor of the monarchy. A still more\\nimportant work was his Latin Pro Populo Anglicano\\nDefensio, which was written in reply to a treatise by\\nSalmasius, a scholar of Leyden, in which an effort was\\nmade to vindicate the memory of Charles I. and to bring\\nreproach upon the commonwealth. In spite of failing\\nvision and the warning of his physicians, Milton threw\\nhimself with great ardor into his task, and in 165 1 pub-\\nlished his Defensio, one of the most masterly contro-\\nversial works ever written. He practically annihilated his", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0213.jp2"}, "212": {"fulltext": "178 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nopponent. The commonwealth, it was said, owed its\\nstanding in Europe to Cromwell s battles and Milton s\\nbooks.\\nDuring the Protectorate Milton s life was uneventful.\\nHe bore his blindness, which had now become total, with\\nheroic fortitude, upheld by a beautiful faith, to which he\\ngave expression in a sonnet On his Blindness\\nGod doth not need\\nEither man s work, or his own gifts who best\\nBear his mild yoke, they serve him best his state\\nIs kingly thousands at his bidding speed,\\nAnd post o^ er land and ocean without rest\\nThey also serve who only stand and wait.\\nAt the Restoration, though specially named for punish-\\nment, he somehow escaped the scaffold. His life, how-\\never, was for some years one of solitude and dejection.\\nHis own feelings are put into the mouth of his Samson\\nNow blind, disheartened, shamed, dishonored, quelled,\\nTo what can I be useful? Wherein serve\\nMy nation, and the work from heaven imposed.\\nBut to sit idle on the household hearth,\\nA burdensome drone, to visitants a gaze,\\nOr pitied object.\\nTo add to his distress, his three daughters, whose rear-\\ning had been somewhat neglected, failed to prove a com-\\nfort to their father in his sore afflictions. They treated\\nhim with disrespect, sold his books by stealth, and rebelled\\nagainst the drudgery of reading to him. Under these\\ncircumstances it is hardly to be wondered at that he\\nallowed himself to be persuaded (his second wife having", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0214.jp2"}, "213": {"fulltext": "JOHN MILTON. 1/9\\ndied eight years before) into contracting a third marriage\\na union that greatly added to the comfort and happi-\\nness of his last years.\\nBut in all this period of trial, Milton had the solace of a\\nnoble task. He was slowly elaborating his Paradise\\nLost, in which he realized the dream of his youth. Its\\nmain theme is indicated in the opening lines\\nOf man s first disobedience, and the fruit\\nOf that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste\\nBrought death into the world, and all our woe.\\nWith loss of Eden, till one greater Man\\nRestore us, and regain the blissful seat.\\nSing, heavenly Muse, that on the secret top\\nOf Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire\\nThat shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed,\\nIn the beginning, how the heavens and earth\\nRose out of chaos.\\nBut the poem must be read before its grandeur can be\\nappreciated. It is one of the world s great epics and in\\nmajesty of plan and subUmity of treatment it surpasses\\nthem all. The Eternal Spirit, which he invokes, seems to\\nhave touched his Hps with hallowed fire. The splendors\\nof heaven, the horrors of hell, and the beauties of Paradise\\nare depicted with matchless power. The beings of the un-\\nseen world angels and demons exercise before us their\\nmighty agency and in the council chambers of heaven\\nwe hear the words of the Almighty. The poem compre-\\nhends the universe, sets forth the truth of divine govern-\\nment, and exhibits life in its eternal significance a poem\\nthat rises above the petty incidents of earth with monu-\\nmental splendor. It met with appreciation from the start.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0215.jp2"}, "214": {"fulltext": "l8o ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nWith a clear recognition of its worth, Dryden said, This\\nman cuts us^ all out, and the ancients too. Milton s\\nmodest house became a pilgrim s shrine, and men from\\nevery rank, not only from his native land, but also from\\nabroad, came to pay him homage.\\nMilton s literary activity continued to the last, and en-\\nriched our literature with two other noble productions,\\nParadise Regained and Samson Agonistes. The\\nformer may be regarded as a sequel to Paradise Lost\\nthe latter is the most powerful drama in our language aftdr\\nthe Greek model. The poet, unconsciously perhaps, iden-\\ntified himself with his Samson, and gave utterance to the\\nprofoundest emotions which had been awakened by the\\nmighty conflicts and sorrows of his own life.\\nHe died Nov. 8, 1674. He was a man of heroic mould.\\nIn his solitary grandeur only one man of his age deserves\\nto be placed beside him the great Protector, Oliver\\nCromwell. His greatness was austere. In his life he had\\nno intimate and tender companionships and now our feel-\\ning toward him is admiration rather than love. His char-\\nacter was without blemish, his aspirations pure and lofty,\\nhis courage undaunted, his intellectual vigor and power\\nalmost without parallel. But he was conscious of his\\ngreatness, and, finding ample resources within himself, he\\ndid not seek human sympathy. Wordsworth has spoken\\ntruly,\\nThy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart.\\nLike his own Paradise Lost, he appears, with his\\nTitanic proportions and independent loneliness, as the\\nmost impressive figure in English literature.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0216.jp2"}, "215": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0217.jp2"}, "216": {"fulltext": "Engraved by G. Zobel.\\n(A^t^*", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0218.jp2"}, "217": {"fulltext": "JOHN BUNYAN. l8l\\nJOHN BUNYAN.\\nIn scholarly culture never was a writer less fitted for\\nauthorship than Bunyan. He sprang from a very humble\\norigin; his school training was exceedingly elementary;\\nhis associates were uneducated people his reading was\\nalmost exclusively confined to three or four religious books.\\nYet, in spite of this meagre outfit in literary culture, he\\nwrote a book that has become a classic. It is the greatest\\nallegory ever written, and in graphic power of portraiture\\nit is scarcely inferior to the creations of Shakespeare.\\nWhat is the secret of this achievement t It is to be found,\\nfirst, in the divine gift of genius, and, second, in the ex-\\ntraordinary depth of his varied religious experience. He\\nwrote directly from the fulness of knowledge which he had\\ngained through years of spiritual conflict.\\nIn Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners, we\\nhave Bunyan s autobiography. As the title indicates, it is\\nchiefly occupied with his religious trials and triumphs. In\\ncomparison with the supreme interest of religion, his Puri-\\ntanic spirit deems the outward circumstances of life as lit-\\ntle better than vanity. He was born at Elstow, a village\\nnear Bedford, in 1628. His father was a mender of pots\\nand kettles a trade to which he was himself brought up.\\nAt school he learned to read and write but to my\\nshame, he says, I confess I did soon lose that little I\\nlearnt, even almost utterly.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0219.jp2"}, "218": {"fulltext": "182 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nIn childhood and youth he was singularly sensitive in\\nmatters of religion. Either in his home or at school the\\ndoctrines of Puritan theology had been impressed upon\\nhim. He believed himself the chief of sinners and has\\ndrawn a very dark picture of his youthful life. Though\\nhe probably exaggerated the degree of his wickedness, as\\nsome of his biographers have asserted, yet his particular\\nstatements form a grievous indictment. He had few\\nequals, he tells us, in cursing, swearing, lying, and blas-\\npheming the holy name of God. I was the very ring-\\nleader of all the youth that kept me company, in all manner\\nof vice and ungodliness. Yet, in this vicious course of\\nlife, he was not thoroughly hardened. His conscience was\\ncontinually troubling him by day, and frightful visions of\\nevil spirits haunted him by night. When he discovered\\nwickedness in those who professed godliness, it made him\\ntremble. Throughout this youthful period, in spite of his\\niterated self-reproach, we discern the workings of an ab-\\nnormally sensitive conscience, and of a restless, powerful\\nimagination.\\nIn speaking of this early period of his life, he notes with\\ngratitude several special providences. He was twice saved\\nfrom drowning, and was once preserved from the bite of\\nan adder. In the Civil War be joined the Parliamentary\\narmy, and on one occasion, as he thought, narrowly escaped\\ndeath. When I was a soldier, to give his own account\\nof the incident, I, with others, was drawn out to go to\\nsuch a place to besiege it; but when I was just ready to\\ngo, one of the company desired to go in my room to which,\\nwhen I had consented, he took my place and coming to\\nthe siege, as he stood sentinel, he was shot in the head", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0220.jp2"}, "219": {"fulltext": "JOHN BUNYAN. 1 83\\nwith a musket bullet and died. These he called judg-\\nments mixed with mercy.\\nHe married a pious woman whose only dowry was The\\nPlain Man s Pathway to Heaven and The Practice of\\nPiety. This, it must be confessed, was a slim outfit for\\nhousekeeping but otherwise, he tells us, they did not have\\nso much household stuff as a dish or a spoon. They\\nsometimes read together in these devotional works. They\\ndid beget within me, he continues, some desires to re-\\nform my vicious life, and fall in very eagerly with the reli-\\ngion of the times to wit, to go to church twice a day, and\\nthat too with the foremost and there very devotedly both\\nsay and sing, as others did, yet retaining my wicked life.\\nBut he soon fell into a state of despair, believing that it\\nwas too late for him to repent and be forgiven. He re-\\nsolved to go on in sin, and studied what forms of evil might\\nyet be indulged in that he might taste the sweetness of\\nit. This continued for some weeks, when the severe re-\\nproof of a woman, herself a loose and ungodly wretch,\\nput him to shame. From that time forward he gave up\\nthe ugly habit of swearing, and to his surprise (though not\\nto that of decent people) he found that he could, without\\nit, speak better, and with more pleasantness than ever\\nbefore. He began to read the Scriptures, especially the\\nhistorical portions, with interest and his effort to keep its\\ncommandments led to an outward reformation of his life.\\nHis neighbors marvelled at the change in his conduct and\\ntook pains, both to his face and behind his back, to com-\\nmend him as an honest and godly man.\\nWhile thus striving to live blamelessly in the eyes of\\nthose about him, he was still troubled. The conversation", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0221.jp2"}, "220": {"fulltext": "1 84 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nof some pious women led him to realize that there was a\\nspiritual experience a peace and joy in God of which\\nhe was still ignorant. He found difficulty in understand-\\ning and exercising faith. Besides, he was greatly dis-\\ntressed over the doctrine of election. He was continually\\nasking himself How can you tell that you are elected\\nAnd what if you should not be. How then.^ He longed\\nfor conversion. Gold could it have been gotten for\\ngold, what would I have given for it Had I had a whole\\nworld, it had all gone ten thousand times over for this,\\nthat my soul might have been in a converted state.\\nIn his distress Bunyan sought counsel of the Rev. Mr.\\nGifford of Bedford, who performed for him the office of\\nEvangelist. He at last obtained a satisfying view of\\nthe love of God. And with that, he tells us, my heart\\nwas filled full of comfort and hope, and now I could believe\\nthat my sins would be forgiven me yea, I was now so\\ntaken with the love and mercy of God that I remember I\\ncould not tell how to contain till I got home I thought I\\ncould have spoken of his love, and have told of his mercy\\nto me, even to the very crows that sat upon the ploughed\\nlands before me, had they been capable to have under-\\nstood me.\\nBut his spiritual trials were by no means at an end. He\\nhad to fight with Apollyon to pass through the Valley of\\nthe Shadow of Death. Doubts assailed him temptations\\nto blasphemy beset him he felt an almost irresistible im-\\npulse to commit the sin against the Holy Ghost; he looked\\nupon himself as a second Judas. No other soul was ever\\nmore tormented. Yet at last he was loosed from his\\nafflictions and irons his temptations fled away and", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0222.jp2"}, "221": {"fulltext": "JOHN BUNYAN. 1 85\\nhenceforth he was able to Hve in sight of the Celestial\\nCity.\\nHe united with the Baptist congregation at Bedford.\\nAfter a time his gifts as a speaker were discovered, and\\nhe was set apart as a preacher. He entered upon his\\noffice with great humility and it was only after hundreds\\nhad flocked to hear him, and many had turned from sin to\\nrighteousness, that he became firmly established in his\\nvocation. He always spoke from the depths of his own\\nconviction and because his religious experience had been\\nextremely varied and profound, he spoke with unusual\\nspiritual power. He often felt, to use his own words, as\\nif an angel of God had stood at his back to encourage\\nhim. Yet his path was not smooth. He was opposed by\\nthe established clergy but instead of returning railing for\\nrailing, he sought a more exquisite vengeance by convert-\\ning as many of their carnal professors as possible. He\\nwas vilely slandered but instead of being troubled and\\ncast down, he comforted himself with the words, Blessed\\nare ye when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and\\nsay all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake.\\nRejoice, and be exceeding glad, for great is your reward\\nin heaven.\\nThe sermons of Bunyan, a number of which have been\\npreserved, are in keeping with the general style of preach-\\ning then in vogue. Compared with sermons of the pres-\\nent day, they are tediously long. They are designed to be\\ncomprehensive in treatment and therefore, instead of\\nleaving something to the intelligence of the hearer, they\\nabound in the most obvious commonplaces. There is\\nscarcely any end to the divisions and subdivisions. They", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0223.jp2"}, "222": {"fulltext": "1 86 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nare more concerned with thought than style; and instead\\nof rhetorical grace, we find only simplicity and directness.\\nTheir remarkable effectiveness was due to the intellectual\\nvigor and moving earnestness of the speaker a fact that\\nemphasizes for us the importance of the personal element\\nin public discourse.\\nAfter preaching five years with great success, he entered\\non a long period of tribulation. Charles II. had ascended\\nthe throne, and the Act of Uniformity, which had been\\nsuspended during the commonwealth, was again revived.\\nThe Dissenters chapels were closed, and on Sundays the\\npeople were required to be present in the parish church.\\nThe Bedford Baptists refused to obey and their church\\nbeing closed, Bunyan continued to preach to them either\\nin the woods or in private houses. But the officers of the\\nlaw were on the watch and it was not long till he was\\narrested on the charge of devilishly and perniciously ab-\\nstaining from coming to church to hear divine service, and\\nof upholding unlawful meetings and conventicles. The\\njudges were disposed to be lenient with him but as he\\nuncompromisingly refused to promise that he would ab-\\nstain from preaching, he was, in 1660, cast into Bedford\\njail, where he remained for the next twelve years.\\nIn this affair we see his moral earnestness. He pre-\\nferred imprisonment, banishment, or even death itself to\\na sacrifice of principle. He might have escaped had he\\nchosen to do so but under the circumstances he felt\\nthat flight would have been cowardice. In the words of\\nFroude, He was the first Nonconformist who had been\\nmarked for arrest. If he flinched after he had been sin-\\ngled out by name, the whole body of his congregation", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0224.jp2"}, "223": {"fulltext": "JOHN BUNYAN. 1 8/\\nwould be discouraged. His devotion to his family ren-\\ndered his imprisonment a still greater trial. The parting\\nwith my wife and poor children, he said, hath often\\nbeen to me, in this place, as the pulling the flesh from my\\nbones and that not only because I am somewhat too fond\\nof these mercies, but also because I should have often\\nbrought to my mind the many hardships, miseries, and\\nwants that my poor family was likewise to meet with;\\nespecially my poor blind child, who lay nearer my heart\\nthan all I had beside.\\nHis treatment in the jail has been a matter of dispute.\\nA seventeenth-century jail was at the best a very unde-\\nsirable place of abode. At times he was closely confined\\nbut for the most part, it seems, he was allowed consid-\\nerable freedom. For a brief space he was even permitted\\nto visit his family. Not being able to carry on his trade\\nas tinker, he learned to make tags for boot-laces as a\\nmeans of supporting his family.\\nBut how little do we understand, in many cases, what is\\nbest for us The imprisonment of Bunyan developed his\\nspiritual insight and resulted in his monumental allegory,\\nThe Pilgrim s Progress. It was written at odd mo-\\nments during his confinement, with no other books of ref-\\nerence than the Bible and Fox s Book of Martyrs. The\\nlatter gave him some knowledge of history, and the former\\nis a literature in itself the rarest and richest in all de-\\npartments of thought or imagination which exists. There\\nis a reference to his prison, strangely free from bitterness,\\nin the opening sentence As I walked through the wil-\\nderness of this world, I Hghted on a certain place where\\nwas a den, and laid me down in that place to sleep and", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0225.jp2"}, "224": {"fulltext": "1 88 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nas I slept I dreamed a dream. The work was not planned\\nin advance, but grew under his hand, as he tells us in his\\nintroductory apology\\nWhen at the first I took my pen in hand\\nThus for to write, I did not understand\\nThat I at all should make a little book\\nIn such a mode nay, I had undertook\\nTo make another which, when almost done,\\nBefore I was aware, I this begun.\\nThe Pilgrim s Progress describes a journey from the\\nCity of Destruction to the New Jerusalem in other words,\\nit sets forth the sorrows, joys, and final triumph of a Chris-\\ntian life It is Bunyan s own experience in allegory. His\\nfaith and experience were back of it and it stands, as\\nCarlyle has remarked, the shadow of what, to its author,\\nwas an awful fact. Its descriptions are remarkably vivid\\nits characters are sharply defined and what gives it per-\\nennial interest is its fidelity to life. Every earnest nature,\\nno matter what may be the creed, there finds, more or less\\nfully, its own experience. Who has not crossed the\\nSlough of Despond t Who has not felt the burden of\\nunworthiness, climbed the hill of Difficulty, and been shut\\nup in Doubting Castle Who has not also rested in the\\nDelectable Mountains, or reached for moments, all too\\nbrief, the Land of Beulah\\nSome of the scenes in The Pilgrim s Progress are real-\\nistic pictures of Bunyan s times. The trial of Christian\\nand Faithful in Vanity Fair is an unexaggerated repro-\\nduction of the judicial proceedings in England during the\\nreign of Charles II. It contains touches from Bunyan s\\nown trial. The hard, worldly-minded characters, with\\nI", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0226.jp2"}, "225": {"fulltext": "JOHN BUN VAN. 1 89\\nwhich the book is filled, are types from contemporary life\\nmen whom Bunyan had actually met. This fact gives the\\nbook a historic interest and value that are not generally\\nunderstood.\\nThe Pilgrim s Progress gradually made its way into\\npopularity. In the course of a dozen years after its first ap-\\npearance in 1678, it passed through many editions and was\\nwidely known not only on the Continent, but also in the\\nEnglish colonies of America. Since that time no other\\nbook, except the EngHsh Bible, has been so widely circu-\\nlated. Not long after its first appearance, its authorship was\\nquestioned. There were some who denied that the igno-\\nrant tinker could have written it. To silence these gain-\\nsayers, Bunyan put forth the second part of the book, in\\nwhich the pilgrimage of Christian s wife and children is\\ndescribed. There is doubtless comfort in the thought that\\nthey were not left behind but Bunyan had at first worked\\nthe vein so thoroughly that the second part is necessarily\\nlacking in freshness and interest. It was published in\\n1684.\\nBunyan continued to work the rich vein he had discov-\\nered. His next work was the Holy War, which takes\\nvery high rank as an allegory. If The Pilgrim s Prog-\\nress did not exist, says Macaulay, the Holy War\\nwould be the best allegory that ever was written. It may\\nnot unjustly be described as a prose Paradise Lost and\\nParadise Regained in a single work. It treats the same\\nsubject in very much the same way. It describes the con-\\nflict between Shaddai and Diabolus for the possession of\\nthe metropolis of the world, the fair and delicate town\\ncalled Mansoul. It is sacred history the creation of", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0227.jp2"}, "226": {"fulltext": "1 90 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nman, the fall, redemption, and the establishment of the\\nkingdom of heaven in the form of allegory.\\nIn the Holy War Bunyan turned to good account\\nhis experience as a soldier, and many of the scenes are\\nvividly conceived. The subject, however, does not lend\\nitself readily to allegorical treatment, inasmuch as it lacks\\na definite dramatic conclusion. Notwithstanding the re-\\ndemption of Mansoul, somehow Diabolonians still\\ndwell within the walls and disturb the victory. No doubt\\nthere will sometime be a satisfactory denouement to the\\ntragic conflict, but it has not yet become a reality.\\nAs a counterpart to Christian s pilgrimage, Bunyan has\\nportrayed The Life and Death of Mr. Badman. He\\ndrew, as before, upon his observation and experience.\\nYea, he exclaims, I think I may truly say that to the\\nbest of my remembrance all the things that here I dis-\\ncourse of, I mean as to matter of fact, have been acted\\nupon the stage of the world, even many times before my\\neyes. The evil habits of Mr. Badman in his youth are\\nprecisely those which Bunyan ascribes to himself in his\\nspiritual autobiography. The Life and Death of Mr.\\nBadman is a realistic character sketch, which leads\\nthrough Defoe to the great school of Enghsh novels.\\nMuch has been written of Bunyan s style. It has been\\nextravagantly lauded and contemptuously depreciated.\\nJudged from an artificial literary point of view, he can\\nhardly be said to have a style at all. He disdains the\\nartifices of rhetoric. Deeply in earnest, he tells his story\\nin a simple, direct, and often colloquial way. Yet, in its\\nunadorned simplicity, it often rises to a high degree of\\nbeauty and force. He aimed, not at show, but effect.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0228.jp2"}, "227": {"fulltext": "JOHN BUN VAN. I9I\\nWords easy to be understood do often hit the mark, he\\nsays in defence of his homely diction, when high and\\nlearned ones do only pierce the air. He also that speaks\\nto the weakest, may make the learned understand him\\nwhen he that striveth to be high is not only for the most\\npart understood but of a sort, but also many times is\\nneither understood by them nor by himself.\\nBunyan had the power of clear and vivid conception.\\nWhether he describes a character, a landscape, or an\\nevent, it can be clearly imaged to the mind. This fact\\ngives a picturesque quality to his work. His books lend\\nthemselves readily to illustration, and there are few\\npages in The Pilgrim s Progress or the Holy War\\nthat would not furnish subjects for an artist. Taken\\naltogether, Macaulay s well-known commendation of Bun-\\nyan s style, though it has been censured for its charac-\\nteristic slapdash extravagance, is not very far out of the\\nway The vocabulary is the vocabulary of the common\\npeople. There is not an expression, if we except a few\\ntechnical terms of theology, which would puzzle the rudest\\npeasant. We have observed several pages which do not\\ncontain a single word of more than two syllables. Yet no\\nwriter has said more exactly what he meant to say. For\\nmagnificence, for pathos, for vehement exhortations, for\\nsubtle disquisition, for every purpose of the poet, the\\norator, and the divine, this homely dialect, the dialect of\\nthe plain workingmen, was sufficient.\\nBut little more remains to be said of Bunyan s life.\\nHe was released from prison in 1673 and at once took\\ncharge of the Baptist congregation at Bedford as pastor.\\nHis imprisonment, his writings, and his power as a", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0229.jp2"}, "228": {"fulltext": "192 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\npreacher had made him famous throughout England.\\nHalf in jest and half in earnest, people called him Bishop\\nBunyan. Apart from his writings, his life passed un-\\neventfully in preaching and pastoral visitation. This was\\nthe happiest period of his life. In a measure it brought\\nhim compensation for his previous trials for he habitually\\ndwelt in his own Land of Beulah, Doubting Castle out\\nof sight, and the towers and minarets of Emmanuel Land\\ngrowing nearer and clearer as the days went on. He\\nfrequently preached in London and if there was but\\none day s notice, the meeting-house was crowded to over-\\nflowing. Sometimes he had to be lifted to the pulpit\\nstairs over the heads of the congregation. But his popu-\\nlarity never turned his head. When a friend once compli-\\nmented him on the sweet sermon he had just delivered,\\nhe replied, You need not remind me of that; the devil\\ntold me of it before I was out of the pulpit.\\nWhile Bunyan was intensely earnest, there is an absence\\nof fanaticism in his teaching. His imprisonment did not\\nlead him into a spirit of bitterness against the English\\ngovernment. In spite of the harshness of his beliefs, he\\ncherished a gentle and tolerant spirit. In this respect he\\nwas far in advance of his age. Contrary to the usual\\npractice of his denomination, he advocated communion\\nwith other Christians. To his mind sin was the great\\nheresy and against this, though indulgent to differences\\nof creed, he was uniformly and zealously intolerant.\\nThe last act of his life was a labor of love. He made a\\nlong journey on horseback to reconcile a father who had\\nbecome alienated from his son. He successfully accom-\\nplished his mission but on his return, he was drenched", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0230.jp2"}, "229": {"fulltext": "JOHN BUNYAN. 1 93\\nwith rain. When he reached the house of a friend in\\nLondon, he was seized by a violent fever, and in ten days\\nbreathed his last. This was in August, 1688.\\nA contemporary who knew him well thus speaks of\\nhim He appeared in countenance to be of a stern and\\nrough temper but in his conversation, mild and affable,\\nnot given to loquacity or much discourse in company,\\nunless some urgent occasion required it observing never\\nto boast of himself, or his parts, but rather seem low in\\nhis own eyes and submit himself to the judgment of\\nothers abhorring lying and swearing, being just in all that\\nlay in his power to his word; not seeming to revenge\\ninjuries, loving to reconcile differences, and make friend-\\nships with all. He had a sharp, quick eye, accomplished\\nwith an excellent discerning of persons, being of good\\njudgment and quick wit.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0231.jp2"}, "230": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0232.jp2"}, "231": {"fulltext": "FIRST CRITICAL PERIOD.\\nPRINCIPAL WRITERS.\\nDiarists. John Evelyn (1620-1706). Miscellaneous writer, but\\nchiefly remembered for his Diary.\\nSamuel Pepys (1633-1703). His Diary covers the period 1660-\\n1669, first published in 1825.\\nPhilosophers. Sir Isaac Newton (i 642-1 727). Author of sev-\\neral works, the chief of which is Principia Philosophiae Naturalis\\nMathematica (1687).\\nRobert Boyle (1627-1691). A distinguislfed member of the Royal\\nSociety the most faithful, the most patient, the most successful dis-\\nciple who carried forward the experimental philosophy of Bacon.\\nJohn Locke (1632-1704). Author of two Treatises on Govern-\\nment (1690), Thoughts Concerning Education (1693), Essay on\\nthe Human Understanding (1690), etc.\\nThomas Hobbes (i 588-1679). Author of Human Nature (1650),\\nLeviathan (1651), The Behemoth (1678).\\nTheologians. Joseph Butler (1692-1752). Bishop of Durham,\\nand author of The Analogy of Religion to the Constitution and\\nCourse of Nature (1736).\\nGilbert Burnet (1643-17 15). Bishop of Salisbury, and author of\\nthe History of the Reformation (1681), Life of Sir Matthew Hale\\n(1682), etc.\\nRalph Cudworth 161 7-1 688) Author of True Intellectual System\\nof the Universe (1678).\\nJohn Tillotson (1630-1694). Archbishop of Canterbury, author of\\nThe Rule of Faith (1666), and Sermons.\\nJeremy Collier (1650-1726). Nonconformist clergyman, and au-\\nthor of various works, of which the best known is A Short View of\\nthe Profaneness and Immorality of the Stage (1698), His vigorous\\nattacks led to a purification of the theatre.\\n195", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0233.jp2"}, "232": {"fulltext": "196 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nNovelists. Daniel Defoe (1663-1731). Voluminous author, best\\nknown for his Robinson Crusoe (1719), Moll Flanders (1721),\\nJournal of the Plague (1722), etc.\\nSamuel Richardson 1689- 1 761). First novelist of love, author of\\nPamela (1740), Clarissa Harlowe (1749), and Sir Charles\\nGrandison (1754), written to exhibit an ideal hero.\\nHenry Fielding (1707-1754). Author of Joseph Andrews (1742),\\nJonathan Wild (1743), Tom Jones (1749), Amelia (175 1), etc.\\nDramatists. William Wycherly (1640-1715). Best drama, The\\nCountry Wife (1675).\\nWilliam Congreve (1670-1729). Principal piece, Love for Love\\n(1695).\\nGeorge Farquhar (1678-1707). Most popular work, The Beaux s\\nStratagem (1707).\\nMiscellaneous Prose. Sir William Temple (1628-1699). States-\\nman, and author of Ancient and Modern Learning (1692).\\nSir Richard Steele (1671-1729). Author of The Christian Hero\\n(1701), several comedies, The Funeral, or Grief a la Mode (1702),\\nThe Tender Husband (1703), founder of the Tatler^ and distin-\\nguished essayist.\\nPoets. Samuel Butler (161 2-1680). Author of Hudibras\\n(1662- 1 678), a mock-heroic poem ridicuHng the Puritans.\\nJames Thomson (1700-1748). Author of The Seasons (1726-\\n1730), several dramas, and The Castle of Indolence (1748), a polished\\npoem in Spenserian verse.\\nEdward Young (1681-1765). Royal chaplain, and author of The\\nLove of Fame (1725-1728), a series of satires, and The Complaint,\\nor Night Thoughts (1742-1746), on which his fame chiefly rests.\\nGREAT REPRESENTATIVE WRITERS.\\nJohn Dryden. Alexander Pope.\\nJoseph Addison. Jonathan Swift.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0234.jp2"}, "233": {"fulltext": "V.\\nFIRST CRITICAL PERIOD.\\n(1660-1745.)\\nPuritan extreme Reaction French influence Natural science\\nTransition Greater toleration Deism Augustan Age Eng-\\nlish influence Social condition Woman Witchcraft Rise\\nof Methodism Reading public Clubs Periodicals Diarists,\\nEvelyn and Pepys John Locke Steele Rise of the novel\\nDefoe Richardson Fielding Samuel Butler James Thomson\\nEdward Young John Dr yden Joseph Addison Alexan-\\nder Pope Jonathan Swift.\\nThis period extends from the Restoration to the death\\nof Pope and Swift. It was ushered in by a violent\\nreaction.\\nWith all its moral earnestness and love of freedom,\\nPuritanism had degenerated into a false and forbidding\\nasceticism. It condemned many innocent pleasures. It\\nclothed morality and religion in a garb of cant. The\\nclaims of the physical and intellectual parts of man were,\\nunder the influence of a terrific theology, sacrificed to his\\nspiritual interests. All spontaneous joy and gayety were\\nbanished from life. The Puritan s steps were slow his\\nface was elongated his tone had a nasal quality. He\\ngave his children names drawn from the Scriptures and\\nshutting his eyes to the beauties of the world about him,\\nand forgetting the infinite love of God, he lived perpetu-\\nally in the shadow of divine wrath. His religion, at war\\n197", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0235.jp2"}, "234": {"fulltext": "198 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nwith nature and the gospel, degenerated into fanaticism\\nand weighed heavily upon the life of the English nation.\\nWith the Restoration, Puritanism was overthrown. The\\nRoyalist party, with its sharp contrasts to Puritan princi-\\nples, again came into power. The result in its moral\\neffects was dreadful. The stream of license, which had\\nbeen held in check for years, burst forth with fearful\\nmomentum. The reign of the flesh set in. Virtue was\\nheld to savor of Puritanism duty was thought to smack\\nof fanaticism and integrity, patriotism, and honor were\\nregarded as mere devices for self-aggrandizement. Under\\nthe lead of Charles II., himself a notorious libertine, the\\ncourt became a scene of shameless and almost incredible\\ndebauchery. The effect upon literature can be easily\\nimagined. It debased the moral tone of poetry and the\\ndrama to a shocking degree. As Dryden tells us in one\\nof his epilogues\\nThe poets who must live by courts, or starve,\\nWere proud so good a government to serve\\nAnd, mixing with buffoons and pimps profane,\\nTainted the stage, for some small snip of gain.\\nBut there are other respects in which the Restoration\\naffected literature. Charles II. returned to England with\\nFrench companions and French tastes. It was but natu-\\nral, therefore, that English literature should be influenced\\nby French models. It was the Augustan Age of literature\\nin France. Louis XIV., the most powerful monarch in\\nEurope, had gathered about him the best literary talent of\\nthe age. Corneille, Moliere, and Racine gave great splen-\\ndor to dramatic poetry, and Boileau developed the art of", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0236.jp2"}, "235": {"fulltext": "FIRST CRITICAL PERIOD. 1 99\\ncriticism. But the French drama, besides following classi-\\ncal models in regard to the unities, imposed the burden of\\nrhymed couplets upon dramatic composition. It was in\\nobedience to the wish of Charles that rhyme was first\\nintroduced into the English drama. Through French in-\\nfluence the course of the drama, as it had been developed\\nby the great Elizabethans, was seriously interrupted.\\nBut in respect to literary criticism, the influence of\\nFrance was more salutary. Boileau had displayed great\\ncritical acumen in estimating French authors, and had laid\\ndown correct principles by which to judge literary compo-\\nsition. The art of criticism took root in England. Dry-\\nden, whom Johnson calls the father of English criticism, sat\\nat the feet of his great French contemporary, and in his\\nnumerous prefaces exhibited admirable judgment in weigh-\\ning the productions both of ancient and modern times.\\nPope, the greatest writer of the period, likewise followed\\nFrench models. The characteristics of the new criticism,\\nwhich gradually fashioned a corresponding literature, were\\nclearness, simpHcity, and good sense.\\nThe Restoration gave a new impulse to natural science.\\nCharles II. was himself something of a chemist, and even\\nthe profligate Buckingham varied his debaucheries with\\nexperiments in his laboratory. In 1662 the Royal Society\\nwas founded, and for half a century inventions and discov-\\neries in science followed one another in rapid succession.\\nThe national observatory at Greenwich was established.\\nThe spirit of investigation showed great vigor. Halley\\nstudied the tides, comets, and terrestrial magnetism. Boyle\\nimproved the air-pump and founded experimental chemis-\\ntry. Mineralogy, zoology, and botany either had their", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0237.jp2"}, "236": {"fulltext": "200 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nbeginning or made noteworthy progress at this time. It\\nwas the age of Sir Isaac Newton.\\nBut this period was one of ferment and transition. Old\\nfaiths in politics, philosophy, and religion were being cast\\naside. Tradition and custom were summoned before the\\nbar of reason. From the moment of the Restoration,\\nsays Green, we find ourselves all at once among the\\ngreat currents of thought and activity which have gone\\non widening and deepening from that time to this. The\\nEngland around us becomes our England, an England\\nwhose chief forces are industry and science, the love of\\npopular freedom and of law an England which presses\\nsteadily forward to a larger social justice and equality, and\\nwhich tends more and more to bring every custom and tra-\\ndition, religious, intellectual, and political, to the test of\\npure reason. The belief in the divine right of kings\\nbecame a thing of the past. With the Revolution of 1688,\\nwhich placed William of Orange on the throne, the pro-\\nlonged conflict between the people and the king came to\\nan end. The executive supremacy was transferred from\\nthe crown to the House of Commons.\\nDuring the latter part of this period the three great\\nreligious parties Anglicans, Dissenters, and Roman\\nCatholics grew somewhat more tolerant. The severity\\nof the law was in a measure relaxed.\\nWithin the Church of England there arose a class of\\ndivines who, because of their tolerant views, were stigma-\\ntized as latitudinarians. Avoiding the scholasticism of\\nthe preceding age, they studied Scripture with a genial\\nspirit. The evils of strife, as well as a sense of danger\\nfrom infidelity, made them desire Christian unity, which", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0238.jp2"}, "237": {"fulltext": "FIRST CRITICAL PERIOD. 201\\nthey recognized as the normal condition of the church.\\nAmong the most distinguished of these broad church-\\nmen were Ralph Cudworth, Henry More, and John\\nTillotson.\\nA still more important movement in theology was the\\nrise of Deism, which owed its prevalence to several co-\\noperative causes. As we have seen, there was a general\\ntendency to break away from the restraints of authority\\nin every department of thought. The divisions and ani-\\nmosities of the church tended to unsettle the faith of many\\nin the teachings of Christianity. And above all, perhaps,\\nthe license of the age sought to emancipate itself from the\\nrestraints of divine law.\\nIn its progress Deism showed a rapid declension. It\\nbegan with Lord Herbert of Cherbury, who reduced reli-\\ngion to five points: i, that there is a God; 2, that he is\\nto be worshipped 3, that piety and virtue are the princi-\\npal parts of this worship 4, that men should repent and\\nforsake sin and 5, that good will be rewarded and sin\\npunished. This scheme of doctrine represents Deism at\\nits best. The writings of the deists, among whom may be\\nmentioned Hobbes, Blount, and Lord Bolingbroke, natu-\\nrally called forth many replies. The controversy, which\\nwas protracted far into the eighteenth century, was con-\\nducted with great ability on both sides. Among the de-\\nfenders of Christianity, with whom ultimately remained\\nthe victory, were Cudworth, John Locke the philosopher,\\nand Joseph Butler, the author of the famous Analogy.\\nAbout the time Queen Anne ascended the English throne\\nin 1702, English literature, under the moulding influence\\nfrom France, began to assume a more elegant form. The", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0239.jp2"}, "238": {"fulltext": "202 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nfirst half of the eighteenth century has sometimes been\\ncharacterized as the August an Age. It has been thought,\\nnot without some reason, to resemble the flourishing period\\nof Roman literature under Augustus, when Ovid, Horace,\\nCicero, and Virgil produced their immortal works. The\\nnames of Addison, Pope, and Swift are not unworthy to\\nbe placed side by side with the proudest names in the\\nliterature of Rome.\\nIn this period the political principles of the Revolution\\nbecame predominant. Absolutism gave place to constitu-\\ntional government. The Tories and the Whigs became\\nwell-marked parties and in turn succeeded to the govern-\\nment. Corrupt political methods were frequently resorted\\nto in order to gain party ascendency. Walpole boasted\\nthat every man had his price. An unselfish patriotism was\\ntoo often looked on as youthful enthusiasm, which the cool-\\nness of age would cure. Leading statesmen led impure\\nand dissipated lives.\\nYet in spite of these conditions, England attained to\\ngreat infiuence in continental affairs. Victory attended\\nher arms on the Continent under the leadership of Marl-\\nborough. The battles of Blenheim, Ramillies, Oudenarde,\\nand Malplaquet brought the power of Louis XIV. to the\\nverge of destruction. The balance of power was restored\\nto Europe. The union of England and Scotland was ef-\\nfected in 1707, and EngHsh sovereigns henceforth reigned\\nover the kingdom of S^reat Britain. The power of English\\nthought, as well as of English arms, was felt abroad.\\nBuffon found inspiration in its science Montesquieu\\nstudied the institutions of England with great care and\\nRousseau borrowed many of his thoughts from Locke.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0240.jp2"}, "239": {"fulltext": "FIRST CRITICAL PERIOD. 203\\nThe English people once more became conscious of their\\nstrength, and felt the uplifting power of great hopes and\\nsplendid purposes.\\nIn several particulars the state of society does not pre-\\nsent a pleasing picture. Education was confined to a com-\\nparatively limited circle. Addison complained that there\\nwere families in which not a single person could spell,\\nunless it be by chance the butler or one of the footmen.\\nCock-fighting was the favorite sport of schoolboys, and\\nbull-baiting twice a week deHghted the populace of Lon-\\ndon. The theatres were not yet fully redeemed from the\\nlicentiousness of the preceding period. Gambling was a\\ncommon vice and, what appears strange to us, the women\\nof the time showed a strong passion for this excitement.\\nSpeaking of Will s Coffee-house, the Tatler says: This\\nplace is very much altered since Mr. Dryden frequented it.\\nWhere you used to see songs, epigrams, and satires in the\\nhands of every one you met, you have now only a pack of\\ncards. Fashionable hours became later, and a consider-\\nable part of the night was frequently given to dissipation.\\nDrunkenness increased with the introduction of gin. The\\npolice was not able to control the lawless classes, and in\\nthe cities mobs not infrequently vented their rage in con-\\nflagration and pillage. When Sir Roger de Coverley, as\\nportrayed by Addison, went to the theatre, he armed his\\nservants with cudgels for protection.\\nWoman had not yet found her true sphere; and, in\\nwealthy or fashionable circles, her time was devoted chiefly\\nto dress, frivolity, and scandal. In the Rape of the\\nLock Pope gives us a gUmpse of conversation in court\\ncircles", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0241.jp2"}, "240": {"fulltext": "204 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nIn various talk th instructive hours they passed,\\nWho gave the ball, or paid the visit last\\nOne speaks the glory of the British queen,\\nAnd one describes a charming Indian screen\\nA third interprets motions, looks, and eyes\\nAt every word a reputation dies\\nSnuiT, or the fan, supplies each pause of chat,\\nWith singing, laughing, ogling, and all that.\\nBelief in witchcraft had not entirely passed away. In\\n171 2 a witch was condemned to death; and her prosecu-\\ntion was conducted, not by ignorant rustics, but by a\\nlearned author and an educated clergyman. It is in keep-\\ning with the belief of the time to find Sir Roger de Cover-\\nley puzzled over the character of Moll White and piously\\nadvising her to avoid all communication with the devil,\\nand never to hurt any of her neighbor s cattle. Super-\\nstition was common, and people of every class had faith in\\nomens. Religion was at a low ebb. Scepticism was ex-\\ntensively prevalent, especially among the higher classes,\\nand many of the clergy thought more of the pleasures of\\nthe chase than of the care of souls. Every one laughs,\\nsaid Montesquieu, if one talks of religion.\\nBut there is also a more favorable side to the social\\ncondition of England during this period some influences\\nthat contain the promise of a brighter day. In spite of\\nthe low state of Christianity, earnest men, like Doddridge,\\nWatts, and William Law, were not wanting to inculcate a\\ngenuine piety. The rise of Methodism under John Wesley\\nand George Whitefield exerted a salutary influence upon\\nthe religious life of England. These great preachers, im-\\npressed by the realities of sin, redemption, and eternal life,", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0242.jp2"}, "241": {"fulltext": "FIRST CRITICAL PERIOD. 20$\\nurged these truths with surpassing eloquence upon the\\nmultitudes that flocked to hear them. Before the death of\\nJohn Wesley his followers numbered a hundred thousand,\\nand the Established Church was awakened to a new zeal.\\nThe great middle class of England came mto greater\\nprominence and gradually formed a reading public. Lit-\\nerature became independent of patronage. It did not pre-\\ntend to deal with the great problems of human thought,\\nbut as a rule confined itself to criticism, satire, wit, the\\nminor morals, and the small proprieties of life. But\\nthrough French and classic influences, these subjects were\\ntreated with a lightness of touch and elegance of form that\\nhave never been surpassed.\\nThe clubs became an important feature of social life*\\nin London. Coffee-houses multiplied, till in 1708 they\\nreached the number of three thousand. They became\\ncentres for the diffusion of intelligence. Here the lead-\\ning political, literary, and social questions of the day were\\ndiscussed.\\nPeriodical publications became an important factor in\\nthe intellectual life of England. In 1714 no fewer than\\nfourteen papers were published in London. The princi-\\npal periodicals were the Tatler, Spectator^ and Giiardian,\\nwhich were conducted in a manner not only to refine the\\ntaste, but also to improve the morals. Made up of brief,\\nentertaining, and often elegant essays, and treating of\\nevery subject from epic poems to female toilets, they came\\nto be welcomed at the club-house and breakfast-table, and\\nexerted a wide and salutary influence upon the thought\\nand life of the country.\\nBefore entering upon a consideration of the great repre-", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0243.jp2"}, "242": {"fulltext": "206 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nsentative writers of this period, there are a few others that\\ndeserve mention. John Evelyn and Samuel Pepys were\\ntwo diarists, who have earned the thanks of posterity for\\nthe minute glimpses they give of the manners of the time.\\nThey both occupied high positions and their daily entries\\nfurnish us small details, not only of much interest, but of\\nhistoric value. As their diaries were not intended for pub-\\nlication, they present unvarnished and often unflattering\\nfacts. The luxury, gambling, and licentiousness of the\\ncourt of Charles II. are disclosed in the plainest terms.\\nThe following extract from Pepys, who was far from a\\nmodel character, gives an idea of the amusements of the\\ntime: Dec. 21. To Shoe Lane to see a cock-fight at\\na new pit there, a spot I never was at in my life but,\\nLord to see the strange variety of people, from parlia-\\nment men, to the poorest prentices, bakers, brewers,\\nbutchers, draymen and what not, and all these fellows\\none with another cursing and betting. I soon had enough\\nof it.\\nOne of the greatest of all English philosophers was\\nJohn Locke. He superintended the education of the Earl\\nof Shaftesbury s son an experience which developed the\\nindependent views contained in Some Thoughts Con-\\ncerning Education. His educational ideal was a sound\\nmind in a sound body, and he strongly inveighed against\\nthe unpractical character of the system then in vogue.\\nHe deservedly ranks among educational reformers. In\\n1689 he published a Letter on Toleration (afterward\\nfollowed by several others), in which he maintained that\\ncharity, meekness, and good-will toward all mankind rather\\nthan zeal for dogma and ceremonies were the true marks", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0244.jp2"}, "243": {"fulltext": "FIRST CRITICAL PERIOD. 20/\\nof Christian character. The work, however, through which\\nhe has exerted the greatest influence is his Essay Con-\\ncerning the Human .Understanding a profound treatise\\nthat marks an epoch in the history of philosophy. Its\\nobject, as explained in the introduction, was to inquire\\ninto the origin, certainty, and extent of human knowledge,\\ntogether with the grounds and degrees of belief, opinion,\\nand assent.\\nSir Richard Steele, the friend of Addison, led a some-\\nwhat wayward life. He left Oxford without taking his\\ndegree, and enlisted in the Horse Guards an impru-\\ndence that cost him an inheritance. He rose to the rank\\nof captain, but was gay, reckless, and dissipated. His\\nnaturally tender heart was constantly overcome by his\\nimperious appetites, and his life presents a series of\\nalternate repentance and dissipation. In 1701 he wrote\\nthe Christian Hero, for the purpose of impressing the\\nprinciples of virtue upon his own heart. Though it is\\nfilled with lofty sentiment, it remained without serious\\neffect upon the author s life. Then followed in annual\\nsuccession several moderate comedies. At length ap-\\npointed Gazetteer, a position that gave him a monopoly\\nof official news, he began the Tatler, called Addison to\\nhis aid, and was eclipsed by his coadjutor.\\nIt was during this period that the modern novel had its\\norigin. Before the middle of the eighteenth century,\\nseveral works of fiction were produced that have gained\\na permanent place in our literature. Avoiding the highly\\ncolored and extravagant elements of Elizabethan romance,\\nthey portray the scenes and characters of everyday life.\\nThe founder of the English novel was Daniel Defoe, a", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0245.jp2"}, "244": {"fulltext": "208 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nvaried and prolific writer, who in some of his views was in\\nadvance of his age. In 1698 he pubUshed an Essay on\\nProjects, in which he advocated the estabUshment of\\ninsurance companies, savings banks for the poor, and col-\\nleges for women. A woman well-bred and well-taught,\\nhe said, furnished with the additional accomplishments\\nof knowledge and behavior, is a creature without compari-\\nson. His True-born Englishman, a poetical satire in\\ndefence of King William, appeared in 1701, and eighty\\nthousand copies were sold on the streets of London.\\nWhat it lacks in poetry it makes up in homely vigor.\\nThe opening lines are well known\\nWherever God erects a house of prayer,\\nThe devil ahvays builds a chapel there\\nAnd twill be found upon examination,\\nThe latter has the largest congregation.\\n7\\nDefoe s Robinson Crusoe appeared in if 19 and in-\\nstantly became popular. Few other English books have\\nbeen more widely read. Nobody, said Johnson, ever\\nlaid it down without wishing it longer. It was suggested\\nby the real experience of Alexander Selkirk, and describes\\nthe life and adventures of Robinson Crusoe, who lived for\\ntwenty-eight years on an uninhabited island off the coast\\nof South America. Encouraged by the success of Rob-\\ninson Crusoe, the author wrote other fictitious narratives,\\namong which are Moll Flanders, Captain Singleton,\\nand the History of the Great Plague. All possess the\\ncharm of simplicity of style and air of truth.\\nSamuel Richardson deserves to be considered the first\\ngreat English novelist. At first a printer, he stumbled, at", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0246.jp2"}, "245": {"fulltext": "FIRST CRITICAL PERIOD. 209\\nthe age of fifty, on the literary work that was to make him\\nfamous. It was suggested to him that he should prepare\\na little volume of letters, in common style, on such sub-\\njects as might be of use to those country readers who\\nwere unable to indite for themselves. In undertaking\\nthe work, the happy thought occurred to him to embody\\nin a series of letters an interesting story he had heard\\nfrom a friend years before. The result was his first novel\\nPamela, or Virtue Rewarded. Judged by present stand-\\nards, the work is prolix and tedious but when it appeared\\nin 1 740, it was something new and had a widespread pop-\\nularity. It was followed a few years later by Clarissa\\nHarlowe, by common consent Richardson s masterpiece.\\nThis work raised the fame of its author to its height,\\nsaid Sir Walter Scott, and no work had appeared before,\\nperhaps none has appeared since, containing such direct\\nappeals to the passions in a manner so irresistible.\\nHenry Fielding lawyer, journalist, dramatist^ had\\nabundant opportunity to observe the varied phases of Eng-\\nlish life. With abounding vitality and humor, he described\\nmen as he saw them. He was an eighteenth-century real-\\nist. The scenes he presents are often coarse and low but\\nthese faults are to be imputed less to the painter than to\\nthe age he describes. When Pamela appeared in 1740,\\nFielding did not sympathize with what he regarded as its\\nostentatious morality and excessive sentimentalism. He\\nconceived the idea of a caricature and, accordingly, in\\n1742, he produced his Joseph Andrews. It abounded\\nin humor, exuberant feeling, and overflowing benevolence,\\nand was received with scarcely less favor than the work it\\nwas designed to ridicule.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0247.jp2"}, "246": {"fulltext": "2IO ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nIn 1749, in the full maturity of his powers, Fielding\\npublished his ablest work, Tom Jones. The scene of\\nthe story is laid partly in the country, and partly in the\\ncity, and taken altogether the work may be regarded as an\\nepic of English life. The characters have a singular real-\\nity. It is framed on a large scale and introduces a great\\nmany types of character. In its personages, manners,\\namusements, tone of thought, and forms of expression, it\\nintroduces us better than any history to the England of a\\ncentury and a half ago. The author claimed superiority\\nover professed historians. In their productions, he de-\\nclared, nothing is true but the names and dates, whereas\\nin mine everything is true but the names and dates. The\\nstyle of *Tom Jones, as in all Fielding s novels, is excel-\\nlent and what gives the book a peculiar charm, is the dis-\\ninterested, genial spirit a little too indulgent, perhaps, to\\nthe weakness of our nature with which he seems to look\\non the scenes he portrays.\\nAmong the secondary poets to be mentioned, the first in\\ntime, as also in popularity, was Samuel Butler, who gave\\nexpression to the great anti-Puritanic reaction of the Res-\\ntoration. His Hudibras, the first part of which appeared\\nin 1662, is a humorous satire against the Puritans, and in\\nits day was exceedingly popular. Of Charles II. it was\\nsaid that\\nHe never ate, nor drank, nor slept,\\nBut Hudibras still near him kept.\\nThe hero of the satire is a Puritan justice of the peace,\\nwho, with his servant Ralph, sallied forth, like another Don\\nQuixote, to put an end to the amusements and follies of the\\npeople. Of course he came to grief. But the interest of", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0248.jp2"}, "247": {"fulltext": "FIRST CRITICAL PERIOD. 211\\nthe poem is not in the story, but in its humorous descrip-\\ntions and electric flashes of wit. Few other books have\\nbeen oftener quoted. Here is a description of Sir Hudi-\\nbras:\\nHe was in logic a great critic,\\nProfoundly skilled in analytic\\nHe could distinguish and divide\\nA hair twixt south and south-west side\\nOn either which he would dispute,\\nConfute, change hands, and still confute.\\nThe following are well-known couplets\\nFor all a rhetorician s rules\\nTeach nothing but to name his tools.\\nHe that complies against his will,\\nIs of the same opinion still.\\nAnd, like a lobster boiled, the morn\\nFrom black to red began to turn.\\nCompound for sins they are inclined to.\\nBy damning those they have no mind to.\\nJames Thomson has been justly called the poet of\\nnature. His Seasons, which appeared between 1726\\nand 1730, possessed the charm of novelty. The fresh\\ntreatment of a simple theme, to use the words of Professor\\nMinto, the warm poetical coloring of commonplace inci-\\ndents, the freedom and irregularity of the plan, the boldness\\nof the descriptions, the manly and sincere sentiment, the\\nrough vigor of the verse, took by surprise a generation\\naccustomed to witty satire and burlesque, refined diction,\\ntranslations from the classics, themes valued in proportion\\nto their remoteness from vulgar life. Thomson looked\\nupon nature with a poet s eyes. If he learned from books,", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0249.jp2"}, "248": {"fulltext": "212 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nhe learned also from observation. There is truth in the\\nlines describing his poetical life\\nI solitary court\\nThe inspiring breeze, and meditate the book\\nOf Nature, ever open aiming thence,\\nWarm from the heart, to pour the moral song.\\nf\\nHis descriptions are wonderfully accurate, .vivid, pictu-\\nresque. There is no phase of the various forms of\\nearth and sky too delicate to escape his minute observa-\\ntion. There is great dignity and beauty, for example, in\\nhis description of sunrise\\nBut yonder comes the powerful King of Day,\\nRejoicing in tlie east. The lessening cloud,\\nThe kindling azure, and the mountain s brow\\nIllumed with fluid gold, his near approach\\nBetoken glad. Lo now, apparent all.\\nAslant the dew-bright earth and colored air.\\nHe looks in boundless majesty abroad,\\nAnd sheds the shining day, that burnished plays\\nOn rocks, and hills, and towers, and wandering streams,\\nHigh gleaming from afar.\\nHis Castle of Indolence, written in the Spenserian\\nstanza, is polished to great correctness of form but, in\\nspite of its excellence, it has never been very popular.\\nThe poetry and the life of Edward Young present a\\npainful contrast. In his poems he assumes the role of\\na high religious moralist but in his life he was an ob-\\nsequious courtier and persistent place-seeker. It was a\\ngreat disappointment to him that George II., to whom\\nhe addressed a poem containing the following lines, took\\nhim at his word", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0250.jp2"}, "249": {"fulltext": "F/J^ST CRITICAL PERIOD. 213\\nO may I steal\\nAlong the vale\\nOf humble life, secure from foes\\nMy friend sincere,\\nMy judgment clear,\\nAnd gentle business my repose.\\nAmong his numerous books there are two that are\\nnot unworthy of mention. The Love of Fame\\nis a series of satires concluded in 1728. The love of\\npraise is presented as a universal passion. The Duke\\nof Grafton was so pleased with the poem that he pre-\\nsented the author two thousand pounds. What re-\\nmonstrated one of the Duke s friends, two thousand\\npounds for a poem! Yes, replied his Grace, and\\nit is the best bargain I ever made in my life, for the poem\\nis worth four thousand. The poem begins\\nThe love of praise, howe er concealed by art,\\nReigns more or less, and glows in every heart\\nThe proud, to gain it, toils on toils endure\\nThe modest shun it, but to make it sure.\\nThe chief work entithng Young to a place in the annals\\nof English Uterature is his Night Thoughts. It was\\ninspired by a triple bereavement that overwhelmed the\\npoet with sorrow. It differs, as he tells us, from the\\ncommon mode of poetry, which is, from long narratives to\\ndraw short morals here, on the contrary, the narrative is\\nshort, and the morality arising from it makes the bulk of\\nthe poem. The reason of it is that the facts mentioned\\ndid naturally pour these reflections on the thoughts of\\nthe writer. The poem embodies a sombre, ascetic view\\nof life. Its style is characterized by short, exclamatory", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0251.jp2"}, "250": {"fulltext": "214 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nutterances, the suggestiveness of which is often quite\\neffective. The opening Hnes, which are often referred to,\\nare as follows\\nTired Nature s sweet restorer^ balmy Sleep\\nHe, like the world, his ready visit pays.\\nWhere Fortune smiles the wretched he forsakes\\nSwift on his downy pinion flies from woe,\\nAnd lights on lids unsullied by a tear.\\nYoung s works abound in brief sententious sayings, and\\nhe rivals Shakespeare and Pope in the number of pro-\\nverbial expressions that have passed into current use. A\\nfew will serve for illustration\\nTis impious in a good man to be sad.\\nTis vain to seek in men for more than man.\\nPygmies are pygmies still, though perched on Alps.\\nDeath loves a shining mark, a signal blow.\\nThe man that blushes is not quite a brute.\\nEarth s highest station ends in Here he lies\\nAnd dust to dust concludes the noblest song.\\nThe mind that coined these and many similar expres-\\nsions was endowed with no ordinary gifts.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0252.jp2"}, "251": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0253.jp2"}, "252": {"fulltext": "L\\nEiiL-M-itNit-l Ijy ^\u00e2\u0096\u00a0ruu\u00e2\u0096\u00a0 HI 17. ;i\\n^on.: ^^^i^-", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0254.jp2"}, "253": {"fulltext": "JOHN DRYDEN. 21 5\\nJOHN DRYDEN.\\nOne of the greatest names in the literature of this\\nperiod is John Dryden. He does not deserve, indeed,\\nto stand by the side of Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, or\\nMilton but after these great names he comes at the head\\nof the second rank. It was the fault of his age that he\\nwas not greater. No man can wholly detach himself from\\nthe influences by which he is surrounded and Dryden\\ncame on the stage when a false taste prevailed, and when\\nlicentiousness gave moral tone to poetry. Living in the\\nmidst of burning religious and political questions, he was\\ndrawn into the vortex of controversy. He was always a\\npartisan in some religious or political issue of the day.\\nWhile this fact has given us some of the best satirical and\\ndidactic poems in our language, it did not contribute, per-\\nhaps, to the largest development of his poetical powers.\\nHis aims were not high enough. I confess, he said,\\nmy chief endeavors are to delight the age in which I\\nlive. If the humor of this be for low comedy, small acci-\\ndents, and raillery, I will force my genius to obey it.\\nThis was a voluntary degrading of his genius and an\\nintentional renouncing of the artistic spirit. Guided by\\nsuch motives, it was impossible for him to attain the high-\\nest results. If, like Milton, he had concentrated all the\\nenergies of his strong nature on an epic poem, as he once\\ncontemplated, or on poetry as an art, his work would no", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0255.jp2"}, "254": {"fulltext": "2l6 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ndoubt have been less faulty. But, taking him as he was,\\nwe cannot help admiring his genius, which created for\\nhim a distinct place in English literature.\\nDryden was born of good family in Northamptonshire\\nin 163 1. Both on his father s and his mother s side his\\nancestry was Puritan and republican. He was educated\\nat Westminster school, under the famous Dr. Busby. A\\nschoolboy poem on the death of Lord Hastings had the\\ndistinction, and we may add the misfortune, of being pub-\\nlished in connection with several other elegies called forth\\nby the same event. Some of its conceits are exceedingly\\nridiculous. The young nobleman had died, of the small-\\npox, and Dryden exclaims\\nWas there no milder way than the small-pox,\\nThe very filthiness of Pandora s box\\nOf the pustules he says\\nEach little pimple had a tear in it,\\nTo wail the fault its rising did commit.\\nAnd as the climax of this absurdity\\nNo comet need foretell his change drew on,\\nWhose corpse might seem a constellation.\\nDryden s genius was slow in maturing, and much of his\\nearly work failed to give promise of his future eminence.\\nHe entered Trinity College,- Cambridge, in 1650, and\\ntook his degree of Bachelor of Arts in 1654. No details\\nof his college life have come down to us, except his pun-\\nishment on one occasion for disobedience to the vice-\\nmaster, and contumacy in taking his punishment, inflicted\\nby him. In 1654, by the death of his father, he came", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0256.jp2"}, "255": {"fulltext": "JOHN DRYDEN, 21/\\ninto the possession of a small estate worth about sixty\\npounds a year. After leaving Cambridge, for which he\\nentertained no great affection, he went to London, and\\nserved for a time as secretary to his cousin. Sir Gilbert\\nPickering, a favorite of Cromwell.\\nIn 1658 he composed Heroic Stanzas on the death\\nof Oliver Cromwell, which caused him to be spoken of as\\na rising poet. Though disfigured here and there by con-\\nceits, it is, upon the whole, a strong, manly poem, showing\\na just appreciation of the great Protector s life. His next\\neffort does not reflect credit on his character. It was the\\nAstrsea Redux, written on the happy restoration and\\nreturn of his sacred Majesty, Charles II. After his\\neulogy of Cromwell two years before, we are hardly pre-\\npared for such lines as these\\nFor his long absence Church and State did groan\\nMadness the pulpit, faction seized the throne\\nExperienced age in deep despair was lost,\\nTo see the rebel thrive, the loyal crossed.\\nIn 1663 he began to write for the stage. Instead of\\nseeking to elevate pubHc morals, or to attain perfection in\\nart, it is to the lasting discredit of Dryden that he pandered\\nto the vicious taste of the time. His first play, The Wild\\nGallant, was not successful and Pepys, in his Diary,\\npronounced it so poor a thing as ever I saw in my life.\\nWithout following him through the vicissitudes of his dra-\\nmatic career, it is enough to say that he wrote in all twenty-\\neight comedies and tragedies, and at length established his\\nposition as the first dramatist of his time. For a longtime\\nhe followed French models, but at last came to recognize\\nand professedly to imitate the divine Shakespeare. In", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0257.jp2"}, "256": {"fulltext": "2l8 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nhis comedies, as he tells us, he copied the gallantries of\\nthe court. When in later years Jeremy Collier severely\\nattacked the immoralities of the stage, Dry den, unlike sev-\\neral of his fellow-dramatists who attempted a reply, pleaded\\nguilty, and retracted all thoughts and expressions that\\ncould be fairly charged with obscenity, profaneness, or\\nimmorality.\\nIn his tragedies he imitated the heroic style of Corneille.\\nThey contain much splendid declamation, which too often\\ndegenerates into bombast. But frequently he reaches the\\nheight of genuine poetry. Only a poet could have written\\nthese lines i\\nSomething like\\nThat voice, methinks, I should have somewhere heard\\nBut floods of woe have hurried it far off\\nBeyond my ken of soul.\\nOr these\\nI feel death rising higher still and higher\\nWithin my bosom every breath I fetch\\nShuts up my hfe within a shorter compass,\\nAnd, like the vanishing sound of bells, grows less\\nAnd less each pulse, till it be lost in air.\\nWhen he moralizes, he is often admirable\\nThe gods are just,\\nBut how can finite measure infinite?\\nReason! alas, it does not know itself\\nYet man, vain man, would with his short-lined plummet\\nFathom the vast abyss of heavenly justice.\\nWhatever is, is in its causes just.\\nSince all things are by fate. But purblind man\\nSees but a part o th chain, the nearest links,\\nHis eyes not carrying to that equal beam\\nThat poises all above.\\nI", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0258.jp2"}, "257": {"fulltext": "JOHN DRY DEN. 219\\nBut the drama was not Dryden s sphere. In his mind\\nthe judgment had the ascendency over the imagination.\\nHe was strongest in analyzing, arguing, criticising. He\\nwas a master of satire not indeed of that species which\\nslovenly butchers a man, to use his own comparison, but\\nrather of that species which has the fineness of stroke\\nto separate the head from the body and leave it standing\\nin its place. We shall say nothing of his Annus Mira-\\nbilis, a long poem an the Dutch war and the London\\nfire, except that it contains some of his manliest lines. It\\nis not easy to surpass\\nSilent in smoke of cannon they come on\\nAnd his loud guns speak thick, like angry men\\nThe vigorous seaman every port-hole plies,\\nAnd adds his heart to every gun he fires.\\nIn 1 68 1 appeared the famous satire, Absalom and\\nAchitophel, the object of which was to bring discredit on\\nthe Earl of Shaftesbury and his adherents, who were seek-\\ninsf to secure the succession to the throne for the Duke of\\nMonmouth, Charles s eldest son. It has been called the\\nbest political satire ever written. There is no effort at\\nplayful and dehcate art the poem was composed in ear-\\nnest, and it abounds in hard, sweeping, stunning blows. It\\nwas eagerly seized upon by the public, and in a year no\\nfewer than nine editions were called for. The Earl of\\nShaftesbury figures as Achitophel\\nA name to all succeeding ages curst\\nFor close designs, and crooked counsels fit\\nSagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0259.jp2"}, "258": {"fulltext": "220 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nRestless, unfix d in principles and place\\nIn power unpleased. impatient of disgrace\\nA fiery soul, which, working out its way,\\nFretted the pygmy-body to decay.\\nAnd o er-inform d the tenement of clay\\nA daring pilot in extremity\\nPleased with the danger, when the waves went high,\\nHe sought the storms but for a calm unfit,\\nWould steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit.\\nThe Duke of Buckingham is Zimri, whose character is\\noutlined with astonishing power\\nA man so various, that he seemed to be\\nNot one, but all mankind s epitome\\nStiff in opinions, always in the wrong\\nWas everything by starts, and nothing long\\nBut in the course of one revolving moon,\\nWas Chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon\\nThen all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking.\\nBesides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.\\nBless d madman, who could every hour employ,\\nWith something new to wish, or to enjoy!\\nRailing and praising were his usual themes\\nAnd both, to show his judgment, in extremes.\\nIn 1682 appeared the Religio Laici. As an ex-\\nposition of a layman s faith it was probably an honest\\npresentation of Dryden s beliefs at the time. Whether\\nintended to serve a political purpose or not, is a matter of\\ndispute but it attacks the Papists and at the same time\\ndeclares the Fanatics, by whom are meant the Non-\\nconformists, still more dangerous a declaration that\\naccorded well with Charles s policy of persecution. It is\\nentirely didactic in character and deservedly ranks as one", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0260.jp2"}, "259": {"fulltext": "JOHN DRY DEN. 221\\nof the very best poems of its class in English. Though\\nit is closely argumentative throughout, it still contains\\npassages of much beauty. The opening lines are justly\\nadmired\\nDim as the borrowed beams of moon and stars\\nTo lonely, weary, wandering travellers\\nIs Reason to the soul and as on high\\nThose rolling fires discover but the sky,\\nNot light us here, so Reason s glimmering ray\\nWas lent, not to assure our doubtful way,\\nBut guide us upward to a better day.\\nAnd as those nightly tapers disappear\\nWhen day s bright lord ascends our hemisphere,\\nSo pale grows Reason at Religion s sight,\\nSo dies, and so dissolves in supernatural light.\\nIn the preface to the poem Dryden has given us the\\nideal of style at which he aimed, and which he largely real-\\nized If any one be so lamentable a critic as to require\\nthe smoothness, the numbers, and the turn of heroic poetry\\nin this poem, I must tell him that, if he has not read\\nHorace, I have studied him and hope the style of his Epis-\\ntles is not ill imitated here. The expressions of a poem\\ndesigned purely for instruction ought to be plain and\\nnatural, and yet majestic for here the poet is presumed to\\nbe a kind of lawgiver, and those three qualities which I\\nhave named are proper to the legislative style. The florid,\\nelevated, and figurative way is for the passions for love\\nand hatred, fear and anger, are begotten in the soul by\\nshowing their objects out of their true proportion, either\\ngreater than the life or less but instruction is to be given\\nby showing them what they naturally are. A man is to be\\ncheated into passion, but to be reasoned into truth.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0261.jp2"}, "260": {"fulltext": "222 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nIn 1683 appeared a translation of Boileau s L Art\\nPoetique. Though at first translated by a friend, Dry-\\nden s revisal made it practically his own. It is of inter-\\nest, not only as showing the direct influence of French\\nmasters, but as setting forth the principles that under-\\nlay Dryden s later work and the poetry of the earlier\\nhalf of the eighteenth century. Reason largely takes\\nthe place of imagination. Thus\\nWhate er you write of pleasant or sublime,\\nAlways let sense accompany your rhyme\\nFalsely they seem each other to oppose\\nRhyme must be made with reason s laws to close.\\nAnd in regard to diction\\nObserve the language well in all you write,\\nAnd swerve not from it in your loftiest flight.\\nThe smoothest verse and the exactest sense\\nDisplease us, if ill English give offence.\\nTake time for thinking never work in haste\\nAnd value not yourself for writing fast.\\nOn the accession of James, in 1685, Dryden became a\\nRoman Catholic. This conversion has given rise to con-\\nsiderable discussion. Did it result from conviction or\\nfrom self-interest.? It is impossible to determine. But,\\nin the moderate language of Johnson, That conversion\\nwill always be suspected that apparently concurs with\\ninterest. He that never finds his error till it hinders his\\nprogress toward wealth or honor, will not be thought\\nto love truth only for herself. Yet it may easily happen\\nthat information may come at a commodious time, and as\\ntruth and interest are not by any fatal necessity at vari-", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0262.jp2"}, "261": {"fulltext": "JOHN DRYDEN. 223\\nance, that one may by accident introduce the other.\\nWhen opinions are struggUng into popularity, the argu-\\nments by which they are opposed or defended become\\nmore known, and he that changes his profession would\\nperhaps have changed it before, with the like opportuni-\\nties of instruction. This was then the state of popery\\nevery artifice was used to show it in its fairest form and\\nit must be owned to be a religion of external appearance\\nsufficiently attractive.\\nAs a result of this conversion we have the Hind and\\nPanther, a poem of twenty-five hundred lines, which is\\ndevoted to the defence of the Roman Church. This\\nchurch is represented by the milk-white hind, and the\\nChurch of England by the panther, a beautiful but spotted\\nanimal. Published at a time of heated religious contro-\\nversy, it had a wide circulation. It was regarded by\\nPope as the most correct specimen of Dryden s versifi-\\ncation and there can be no doubt that the author,\\nknowing it would be criticised with the most unfriendly\\nrigor, elaborated it with unusual care. The opening lines\\nare beautiful\\nA milk-white Hind, immortal and unchanged,\\nFed on the lawns, and in the forest ranged\\nWithout unspotted, innocent within.\\nShe feared no danger, for she knew no sin.\\nYet hath she oft been chased with horns and hounds\\nAnd Scythian shafts, and many winged wounds\\nAimed at her heart was often forced to fly,\\nAnd doomed to death, though fated not to die.\\nAt the Revolution Dryden did not abjure his faith,\\nand, as a consequence, lost his office as poet laureate.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0263.jp2"}, "262": {"fulltext": "224 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nIn addition to the loss of his pension, which he could\\nill afford to suffer, he had the chagrin of seeing his\\nrival, Shadwell, elevated to his place. Against him he\\nwrote at this time one of his keenest satires, entitled\\nMac Flecknoe. Flecknoe, who had governed long,\\nand\\nIn prose and verse was owned, without dispute.\\nThrough all the realms of Nonsense, absolute,\\nat length decides to settle the succession of the state,\\nAnd, pondering, which of all his sons was fit\\nTo reign, and wage immortal war with wit,\\nCried, Tis resolved for nature pleads, that he\\nShould only rule, who most resembles me.\\nShadwell alone my perfect image bears.\\nMature in dulness from his tender years\\nShadwell alone, of all my sons, is he,\\nWho stands confirmed in full stupidity.\\nThe rest to some faint meaning make pretence,\\nBut Shadwell never deviates into sense.\\nOnce more thrown upon his pen for support, Dryden\\nturned to the stage, but chiefly to translation. In 1693\\nhe published a volume of miscellanies, which contained\\ntranslations from Homer and Ovid and a little later\\nappeared the satires of Juvenal and Persius. His theory\\nof translation, as set forth in his prefaces, is better than\\nhis practice. He takes liberties with his author and,\\nas was the case with him in all his writings, he is far\\nfrom painstaking. Besides, instead of mitigating, he mag-\\nnified their obscenity. But, upon the whole, the transla-\\ntions are of high excellence. The most important of his\\ntranslations was that of Virgil s **^neid, on which he", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0264.jp2"}, "263": {"fulltext": "JOHN DRYDEN. 225\\nlabored three years. The pubHc expectation was great,\\nand it was not disappointed. Pope pronounced it the\\nmost noble and spirited translation that I know in any\\nlanguage.\\nIts form may be seen from the opening lines\\nArms, and the man I sing, who, forced by fate\\nAnd haughty Juno s unrelenting hate.\\nExpelled and exiled, left the Trojan shore.\\nLong labors, both by sea and land, he bore,\\nAnd in the doubtful war, before he won\\nThe Latin realm, and built the destined town,\\nHis banished gods restored to rites divine.\\nAnd settled sure succession in his line.\\nFrom whence the race of Alban fathers come\\nAnd the long glories of majestic Rome.\\nDryden, without understanding the versification of\\nChaucer, admired his poetic beauties and translated sev-\\neral of the Canterbury Tales into current English. As\\nhe is the father of English poetry, he says, so I hold\\nhim in the same degree of veneration as the Grecians held\\nHomer or the Romans Virgil. He is a perpetual fountain\\nof good sense, learned in all sciences, and therefore speaks\\nproperly on all subjects. It is to Dryden s credit that he\\nchose those tales that do not savor of immodesty Pala-\\nmon and Arcite, The Cock and the Fox, and the\\nWife of Bath s Tale, the prologue of which is omitted.\\nThough his renderings into modern English are excellent,\\nChaucer s charm is somehow largely lost. To be con-\\nvinced of this fact, it is only necessary to compare his ren-\\ndering of the Good Parson with the original of the\\nPrologue.\\nQ", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0265.jp2"}, "264": {"fulltext": "226 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nAmong his songs and odes, the best known is Alex-\\nander s Feast. He wrote it at a single sitting and\\nafterward spent a fortnight in polishing it. It is justly\\nconsidered one of the finest odes in our language. Dryden\\nhimself declared that it would never be surpassed. It was,\\nperhaps, the last effort of his poetic genius, composed\\namid the pressing infirmities of age. It was fitting, to use\\nthe beautiful words of one of his heroes, that\\nA setting sun\\nShould leave a track of glory in the skies.\\nHe died May i, 1700, and was buried with imposing pomp\\nin Westminster Abbey.\\nDryden s prose is scarcely less excellent than his verse.\\nHe wrote much on criticism in the form of prefaces in\\nhis various works. He avoided, as a rule, the common\\nmistakes in the prose of his time inordinately long sen-\\ntences and tedious parenthetic clauses. He says he formed\\nhis prose style on Tillotson but Tillotson never had the\\nease, point, and brilliancy of Dryden. He was a clear,\\nstrong thinker, with a great deal to say and often com-\\npressing his thought into a few well-chosen words, he sent\\nthem forth like shots from a rifle. He delighted in argu-\\nment, and on either side of a question he could marshal\\nhis points with almost matchless skill. Whether attacking\\nor defending the Roman Church, he showed equal power.\\nDryden did not attain to the highest regions of poetry.\\nHe could not portray what is deepest and finest in human\\nexperience. His strong, masculine hands were too clumsy.\\nHe has no charm of pathos he does not touch that part\\nof our nature where thoughts do often lie too deep for", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0266.jp2"}, "265": {"fulltext": "JOHN DRYDEN. 22/\\ntears. But he was a virile thinker and a master of the\\nEngHsh tongue. He had the gift of using the right word\\nand in the words of Lowell he sometimes carried com-\\nmon-sense to a height where it catches the light of a\\ndiviner air, and warmed reason till it had well-nigh the illu-\\nminating property of intuition.\\nHe made literature a trade. He wrote rapidly, and\\nhaving once finished a piece, he did not, year after year,\\npatiently retouch it into perfection. Perhaps he wrote too\\nmuch. Voltaire said that he would have a glory without\\na blemish, if he had only written the tenth part of his\\nworks. Yet, in spite of his faults, we recognize and\\nadmire his extraordinary intellectual force and the indis-\\nputable greatness of his literary work. At Will s Coffee-\\nhouse, where his chair had in winter a prescriptive place\\nby the fire, and in summer a choice spot on the balcony,\\nhe was fitted, beyond all others of his time, to reign as\\nliterary dictator.\\nFor the rest, we shall let Congreve speak the poet\\nwhom Dryden implored *to be kind to his remains, and\\nwho was not untouched by the appeal. Mr. Dryden,\\nsays his friend, had personal qualities to challenge both\\nlove and esteem from all who were truly acquainted with\\nhim. He was of a nature exceedingly humane and com-\\npassionate, easily forgiving injuries, and capable of a\\nprompt and sincere reconciliation with those who had\\noffended him. Such a temperament is the only solid\\nfoundation of all moral virtues and sociable endowments.\\nHis friendship, when he professed it, went much beyond\\nhis professions, though his hereditary income was little\\nmore than a bare competency. As his reading had been", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0267.jp2"}, "266": {"fulltext": "228 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nextensive, so was he very happy in a memory tenacious of\\neverything he read. He was not more possessed of know-\\nledge than communicative of it, but then his communica-\\ntion of it was by no means pedantic, or imposed upon the\\nconversation; but just such, and went so far, as by the\\nnatural turn of the discourse in which he was engaged, it\\nwas necessarily promoted or required. He was extremely\\nready and gentle in his correction of the errors of any\\nwriter who thought fit to consult him, and felt as ready and\\npatient to admit of the reprehension of others in respect\\nof his own oversight or mistakes. He was of very easy, I\\nmay say of very pleasing, access, but somewhat slow, and,\\nas it were, diffident in his advances to others. He had\\nsomething in his nature that abhorred intrusion into any\\nsociety whatever indeed, it is to be regretted that he was\\nrather blamable in the other extreme for by that means\\nhe was personally less known, and consequently his char-\\nacter will become liable to misapprehension and misrepre-\\nsentation. To the best of my knowledge and observation,\\nhe was, of all men that ever I knew, one of the most\\nmodest and the most easily to be discountenanced in his\\napproaches either to his superiors or his equals.\\n1", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0268.jp2"}, "267": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0269.jp2"}, "268": {"fulltext": "Engraved by Simon after the painting by Kneller.\\nJ-, jfc/^^^n^.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0270.jp2"}, "269": {"fulltext": "JOSEPH ADDISON, 229\\nJOSEPH ADDISON.\\nThere is no other writer in English literature of whom\\nwe think more kindly than of Joseph Addison. Macaulay\\nhas given very strong expression to the same sentiment.\\nAfter full inquiry and impartial reflection, he says, we\\nhave long been convinced that he deserved as much love\\nand esteem as can be justly claimed by any of our infirm\\nand erring race.\\nWe read his writings with a refined and soothing pleas-\\nure. They possess a genial humor and unvarying cheer-\\nfulness that are contagious and delightful. There is no\\nother writer who has greater power to dispel gloominess.\\nAs seen through his pages, the world appears wrapped in\\na mellow light. We learn to think more kindly of men,\\nto smile at human foibles, to entertain ennobling senti-\\nments, to trust in an overruling providence.\\nHe does not indeed usually treat of the deeper interests\\nof human life he is never profound he does not try to\\nexhaust a subject to write it to the dregs. His sphere\\nis rather that of minor morals, social foibles, and small\\nphilosophy. But if he is not deep, he is not trifling and\\nif he is not exhaustive, he is always interesting. He uses\\nsatire, but it is never cruel. It does not, like that of Swift,\\nscatter desolation in its path. On the contrary, it is tem-\\npered with a large humanity, and like a gentle rain, dis-\\npenses blessings in its course. It leads, not to cynicism,\\nbut to tenderness.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0271.jp2"}, "270": {"fulltext": "230 ENGLISH LITERATURE,\\nHe enlisted wit on the side of virtue and by his inimi-\\ntable humor, good sense, genial satire, and simple piety, he\\nwrought a great social reform. So effectually, indeed,\\nsays Macaulay, did he retort on vice the mockery which\\nhad recently been directed against virtue, that, since his\\ntime, the open violation of decency has always been con-\\nsidered amongst us the sure mark of a fool.\\nJoseph Addison was born in Wiltshire in 1672, his\\nfather, a man of some eminence, being dean of Lichfield.\\nThough there is a tradition that he once took a leading\\npart in barring out his teacher, and on another occasion\\nplayed truant, his youthful scholarship proves him to have\\nbeen a diligent student. From the school at Lichfield he\\npassed to Charter House. Here he made the friendship\\nof Steele, which, as we shall see, was not without influence\\nupon his subsequent career and fame.\\nAt the age of fifteen he entered Oxford with a scholar-\\nship far in advance of his years, attracted attention by his\\nsuperior Latin verses, and was elected a scholar of Magda-\\nlen College, where he took his degree of Master of Arts\\nin 1693. He was held in high regard for his ability and\\nlearning. His portrait now hangs in the college hall, and\\nhis favorite walk on the banks of the Cherwell is still\\npointed out.\\nAfter writing a number of Latin poems, which secured\\nthe praise of the great French critic Boileau, he made his\\nfirst attempt in English verse in some lines addressed to\\nDryden, at that time preeminent among men of letters.\\nThis maiden effort had the good fortune to please the\\ngreat author and led to an interchange of civilities.\\nAt this time Addison s mind seemed inclined to poetry,", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0272.jp2"}, "271": {"fulltext": "JOSEPH ADDISON. 23 1\\nand he published some lines to King William, a transla-\\ntion of Virgil s fourth Georgia, and An Account of the\\nGreatest English Poets, all of which have but little to\\ncommend them except correct versification. The last\\npoem is remarkable for having a discriminating criticism of\\nSpenser, whose works the author at that time had not\\nread. So little sometimes, comments Dr. Johnson, is\\ncriticism the effect of judgment.\\nAddison was a moderate Whig in politics, and by his\\npoems had conciliated the favor of Somers and Montague,\\nafterward Earl of Halifax. In conformity with the wishes\\nof his father and his own inclinations, he contemplated\\ntaking orders in the Anghcan Church but through the\\ninfluence of Montague, who was unwilling to spare him to\\nthe church, he was led to prepare himself for the public\\nservice.\\nHe was granted a pension of three hundred pounds,\\nand spent the next several years in travel on the Conti-\\nnent, visiting France, Italy, Switzerland, Germany, and\\nHolland. He improved his opportunities in perfecting\\nhis knowledge of the French language, in visiting locali-\\nties of historic interest, and in making the acquaintance\\nof illustrious scholars and statesmen. His observations\\non the French people, as given in a letter to Montague,\\nare worth reading Truly, by what I have yet seen, they\\nare the happiest nation in the world. Tis not in the\\npower of want or slavery to make them miserable. There\\nis nothing to be met with in the country but mirth and\\npoverty. Every one sings, laughs, and starves. Their\\nconversation is generally agreeable for if they have any\\nwit or sense, they are sure to show it. They never mend", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0273.jp2"}, "272": {"fulltext": "232 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nupon a second meeting, but use all the freedom and famil-\\niarity at first sight that a long intimacy or abundance of\\nwine can scarce draw from an Englishman. Their women\\nare perfect mistresses in this art of showing themselves to\\nthe best advantage. They are always gay and sprightly,\\nand set off the worst faces in Europe with the best airs.\\nIn general, his remarks upon the French character are\\nnot complimentary.\\nThe immediate literary fruits of his travels were a poeti-\\ncal epistle to Lord Halifax, which ranks among his best\\nverses, and Remarks on Italy, in which his observations\\nare made to illustrate the Roman poets. In his Letter\\nto Lord Halifax he gives expression to his delight and\\nenthusiasm in finding himself in the midst of scenes\\nassociated with his favorite authors\\nPoetic fields encompass me around,\\nAnd still I seem to tread on classic ground\\nFor here the Muse so oft her harp has strung,\\nThat not a mountain rears its head unsung\\nRenowned in verse each shady thicket grows,\\nAnd every stream in heavenly numbers flows.\\nHere should be mentioned also one of his best hymns.\\nWhile sailing along the Italian coast, he encountered a\\nfierce storm. The captain of the ship lost all hope and\\nconfessed his sins to a Capuchin friar who happened to be\\non board. But the young English traveller solaced him-\\nself with the reflections embodied in the famous hymn\\nWhen all thy mercies, O my God,\\nMy rising soul surveys,\\nTransported with the view Pm lost\\nIn wonder, love, and praise.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0274.jp2"}, "273": {"fulltext": "JOSEPH ADDISON. 233\\nToward the close of 1703 Addison returned to England\\nand was cordially received by his friends. He was enrolled\\nat the Kit-Kat Club and thus brought into contact with the\\nchief Hghts of the Whig party. The way was soon opened\\nto a public office.\\nThe battle of Blenheim was fought in 1704, and Godol-\\nphin, the Lord Treasurer, wished to have the great victory\\nworthily celebrated in verse. He was referred by Halifax\\nto Addison. The result was The Campaign, which was\\nreceived with extraordinary applause both by the minister\\nand the public. Its chief merit is the rejection of extrava-\\ngant fiction, according to which heroes are represented as\\nmowing down whole squadrons with their single arm, and\\na recognition of those qualities energy, sagacity, and\\ncoolness in the hour of danger which made Marlborough\\nreally a great commander\\nTwas then great Marlbro s mighty soul was proved\\nThat, in the shock of charging hosts unmoved,\\nAmidst confusion, horror, and despair,\\nExamined all the dreadful scenes of war\\nIn peaceful thought the field of death surveyed,\\nTo fainting squadrons sent the timely aid.\\nInspired repulsed battalions to engage,\\nAnd taught the doubtful battle where to rage.\\nSo when an angel by divine command\\nWith rising tempests shakes a guilty land.\\nSuch as of late o er pale Britannia past,\\nCalm and serene he drives the furious blast\\nAnd. pleased the Almighty s orders to perform,\\nRides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm.\\nThis simile of the angel the 7^^// ?r pronounced one of the\\nnoblest thoughts that ever entered into the heart of man.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0275.jp2"}, "274": {"fulltext": "234 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nFrom this time on the career of Addison was a brilliant\\none. In 1704, in grateful recognition of his poem, he re-\\nceived the Excise Commissionership, made vacant by the\\ndeath of the celebrated John Locke. In 1706 he became\\none of the Under-Secretaries of State and two years later\\nhe entered Parliament, where, however, his natural timidity\\nkept him from participating in the debates. In 1709 he\\nwas appointed Chief Secretary for Ireland and, while re-\\nsiding in that country, he entered upon that department of\\nliterature on which his fame chiefly rests, and in which\\nhe stands without a rival.\\nShortly after Steele began the Tatlerm 1709, he invited\\nAddison s aid as a contributor. The result may be best\\nexpressed in Steele s own words I fared, he said, like\\na distressed prince who calls in a powerful neighbor to his\\naid. I was undone by my auxiliary. When I had once\\ncalled him in, I could not subsist without dependence on\\nhim. The Tatler v^2is published three times a week, and,\\nafter reaching two hundred and seventy-one numbers, was\\ndiscontinued Jan. 2, 171 1.\\nIt was succeeded by the Spectator^ which appeared six\\ntimes a week. The first number was issued March i, 171 1,\\ntwo months after the discontinuance of the Tatler. It\\nwas considered at the time a bold undertaking but the\\nresult more than justified the confidence of Steele and\\nAddison, its promoters.\\nIt is made up of an incomparable series of short essays,\\nwhich have all the interest of fiction and the value of phi-\\nlosophy. They are represented as the productions of an\\nimaginary spectator of the world, a description of whom\\nin the first paper we recognize as a caricature of Addison", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0276.jp2"}, "275": {"fulltext": "I\\nJOSEPH ADDISON. 235\\nhimself. **Thus I live in the world, tt is said, rather as\\na spectator of mankind than as one of the species, by\\nwhich means I have made myself a speculative statesman,\\nsoldier, merchant, and artisan, without ever meddling with\\nany practical part in life. I am very well versed in the\\ntheory of a husband or a father, and can discern the\\nerrors in the economy, business, and diversions of others,\\nbetter than those who are engaged in them as stand-\\ners-by discover blots, which are apt to escape those who\\nare in the game. I never espoused any party with vio-\\nlence, and am resolved to observe an exact neutrality\\nbetween the Whigs and Tories, unless I shall be forced\\nto declare myself by the hostilities of either side. In\\nshort, I have acted in all the parts of my life as a\\nlooker-on, which is the character I intend to preserve in\\nthis paper.\\nThe plan, it must be perceived, is excellent. Addison\\nwrote about three-sevenths of the six hundred and thirty-\\nfive numbers. He poured into them all the wealth of his\\nlearning, observation, and genius. The variety is almost\\nendless, but the purpose is always moral. He is a great\\nteacher without being pedantic. His wholesome lessons\\nare so seasoned with playful humor, gentle satire, and\\nhonest amiability that they encounter no resistance. Vice\\nbecomes ridiculous and virtue admirable. And his style\\nis so easy, graceful, perspicuous, elegant, that it must re-\\nmain a model for all time. Give days and nights, sir,\\nsaid the blunt Dr. Johnson, to the study of Addison, if\\nyou mean to be a good writer, or what is more worth, an\\nhonest man.\\nThe following paragraph from the Sir Roger de Cover-", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0277.jp2"}, "276": {"fulltext": "236 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nley papers a famous and delightful series in the Specta-\\ntor describes the Knight at Church\\nAs Sir Roger is landlord to the whole congregation,\\nhe keeps them in very good order and will suffer nobody\\nto sleep in it besides himself for if by chance he has\\nbeen surprised into a short nap at sermon, upon recover-\\ning out of it he stands up and looks about him, and if he\\nsees anybody else nodding, either wakes them himself, or\\nsends his servant to them. Several other of the old\\nknight s particularities break out upon these occasions.\\nSometimes he will be lengthening out a verse in the sing-\\ning psalms, half a minute after the rest of the congrega-\\ntion have done with it sometimes, when he is pleased\\nwith the matter of his devotion, he pronounces Amen\\nthree or four times to the same prayer, and sometimes\\nstands up when everybody else is upon their knees, to\\ncount the congregation, or see if any of his tenants are\\nmissing.\\nThe Spectator created a large constituency, and every\\nnumber was eagerly waited for. It found a welcome in\\nthe coffee-houses and at many a breakfast-table. Its daily\\ncirculation was more than three thousand and when the\\nessays were published in book form, ten thousand copies\\nof each volume were immediately called for, and successive\\neditions were necessary to supply the popular demand.\\nIn 1713 appeared Addison s tragedy of Cato, the first\\nfour acts of which had been written years before in Italy.\\nIt was only at the urgent solicitation of his friends that he\\nconsented to its representation on the stage. Its success\\nwas astonishing. For a month it was played before\\ncrowded houses. Whigs and Tories vied with each other", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0278.jp2"}, "277": {"fulltext": "JOSEPH ADDISON. 237\\nin its praise, applying its incidents and sentiments to cur-\\nrent politics. The Whigs applauded every line in which\\nliberty was mentioned, as a satire on the Tories and the\\nTories echoed every clap, to show that the satire was un-\\nfelt. It was translated into Italian and acted at Florence.\\nOn its publication, however, its popularity began to\\nabate. It was savagely attacked by Dennis. Addison\\nwas too amiable to write a reply. Pope, however, assailed\\nthe furious critic, but left the objections to the play in full\\nforce. It is probable that he was more desirous of scourg-\\ning Dennis t han of vindicating Addison. At all events,\\nAddison did not approve of the bitterness of Pope s reply,\\ndisclaimed all responsibility for it, and caused Dennis to\\nbe informed that whenever he thought fit to answer, he\\nwould do it in the manner of a gentleman. Of course\\nPope was mortified and it is to this transaction that his\\ndislike of Addison is probably to be traced.\\nCato conforms to the classic unities and abounds in\\nnoble sentiment. But it is lacking in high poetic or\\ndramatic interest. A scene in the fifth act, which repre-\\nsents Cato alone, sitting in a thoughtful posture with\\nPlato s Immortality of the Soul in his hand, and a\\ndrawn sword on the table by him, is well known\\nIt must be so Plato, thou reason st well\\nElse whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,\\nThis longing after immortality\\nOr whence this secret dread, and inward horror,\\nOf falling into nought why shrinks the soul\\nBack on herself, and startles at destruction\\nTis the divinity that stirs within us\\nTis heaven itself, that points out an hereafter,\\nAnd intimates eternity to man.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0279.jp2"}, "278": {"fulltext": "238 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nEternity thou pleasing, dreadful thought\\nThrough what variety of untried being,\\nThrough what new scenes and changes must we pass\\nThe wide, th^ unbounded prospect lies before me\\nBut shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it.\\nHere will I hold. If there s a power above us,\\n(And that there is all nature cries aloud\\nThrough all her works.) he must delight in virtue\\nAnd that which he delights in, must be happy.\\nBut when or where This w^orld was made for Cassar.\\nTm weary of conjectures. This must end them.\\n{Laying his hand on his sword.\\nThus am I doubly armed my death and life,\\nMy bane and antidote are both before me\\nThis in a moment brings me to an end\\nBut this informs me I shall never die.\\nThe soul, secured in her existence, smiles\\nAt the drawn dagger, and defies its point.\\nThe stars shall fade away, the sun himself\\nGrow dim with age, and nature sink in years\\nBut thou shalt flourish in immortal youth.\\nUnhurt amidst the wars of elements,\\nThe wrecks of matter, and the crush of worlds.\\nIn 1 716, after a long courtship, Addison married Lady\\nWarwick. She was a woman of much beauty, but also of\\nproud and imperious temper. The marriage, it seems, did\\nnot add to his happiness. According to Dr. Johnson,\\nthe lady married him on terms much like those on which\\na Turkish princess is espoused, to whom the Sultan is\\nreported to pronounce, Daughter, I give thee this man\\nfor thy slave. His domestic infelicity caused him to\\nseek more frequently the pleasures of the coffee-house.\\nHis fondness for wine likewise increased.\\nThe year after his marriage he reached the summit of", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0280.jp2"}, "279": {"fulltext": "JOSEPH ADDISON. 239\\nhis political career as Secretary of State. But his health\\nsoon failed and after holding office for eleven months,\\nhe resigned on a pension of fifteen hundred pounds. His\\ncomplaint ended in dropsy. A shadow was cast over the\\nlast years of his Hfe by a quarrel with Steele, arising from\\na difference of political views. He died June 17, 1719.\\nHis last moments were perfectly serene. To his stepson\\nhe said, See how a Christian can die. His piety was\\nsincere and deep. All nature spoke to him of God and\\nthe Psalmist s declaration that the heavens declare the\\nglory of God, he wrought into a magnificent hymn\\nThe spacious firmament on high,\\nWith all the blue ethereal sky,\\nAnd spangled heavens, a shining frame,\\nTheir great Original proclaim.\\nSpeaking of this hymn, Thackeray says It seems to\\nme those verses shine Hke the stars. They shine out of a\\ngreat deep calm. When he turns to Heaven, a Sabbath\\ncomes over that man s mind and his face lights up from\\nit with a glory of thanks and prayer. His sense of\\nreligion stirs through his whole being. In the fields, in\\nthe town looking at the birds in the trees at the chil-\\ndren in the streets in the morning or in the moonlight\\nover his books in his own room in a happy party at a\\ncountry merry-making or a town assembly good-will and\\npeace to God s creatures, and love and awe of Him who\\nmade them, fill his pure heart and shine from his kind\\nface. If Swift s life was the most wretched, I think\\nAddison s was one of the most enviable. A life prosper-\\nous and beautiful a calm death an immense fame and\\naffection afterward for his happy and spotless name.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0281.jp2"}, "280": {"fulltext": "240 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nALEXANDER POPE.\\nThe greatest literary character of this period is Alex-\\nander Pope. In his life we find much to admire and\\nmuch to condemn; but we cannot deny him the tribute of\\ngreatness. With his spiteful temper and habitual artifice,\\nwe can have no sympathy but we recognize in him the\\npower of an indomitable will supported by genius and\\ndirected to a single object.\\nHe triumphed over the most adverse circumstances. A\\nlowly birth cut him off from social position his Roman\\nCatholic faith brought political ostracism and a dwarfed,\\nsickly, deformed body excluded him from the vocations\\nin which wealth and fame are usually acquired. Yet, in\\nspite of this combination of hostile circumstances, he\\nachieved the highest literary distinction, attracted to him\\nthe most eminent men of his day, and associated on terms\\nof equality with the proudest nobility.\\nAlexander Pope was born in London in 1688, the\\nmemorable year of the Revolution. His father, a Roman\\nCatholic, was a linen merchant and shortly after th^\\npoet s birth he retired with a competent fortune to a\\nsmall estate at Binfield in Windsor Forest.\\nThough delicate and deformed, the future poet is repre-\\nsented as having been a sweet-tempered child and his\\nvoice was so agreeable that he was playfully called the\\nlittle nightingale. Excluded from the public schools", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0282.jp2"}, "281": {"fulltext": "Engruvi d hy J. Stow aittT tlif panitniLj; iiy A. Pond.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0283.jp2"}, "282": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0284.jp2"}, "283": {"fulltext": "ALEXANDER POPE. 24 1\\non account of his father s faith, he passed successively\\nunder the tuition of three or four Roman priests, from\\nwhom he learned the rudiments of Latin and Greek. In\\nafter years he thought it no disadvantage that his educa-\\ntion had been irregular for, as he observed, he read the\\nclassic authors, not for the zvords but for the sense.\\nAt the age of twelve he formed a plan of study for him-\\nself, and plunged into the delights of miscellaneous read-\\ning with such ardor that he came near putting an end to\\nhis life. While dipping into philosophy, theology, and\\nhistory, he delighted most in poetry and criticism and\\neither in the original or in translations (for he read what\\nwas easiest) he familiarized himself with the leading poets\\nand critics of ancient and modern times. But in the strict\\nsense of the term he never became a scholar. Seeing all\\nother avenues of life closed to him, he early resolved to\\ndevote himself to poetry, to which no doubt he felt the\\nintuitive impulse of genius. He showed remarkable pre-\\ncocity in rhyme. In his own language,\\nAs yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame,\\nI lisped in numbers, for the numbers came.\\nHe was encouraged in his early attempts by his father,\\nwho assigned him subjects, required frequent revisions,\\nand ended with the encouragement, These are good\\nrhymes. Before venturing before the public as an au-\\nthor, he served a long and remarkable apprenticeship to\\npoetry. Whenever a passage in any foreign author pleased\\nhim, he turned it into English verse. Before the age of\\nfifteen he composed an epic of four thousand lines, in\\nwhich he endeavored, in different passages, to imitate the", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0285.jp2"}, "284": {"fulltext": "242 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nbeauties of Milton, Cowley, Spenser, Statins, Homer, Vir-\\ngil, Ovid, and Claudian. My first taking to imitating,\\nhe says, was not out of vanity, but humility. I saw how\\ndefective my own things were, and endeavored to mend\\nmy manner by copying good strokes from others.\\nAmong English authors he fixed upon Dryden as his\\nmodel, for whom he felt so great a veneration that he per-\\nsuaded some friends to take him to the coffee-house fre-\\nquented by that distinguished poet. Who does not wish,\\nasks Johnson, that Dryden could have known the value\\nof the homage that was paid him and foreseen the great-\\nness of his young admirer\\nHis earliest patron, if such he may be called, was Sir\\nWilliam Trumbull, who, after serving as ambassador at\\nConstantinople under James H., and as Secretary of State\\nunder William IH., had withdrawn from public service\\nand fixed his residence in the neighborhood of Binfield.\\nThe extraordinary precocity of the youthful poet delighted\\nthe aged statesman, who was accustomed to ride and dis-\\ncuss the classics with him. It was from him that Pope\\nreceived the first suggestion to translate the Iliad.\\nAnother acquaintance belonging to this youthful period\\nwas William Walsh, a Worcestershire gentleman of for-\\ntune, who had some reputation at the time as a poet and\\ncritic. From him the ambitious youth received a bit of\\nadvice which has become famous. We have had several\\ngreat poets, he said, but we have never had one great\\npoet who was correct and I advise you to make that your\\nstudy and aim. This advice Pope evidently laid to heart.\\nAt this time he made also the acquaintance of Wycherly,\\nwhose store of literary anecdote about a past generation", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0286.jp2"}, "285": {"fulltext": "ALEXANDER POPE. 243\\ngreatly entertained him. Unfortunately, however, his as-\\nsistance was asked in revising some of Wycherly s verses\\nand this task he performed with so much conscientious-\\nness and ability cutting out here and adding there\\nthat the aged author was mortified and offended.\\nAt the age of sixteen Pope circulated some Pastorals,\\nwhich were pronounced equal to anything Virgil had pro-\\nduced at the same age. Before he had passed his teens\\nhe was recognized as the most promising writer of his\\ntime and was courted by the leading wits and people of\\nfashion.\\nThe first great work that Pope produced was the Essay\\non Criticism, which was pubhshed in 171 1. It was writ-\\nten two years previously, when the author was but twenty-\\none years of age. As was his custom with all his writings,\\nhe kept it by him in order to revise and polish it.\\nIt shows a critical power and soundness of judgment\\nthat usually belong only to age and experience. It is true\\nthat the critical principles he lays down are not original or\\nnovel. At this time Pope had his head full of critical lit-\\nerature. Horace s Ars Poetica and Boileau s L Art\\nPoetique were perfectly familiar to him, to say nothing\\nof Quintilian and Aristotle. He embodied in his poem\\nthe principles he found in his authorities. But he did this\\nwith such felicity of expression and aptness of illustration\\nas to win the admiration, not only of his contemporaries,\\nbut also of succeeding generations.\\nOne would scarcely ask, says Leslie Stephen, for\\noriginality in such a case, any more than one would desire\\na writer on ethics to invent new laws of morality. We\\nrequire neither Pope nor Aristotle to tell us that critics", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0287.jp2"}, "286": {"fulltext": "244 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nshould not be pert nor prejudiced that fancy should be\\nregulated by judgment; that apparent facility comes by\\nlong training that the sound should have some con-\\nformity to the meaning that genius is often envied\\nand that dulness is frequently beyond the reach of re-\\nproof. We might even guess, without the authority of\\nPope, backed by Bacon, that there are some beauties\\nwhich cannot be taught by method, but must be reached\\nby a kind of felicity. Yet these commonplaces of\\ncriticism Pope has presented in inimitable form, ex-\\nemplifying one of his own couplets\\nTrue wit is nature to advantage dressed\\nWhat oft was thought, but ne er so well expressed.\\nThe Essay is full of felicitous statements that in-\\nstantly command the assent of the judgment and fix\\nthemselves in the memory. Some of the lines are in\\ndaily use. Who has not heard that\\nTo err is human; to forgive, divine.\\nAnd also\\nFor fools rush in where angels fear to tread.\\nBy the poet s striking presentation we are sometimes\\ntempted to accept error for truth, as when he tell us\\nA little learning is a dangerous thing!\\nDrink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.\\nHis own lines often furnish a happy exemplification of\\nhis maxims. He tells us, for instance\\n^Tis not enough no harshness gives offence,\\nThe sound must seem an echo to the sense.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0288.jp2"}, "287": {"fulltext": "ALEXANDER POPE. 245\\nThen, by way of illustration, he continues\\nSoft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows,\\nAnd the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows\\nBut when loud surges lash the sounding shore,\\nThe hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar.\\nWhen Ajax strives some rock s vast weight to throw,\\nThe line, too, labors, and the words move slow;\\nNot so when swift Camilla scours the plain.\\nFlies o er th unbending corn, and skims along the main.\\nBut the poem is not without its faults. It would be too\\nmuch to expect that for, as he says\\nWhoever thinks a faultless piece to see.\\nThinks what ne er was, nor is, nor e er shall be.\\nIts extreme conciseness renders it obscure in places\\nwords are sometimes used in a vague and variable sense\\nand there is a noticeable poverty of rhymes, wit and\\nsense and fools being badly overworked. Yet, if\\nhe had written nothing else, this production alone would\\nhave given him a high rank as critic and poet.\\nThe publication of the Essay was the beginning of a\\nceaseless strife with contemporary writers. In the follow-\\ning lines the youthful poet had the temerity to attack\\nDennis, whose acquaintance we made in the sketch of\\nAddison\\nBut Appius reddens at each word you speak.\\nAnd stares tremendous with a threatening eye,\\nLike some fierce tyrant in old tapestry.\\nThis graphic picture inflamed the belligerent Dennis,\\nand he made a bitter personal attack upon Pope, of\\nwhom, among other savage things, he says He may", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0289.jp2"}, "288": {"fulltext": "246 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nextol the ancients, but he has reason to thank the gods\\nthat he was born a modern for had he been of Grecian\\nparents, and his father consequently had by law had the\\nabsolute disposal of him, his life had been no longer than\\nthat of one of his poems the life of half a day.\\nThough Pope affected to despise these atta:cks, yet his\\nsensitive nature was deeply wounded by them. To some\\nfriends he remarked, when one of Gibber s pamphlets\\ncame into his hand, These things are my diversion.\\nBut they noticed that his features, as he read, writhed with\\nanguish and when alone one of them expressed the hope\\nthat he might be preserved from such diversion as had\\nbeen that day the lot of Pope. But, as we shall see, his\\nrevenge was terrific.\\nThe next important production of Pope was The Rape\\nof the Lock, published in 171 2. It is the most brilliant\\nmock-heroic poem ever written. The subject is trifling\\nenough. Lord Petre, a man of fashion at the court of\\nQueen Anne, playfully cut off a lock of hair from the\\nhead of Miss Arabella Fermor, a beautiful maid of honor.\\nThis freedom was resented by the lady, and the friendly\\nintercourse of the two families was interrupted. To put\\nthe two parties into good humor, and thus to effect a\\nreconciliation, Pope devised this humorous epic. Sylphs,\\ngnomes, nymphs, and salamanders form a part of the deli-\\ncate poetic machinery. Here is a description of the un-\\nfortunate lock\\nThis nymph, to the destruction of mankind,\\nNourished two locks, which graceful hung behind\\nIn equal curls, and well conspired to deck\\nWith shining ringlets the smooth ivVy neck.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0290.jp2"}, "289": {"fulltext": "ALEXANDER POPE. 247\\nLove in these labyrinths his slaves detains,\\nAnd mighty hearts are held in slender chains.\\nWith hairy springes we the birds betray\\nSlight lines of hair surprise the finny prey\\nFair tresses man s imperial race ensnare,\\nAnd beauty draws us with a single hair.\\nSpeaking of the trifling circumstances that gave rise to\\nthis poem, Roscoe says To Cowley it might have sug-\\ngested some quaint witticisms or forced allusions to Waller\\nor SuckHng, a metaphysical song Dryden would have\\ncelebrated it in some strong lines, remarkable for their\\npoetical spirit and perhaps not less so for their indelicacy\\nwhile, by the general tribe of poets, it never could have\\nbeen extended further than to a sweet epigram or a frigid\\nsonnet. What is it in the hands of Pope An animated\\nand moving picture of human life and manners a lively\\nrepresentation of the whims and follies of the times an\\nimportant contest, in which we find ourselves deeply en-\\ngaged for the interest is so supported, the manner so ludi-\\ncrously serious, the characters so marked and distinguished,\\nthe resentment of the heroine so natural, and the triumph\\nof the conqueror so complete, that we unavoidably partake\\nthe emotions of the parties and alternately sympathize,\\napprove, or condemn.\\nIn 1 71 3 Pope undertook the translation of Homer s\\nIliad. The work was published by subscription; and\\nas he had already gained recognition as the first poet of\\nhis time, the enterprise met with generous encouragement.\\nAmong other influential friends. Swift was active in secur-\\ning subscriptions. At first the poet was appalled at the\\nmagnitude of his undertaking, and wished, to use his own", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0291.jp2"}, "290": {"fulltext": "248 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nphrase, that somebody would hang him. But facihty in-\\ncreased with practice and his defective knowledge of\\nGreek was remedied by the use of translations and the aid\\nof scholarly friends.\\nThis translation, in connection with the Odyssey, was\\nhis principal labor for twelve years, and it brought a re-\\nmuneration that had never before been realized by an\\nEnglish author. He received altogether about eight thou-\\nsand pounds, which furnished him with a competency the\\nrest of his life. The translation is wrought out with ex-\\nceeding care but in its artificial character, it is far from\\nreproducing the simplicity of the original. It brings\\nHomer before us in a dress-suit. Bentley s criticism was\\nexactly to the point It is a pretty poem, Mr. Pope, but\\nyou must not call it Homer. Yet it is a wonderful\\nwork and Johnson was not far wrong when he said,\\nIt is certainly the noblest version of poetry which the\\nworld has ever seen, and its publication must therefore be\\nconsidered as one of the great events in the annals of\\nlearnino:.\\nIn the sketch of Addison reference was made to the ill-\\nfeeling existing between the illustrious essayist and Pope.\\nIt came to an open rupture in connection with the publica-\\ntion of the Iliad. Tickell, a friend of Addison s, under-\\ntook a rival translation. He had Addison s encouragement\\nand perhaps also his assistance. It is possible that the\\nessayist felt some jealousy of the rising reputation of the\\npoet, and used his influence, in a civil way, to depreciate\\nthe latter s work. At all events, news of this sort came to\\nPope; and the next day, he says, while I was heated\\nwith what I had heard, I wrote a letter to Mr. Addison, to", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0292.jp2"}, "291": {"fulltext": "ALEXANDER POPE. 249\\nlet him know that I was not unacquainted with this be-\\nhavior of his that if I was to speak severely of him,\\nin return for it, it should not be in such a dirty way that\\nI should rather tell him, himself, fairly of his faults, and\\nallow his good qualities and that it should be something\\nin the following manner. He then added what has since\\nbecome the famous satire on Addison, in which the lack of\\njustice is made up by brilliancy of wit\\nPeace to all such but were there one whose fires\\nTrue genius kindles and fair fame inspires\\nBlest with each talent and each art to please,\\nAnd born to write, converse, and live with ease\\nShould such a man, too fond to rule alone.\\nBear like the Turk no brother near the throne,\\nView him with scornful yet with jealous eyes,\\nAnd hate for arts that caused himself to rise,\\nDamn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,\\nAnd, without sneering, teach the rest to sneer\\nWilling to wound and yet afraid to strike.\\nJust hint a fault and hesitate dislike.\\nAlike reserved to blame or to commend,\\nA timorous foe and a suspicious friend\\nDreading e en fools, by flatterers besieged,\\nAnd so obliging that he ne er obliged\\nLike Cato give his little Senate laws,\\nAnd sit attentive to his own applause.\\nWhile wits and templars every sentence raise,\\nAnd wonder with a foolisll face of praise\\nWho but must laugh if such a man there be\\nWho would not weep if Atticus were he\\nAfter becoming independent from the proceeds of his\\nHomeric translations. Pope removed to the villa of Twick-\\nenham, where he spent the remainder of his life. Here", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0293.jp2"}, "292": {"fulltext": "250 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nhe received his friends, who were among the most pol-\\nished men of the time. Gay, Arbuthnot, BoUngbroke,\\nPeterborough, Swift, were all warmly attached to him\\nthe most brilliant company of friends, says Thackeray,\\nthat the world has ever seen.\\nWe should not forget the filial piety he showed his par-\\nents one of the most beautiful features of the poet s life.\\nHowever spiteful, acrimonious, and exacting toward others,\\nto his mother he was always tender, considerate, patient.\\nIn her old age he stayed by her, denying himself the\\npleasure of long visits and foreign travel. While conven-\\ntionally courteous and formal in his relations to other\\nwomen, for whom, after the fashion of the time, he\\nseemed to entertain no high opinion, he was simple and\\nunaffected toward her. And when she died, he spoke of\\nher with peculiar tenderness I thank God, her death\\nwas as easy as her life was innocent and as it cost her not\\na groan, or even a sigh, there is yet upon her countenance\\nsuch an expression of tranquillity, nay, almost of pleasure,\\nthat it is even enviable to behold it. It would afford the\\nfinest image of a saint expired that ever painter drew.\\nAs soon as Homer was off his hands, he proceeded to\\nget even with the critics who had attacked his previous\\nwritings. The result was the Dunciad, the most elabo-\\nrate satirical performance in our language, which was given\\nto the public in 1728.\\nWe cannot think that, as he claims, his object was do-\\ning good by exposing ignorant and pretentious authors;\\nfrom what we know of his character, we are justified in\\nsupposing that personal pique animated him no less than\\nzeal for the honor of literature. Theobald, whose grievous", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0294.jp2"}, "293": {"fulltext": "ALEXANDER POPE. 25 I\\noffence was surpassing Pope in editing Shakespeare, is\\nelevated to the throne of Dulness, though he is afterward\\ndeposed to make place for Gibber.\\nOn the day the book was first vended, Pope tells us,\\n**a crowd of authors besieged the shop; entreaties, ad-\\nvices, threats of law and battery, nay, cries of treason,\\nwere all employed to hinder the coming out of the Dun-\\nciad on the other side, the booksellers and hawkers\\nmade as great efforts to procure it. What could a few\\npoor authors do against so great a majority as the public.\\nThere was no stopping a torrent with a finger, so out it\\ncame.\\nThe satire had the desired effect it blasted the charac-\\nters it touched. One of the victims complained that for\\na time he was in danger of starving, as the publishers had\\nno longer any confidence in his ability. The poem is not\\ninteresting as a whole, but contains many splendid flights,\\nas in the concluding lines, which describe the eclipse of\\nlearning and morality under the darkening reign of ad-\\nvancing Dulness\\nShe comes she comes the sable throne behold\\nOf Night primeval, and of Chaos old\\nBefore her Fancy s gilded clouds decay,\\nAnd all its varying rainbows die away.\\nWit shoots in vain its momentary fires,\\nThe meteor drops, and in a flash expires.\\nAs one by one, at dread Medea s strain,\\nThe sickening stars fade off th ethereal plain\\nAs Argus eyes, by Hermes wand oppressed,\\nClosed one by one to everlasting rest\\nThus at her felt approach, and secret might,\\nArt after art goes out, and all is night", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0295.jp2"}, "294": {"fulltext": "252 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nSee skulking Truth to her old cavern fled,\\nMountains of casuistry heap d o er her head\\nPhilosophy, that leanM on Heaven before,\\nShrinks to her second cause, and is no more.\\nPhysic of Metaphysic begs defence,\\nAnd Metaphysic calls for aid on Sense\\nSee Mystery to Mathematics fly\\nIn vain, they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die.\\nReligion, blushing, veils her sacred fires.\\nAnd unawares Morality expires.\\nNor public flame, nor private dares to shine\\nNor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine.\\nLo, thy dread empire, Chaos is restored\\nLight dies before thy uncreating word\\nThy hand, great Anarch, lets the curtain fall.\\nAnd universal darkness buries all.\\nThis is, indeed, a fine passage, repaying careful study\\nbut it hardly deserves the extravagant praise bestowed\\nupon it by Thackeray. In these astonishing lines, he\\nsays, Pope reaches, I think, to the very greatest height\\nwhich his sublime art has attained, and shows himself the\\nequal of all poets of all times. It is the brightest ardor,\\nthe loftiest assertion of truth, the most generous wisdom,\\nillustrated by the noblest poetic figure, and spoken in words\\nthe aptest, grandest, and most harmonious. It is heroic\\ncourage speaking a splendid declaration of righteous\\nwrath and war. It is the gage flung down, and the silver\\ntrumpet ringing defiance to falsehood and tyranny, deceit,\\ndulness, superstition.\\nThe Essay on Man, his noblest work, appeared in\\n1733. It consists of four Epistles the first treats of\\nman in relation to the universe the second, in relation to\\nhimself the third, in relation to society and the fourth,", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0296.jp2"}, "295": {"fulltext": "ALEXANDER POPE. 253\\nin relation to happiness. The Epistles are addressed\\nto Bolingbroke, by whom the Essay was suggested, and\\nfrom whom many of its principles proceeded. It is not so\\nmuch a treatise on man as on the moral government of the\\nworld. Its general purpose is to\\nVindicate the ways of God to man.\\nThis is done by an application of the principles of natu-\\nral religion to the origin of evil, the wisdom of the Creator,\\nand the constitution of the world. But, as a whole, the\\nEssay does not present a consistent and logical system\\nof teaching. Pope was not master of the deep theme he\\nhad undertaken and he was content to pick up in various\\nauthors whatever he could fit into his general plan. On\\nthe one hand he was attacked for having written against\\nreligion. Certainly moral responsibility disappears if we\\naccept his declaration\\nOne truth is clear whatever is, is right.\\nOn the other hand, Warburton came forward to defend\\nhis orthodoxy and his championship was gratefully ac-\\ncepted by the poet. You have made my system, Pope\\nwrote to him, as clear as I ought to have done, and could\\nnot. I know I meant just what you explain, but I\\ndid not explain my own meaning as well as you. You un-\\nderstand me as well as I do myself, but you express me\\nbetter than I could express myself.\\nWhen, however, we turn from the whole to the separate\\nparts, we are astonished at the marvellous expression and\\ninimitable form. We may call it, with Dugald Stewart,\\nthe noblest specimen of philosophical poetry which our", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0297.jp2"}, "296": {"fulltext": "2 54 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nlanguage affords. Single truths have never had more\\nsplendid statement. Here is his amplification of the truth\\nthat all things exist in God\\nAll are but parts of one stupendous whole,\\nWhose body Nature is, and God the soul\\nThat, changed through all, and yet in all the same,\\nGreat in the earth, as in th ethereal frame,\\nWarms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,\\nGlows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees\\nLives through all life, extends through all extent.\\nSpreads undivided, operates unspent\\nBreathes in our soul, informs our mortal part.\\nAs full, as perfect, in a hair as heart\\nAs full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns.\\nAs the rapt seraph that adores and burns\\nTo him no high, no low, no great, no small\\nHe fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.\\nThe religion of nature, as seen in the savage, has never\\nhad better expression than this\\nLo, the poor Indian whose untutor d mind\\nSees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind\\nHis soul proud science never taught to stray\\nFar as the solar walk, or milky way\\nYet simple nature to his hope has given.\\nBehind the cloud-topp d hill an humbler heaven\\nSome safer world in depth of woods embraced,\\nSome happier island in the watery waste.\\nWhere slaves once more their native land behold.\\nNo fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold.\\nTo be contents* his natural desire.\\nHe asks no angel s wings, no seraph s fire\\nBut thinks, admitted to that equal sky.\\nHis faithful dog shall bear him company.\\nI", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0298.jp2"}, "297": {"fulltext": "ALEXANDER POPE. 255\\nPope died in 1744. A few days before his death he be-\\ncame delirious. On recovering his rationaUty, he referred\\nto his delirium as a sufficient; humiUation of the vanity of\\nman. Bolingbroke was told that during his last illness\\nPope was always saying something kind of his present or\\nabsent friends, and that his humanity seemed to have sur-\\nvived his understanding. It has so, replied the states-\\nman and I never in my life knew a man that had so\\ntender a heart for his particular friends, or more general\\nfriendship for mankind.\\nAs the end drew near, Pope was asked whether a priest\\nshould not be called. He replied, I do not think it es-\\nsential, but it will be very right and I thank you for put-\\nting me in mind of it. He had undoubting confidence in\\na future state. Shortly after receiving the sacrament, he\\nsaid There is nothing that is meritorious but virtue and\\nfriendship, and indeed friendship itself is only a part of\\nvirtue. He lies buried at Twickenham.\\nIn appearance* he was the most insignificant of English\\nwriters. He was a dwarf, four feet high, hunch-backed,\\nand so crooked that he was called the Interrogation\\nPoint. His life was one long disease. He required help\\nin dressing and undressing and to keep erect, he had to\\nencase his body in stays. Extremely sensitive to cold, he\\nwore three or four times the usual amount of clothing.\\nBut his face was pleasing, his voice agreeable, and his\\neyes especially were beautiful and expressive. He was\\nfastidious in dress and elegant in manner. As might\\nnaturally be expected, he was punctilious and trouble-\\nsome, requiring so much attention that he was the dread\\nof servants. Fond of highly seasoned dishes, and unable", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0299.jp2"}, "298": {"fulltext": "256 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nto control his appetite, he frequently made himself sick\\nby overeating.\\nHe was singularly lacking in manly frankness, seek-\\ning always to attain his ends by artifice. It was said\\nof him that he hardly drank tea without stratagem\\nand Lady Bolingbroke used to say that he played\\nthe politician about cabbages and turnips. But he car-\\nried his artifice to higher matters and manipulated his\\ncorrespondence and his writings in the interest of his\\nreputation.\\nHis character was full of contradictions. While pro-\\nfessing to disregard fame, he courted it while affecting\\nsuperiority to the great, he took pleasure in enumerating\\nthe men of high rank among his acquaintances while\\nappearing indifferent to his own poetry, saying that he\\nwrote when he just had nothing else to do, he was\\nalways revolving some poetical scheme in his head, so\\nthat, as Swift complained, he was never at leisure for\\nconversation and while pretending insensibility to cen-\\nsure, he writhed under the attacks of critics. Yet it is\\nto his credit that he never put up his genius to the\\nhighest bidder, and that he never indulged in base flattery\\nfor selfish ends. His translation of the Iliad he dedi-\\ncated, not to influential statesmen or titled nobility, but to\\nthe second-rate dramatist, Congreve. In his view of life\\nhe fixed his attention upon its petty features, forgetting\\nthe divine and eternal relations that give it dignity and\\nworth. There is truth in the following lines, but it is\\nonly one-sided\\nBehold the child, by nature s kindly law,\\nPleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0300.jp2"}, "299": {"fulltext": "ALEXANDER POPE. 2^7\\nSome livelier plaything gives his youth delight,\\nA little louder, but as empty quite\\nScarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper age,\\nAnd beads and prayer-books are the toys of age\\nPleased with this bauble still, as that before,\\nTill tired he sleeps, and lifers poor play is o er.\\nVirtue, love, divine stewardship, and eternal life take\\naway this pettiness and give our existence here beauty\\nand grandeur.\\nAs a poet, it is too much to claim that his verses at-\\ntained the highest imaginative flights, such as we find in\\nShakespeare and Tennyson. He was not swayed by the\\nfine frenzy, the overmastering convictions, and the tor-\\nmenting passions that irresistibly force an utterance. He\\nconformed his writings to a conventional form. He sought\\nabove all, in imitation of classical models, correctness of\\nstyle. And, in the words of James Russell Lowell, in\\nhis own province he still stands unapproachably alone. If\\nto be the greatest satirist of individual men, rather than\\nof human nature, if to be the highest expression which\\nthe life of the court and the ballroom has ever found in\\nverse, if to have added more phrases to our language than\\nany other but Shakespeare, if to have charmed four gen-\\nerations, make a man a great poet then he is one. He\\nwas the chief founder of an artificial style of writing,\\nwhich in his hands was living and powerful, because he\\nused it to express artificial modes of thinking and an\\nartificial state of society. Measured by any high stand-\\nard of imagination, he will be found wanting; tried by\\nthe test of wit, he is unrivalled.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0301.jp2"}, "300": {"fulltext": "258 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nJONATHAN SWIFT.\\nOf Swift as a writer there can hardly be more than one\\nopinion. In originaUty and power he excelled all the\\nwriters of his day. His genius expressed itself in new\\nand imperishable forms and though much that he has\\nwritten, especially in verse, is unworthy of him, his Tale\\nof a Tub, his Gulliver s Travels, and his Journal to\\nStella will endure as long as the English language itself.\\nNo one else was more dreaded as an antagonist. We\\nwere determined to have you on our side, the Tory leader\\nBolingbroke said to him you were the only one we were\\nafraid of. During the last years of Queen Anne s reign\\nhe was the chief literary support of the Tory administra-\\ntion and more than any one else, it has been said, he\\nformed the political opinions of the English nation.\\nBut of Swift as a man it is not easy to form a satis-\\nfactory estimate. His character exhibited contradictory\\nqualities. In spite of the labors of numerous biographers\\nand critics, he still, in some measure, remains an enigma.\\nHe was not a model of amiable temper or lofty purpose,\\nand his career is full of striking and unpardonable faults.\\nYet that he was a monster of selfishness, hatred, and\\niniquity, as some have maintained, we cannot believe. He\\nhad the clear vision of a powerful mind. He saw through\\nthe shams and hypocrisies by which he was surrounded\\nand what has often been taken for heartless misanthropy", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0302.jp2"}, "301": {"fulltext": "After the painting by Bindon.\\nc^. ^^vM: 5^", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0303.jp2"}, "302": {"fulltext": "1", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0304.jp2"}, "303": {"fulltext": "JONATHAN SWIFT. 259\\nwas in reality an honest heroism which waged a thank-\\nless war on humbug and villainy. That he often went\\ntoo far, that he was often coarse and terrible, cannot be\\ndenied or condoned. In his later years real or fancied\\nwrongs goaded his proud, imperious nature into reckless\\nfury.\\nJonathan Swift was born in Dublin in 1667, though his\\nparents were English. Owing to the death of his father,\\nhis childhood and youth were spent under the embarrass-\\nments of poverty and dependence. The seemingly grudg-\\ning manner in which he was supported by his relatives,\\nespecially by his uncle Godwin, kindled a resentment\\nthat he never laid aside. Gratitude was not a marked\\nfeature of his character. Was it not your uncle God-\\nwin, he was once asked, who educated you. Yes,\\nreplied Swift after a pause, he gave me the education of\\na dog. Then, replied the inquirer with great intrepidity,\\nyou have not the gratitude of a dog.\\nIn 1682 he entered Trinity College, Dublin, but did not\\napply himself assiduously to the course of study. His\\nown account of his college life presents the facts in as\\nfavorable a manner as they will bear. He was so dis-\\ncouraged and sunk in his spirits, he says, that he too\\nmuch neglected his academic studies, for some parts of\\nwhich he had no great relish by nature, and turned himself\\nto reading history and poetry, so that when the time came\\nfor taking his degree of Bachelor of Arts, although he\\nhad lived with great regularity and due observance of the\\nstatutes, he was stopped of his degree for dulness and\\ninsufficiency and at last hardly admitted in a manner\\nlittle to his credit, which is called in that college speciali", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0305.jp2"}, "304": {"fulltext": "26o ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ngratia There is sufficient reason to believe that the\\ngreat regularity which he ascribes to his life at this\\nperiod is due chiefly to the distance from which the facts\\nare viewed.\\nAfter leaving the university in 1688, Swift entered the\\nfamily of Sir William Temple, a distinguished statesman\\nand writer, with whom he spent, except two brief intervals,\\nthe next ten years of his life. Here he was initiated into\\npolitics and made the acquaintance of King William, by\\nwhom he was offered a troop of horse. He was once sent\\nby Temple with a confidential communication to the king\\nand used all his skill to enforce his patron s views. But\\nthe king s mind was made up and this failure to carry\\nhis point Swift was wont to refer to as the first incident\\nthat helped to cure him of vanity. He improved his time\\nby laborious study, reading, it is said, eight hours a day.\\nAt length he took orders and obtained a small living in\\nIreland but finding a remote country parish more irksome\\nthan his previous position, he returned to Sir William\\nTemple s and remained there till that nobleman s death\\nin 1699. He edited the works of his patron and dedicated\\nthem to William HI., in the hope of receiving some prefer-\\nment but in this, as in so many other cases, he suffered\\ndisappointment.\\nWhile living in the house of Sir William Temple, Swift\\ncomposed his first important work, The Battle of the\\nBooks. At this time the relative merits of ancient and\\nmodern authors was being debated in France and England.\\nTemple had espoused the cause of the ancients with more\\nzeal than learning; and as he had fared badly at the hands\\nof Wotton and Bentley, the latter the most eminent", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0306.jp2"}, "305": {"fulltext": "JONATHAN SWIFT. 26 1\\nscholar of his day, Swift came to his patron s defence in\\na satirical production, giving a full and true account of\\nthe battle fought last Friday between the ancient and the\\nmodern books in St. James s library. It is a prose imita-\\ntion of Homer s style in the Iliad. Of course he makes\\nthe victory incline to the side of the ancients and Bentley\\nand Wotton are left on the field transfixed by the same\\nspear. This work was not pubHshed till 1704, though\\nwritten several years previously.\\nIn 1699 Swift went to Ireland as chaplain to Lord Berke-\\nley, who was appointed one of the lord justices of that king-\\ndom. He complained, not unjustly, of that nobleman s\\nunkindness to him in bestowing preferments. Swift was\\nput off with the unimportant vicarage of Laracor. Not-\\nwithstanding his disappointment, he discharged his duties\\nfaithfully under discouraging circumstances. His congre-\\ngations averaged only half a score. On one occasion there\\nwas no person present but his clerk Roger with grim\\nhumor Swift began Dearly beloved Roger, the Scripture\\nmoveth you and me in sundry places, etc., and then pro-\\nceeded regularly through the whole service. For a time he\\nhad the ambition to excel as a preacher but he afterward\\nlost confidence in his oratorical ability and declared that\\nhis sermons were only pamphlets. Some years before his\\ndeath, he gave his entire collection to Dr. Sheridan with\\nthe remark, They may be of use to you, they have never\\nbeen of any to me. But an examination of his discourses\\nshows that he unduly depreciated them. While they are\\nlacking in oratorical fervor, they are clear and strong pres-\\nentations of moral and religious truth, reflecting no dis-\\ncredit on the author s ability or piety.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0307.jp2"}, "306": {"fulltext": "262 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nSwift sought preferment through a good part of his life.\\nHis heart was long set on a bishopric. Had he been a\\nman of less genius and less independence, his ambition\\nmight have been gratified. But he could not be counted\\non to pull steadily in party traces and while feared by\\nhis enemies, he was never fully trusted by his friends. He\\nwas first a Whig then he turned Tory, and mercilessly\\nlashed his former party associates. In proud conscious-\\nness of his power, he was exacting and imperious in his\\nrelations with the great. I generally am acquainted with\\nabout thirty in the drawing-room, he writes to Stella, and\\nam so proud that I make all the lords come up to me.\\nHe once demanded an apology of the prime minister, and\\nhaving obtained it, he wrote, I have taken Mr. Harley\\ninto favor again. The highest preferment Swift was\\nable to obtain was the deanery of St. Patrick s in Dublin\\nand this office, which he held till the close of his life, he\\nlooked on as an exile.\\nSwift s strength lay chiefly in calm, cold, merciless sat-\\nire. In this style of writing he has no equal, perhaps, in\\nthe whole range of literature. His satirical gift amounts\\nto real genius. But there is in it no genial humor, such as\\nrenders Addison s writings so charming. His touch is not\\nplayful, tender, delicate. Morbidly sensitive to the evils\\nin society, the church, and the state, he castigates them in\\nterrible earnest. He is grimly saturnine. In the Modest\\nProposal for preventing the children of poor people in\\nIreland from being a burden to their parents or country,\\nand for making them beneficial to the public, we almost\\nshudder at the impassive seriousness with which he intro-\\nduces his hideous plan. I have been assured, he says,", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0308.jp2"}, "307": {"fulltext": "JONATHAN SWIFT. 263\\nby a very knowing American of my acquaintance in Lon-\\ndon, that a young healthy child well nursed is at a year old\\na most delicious, nourishing, and wholesome food, whether\\nstewed, roasted, baked, or boiled; and I make no doubt\\nthat it will equally serve in a fricassee or a ragout.\\nIn 1704 Swift published a powerful satire entitled, A\\nTale of a Tub, the object of which was to ridicule what\\nhe regarded as the inconsistency and intolerance of the\\nleading bodies into which Christendom is divided. A\\nfather is described on his death-bed as bequeathing to each\\nof his three sons, Peter, Martin, and Jack (representing\\nRomanists, Anglicans, and Dissenters), a new coat. This\\nwas the Christian religion. Now you are to understand,\\nsaid the father, that these coats have two virtues con-\\ntained in them one is, that with good wearing they will\\nlast you fresh and sound as long as you live the other is,\\nthat they will grow in the same proportion with your\\nbodies, lengthening and widening of themselves, so as to\\nbe always fit. They were to live together in one house\\nas brethren and friends.\\nFor the first seven years all went well. Then the\\nbrothers came to town, fell in love with the Duchess\\nd Argent, Madame de Grands Titres, and the Countess\\nd Orgueil, representing covetousness, ambition, and pride.\\nTo win the favor of these ladies, the brothers began fo live\\nas gallants. But they were embarrassed by the plainness\\nof their coats. After some time, by a marvellous interpreta-\\ntion of their father s will (the Bible), they added shoulder\\nknots. Silver fringe (representing outward splendor) was\\nsoon in fashion and consulting the will again, they found,\\nto their great astonishment, these words I charge and", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0309.jp2"}, "308": {"fulltext": "264 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ncommand my said three sons to wear no sort of silver\\nfringe upon or about their said coats. What was to be\\ndone Peter, with great erudition and critical skill, re-\\nmoved the difficulty. He had found in a certain author,\\nwhich he said should be nameless, that the same word\\nwhich in the will is 0.2^0.^ fringe does also signify a broom-\\nstick and doubtless ought to have the same interpreta-\\ntion in this paragraph. By similar outrageous subterfuges\\nthe three brothers added gold lace and flame-colored satin\\nlinings to their coats and lived in the height of fashion.\\nFinally, their father s will was locked up and disregarded\\nentirely. Peter began to put on airs and styling himself\\nMy Lord Peter, cast his brothers out of the house.\\nThe genius displayed in The Tale of a Tub is\\nunmistakable; but the general tone of the satire its\\ncoarseness, irreverence, and indiscrimination called forth\\ngeneral condemnation. More than anything else, it stood\\nin the way of the coveted bishopric. His enemies used\\nit to his disadvantage; and as we read it to-day, we can\\nhardly find fault with the judgment expressed at the time,\\nthat the author was not fit to be a bishop.\\nIn 1 710 Swift went to London on business connected\\nwith the Irish church, and spent there the next three yeajs\\nperhaps the happiest years of his life. He was inti-\\nmately associated with the political and literary leaders of\\nthe metropolis. Politics and literature were more inti-\\nmately associated then than at the present time. His\\npolitical pamphlets exerted an immense influence on pub-\\nlic opinion. He was the most trenchant and formidable\\npamphleteer of his day. He lived on terms of intimacy\\nwith Addison and Pope, and used his influence at court to", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0310.jp2"}, "309": {"fulltext": "JONATHAN SWIFT. 265\\nadvance the interests of his friends. It was during these\\nyears in London that he wrote his remarkable Journal\\nto Stella, in which we see so vividly the life of the time.\\nIn his second letter he writes Henceforth I will write\\nsomething every day to MD and make it a sort of jour-\\nnal; and when it is full, I will send it whether MD writes\\nor not and so that will be pretty, and I shall always be\\nin conversation with MD. He adhered to his promise;\\nand day after day he wrote down the most trifling occur-\\nrences, the persons he met, where he dined, what he ate\\nand spent, his hopes and fears, political, social, and literary\\ngossip, a record almost without parallel in literature for\\nthe historic importance of the men and events that figure\\nin its pages, and for the clearness with which it reproduces\\nthe life of another age.\\nBut who was Stella. This leads us to a consideration\\nof Swift s relation to women, one of the most unsatis-\\nfactory and mysterious features of his life. His power-\\nful individuality, together with his brilliant conversation\\nand keen wit, made a deep impression on the opposite\\nsex. He was constantly surrounded by a group of admir-\\ning women. But there were two in whom he inspired a\\ndeathless devotion, which in the end rendered their lives\\ndesolate. How far he was to blame, it is now impossible\\nto tell. There is an unsolved mystery hanging over his\\nconduct, of which we have only a hint. After a private\\nconversation with Swift, which seems to have been some\\nsort of confession. Archbishop King said to a friend,\\nYou have just met the most unhappy man on earth;\\n1 The initials of My Dear a part of the little language of endearment he\\nconstantly employs.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0311.jp2"}, "310": {"fulltext": "266 ENGLISH LITERATURE,\\nbut on the subject of his wretchedness you must never\\nask a question.\\nStella is a poetic name which Swift bestowed on Esther\\nJohnson, a beautiful, dark-eyed girl, whom he had met\\nat Sir William Temple s, and whose studies he had\\ndirected. This relation ripened into a feeling of at least\\nsincere friendship on the part of Swift, and on the part\\nof Stella into a lasting devotion. After his settlement in\\nIreland, she removed thither, at his request, to be near\\nhim, and remained there during his sojourn in London.\\nIn the metropolis he met another and accomplished\\nyoung woman named Esther Vanhomrigh, to whom he\\ngave the poetic sobriquet of Vanessa. He frequently\\ndined at her mother s insensibly drawn, perhaps, by\\nan attraction he had not the courage to recognize. He\\ninterested himself in Vanessa s studies and was repaid\\nwith an impassioned and quenchless love. She pos-\\nsessed ample means and after his return to Dublin,\\nshe followed him. In his embarrassing situation between\\nStella and Vanessa, he temporized for a time, unable or\\nfearing to discard either beauty.\\nAt last he consented to a secret marriage with Stella\\nin 1 716. But it was a marriage only in name. At length\\nVanessa, grown weary with years of waiting, wrote a let-\\nter of inquiry to Stella. This step incensed the imperi-\\nous dean beyond measure. He suddenly appeared before\\nher in a paroxysm of fury and, without saying a word,\\nbut with a fierce countenance that struck terror to her\\nheart, he threw down the unfortunate letter and instantly\\nleft the house. It was Vanessa s death-warrant and in\\na few weeks, in 1723, she died of a broken heart. Stella", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0312.jp2"}, "311": {"fulltext": "JONATHAN SWIFT. 267\\nsurvived her five years, but with all the sweetness of\\nlife gone. On her death-bed, Swift, referring to their\\nmarriage, said, Well, my dear, if you wish it, it shall\\nbe owned. Her pathetic answer was, It is too late.\\nAs a memento, he kept a little package, on which was\\ninscribed, Only a woman s hair.\\nIn 1724 an opportunity presented itself for Swift to\\ntake vengeance on the EngHsh government for his exile.\\nA patent had been granted to WilUam Wood to supply\\nIreland with a debased copper coinage. Swift attacked\\nthe scheme in a series of letters published in a Dublin\\nnewspaper and signed M. B. Drapier. They were\\nseven in number and are known as the Drapier Let-\\nters. They were written with great ingenuity and power\\nand, as a result, the Irish people were roused to fury, and\\nthe English government found it necessary to cancel the\\npatent. Swift became the most popular man in Ireland\\nand to arrest him, it was said, would require a force of\\nten thousand men.\\nTwo years later appeared his most famous work, Gul-\\nliver s Travels. Though containing numerous references\\nto the political and social condition of England, it may,\\nas a whole, be considered as a satire on the human race.\\nIt consists of four voyages. In the first, Gulliver visits\\nLilliput, where the inhabitants are six inches high, and\\n^all other objects houses, trees, ships, animals are in\\nthe same proportion. In the second voyage, he goes to\\nBrobdingnag, a country of enormous giants sixty feet\\ntall. In the third, he visits Laputa and other fantastic\\ncountries. In the last voyage, he discovers the country\\nof the Houyhnhnms, in which horses are the rational", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0313.jp2"}, "312": {"fulltext": "268 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nand dominant race, and men, under the name of Yahoos,\\nare degraded to the state of irrational brutes. The whole\\nstory is told with an air of candor that rivals Defoe. The\\nsatire, which is filled with a delightful variety of incidents,\\nis lighter and more entertaining in the first two parts\\nbut in the last two the misanthropy overpowers the\\nhumor and arouses a feeling of indignant protest. What-\\never may be their frailties and sins, men are not Yahoos.\\nNone of Swift s writings give us a clearer insight into\\nhis character than his Thoughts on Various Subjects.\\nThey are in the form of aphorisms, which embody much\\nshrewd observation, but also a good deal of error and\\ncynicism. A few are given\\nWe have just enough religion to make us hate, but not\\nenough to make us love, one another.\\nAll fits of pleasure are balanced by an equal degree of\\npain or languor it is like spending this year part of the\\nnext year s revenue.\\nThe latter part of a wise man s life is taken up in\\ncuring the follies, prejudices, and false opinions he had\\ncontracted in the former.\\nWhen a true genius appears in the world, you may\\nknow him by this sign, that the dunces are all in confed-\\neracy against him.\\nThe reason why so few marriages are happy is because\\nyoung ladies spend their time in making nets, not in making\\ncages.\\nThe stoical scheme of supplying our wants by lopping\\noff our desires, is like cutting off our feet when we want\\nshoes.\\nSwift has left a considerable body of verse it cannot", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0314.jp2"}, "313": {"fulltext": "J ON A THAN S WIFT. 269\\nin justice be called poetry. After perusing one of his\\nearly metrical pieces, Dryden remarked, Cousin Swift,\\nyou will never be a poet. This judgment, which does\\ncredit to Dryden s critical sagacity, cost him the implacable\\ndislike of Swift. Swift s mind was lacking in warm imagi-\\nnation and delicate sensibility. He saw things in their\\nreality. In spite of its intellectual power, his mind had an\\nabnormal tendency to what is low and disgusting. His\\nverse is disfigured, as is much of his prose, by a coarseness\\nand obscenity which are no longer tolerated among respect-\\nable people.\\nHis style is in perfect keeping with the man. He was\\ntoo proud for affectation. He wrote as he lived and in\\nall his works we find him direct, unconventional, strong.\\nIn the language of Thackeray, who is far from being partial\\nto the dean, He shuns tropes and metaphors, and uses his\\nideas and words with a wise thrift and economy, as he used\\nhis money, with which he could be generous and splendid\\nupon great occasions, but which he husbanded when there\\nwas no need to spend it. He never indulges in needless\\nextravagance of rhetoric, lavish epithets, profuse imagery.\\nHe lays his opinion before you with a grave simplicity and\\na perfect neatness.\\nIn his social relations Swift exhibited some of the eccen-\\ntricities of genius. He disdainfully trampled on conven-\\ntional forms and amenities, assuming to be a law unto\\nhimself. He was sometimes outrageous in his insolence\\nand pride. Dining one day with the Earl of Burlington,\\nhe said to the mistress of the house, Lady Burlington,\\nI hear you can sing sing me a song. The lady natu-\\nrally resented this freedom of address, and promptly de-", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0315.jp2"}, "314": {"fulltext": "2/0 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nclined. Why, madam, he exclaimed, suppose you\\ntake me for one of your poor English hedge-parsons\\nsing when I bid you. The lady burst into tears and left\\nthe room. The next time he met her, his salutation was,\\nPray, madam, are you as proud and ill-natured now as\\nwhen I saw you last\\nBut, notwithstanding these faults, there was something\\nin his strong individuality that possessed an unusual charm.\\nHe was much sought after in London society, and during\\nhis stay there, as we learn from the Journal to Stella,\\nscarcely a day passed that he did not dine with some celeb-\\nrity. His friendships were as strong as his dislikes were\\nbitter. He warmly promoted Pope s translation of Homer\\nand declared his purpose not to let the poet publish a line\\ntill he had raised for him a thousand guineas. He loved\\nhis mother tenderly; and when she died in 1 710, he wrote:\\nI have now lost the last barrier between me and death.\\nGod grant that I may be as well prepared for it as I con-\\nfidently believe her to have been If the way to Heaven\\nbe through piety, truth, justice, and charity, she is there.\\nThe closing years of his life were pitiful. Walking with\\nsome friends, one day, just outside of Dublin, he remained\\nbehind. He was gazing intently at a lofty tree, the top of\\nwhich had been blasted. Upon the approach of Dr.\\nYoung, one of the party. Swift pointed to it, and said with\\nsignificance, I shall be like that tree, and die first at the\\ntop. His forebodings were fulfilled. About the year\\n1736 his memory began to fail. The giddiness and deaf-\\nness, from which he had suffered nearly all his life, greatly\\nincreased. He lost all taste for society and no longer\\ntook pleasure in writing or in books his days, filled with", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0316.jp2"}, "315": {"fulltext": "JONATHAN SWIFT. 2/1\\npain and desolateness, dragged heavily along. At last his\\nunderstanding failed him, and in 1740 it became necessary\\nto appoint guardians of his person and estate. From this\\nsad condition he was released by death, in 1745. He lies\\nburied in the cathedral of St. Patrick.\\nSwift is one of the most tragic figures in English litera-\\nture. His character exhibits strength without elevation.\\nHis dominant passion was an imperious pride that sought\\nto bend everything to his will. In his lust for power, he\\nacted largely on the principle of rule or ruin. His fre-\\nquent disappointments filled his heart with bitterness, yet\\nhe was not without kind and generous impulses but, to\\nescape the praises or gratitude of men, he frequently con-\\ncealed his charities, or accompanied them with a wilfully\\noffensive brusqueness. His piety has been unjustly ques-\\ntioned. While he waged a relentless war on hypocrisy\\nand formalism, he was deeply religious at heart and in\\nhis hour of greatest need he lifted his soul in agonizing\\nprayer to God.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0317.jp2"}, "316": {"fulltext": "i", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0318.jp2"}, "317": {"fulltext": "AGE OF JOHNSON.\\nPRINCIPAL WRITERS.\\nOrators. Richard Brinsley Sheridan (1751-1816), orator, poli-\\ntician, and dramatist. Pitt said of his speech in the trial of Warren\\nHastings, that it surpasses all the eloquence of ancient or modern\\ntimes. Two of his dramas, The Rivals (1775) and The School\\nfor Scandal (1777), take high rank.\\nEdmund Burke (1730- 1797). Orator, statesman, and author. His\\nprincipal works are his Inquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the\\nSublime and Beautiful (1756) and his Reflections on the Revolution\\nin France (1790).\\nHistorians. David Hume (1711-1776). Historian and phi-\\nlosopher. Author of Essays Moral and Political (174O Inquiry\\nConcerning the Human Understanding (1748), History of England\\n(1754-1762), etc.\\nWilliam Robertson (1721-1793). Clergyman and historian. Au-\\nthor of History of Scotland (1759), History of Charles V. (1769),\\nand History of America i\\nEdward Gibbon 1 737-1 794) Author of The Decline and Fall of\\nthe Roman Empire (i 776-1 788), etc.\\nPoets. \u00e2\u0080\u0094Mark Akenside (1721-1771). His principal book is his\\nPleasures of the Imagination (1744), suggested by Addison s essay\\non the same subject in the Spectator.\\nThomas Gray (1716-1771). His poem A Distant Prospect of\\nEton College (1742) attracted attention. His best-known poem is the\\nElegy in a Country Churchyard (1750). Progress of Poesy\\n(1755) and The Bard, which was not completed, are his other pro-\\nductions. One of the most artistic of English poets.\\nWilliam Collins (i 721-1759). A lyrical poet of fine genius. His\\nvolume of Odes, published in 1747, fell still-born from the press.\\nT 273", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0319.jp2"}, "318": {"fulltext": "2/4 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nHis Ode on the Death of Thomson, Ode to Evening, and Ode\\non the Passions are excellent poems.\\nGeorge Crabbe (1754-1832). His principal poem is The Village\\n(1783). He was Augustan in the form of his poetry, using the rhymed\\ncouplet, but modern in spirit. Byron calls him Nature s sternest\\npainter, but the best.\\nJames Beattie (1735-1803). The Minstrel, his best poem, ap-\\npeared, the first part, in 1771, and the second part in 1774. It is\\nwritten in Spenserian stanza and marks the transition from the artificial\\nto the natural school.\\nWilliam Shenstone (1714-1 763). The Schoolmistress (1742) is\\na poem in Spenserian verse, belonging to the rising romantic school.\\nIt describes a village school.\\nMiscellaneous. Thomas Warton (1728-1790). Professor of\\nPoetry at Oxford, and author of a History of English Poetry (1781),\\nextending to the early part of the seventeenth century.\\nThomas Percy (1729-1811). Bishop, and author of Reliques of\\nAncient English Poetry.\\nJames Boswell (i 740-1 795). Friend of Dr. Johnson, noting that\\ngreat writers speech and actions. His Life of Dr. Johnson (1791)\\nis regarded as one of the best biographies ever written.\\nHorace Walpole (1717-1797). Earl of Oxford, and author of The\\nCastle of Otranto (1765), written in an extravagant romantic style,\\nand Historic Doubts on the Life and Reign of Richard III. (1768).\\nAdam Smith (i 723-1790). Political economist, and author of The\\nWealth of Nations (1776), a widely influential book, laying the founda-\\ntions of a national political economy.\\nGREAT REPRESENTATIVE WRITERS.\\nSamuel Johnson. Edward Gibbon.\\nOliver Goldsmith. William Cowper.\\nRobert Burns.", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0320.jp2"}, "319": {"fulltext": "VI.\\nAGE OF JOHNSON.\\n(1745-1800.)\\nCharacteristics of period Transition Brotherhood of man Dec-\\nlaration of Independence Democratic tendencies Advancing\\nintelligence Newspapers Moral and religious improvement\\nPhilanthropy England a world-power Results on English char-\\nacter Oratory Pitt, Burke Historical writing Hume, Rob-\\nertson Romantic movement Effects Humanity Nature\\nSamuel Johnson Oliver Goldsmith Edward Gibbon\\nWilliam Cowper Robert Burns.\\nThe course of English literature is marked by a succes-\\nsion of rises and descents. Notwithstanding the presence\\nof a few writers of marked excellence, the period under\\nconsideration is one of decadence. Old influences were\\ngiving place to new. This period is named after Johnson,\\nthe great literary dictator, simply as a matter of conven-\\nience. While he was the centre of an influential literary\\ngroup for many years, and the most picturesque and com-\\nmanding literary figure of his time, other and mightier\\ninfluences were at work, giving a new tone and direction\\nto literature.\\nIn great measure Johnson bore the impress of the pre-\\nceding period. In his poetry he is coldly classical and\\nin a part, at least, of his prose, he is an imitator of Addison.\\nThe real characteristic of this second half of the eighteenth\\ncentury is transition. By the side of the literary forms and\\ncanons of the age of Pope, there arose a new kind of writ-\\n275", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0321.jp2"}, "320": {"fulltext": "2/6 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ning distinguished by a return to nature. Artificial poetry\\nhad already been carried to its utmost limits and if litera-\\nture was to reach a higher excellence, it was obliged to\\nassume a new form. And to this it was urged by the mo-\\nmentous social, political, and religious changes that took\\nplace, not only in England, but on the Continent and in\\nAmerica during the latter part of the century.\\nIn their onward course mankind made a marked advance.\\nIn social and political relations the rights of men were more\\nclearly recognized, and the brotherhood of mankind began\\nto affect existing customs and institutions. As in all great\\nforward movements of the world, a variety of causes co-\\noperated in bringing about great changes. Unwilling\\nhands often played an important part. The stupidity and\\nobstinacy of George III. and of some of his ministers hast-\\nened the formal declaration of those principles of liberty\\nwhich mark a new era in civil government.\\nA strong tendency of the age was crystallized in the\\nDeclaration of Independence. We hold these truths to\\nbe self-evident, said the wise and courageous representa-\\ntives of the American colonists, that all men are created\\nequal that they are endowed by their Creator with certain\\nunalienable rights that among these are life, liberty, and\\nthe pursuit of happiness that, to secure these rights, gov-\\nernments are instituted among men, deriving their just\\npowers from the consent of the governed that, whenever\\nany form of government becomes destructive of these ends,\\nit is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to\\ninstitute a new government, laying its foundation on such\\nprinciples, and organizing its powers in such form as to\\nthem shall seem most likely to effect their safety and hap-\\nI", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0322.jp2"}, "321": {"fulltext": "AGE OF JOHNSON. 2//\\npiness. This solemn declaration sounded the knell of\\nabsolutism in the world. It is a political gospel that is\\ndestined to leaven the whole lump.\\nBut how came the American colonists to a recognition\\nof the weighty truths embodied in this declaration They\\nsimply voiced the growing spirit of the age. The greater\\ndiffusion of knowledge had opened the eyes of men to a\\nbetter perception of truth. The force of custom and preju-\\ndice was, in a measure, broken. The claims of superiority\\nset up by privileged classes were seen to be baseless, and\\ninjustice and oppression in the state were discerned and\\ndenounced.\\nIn England there was a noteworthy advance in popular\\nintelligence. Remarkable inventions in the mechanic arts\\nplaced new power in the hands of the producing classes.\\nThe use of coal in smelting iron the opening of canals\\nthroughout England the invention of the spinning-jenny\\nand power-loom the perfecting of the steam-engine with\\nits wide application to manufacturing purposes all this\\nbrought people together in large communities, greatly\\nraised the average intelligence, and established the indus-\\ntrial supremacy of England.\\nPrinting-presses were set up in every town circulating\\nlibraries were opened newspapers were multiplied and\\nmonthly magazines and reviews fostered the general intel-\\nligence that called them into being. The proceedings of\\nParliament were regularly published and naturally became\\nthe subject of discussion in every club-room and at many\\na hearthstone. The first great English journals the\\nMorning Chronicle^ the Morimig Post, and the Times\\ndate from this period.", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0323.jp2"}, "322": {"fulltext": "278 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThe moral and religious state of society showed marked\\nimprovement. The Wesleyan revival had rendered the\\nfox-hunting clergyman an impossibility. Crossness gave\\nv/ay to decorum in life. Indecency was almost wholly\\nbanished from the stage and from literature. This happy\\nchange is illustrated in an incident told us by Sir Walter\\nScott. His grandaunt assured him that, when led by\\ncuriosity to turn over the pages of a novel in which she\\nhad delighted in her youth, she was astonished to find that,\\nsitting alone at the age of eighty, she was unable to read\\nwithout shame a book which sixty years before she had\\nheard read out for amusement in large circles, consisting\\nof the best society in London.\\nThis improved moral tone was not restricted to senti-\\nment. One of the noble features of this period was the\\nactive efforts to improve the condition of the unfortunate\\nand the oppressed. The slave-trade, which Englishmen\\nhad long made a source of profitable commerce, was\\nabolished. Hospitals were established. Howard, by his\\nnoble enthusiasm and incessant labors, secured a reform\\nin prison discipline. Robert Raikes of Gloucester estab-\\nlished the Sunday-school, which for England was the\\nbeginning of popular education.\\nWith the conclusion of the Seven Years War, England\\nentered upon her career as a world-power. She ceased,\\nin large measure, to be a rival of Germany or France.\\nBy the treaty of Paris, in 1763, Canada and the Mississippi\\nValley were ceded to England, and the future of America\\nas an English-speaking nation was secured. Through the\\nfearless explorations of Cook, numerous islands in the\\nPacific, including Australia, were added to the domain of", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0324.jp2"}, "323": {"fulltext": "AGE OF JOHNSON. 2/9\\nEngland. The victory of Plassey, in 1757, laid the founda-\\ntion of English supremacy in India. England was felt to\\nbe, to use the words of Burke, but part of a great em-\\npire, extended by our virtue and our fortune to the farthest\\nlimits of the east and the west.\\nThe inevitable result of all these conditions was an in-\\ncreasing sense of power, a greater breadth of view, and\\nespecially a clearer recognition of the rights of men. The\\nfoundations were laid for a vigorous literature, but the\\ncompleted results were not to appear till the succeeding\\nperiod. A noteworthy feature of the time is the predomi-\\nnance of prose. Poetry retires somewhat into the back-\\nground fancy gives place to reason. It was a practical\\nage, largely absorbed in material advancement and political\\nand social reform.\\nThe period of Johnson was brilliant in its oratory. The\\nworld has never seen a group of greater orators than Pitt,\\nFox, Chatham, Sheridan, Burke. Great questions of gov-\\nernment presented themselves for consideration and action.\\nThrough the activity of the press, eloquence was no longer\\nbounded by the halls of Parliament, but extended to the\\nlimits of the kingdom. Much of the eloquence of the\\ntime is imperishable. The principles of human liberty,\\nof sound political economy, and of manly integrity have\\nnever had better utterance. Sir, exclaimed Pitt, after\\nthe passage of the Stamp Act had aroused resistance, I\\nrejoice that America has resisted. Three million of peo-\\nple, so dead to all the feelings of liberty as voluntarily to\\nbe slaves, would have been fit instruments to make slaves\\nof the rest.\\nThe most prominent figure in this group of orators was", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0325.jp2"}, "324": {"fulltext": "28o ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nEdward Burke. I have learned more from him, ex-\\nclaimed Fox in a burst of admiration, than from all the\\nbooks I ever read. To philosophical depth Burke added\\nthe glow of imagination and to vast resources of fact,\\nhe joined the warmth of ardent feeling. His grasp of\\nprinciples and his expression of lofty sentiment give a\\npermanent value to his masterful speeches. Though he\\nsometimes wearied his auditors by his profundity and\\nlength, his efforts at their best have the immortality that\\nbelongs to the orations of his master Cicero. Among his\\nmany able speeches, that on Conciliation with America\\nis usually regarded as the best.\\nBut Burke was an author as well as orator. In 1756 he\\nwrote an Inquiry into the Sublime and Beautiful, which,\\nthough highly esteemed in its day, has been superseded\\nby later works on art criticism. In 1770 appeared his\\nThoughts on the Cause of the Present Discontents, which\\nis an elevated, philosophical discussion of existing politi-\\ncal conditions. His most important work is his Reflec-\\ntions on the French Revolution. It was a passionate\\narraignment of the revolutionary movement. Its appeal\\nto the passions, its cruel force and wit, says Gosse, its\\nmagnificent, direct incentive to reaction, all these gave the\\nReflections an amazing interest to those who had just\\nwitnessed, with bewilderment, the incomprehensible and\\nunexampled progress of events in France. Upon all the\\ntrembling kings of Europe, upon the exiles on the Rhine\\nespecially, the book fell like rain after a long drought.\\nIn his political career Burke kept himself infinitely above\\nthe hypocrisy and sycophancy of the demagogue. Not\\nfor a moment did he lay aside the independence and dig-", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0326.jp2"}, "325": {"fulltext": "AGE OF JOHNSON. 28 1\\nnity of a great statesman. No other representative of the\\npeople ever gave a manUer account of his stewardship\\nthan did he to the electors of Bristol. After meeting in\\nperfect frankness and candor the objections that had been\\nurged against his conduct in Parliament, he concluded\\nAnd now, gentlemen, on this serious day when I come,\\nas it were, to make up my account with you, let me take\\nto myself some degree of honest pride on the nature of the\\ncharges that are against me. I do not here stand before\\nyou accused of venality or neglect of duty. It is not said\\nthat, in the long period of my service, I have, in a single\\ninstance, sacrificed the slightest of your interests to my\\nambition or to my fortune. It is not alleged that, to gratify\\nany anger or revenge of my own or of my party, I have\\nhad a share in wronging or oppressing any description of\\nmen, or any one man in any description. No! The\\ncharges against me are all of one kind that I have pushed\\nthe principles of general justice^ and benevolence too far\\nfurther than a cautious policy would warrant, and further\\nthan the opinions of many would go along with me. In\\nevery accident which may happen through life, in pain, in\\nsorrow, in depression, and distress, I will call to mind this\\naccusation and be comforted.\\nDuring the period before us, historical writing attained\\nan excellence that has scarcely been surpassed. There\\narose three great historians who brought to their narratives\\nphilosophical insight and a finished excellence of style.\\nAmong the historians of the world, there are few greater\\nnames than Hume, Robertson, and Gibbon.\\nHume very early developed a passion for literature,\\nwhich continued through life his ruling purpose and chief", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0327.jp2"}, "326": {"fulltext": "282 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nenjoyment. He was encouraged by his family to devote\\nhimself to law, but he felt a strong aversion to everything\\nbut philosophy and general learning. He went to France\\nto prosecute his studies in a country retreat. I there laid\\nthat plan of life, he says, which I have steadily and\\nsuccessfully pursued. I resolved to make a very rigid fru-\\ngality supply my deficiency of fortune, to maintain unim-\\npaired my independency, and to regard every object as\\ncontemptible, except the improvement of my talents in lit-\\nerature.\\nHis earlier publications a Treatise on Human Na-\\nture and his Philosophical Essays slowly gained\\nrecognition. His sceptical and philosophical views were\\nattacked. The sale of his works increased. But he never\\nallowed himself to be drawn into controversy. I had a\\nfixed resolution, he says, which I inflexibly maintained,\\nnever to reply to anybody and not being very irascible in\\nmy temper, I have easily kept myself clear of literary\\nsquabbles. These symptoms of a rising reputation gave\\nme encouragement, as I was ever more disposed to see\\nthe favorable than the unfavorable side of things a turn\\nof mind which is more happy to possess than to be born to\\nan estate of ten thousand a year.\\nIn 1 75 1 he removed from the country to Edinburgh,\\nwhere the most of his subsequent life was spent. Here\\nhe soon began his History of England, the work that\\nhas given him a permanent place in English literature.\\nThe successive volumes appeared at intervals between\\n1754 and 1762. At first coldly received, it gradually forced\\nitself into notice and became the source of a considerable\\nincome. It is characterized by great clearness and elegance", "height": "3361", "width": "2300", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0328.jp2"}, "327": {"fulltext": "I\\nAGE OF JOHNSON. 283\\nof narrative, but is not always trustworthy and judicial in\\nits conclusions. His judgment was sometimes warped by\\nhis sceptical and Tory prejudices. Macaulay pronounces\\nhim an accomplished advocate.\\nWilliam Robertson, like Hume, early manifested a\\nstrong literary enthusiasm and ambition. The common-\\nplace books of his student days bore the motto, Vita\\nsine Uteris mors est life without literature is death.\\nHe was indifferent to mathematics and mediocre in meta-\\nphysics but in moral and religious truth, as well as in\\nhistorical investigations, he showed marked aptitude and\\nproficiency. Desirous of excelling in oratory, he studied\\nthe ancient and modern orators, and united with some\\nfellow-students in establishing a literary society, the pur-\\npose of which was to cultivate the study of elocution\\nand to prepare themselves, by the habits of extemporary\\ndiscussion and debate, for conducting the business of\\npopular assemblies.\\nIn 1 74 1 he entered the ministry and endeared himself\\nto his people by his kindness, fidelity, and eloquence.\\nHe employed his leisure in historical researches and in\\n1759 pubHshed his History of Scotland, which met with\\ninstantaneous success. Fourteen editions were called for\\nduring the author s life, and the work has taken perma-\\nnent rank as a standard history. For a time he dreaded\\nthe rivalry of Hume, who in his History of England\\ntraversed in part the same ground. But his fears proved\\ngroundless and it is highly creditable to these two gireat\\nhistorians that their literary labors and successes did not\\nin the least interrupt the course of their friendship. I\\nhave not had in a long time, wrote Hume, a more sen-", "height": "3403", "width": "2258", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0329.jp2"}, "328": {"fulltext": "284 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nsible pleasure than the good reception of your History has\\ngiven me within this fortnight.\\nIn 1762 Robertson was elected Principal of the Univer-\\nsity of Edinburgh but the cares of his new office did not\\nsilence his pen. After nine years of labor, he published\\nhis History of Charles V., which was everywhere re-\\nceived with great applause. It is to you and Mr. Hume,\\nwrote Voltaire, that it belongs to write history. You are\\neloquent, learned, and impartial. I unite with Europe in\\nesteeming you. The work was translated into French;\\nand the remuneration received by the author is said to\\nhave been no less than four thousand pounds. Though\\nhostile critics pointed out many inaccuracies of a minor\\ncharacter, the work retains its place as a splendid contri-\\nbution to our historical literature.\\nRobertson concluded his series of splendid historical\\nworks with his History of the Discovery and Settlement\\nof America. His style is one of equable dignity. His\\nintegrity as a narrator is beyond all question. In ar-\\nranging and linking together into one harmonious whole\\nthe scattered parts of his subject, says a biographer,\\nhe is eminently happy and in delineating characters,\\nmanners, and scenery, in making vividly present to the\\nmind that which he describes, he has few rivals and no\\nsuperiors.\\nEdward Gibbon, the greatest of this triumvirate of his-\\ntorians, is reserved for more extended study.\\nOne of the most remarkable phenomena in the litera-\\nture of recent times is the romantic movement which\\noriginated in this period. A similar movement, known\\nas the Storm and Stress, manifested itself in Germany", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0330.jp2"}, "329": {"fulltext": "AGE OF JOHNSON. 285\\nabout the same time. The same tendency followed a little\\nlater in France under the leadership of the great Victor\\nHugo. The romantic movement, which has been defined\\nas liberalism in literature, is a reaction against the classi-\\ncism of the age of Queen Anne. It is a breaking away\\nfrom authority and a return to nature. It manifested\\nitself in two particulars first, a greater freedom in liter-\\nary form and, second, in a return to the past, particularly\\nto an idealized age of chivalry in the Middle Ages. The\\nrhymed couplet began to give place to blank verse, the\\nSpenserian stanza, and the varied lyrical forms of the\\nElizabethan era. In criticism, fiction, and poetry there\\nwas an evident turning to the past.\\nIn 1765 Bishop Percy published his Reliques of Eng-\\nlish Poetry, a collection of old ballads that proved little\\nless than an epoch-making book. The stirring force of\\nthese ballads, which sprang directly from the hearts of\\nthe people, increased dissatisfaction with the coldness\\nof classical models. Thomas Warton s History of Eng-\\nlish Poetry, published between 1774 and 1781, revealed\\nthe treasures of earlier English literature. In 1765\\nHorace Walpole laid the foundation of the modern roman-\\ntic novel with his Castle of Otranto, a wild extravagant\\nstory of miracles, necromancy, dreams, and other preter-\\nnatural evils believed in during the Middle Ages. Two\\nremarkable forgeries, which gave rise to much discussion\\nin their day, were associated with the romantic tendency.\\nThe first was the Poems of Ossian, put forth by James\\nMacpherson in 1762 as a translation of a Gaelic bard of\\nthe third century. The other was the Rowley Poems,\\nwritten by a marvellous boy of seventeen, Thomas Chatter-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0331.jp2"}, "330": {"fulltext": "286 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nton, and purporting to be the work of a priest of the\\nfifteenth century.\\nTwo other characteristics are to be noted in the poetry\\nof this period. The first is the new interest in man, apart\\nfrom class or rank. There is a new appreciation of the\\nworth and dignity of human nature. This fact may be\\nregarded as one of the manifestations of the democratic\\ntendency of the age. In his famous Elegy, Gray cele-\\nbrates\\nThe short and simple annals of the poor.\\nGoldsmith dwells on the various phases of humble life\\nin The Deserted Village and Burns, filled with the\\nrising spirit of democracy, exclaims,\\nWhat tho on hamely fare we dine,\\nWear hodden gray, and a that\\nGie fools their silks, and knaves their wine\\nA man s a man for a that.\\nFor a that, and a that,\\nTheir tinsel show, and a that\\nThe honest man, though e er sae poor,\\nIs king of men for a that.*\\nNature, likewise, appears in a new relation. Instead of\\nserving exclusively as a background for human interests,\\nit is loved and studied for its own sake. Rural scenes\\nand country life are frequently depicted. This tendency\\nbegan, as we have seen, with Thomson s Seasons. But\\nhis descriptions, though often minute and admirable, were\\ntoo systematic and cold. He seems to have studied nature\\nas a self-imposed task rather than from the drawings of a\\nsympathetic love. In the Minstrel of James Beattie,\\npublished in 1771, we first meet with descriptions of nature", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0332.jp2"}, "331": {"fulltext": "AGE OF JOHNSON. 28 y\\nin the spirit of Wordsworth and more recent writers. The\\nminstrel boy knew great Nature s charms to prize.\\nAnd oft the craggy cliff he loved to climb,\\nWhen all in mist the world below was lost\\nWhat dreadful pleasure! there to stand sublime,\\nLike shipwrecked mariner on desert coast,\\nAnd view the enormous waste of vapor, tossed\\nIn billows, lengthening to the horizon round,\\nNow scooped in gulfs, with mountains now embossed.\\nAnd hear the voice of mirth and song rebound\\nFlocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound!\\nThe same love of nature, as we shall see, is found in\\nGoldsmith, Cowper, and Burns.\\nI", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0333.jp2"}, "332": {"fulltext": "288 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nSAMUEL JOHNSON.\\nThere is no other English author with whom we are so\\nintimately acquainted. Through the hero-worship of his\\nbiographer Boswell, we are permitted to see and hear him\\nas he appeared in the circle of his most intimate friends.\\nWe get close to the man as he actually was. We know\\nhis prejudices, foibles, and peculiarities and, strange to\\nsay, this minute acquaintance does not lessen, but increases\\nour admiration and love. He was a piece of rugged Alpine\\nmanhood. But his towering greatness was softened by a\\nbenevolence that never failed to reach out a helping hand\\nto the needy and his brusqueness of manner was relieved\\nby an integrity of character that scorned every form of\\nhypocrisy. In the midst of so much pettiness and cant, it is\\ndelightful to contemplate his sturdy uprightness and inde-\\npendence as Carlyle said of Luther, *A true son of nature\\nand fact, for whom these centuries, and many that are to\\ncome yet, will be thankful to Heaven.\\nHis peculiarities of person and manner are well known.\\nHe was ponderous in body as in intellect. A scrofulous\\naffection, for which Queen Anne had laid royal hands\\nupon him, had disfigured his face, and also tinged his mind,\\nperhaps, with whim and melancholy. He had a rolling\\nwalk, and made it a habit to touch the posts as he passed.\\nHis appetite for tea was enormous and he ate with an\\nabsorbing interest that might properly be called ravenous.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0334.jp2"}, "333": {"fulltext": "Engraved by William Doughty alter the paintigg by Sir Joshua Reynolds, London. Published,\\n1/ y^.\\n^u/^rOkiJu^.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0335.jp2"}, "334": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0336.jp2"}, "335": {"fulltext": "SAMUEL JOHNSON. 289\\nHis sight was defective but when Reynolds painted him\\nwith a pen held close to his eye, he protested that he did\\nnot want to descend to posterity as blinking Sam. He\\nwas singularly insensible to music and when a musical\\nperformance was praised as being difficult, he simply said\\nthat he wished it had been impossible. After he had pub-\\nlished his dictionary he was once with a friend at the top\\nof a hill. I haven t had a roll for a long time, said\\nthe great lexicographer; and, emptying his pockets, he\\nstretched himself on the ground, turning over and over,\\nlike a barrel, till he reached the bottom.\\nBut in spite of physical defects and eccentric manners,\\nhe dominated, by the sheer force of genius, the most brill-\\niant club of London and became the most imposing literary\\nfigure of his age. In conversation he was ready and\\neloquent, though apt to bear down an opponent by mere\\n.vociferation or savage personality. There is no arguing\\nwith Johnson, said Goldsmith; for if his pistol misses\\nfire, he knocks you down with the but-end of it. He\\nlooked upon conversation as an intellectual wrestling and\\ndelighted in it as a skilled and powerful athlete. That\\nfellow, he once said when sick, calls forth all my\\npowers. Were I to see Burke now, it would kill me.\\nHe sometimes offended his friends by his rude personal-\\nities but his repentance was so prompt and genuine that\\nhe was speedily forgiven.. He set a high value on friend-\\nship, which, he said, one ought to keep in constant repair.\\nI look upon a day as lost, he said in his later years, in\\nwhich I do not make a new acquaintance. With all his\\nclearness of judgment and honesty of purpose, he was\\nsometimes narrow and prejudiced in his opinions. Not", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0337.jp2"}, "336": {"fulltext": "290 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\neverything he says is to be taken as true, though expressed\\nin the most dogmatic way. No man but a blockhead,\\nhe said, ever wrote except for money. liis principles as\\na Tory and Churchman sometimes warped his literary\\ncriticism. Upon the death of Dr. Bathurst, a friend of his\\nearlier years, he said Dear Bathurst was a man to my\\nvery heart s content he hated a fool, and he hated a rogue,\\nand he hated a Whig he was a very good hater.\\nSamuel Johnson was born at Lichfield in 1709, the son\\nof a bookseller of considerable ability and reputation. As\\na boy he was fond of athletic exercises, in which he ex-\\ncelled and he possessed a constitutional fearlessness that\\nmade him a natural leader. At the grammar school of\\nhis native town he acquired the rudiments of Latin under\\na stern discipUne. Though he afterward complained of\\nthe severity of his teachers, he remained a believer in the\\nvirtues of the rod. A child that is flogged, he said,\\ngets his task, and there s an end on t whereas by excit-\\ning emulation and comparisons of superiority, you lay the\\nfoundations of lasting mischief you make brothers and\\nsisters hate each other.\\nHe left school at sixteen and spent the next two years\\nat home, probably learning his father s business. He con-\\ntinued his studies, became a good Latin scholar, and accu-\\nmulated large stores of general information. He was a\\nvoracious reader. In 1728 he entered Pembroke College,\\nOxford, with an unusual store of knowledge. He suffered\\nfrom poverty, and at the end of three years he left\\nthe university without taking a degree. Attacks of\\nmelancholy sometimes drove him to the verge of insanity.\\nWhen reminded in after years that he had been a gay", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0338.jp2"}, "337": {"fulltext": "SAMUEL JOHNSON. 29 1\\nand frolicsome fellow, he replied Ah, sir, I was mad\\nand violent. It was bitterness which they mistook for\\nfrolic. I was miserably poor, and I thought to fight my\\nway by my literature and my wit so I disregarded all\\npower and all authority. In his poverty he remained\\nproud and when a new pair of shoes was placed at his\\ndoor by some benevolent person, he ungraciously flung\\nthem away.\\nIn 1 73 1 he left the university to make his way in the\\nworld. For the next thirty years his life was a constant\\nstruggle with poverty and hardship. Though of a deeply\\nreligious nature, he did not turn to the church for a living.\\nHe tried teaching, and failed. At the age of twenty-six\\nhe married a fat, gaudy widow of forty-eight. To John-\\nson s defective sight she always remained a pretty crea-\\nture, while she had discernment enough to see the worth\\nand ability of her husband. Though his declaration, that\\nit was a love match on both sides, is apt to meet with\\nsome incredulity, the marriage did not prove an unhappy\\none, and there is something pathetic in the tenderness\\nwith which he always referred to her.\\nIn 1737 he went to London with three or four guineas\\nand half of the tragedy of Irene in his pocket. Litera-\\nture at this time did not offer an inviting field. It gen-\\nerally meant poorly paid hack-work for publishers. Long\\nafterward, in recalling the trials of this period, Johnson\\nburst into tears. One of the publishers to whom he\\napplied for work advised him, after surveying his athletic\\nframe, to get a porter s knot and carry trunks. He was\\noften in want of food, clothes, and lodging. In these days\\nof precarious livelihood he was befriended by Harry Her-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0339.jp2"}, "338": {"fulltext": "292 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nvey, toward whom he ever afterward cherished a Uvely\\nsense of gratitude. Harry Hervey, he said shortly be-\\nfore his death, was a vicious man, but very kind to me.\\nIf you call a dog Hervey, I shall love him.\\nNotwithstanding his dependent condition, he did not\\nbecome obsequious. His feeling of manly independence\\nand self-respect never deserted him. He was employed\\nonce by Osborne to make a catalogue of the Harleian\\nLibrary. Reproved by his employer in an offensive man-\\nner for negligence, Johnson knocked him down with a\\nhuge Greek folio.\\nThe year after his arrival in London, we find him at\\nwork on the Gejttlemafis Magazine, a periodical of wide\\ncirculation. His most important contributions were his\\nreports of the proceedings of Parliament, which the pub-\\nlisher, as a measure of precaution, sent forth as Reports\\nof the Debates of the Senate of Lilliput. He was fur-\\nnished with notes, generally meagre and inaccurate and\\non these as a basis it was his business to write the\\nspeeches. He did the work marvellously well. Many\\nyears afterward one of Pitt s speeches was pronounced\\nsuperior to anything in Demosthenes. Johnson replied,\\nI wrote that speech in a garret in Exeter Street. When\\nhis impartiality was once praised in a friendly company,\\nhe answered with charming frankness, That is not quite\\ntrue I saved appearances pretty well, but I took care that\\nthe Whig dogs should not have the best of it.\\nIn 1738 appeared a poem entitled London, an imita-\\ntion of the third satire of Juvenal. It met with a favor-\\nable reception and though it brought the author only ten\\nguineas in money, it served to direct attention to him as", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0340.jp2"}, "339": {"fulltext": "SAMUEL JOHNSON. 293\\na man of genius. It was published anonymously but\\nPope declared on reading it that the author could not long\\nremain concealed. Its general theme is found in the fol-\\nlowing lines, which were written doubtless with all the\\nconviction of bitter experience\\nThis mournful truth is everywhere confessed,\\nSlow rises worth by poverty depressed\\nBut here more slow, where all are slaves to gold\\nWhere looks are merchandise and smiles are sold\\nWhere, won by bribes, by flatteries implored,\\nThe groom retails the favors of his lord.\\nAnother work appearing in 1744 added much to John-\\nson s reputation. One of his Grub Street acquaintances\\nwas Richard Savage, a man of noble birth but profligate\\nlife. In spite of an insolent manner, he was of agreeable\\ncompanionship and wide experience. He had passed\\nthrough great vicissitudes of fortune and on his death,\\nJohnson wrote his life in a masterly manner. No finer\\nspecimen of literary biography, says Macaulay, existed\\nin any language, living or dead. It had the effect of\\npretty well establishing Johnson s fame.\\nIn 1747 he was applied to by several eminent book-\\nsellers to prepare a Dictionary of Ihe English Lan-\\nguage. The remuneration agreed upon was fifteen\\nhundred guineas. The plan was issued and addressed to\\nLord Chesterfield, the most polished man of his time.\\nThis distinguished lord had at one time given the burly\\nscholar encouragement but repelled at last by his boor-\\nishness of manner, he had politely shaken him off. He\\ncharacterized Johnson as a respectable Hottentot, who\\nthrows his meat anywhere but down his throat. This", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0341.jp2"}, "340": {"fulltext": "294 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nabsurd person, he says again, **was not only uncouth in\\nmanners and warm in dispute, but behaved exactly in the\\nsame way to superiors, equals, and inferiors and there-\\nfore, by a necessary consequence, absurdly to two of the\\nthree. Johnson s opinion of Chesterfield contained just\\nas little flattery. He denounced that nobleman s Let-\\nters as teaching the morals of a harlot and the manners\\nof a dancing-master. At another time he said, I thought\\nthis man had been a lord among wits; but I find he is only\\na wit among lords.\\nAfter seven years of drudgery Johnson brought his\\nwork to a close. In hopes of having it dedicated to him-\\nself, Chesterfield took occasion to recommend it in two\\nletters published in the World, a periodical to which men\\nof rank and fashion frequently contributed. The proud\\nscholar was not to be appeased and his reply was terrific\\nthe far-famed blast of doom proclaiming into the ear\\nof Lord Chesterfield, says Carlyle, and through him of\\nthe listening world, that patronage should be no more.\\nIs not a patron, my lord, wrote Johnson, one who\\nlooks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the\\nwater, and when he has reached the ground encumbers\\nhim with help The notice which you have been pleased\\nto take of my labors, had it been earlier, had been kind\\nbut it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot\\nenjoy it till I am solitary, and cannot impart it till I\\nam known, and do not want it. I hope it is no very cyni-\\ncal asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit\\nhas been received, or to be unwilling that the public\\nshould consider me as owing that to a patron which\\nProvidence has enabled me to do for myself.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0342.jp2"}, "341": {"fulltext": "I\\nSAMUEL JOHNSON. 295\\nJohnson defined a lexicographer as a harmless drudge.\\nThis is fairly descriptive of the nature of his work, which\\nconsisted in collecting, defining, and illustrating all the\\nwords in the language. Judged by present high stand-\\nards, the work is defective. Scientific etymology was not\\nyet in existence. But it far surpassed anything before it\\nand was received with enthusiasm by the English people.\\nJohnson s energies were not wholly expended on the\\ndrudgery of the Dictionary. In 1749 he pubhshed\\nanother imitation of Juvenal, entitled the Vanity of\\nHuman Wishes. It is written with much vigor, and\\nin passages surpasses the original. The vanity of\\nthe warrior s pride is illustrated by Charles XII. of\\nSweden\\nHe left a name at which the world grew pale\\nTo point a moral, or adorn a tale.\\nTo the ambitious scholar he says\\nDeign on the passing world to turn thine eyes,\\nAnd pause awhile from letters to be wise\\nThere mark what ills the scholar s life assail,\\nToil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail.\\nSee nations, slowly wise, and meanly just,\\nTo buried merit raise the tardy bust.\\nIf dreams yet flatter, once again attend,\\nHear Lydiat s life and Galileo s end.\\nThe poem brought him little besides a growing reputa:-\\ntion. A few days after the publication of the Vanity of\\nHuman Wishes his tragedy of Irene was brought\\nupon the stage by Garrick. It was heard with respectful\\nattention. After running nine nights, it was withdrawn,\\nand has never since been acted. When Johnson writes", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0343.jp2"}, "342": {"fulltext": "296 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\n1\\ntragedy, said Garrick, declamation roars and passion\\nsleeps when Shakespeare wrote he dipped his pen in\\nhis own heart. Johnson took the failure of his tragedy\\nwith philosophical calmness. It brought him all together\\nabout three hundred pounds, in which no doubt he found\\nsubstantial consolation.\\nIn 1750 he began the publication of the Rambler, a\\nperiodical resembling the Spectator. It appeared twice a\\nweek for two years. The range of subjects is wide and\\ninteresting. The prevailing tone is serious and moral.\\nThough coldly received at the time of first issue, yet\\nafterward collected into volumes, the papers had an\\nextraordinary circulation. No fewer than ten editions\\nappeared during the author s life.\\nHis style is characterized by an artificial stateliness and\\na preponderance of Latin words. I have labored, he\\nsays in the closing paper, to refine our language to\\ngrammatical purity and to clear it from colloquial bar-\\nbarisms, licentious idioms, and irregular combinations.\\nSomething, perhaps, I have added to the elegance of its\\nconstruction and something to the harmony of its ca-\\ndence. He lacked the delicate touch of Addison. Of\\nhis moral aim he says The essays professedly serious,\\nif I have been able to execute my own intentions, will be\\nfound exactly conformable to the precepts of Christianity,\\nwithout any accommodation to the licentiousness and levity\\nof the present age. I therefore look back on this part of\\nmy work with pleasure, which no praise or blame of man\\ncan diminish or augment. I shall never envy the honors\\nwhich wit and learning obtain in any other cause, if I can\\nbe numbered among the writers who have given ardor to", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0344.jp2"}, "343": {"fulltext": "SAMUEL JOHNSON. 297\\nvirtue and confidence to truth. The Rambler is a\\ndelightful book with which to spend an occasional half\\nhour. It is filled with sober wisdom, and some of the\\npapers are singularly beautiful.\\nIn 1759 Johnson s mother died at Lichfield at the age\\nof ninety. He was still involved in financial troubles. In\\norder to gain money for her funeral expenses, he wrote in\\na single week the story of Rasselas. It is his most\\npopular work. Its main theme is announced in the open-\\ning sentence: Ye who listen with credulity to the whis-\\npers of fancy, and pursue with eagerness the phantoms of\\nhope who expect that age will perform the promises of\\nyouth, and that the deficiencies of the present day will be\\nsupplied by the morrow attend to the history of Rasselas,\\nprince of Abyssinia. The story makes no pretensions to\\nhistorical accuracy the Abyssinians brought before us\\nare in reality highly cultivated Europeans. But it is\\nwritten with Johnson s peculiar eloquence and exhibits\\nfully his moral and reflective temperament.\\nThe year 1762 saw an important change in Johnson s\\ncondition. He received a pension of three hundred pounds\\na year. In his Dictionary he had defined a pension as\\ngenerally understood to mean pay given to a state hire-\\nling for treason to his country. Being assured that he\\ndid not come within the definition, and that the pension\\nwas accorded in recognition of past services, he accepted\\nit after some hesitation. It placed him for the first time\\nin circumstances of independence, and allowed him to in-\\ndulge his constitutional indolence. He talked at night\\nand slept during the day, rising at two in the afternoon.\\nI cannot now curse the House of Hanover, he said in", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0345.jp2"}, "344": {"fulltext": "298 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nappreciative reference to his pension but I think that\\nthe pleasure of cursing the House of Hanover and drink-\\ning King James s health, all amply overbalanced by three\\nhundred pounds a year.\\nNo longer driven by necessity, his pen became less busy.\\nHis principal influence was exerted through conversation.\\nHis colloquial powers were of the highest order. In the\\nClub, which included, among others, Goldsmith, Burke,\\nReynolds, and Garrick, he was easily first. The opinion\\nof the Club carried great weight and for a time his posi-\\ntion might be described as literary dictator of England.\\nMeeting the king one day in the royal library, he was\\nasked by his Majesty if he intended to give the world any\\nmore of his compositions. I think I have written enough,\\nsaid Johnson. And I should think so too, replied his\\nMajesty, if you had not written so well a compliment\\nof which Johnson was very proud.\\nIn 1773 Johnson made a journey to the Hebrides. He\\nwas kindly received on his journey through Scotland. His\\nprejudices against the Scotch were softened to a harmless\\nfoible. He made inquiries concerning the poems of Ossian.\\nHe denounced Macpherson s work as a forgery. Receiv-\\ning a furious and threatening letter from the author of\\nOssian, Johnson replied I hope I shall never be\\ndeterred from detecting what I think a cheat by the\\nmenaces of a ruffian. In anticipation of personal vio-\\nlence, he provided himself with a heavy stick, of which,\\nhad occasion offered, he would doubtless have made vig-\\norous use.\\nThe results of this trip are given in a pleasant volume\\nentitled Journey to the Hebrides, The style is, as usual,", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0346.jp2"}, "345": {"fulltext": "SAMUEL JOHNSON. 299\\nelaborate and stately. Writing to an intimate friend from\\nthe Hebrides, he says with colloquial ease and pith, When\\nwe were taken upstairs, a dirty fellow bounced out of the\\nbed on which one of us was to lie. In the book this inci-\\ndent is translated into his artificial literary style as follows\\nOut of one of the beds on which we were to repose,\\nstarted up, at our entrance, a man black as a Cyclops from\\nthe forge.\\nIn 1777 a number of London booksellers decided to pub-\\nlish a collection of EngHsh poetry. Johnson was asked to\\nprepare the introductory biographical and critical sketches.\\nThe result was his Lives of the Poets, the work, perhaps,\\nby which he will be longest known. In the judgment of\\nMacaulay it is more interesting than any novel. In many\\nrespects it is an admirable production. Without much\\npatient research after biographical material, it gives the\\nleading facts in the life of each poet, together with a mas-\\nterly analysis of his character and a critical examination\\nof his works. It is less ponderous in style than his earlier\\nwritings. That it is independent in judgment goes with-\\nout saying. His criticisms, -always worth attention, are not\\nalways just. He was sometimes influenced by his preju-\\ndices, as in the case of Milton and Gray and he attached\\ntoo much importance to the logical and didactic elements\\nof poetry. He had no ear for the music of poetry and\\nthat subtle, ethereal quaUty, which raises it above prose,\\ncould not be grasped by his clumsy critical principles.\\nOne of the great charms of the Lives of the Poets\\nconsists in the shrewd observations upon Hfe and character\\nwith which the book abounds. Discussing Dryden s finan-\\ncial difficulties, he remarks It is well known that he sel-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0347.jp2"}, "346": {"fulltext": "300 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ndom lives frugally who lives by chance. Hope is always\\nliberal, and they that trust her promises make little scruple\\nof revelling to-day on the profits of the morrow. The\\nwork contains the materials for a collection of maxims\\nas interesting as those of La Rochefoucauld and much\\nmore truthful. Very near to admiration, he says,\\nis the wish to admire. The rich treasures of wis-\\ndom, which long experience and reflection had stored in\\nhis spacious mind, are scattered through his pages with\\nlavish hand.\\nMuch of interest in Johnson s life is necessarily omitted\\nthe strange crowd of dependents he maintained at his\\nhome his relation with the Thrales a great store of in-\\nteresting anecdote preserved to us by his satellite Boswell.\\nThough for a time oppressed with a dread of death, he\\nmet it, as the end drew near, with manly courage. In his\\nlast sickness he was visited by many of his old friends.\\nI am afraid, said Burke, that so many of us must be\\noppressive to you. No, sir, it is not so, replied John-\\nson and I must be in a wretched state indeed when\\nyour company would not be a delight to me. You have\\nalways been too good to me, said Burke, with a breaking\\nvoice, as he parted from his old friend for the last time.\\nNow and then there was a flash of the old vigor and\\nhumor. Describing a man who sat up with him, he said\\nSir, the fellow s an idiot; he s as awkward as a turnspit\\nwhen first put into the wheel, and as sleepy as a dormouse.\\nHis last words were a benediction. A young lady begged\\nhis blessing. God bless you, my dear, he said with in-\\nfinite tenderness. Nothing could have been more charac-\\nteristic of his great, benevolent heart. He peacefully died", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0348.jp2"}, "347": {"fulltext": "SAMUEL JOHNSON. 3OI\\nDec. 13, 1784. He had once playfully said to Goldsmith,\\nwhen visiting the Poets Corner of Westminster Abbey,\\nForsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis.\\nThe prediction and the wish were fulfilled. And among\\nthe wise and great who repose there, there is no one whose\\nmassive intellect, honest worth, and great heart command\\nour admiration and love in a higher degree than Samuel\\nJohnson.\\n1 Perhaps our names will be mingled with them.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0349.jp2"}, "348": {"fulltext": "302 ENGLISH LITERATURE,\\nOLIVER GOLDSMITH.\\nA STRANGE combination of weakness and strength, of\\ngenius and folly. Inspired idiot is the terrific phrase\\nwith which Horace Walpole once described him. It is a\\ngross caricature indeed, but having truth enough at bottom\\nto be perpetuated. Goldsmith belonged to a literary club,\\nthe members of which occasionally dined together. Gold-\\nsmith was usually one of the last to arrive. While waiting\\nfor him one day, the company playfully composed a num-\\nber of epitaphs on the late Mr. Goldsmith. The epitaph\\nby Garrick, the celebrated actor, has been preserved as a\\nhappy hit\\nHere lies poet Goldsmith, for shortness called Noll,\\nWho wrote lilce an angel and talked like poor Poll.\\nThere are other anecdotes illustrating Goldsmith s awk-\\nwardness in conversation. He greatly lacked self-confi-\\ndence and had a faculty for blundering. His friends\\nsometimes took advantage of his weaknesses and for\\namusement tricked him into saying and doing absurd\\nthings. He has suffered also from thick-headed critics,\\nwho have sometimes misunderstood his delicate humor.\\nBoswell, who was no friendly critic, but who reported facts\\ntruthfully, says It has been generally circulated and be-\\nlieved that Goldsmith was a mere fool in conversation but\\nin truth, this has been greatly exaggerated. In spite of\\nhis deficiencies, he sometimes got the better of Dr. John-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0350.jp2"}, "349": {"fulltext": "I\\nEngraved in mezzotint by Joseph Marclii alter tlw paintinjj bj Sir Joshua Revuulds, London.\\nPublished, irru.\\n^K.^ jxrSjTru:^", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0351.jp2"}, "350": {"fulltext": "1", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0352.jp2"}, "351": {"fulltext": "OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 303\\nson, the clearest and strongest talker of his time. Talking\\nof fables once, Goldsmith remarked that the animals intro-\\nduced seldom talked in character. For instance, he said,\\ntake the fable of the little fishes who saw birds fly over\\ntheir heads, and envying them, petitioned Jupiter to be\\nchanged into birds. The skill consists in making them\\ntalk like little fishes. Dr. Johnson took exception to the\\nremark. Ah, Doctor, he replied, this is not so easy\\nas you may think; for if you were to make little fishes\\ntalk, they would talk like whales.\\nBut we turn to his life. Scarcely any other English\\nauthor has put into his writings so much of his character\\nand experience. Oliver Goldsmith was born at Pallas in\\nthe county of Longford, Ireland, in 1728, the son of a Protes-\\ntant clergyman. About two years later his father moved to\\nthe village of Lissoy in the county of Westmeath, where\\nhe enjoyed a better living. An unusual interest is con-\\nnected with that home. The amiable piety, learned sim-\\nplicity, and guileless wisdom of his father are portrayed in\\nthe immortal Vicar of Wakefield. It was a fireside\\nwhere a Christian benevolence was inculcated and prac-\\ntised. The memories of this home never left Goldsmith\\nand years afterward, in his Deserted Village, he gave\\na famous description of the village preacher s modest\\nmansion\\nA man he was to alj the country dear,\\nAnd passing rich with forty pounds a year\\nRemote from towns he ran his godly race,\\nNor e er had changed, nor wished to change his place.\\nAt the age of six years Goldsmith was sent to the village\\nschool taught by Thomas Byrne, an old soldier with a large", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0353.jp2"}, "352": {"fulltext": "304 ENGLISH LIT ERA TURE.\\nstock of stories. Of him also we have a portrait in the\\nDeserted Village\\nA man severe he was, and stern to view,\\nI knew him well, and every truant knew\\nWell had the boding tremblers learned to trace\\nThe day s disasters in his morning face.\\nFull well they laughed with counterfeited glee\\nAt all his jokes, for many a joke had he\\nFull well the busy whisper circling round,\\nConveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned.\\nAs a pupil he was dull a stupid blockhead he was\\nthought to be but his amiability and thoughtless gener-\\nosity, which characterized him all through life, made him\\npopular with his schoolmates. An incident that occurred\\nin his sixteenth year not only throws light upon his char-\\nacter, but also shows the origin of his most famous com-\\nedy. He was returning home from Edgeworthstown,\\nwhere he had been attending school. He had borrowed a\\nhorse for the journey and received from a friend a guinea.\\nHe at once began to put on airs and to affect the gentle-\\nman. Arriving in a village at nightfall, he inquired for\\nthe best house in the place and was directed by a wag to\\nthe private house of a gentleman of fortune. Accordingly\\nhe rode up to what he supposed to be an inn, ordered his\\nhorse to be taken to the stable, walked into the parlor,\\nseated himself by the fire, and demanded what he could\\nliave for supper. The gentleman of the house, discover-\\ning his mistake, concluded to humor him, and gave him\\nthe freedom of the house for the evening. He was highly\\nelated. When supper was served, he insisted that the\\nlandlord, his wife, and daughter should eat with him, and", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0354.jp2"}, "353": {"fulltext": "OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 305\\nordered a bottle of wine to crown the repast. When next\\nmorning he discovered his blunder, his sense of humilia-\\ntion can easily be imagined. With the literary instinct\\nthat turned all his experiences to account, he dramatized\\nthis incident many years afterward in She Stoops to\\nConquer; or, The Mistakes of a Night. Throughout his\\nlife, as in this case, the possession of money made a fool\\nof him.\\nIn his seventeenth year Goldsmith entered Trinity Col-\\nlege, Dublin, as a sizar. This relation was naturally\\nrepugnant to his timid and sensitive nature. His tutor\\nwas ill-tempered and harsh some studies, especially\\nmathematics and logic, were distasteful to him. His\\nsocial nature betrayed him into a neglect of his studies,\\nand his love of fun got him into trouble. Having once\\ngained a prize of thirty shillings, he gave a dance at his\\nroom to some young men and women of the city. This\\nwas a violation of the* college rules and his tutor,\\nattracted by the sound of the fiddle, rushed to the scene\\nof festivity, gave Goldsmith a thrashing, and turned his\\nguests out of doors.\\nAn anecdote, belonging to this period, illustrates the\\ntender heart and inconsiderate benevolence that charac-\\nterized his whole life. He had been invited to breakfast\\nby a college friend, and, failing to make his appearance,\\nwas visited at his room. There he was found in bed,\\nburied in feathers up to his chin. The evening before,\\na woman with five children had told him a pitiful tale of\\nher distress and need. It was too much for his sym-\\npathetic nature and bringing the woman to the college\\ngate, he gave her the blankets off his bed and a part of his", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0355.jp2"}, "354": {"fulltext": "306 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nclothing to sell and buy bread. Getting cold in the night,\\nhe ripped open his bed and buried himself in the feathers.\\nIn due course he took his bachelor s degree and returned\\nto his home. It had been sadly changed by the death of\\nhis father. The next two or three years were spent in a\\ndesultory way while ostensibly preparing to take orders,\\nhe was in reality spending his time in miscellaneous read-\\ning and rustic convivialities. He did not like the clerical\\nprofession. To be obliged to wear a long wig when I\\nliked a short one, he says in explanation of his antipathy,\\nor a black coat when I generally dressed in brown, I\\nthought such a restraint upon my liberty that I absolutely\\nrejected the proposal.\\nHis fondness for gay dress was a weakness throughout\\nhis life and more than once exposed him to ridicule.\\nWhen the time for his examination came, he appeared\\nbefore the Bishop of Elphin arrayed in scarlet breeches.\\nThis silly breach of propriety cost him the good opinion of\\nthe bishop and led to his rejection.\\nThen followed a succession of undertakings and failures\\nwithout parallel. He became tutor in a good family and\\nlost his position on account of a quarrel at cards. He\\nthen resolved to emigrate to America and left for Dublin\\nmounted on a good horse and having thirty guineas in his\\npocket. In six weeks he returned to his mother s door in\\na condition not unlike that of the prodigal son. Every\\npenny was gone. He explained that the ship on which\\nhe had engaged passage had sailed while he was at a\\nparty of pleasure. The ship had been waiting for a favor-\\nable wind; and you know, mother, he said, that I\\ncould not command the elements.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0356.jp2"}, "355": {"fulltext": "OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 307\\nHis uncle Contarine, who was one of the few that had\\nnot lost all confidence in him, gave him fifty pounds with\\nwhich to go to London for the purpose of studying law.\\nHe reached Dublin on his way but unfortunately he met\\nan old acquaintance, who allured him into a gambling\\nhouse. He came out penniless.\\nHe was next advised to try medicine and a small purse\\nhaving been made up for him, he set out for Edinburgh.\\nHe remained there eighteen months, during which he\\npicked up a little medical science. But most of his time\\nwas spent in convivial habits. With gaming, feasting,\\nand reckless generosity, he was often brought into financial\\ndifficulties.\\nThen he went to Leyden, ostensibly for the purpose of\\ncompleting his medical studies, but really, there is reason\\nto believe, for the purpose of gratifying his roving dis-\\nposition. He spent a year in that city with his usual\\nimprovidence. A friend provided him with money to go\\nto Paris. The mania for tulip culture still prevailed in\\nHolland. One day, wandering through a garden, Gold-\\nsmith suddenly recollected that his uncle Contarine, his\\nsteadfast benefactor, was a tulip fancier. Here, then, was\\nan opportunity to show his appreciation. A number of\\nchoice and costly bulbs were purchased and not till after\\nhe had paid for them did he reflect that he had spent all\\nthe money designed for his travelling expenses. In this\\nextremity he set out on foot with his flute. I had some\\nknowledge of music, says the Philosophic Vagabond in\\nthe Vicar of Wakefield, with a tolerable voice; I now\\nturned what was once my amusement into a present means\\nof subsistence. I passed among the harmless peasants of", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0357.jp2"}, "356": {"fulltext": "3o8 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nFlanders and among such of the French as were poor\\nenough to be merry for I ever found them sprightly in\\nproportion to their wants. Whenever I approached a\\npeasant s house, I played one of my merriest tunes, and\\nthat procured me not only a lodging, but subsistence for\\nthe next day. In this way he was able to make the tour\\nof Europe, visiting Flanders, France, Switzerland, Ger-\\nmany, and Italy. At Padua he is said to have taken his\\nmedical degree. These travels, as we shall see, were\\nafterward to be turned to good account.\\nIn 1756 he returned to England. You may easily\\nimagine, he wrote to a friend afterward, what difficul-\\nties I had to encounter, left as I was without friends,\\nrecommendations, money, or impudence, and that in a\\ncountry where being an Irishman was sufficient to keep\\nme unemployed. Many in such circumstances would have\\nhad recourse to a friar s cord or the suicide s halter. But,\\nwith all my follies, I had principle to resist the one and\\nresolution to combat the other.\\nHe went to London, where for the next several years he\\nled an existence miserable enough. He became succes-\\nsively an usher in a school, an apothecary s assistant, a\\npractising physician and failed in them all. At last,\\nafter other unlucky ventures, he settled down to the\\ndrudgery of a literary hack. From this humiliating sta-\\ntion he was lifted by the force of genius alone.\\nHe began by writing for reviews and magazines, and\\ncompiling easy histories. His first serious undertaking\\nwas An Inquiry into the State of Learning in Europe,\\nwith which his career as an author may be said to begin.\\nHis work gradually gained recognition and brought him", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0358.jp2"}, "357": {"fulltext": "OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 309\\nbetter pay. His circle of acquaintance widened and\\nincluded the most distinguished literary talent of his\\ntime. Burke had discovered his genius Percy, after-\\nward Bishop of Dromore, sought him out in his garret;\\nand most important of all, Johnson, the great Cham, as\\nhe has been humorously styled, sought his acquaintance.\\nHe had met Reynolds and Hogarth. In 1763 he became\\none of the original nine members of the Club, which in-\\ncluded among others Johnson, Reynolds, and Burke, and\\nto which were added subsequently Garrick and Boswell.\\nHe was thus brought into intimate fellowship with the\\nchoicest minds of the English metropolis.\\nHaving attracted their notice by the humor, grace, and\\npicturesqueness of his style in writing, he won their affec-\\ntion by the guilelessness and amiabihty of his character.\\nThere was a charm in his personality that triumphed\\nover his weaknesses and drew the strongest and best men\\nto him in tender friendship. That same charm exists in\\nhis works and with the possible exception of Addison,\\nhe is, what Thackeray claims for him, the most beloved\\nof English writers.\\nThe lesson of economy he never learned. His growing\\nincome had enabled him to take better lodgings. But\\nin 1764 we find him in arrears for his board and in the\\nhands of the sheriff. He sent for Johnson. I sent him\\na guinea, says Johnson, and promised to come to him\\ndirectly. I accordingly went as soon as I was dressed\\nand found that his landlady had arrested him for rent,\\nat which he was in a violent passion. I perceived that\\nhe had already changed my guinea and got a bottle of\\nMadeira and a glass before him. I put the cork into", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0359.jp2"}, "358": {"fulltext": "310 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nthe bottle, desired he would be calm, and began to talk\\nto him of the means by which he might be extricated.\\nHe then told me that he had a novel ready for the press,\\nwhich he produced to me. I looked into it and saw its\\nmerit told the landlady I should return soon and hav-\\ning gone to a bookseller, sold it for sixty pounds. I\\nbrought Goldsmith the money, and he discharged his\\nrent, not without rating his landlady in a high tone for\\nhaving treated him so ill. But speedily relenting, he\\ncalled her to share in a bowl of punch.\\nThe novel in question was no other than the Vicar\\nof Wakefield one of the most delicious morsels of\\nfictitious composition, justly observes Sir Walter Scott,\\non which the human mind was ever employed. The\\nplot is indeed faulty but the charm of the characters, the\\nludicrousness of the situations, the grace of style, and\\nthe delicacy of humor make it a book which we read with\\ndelight in youth and return to with pleasure in maturity\\nand old age. Notwithstanding its high rank as a work\\nof genius, the stupid publisher kept it in hand two years\\nbefore venturing to give it to the public.\\nIn 1764, while the Vicar of Wakefield was being\\nheld by the publisher. Goldsmith pubHshed a poem called\\nthe Traveller. It was the first work to which he at-\\ntached his name. The time was favorable for its appear-\\nance, inasmuch as the British Muse was doing but little.\\nJohnson kindly lent his assistance in bringing it out,\\nreading over the proof-sheets, and adding here and there\\na line. The merits of the poem were soon recognized,\\nand the general opinion agreed that nothing better had\\nappeared since the time of Pope. Goldsmith dedicated it\\nto his brother", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0360.jp2"}, "359": {"fulltext": "OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 31I\\nWhere er I roam, whatever realms to see,\\nMy heart untravelled fondly turns to thee\\nStill to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain,\\nAnd drags at each remove a lengthening chain.\\nIt embodies the observations of his tour on the Con-\\ntinent; but\\nVain, very vain, my weary search to find\\nThat bliss which only centres in the mind\\nWhy have I strayed from pleasure and repose\\nTo seek a good each government bestows\\nIn every government, though tyrants reign,\\nThough tyrant kings, or tyrant laws restrain,\\nHow small, of all that human hearts endure,\\nThat part which laws or kings can cause or cure\\nStill to ourselves in every place consigned,\\nOur own felicity we make or find\\nWith secret course, which no loud storms annoy,\\nGlides the smooth current of domestic joy.\\nThe Earl of Northumberland read the poem and was\\ngreatly pleased with it. He sent for Goldsmith and\\nafter stating that he had been appointed Lord Lieutenant\\nof Ireland, he expressed a willingness to do the poet any\\nkindness in his power. Goldsmith s genius for blundering\\ndid not desert him. He said that he had a brother in\\nIreland that needed help but as for himself, he did not\\nplace much dependence in the promises of the great and\\nlooked to the booksellers for a support.\\nGoldsmith continued to do hack writing for the book-\\nsellers, but did not neglect original composition. In 1768\\nappeared his comedy of The Good-Natured Man. It\\nwas refused by Garrick, notwithstanding the intercession\\nof Reynolds, and was brought out at Covent Garden. It", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0361.jp2"}, "360": {"fulltext": "312 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ndid not gain the applause it merited, but as a financial\\nventure it was a success. It was acted for nine nights\\nand, including the copyright, it brought the author no less\\nthan five hundred pounds. That was a dangerous sum\\nfor a man of his improvident habits. He at once rented\\nelegant lodgings, at a cost of four hundred pounds, and\\ngave dinners to Johnson, Reynolds, and other friends of\\nnote. His chambers were often the scene of gay\\nfestivities and Blackstone, who occupied rooms immedi-\\nately below, and was engaged on his Commentaries,\\nused to complain of the racket overhead. At this rate his\\nmeans were, of course, soon exhausted.\\nHis labors for the booksellers includfed his Animated\\nNature, History of Rome, History of England, and\\nHistory of Greece. These compilations were hardly\\nworthy of his genius, but they brought him the means of\\nlivelihood. I cannot afford to court the draggle-tail\\nmuses, he once said they would let me starve but by\\nmy other labors I can make shift to eat, and drink, and\\nhave good clothes. But even his compilations bore the\\ntrace of his genius in the clear arrangement of facts and\\nin his felicitous mode of treatment. Whether, indeed,\\nwe take him as a poet, as a comic writer, or as an his-\\ntorian, declared Johnson, he stands in the first class.\\nIn 1770 appeared the Deserted Village. In this he\\ncast a glory around his native village, to which, as he\\napproached the end of his Ufe, his mind reverted with\\npeculiar tenderness. The political economy presented is\\nindeed false but the pictures the poem brings before us\\nare as enduring as the language. Every one is acquainted\\nwith Paddy Byrne", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0362.jp2"}, "361": {"fulltext": "OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 313\\nIn arguing, too, the parson owned his skill;\\nFor e en though vanquished, he could argue still.\\nAnd then the village preacher a portrait of Gold-\\nsmith s father and his brother Henry. It is one of the\\nmost delightful descriptions in the English language,\\nrivalled alone by Chaucer s parson:\\nAnd as a bird each fond endearment tries\\nTo tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies,\\nHe tried each art, reproved each dull delay,\\nAllured to brighter worlds, and led the way.\\nThe poem was at once successful and has since retained,\\nthrough all changes of taste, its place as a classic.\\nIn 1773 he gave his comedy, She Stoops to Conquer,\\nto the public. The plot turns on an incident suggested by\\nhis blunder as a schoolboy. The theatrical manager pre-\\ndicted a complete failure, and Goldsmith was in great dis-\\ntress. But the night of the first presentation the theatre\\nwas filled and the humorous dialogue and the ridiculous\\nincidents kept the audience in a roar of laughter. It has\\nsince retained its place on the stage.\\nDuring the last years of his life Goldsmith s income was\\nabout four hundred pounds a year. With a little economy\\nthis would have enabled him to live in comfort and ease.\\nBut his extravagance and heedless benevolence left him in\\ndebt.\\nThe end came April 3, 1784. When the news was\\nbrought to Burke, he burst into tears. Sir Joshua Rey-\\nnolds laid aside his pencil. But more significant than all\\nwas the lamentation of the old and the infirm on his stairs\\nhelpless creatures to whose supplications he had never", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0363.jp2"}, "362": {"fulltext": "314 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nturned a deaf ear. Johnson wrote his epitaph, in which\\nit is said that he left scarcely any style of writing un-\\ntouched, and touched nothing that he did not adorn. In\\nthe words of Thackeray Think of him reckless, thriftless,\\nvain if you like but merciful, gentle, generous, full of\\nlove and pity. He passes out of our life and goes to\\nrender his account beyond it. Think of the poor pen-\\nsioners weeping at his grave; think of the noble spirits\\nthat admired and deplored him think of the righteous pen\\nthat wrote his epitaph and the wonderful and unanimous\\nresponse of affection with which the world has paid back\\nthe love he gave it. His humor delighting us still; his\\nsong fresh and beautiful as when he first charmed with it\\nhis words in all our mouths his very weaknesses beloved\\nand familiar his benevolent spirit seems still to smile\\nupon us to do gentle kindnesses to succor with sweet\\ncharity to caress, to sooth, and forgive to plead with the\\nfortunate for the unhappy and the poor.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0364.jp2"}, "363": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0365.jp2"}, "364": {"fulltext": "From a painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0366.jp2"}, "365": {"fulltext": "EDWARD GIBBON. 315\\nEDWARD GIBBON.\\nThe treatment of any great historical subject demands at\\nonce wealth and leisure. It is only under these conditions\\nthat the historian, no matter what may be his genius, is\\nable to collect and digest the large amount of material that\\nnow enters into our best historical works. The most emi-\\nnent historians of modern times have been men of ample\\nmeans and aspiring genius, if fettered by poverty, had\\nbetter seek its conquests in fiction or poetry rather than in\\nhistory.\\nGibbon is chief of the historians of the eighteenth cen-\\ntury. Hume and Robertson are generally classed with\\nhim, though their works have, in large measure, been su-\\nperseded. Taken together, they formed the modern school\\nof history. Previous historical writing was chiefly imagi-\\nnative. It was concerned with a pleasing narrative rather\\nthan with actual truth. But the historical writing of the\\neighteenth century became more philosophical. It took\\nbroader views, inquired more after causes, and carefully\\ntraced results. It aimed to recreate the past, and to this\\nend it rehed less upon the imagination than upon research.\\nThe basis of Gibbon s great work is a scholarship, the\\nbreadth and accuracy of which command our admiration.\\nNot the least interesting and instructive of Gibbon s\\nwritings is his Autobiography, written, as he tells us,\\nfor his own amusement. He affirms the unblushing truth", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0367.jp2"}, "366": {"fulltext": "3l6 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nof his narrative; and though this maybe questioned, he\\nhas undoubtedly presented a tolerably complete and faith-\\nful picture of himself. He felt what he regarded as a\\nnatural interest in his ancestors, and traced them back\\nto the early part of the fourteenth century, when they\\nhad landed possessions in the county of Kent. One of\\nthem was architect to Edward III. and built the stately\\ncastle of Queensborough another was Lord High Treas-\\nurer in the reign of Henry VI. still another resided for\\na time in Virginia, where, observing the tattooing of the\\nIndians, he exceedingly wondered and concluded that\\nheraldry was ingrafted naturally into the sense of the\\nhuman race. His immediate ancestors were tradesmen\\nin London, where they acquired considerable wealth.\\nHis father was a member of Parliament, where he acted\\nwith the Tories, to whom he gave many a vote, and\\nwith whom he drank many a bottle.\\nEdward Gibbon was born in the county of Surrey,\\nApril 27, 1737, the oldest of seven children and the only\\none to survive infancv. His own health was so feeble\\nthat his life was often despaired of. He was saved only\\nby the tender assiduity of a maiden aunt, whom he ever\\nafterward held in grateful remembrance. A life of\\ncelibacy transferred her vacant affection to her sister s\\nfirst child my weakness excited her pity her attach-\\nment was fortified by labor and success and if there\\nbe any, as I trust there are some, who rejoice that I\\nlive, to that dear and excellent woman they must hold\\nthemselves indebted.\\nHe mastered the arts of reading, writing, and arith-\\nmetic at an early age. He showed great precocity in", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0368.jp2"}, "367": {"fulltext": "EDWARD GIBBON. 317\\nfigures and it was his opinion that, had he persevered,\\nhe might have acquired some fame in mathematical\\nstudies. His earUest tutor was the Rev. John Kirby, an\\nauthor of some reputation. In his ninth year he entered\\nthe school at Kingston-upon-Thames. His delicate rear-\\ning had prepared him neither for the strict discipline\\nnor the rougher games of the school. By the common\\nmethods of discipline, he says, *at the expense of many\\ntears and some blood, I purchased the knowledge of Latin\\nsyntax. But his studies were interrupted by sickness,\\nand after a real or nominal residence of two years at\\nKingston School he was finally recalled by the death of\\nhis mother.\\nHe again passed under the care of his devoted aunt, to\\nwhom he ascribes his early and invincible love of reading,\\nwhich seemed to him more precious than the treasures of\\nIndia. At Kingston School he had already become\\nfamiliar with Pope s Homer and the Arabian\\nNights and he now eagerly perused poetry and ro-\\nmance, history and travels. In 1749 he entered West-\\nminster School, which, he remarks, did not exactly\\ncorrespond with the precept of a Spartan king, that\\nthe child should be instructed in the arts which will be\\nuseful to the man. His progress was not rapid. In\\nthe space of two years, to borrow his own w^ords, inter-\\nrupted by danger and debility, I painfully climbed into the\\nthird form and my riper age was left to acquire the\\nbeauties of the Latin and the rudiments of the Greek\\ntongue.\\nIn his fifteenth year his physical infirmities suddenly\\ndisappeared, and he went to Oxford with a stock of", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0369.jp2"}, "368": {"fulltext": "3l8 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nerudition that might have puzzled a doctor, and a degree\\nof ignorance of which a schoolboy would have been\\nashamed. His attainments in history were astonishing.\\nHe had read Herodotus, Xenophon, and Tacitus in trans-\\nlations he had perused a long list of modern historians,\\nwhose names are now forgotten he had swallowed with\\nvoracious appetite descriptions of India and China, of\\nMexico and Peru. It was at this period that he was intro-\\nduced to the historic scenes that afterward engaged so\\nmany years of his life. He studied the lives of the suc-\\ncessors of Constantine and the story of the barbarian\\ninvasions. He became interested in Mahomet and his\\nSaracens. Before I was sixteen, he says, I had ex-\\nhausted all that could be learned in English of the Arabs\\nand Persians, the Tartars and Turks.\\nGibbon s sojourn at the university was fruitless in learn-\\ning. In a most scathing criticism he defiantly arraigns\\nOxford for its faulty organization and its incredibly care-\\nless administration. To the University of Oxford, he\\nsays, I acknowledge no obligation and she will as\\ncheerfully renounce me for a son as I am willing to dis-\\nclaim her for a mother. I spent fourteen months at Mag-\\ndalen College they proved the fourteen months the\\nmost idle and unprofitable of my whole life. He re-\\nceived scarcely any instruction he was not even directed\\nin his studies and reading and, worst of all, no restraint\\nwhatever was placed on his tendencies to idleness and\\ndissipation. As a gentleman-commoner, he was admitted\\nto the Society of the Fellows of the University but he\\nfound that from the toil of reading or thinking or writ-\\ning they had absolved their consciences and the first", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0370.jp2"}, "369": {"fulltext": "EDWARD GIBBON. 319\\nshoots of learning and ingenuity withered on the ground,\\nwithout yielding any fruits to the owners or the public.\\nBut his idle life at the university was not sufficient to\\nextinguish his literary bent. During a long vacation his\\ntaste for reading revived and without original learning or\\nskill in the art of composition, he resolved to write a book.\\nHis subject was The Age of Sesostris and in the\\nauthor s mature judgment it was most notable for its\\nambitious efforts in chronology. He speedily recognized\\nits imperfections of style and treatment, and this humili-\\nating discovery he notes as the first symptom of taste.\\nHis stay at Oxford was cut short by his conversion to\\nthe Church of Rome. From childhood he had been fond\\nof religious disputation. His faith in Protestantism was\\nfirst shaken by Middleton s Free Inquiry, which ap-\\nproached the borders of infidelity. Bossuet s famous\\nworks, the Exposition of the Catholic Doctrine and\\nthe History of Protestant Variations, achieved his con-\\nversion and surely, he adds, I fell by a noble hand.\\nIn 1753 he united with the Roman Catholic Church. His\\nfervor for a moment raised him above worldly considera-\\ntions and in a letter, written with all the pomp, the\\ndignity, and self-satisfaction of a martyr, he announced\\nhis change of faith to his father.\\nAfter the first outbreak of indignation, his father lost\\nno time in forming a new plan of education, and in devis-\\ning a method by which his son might be cured of his\\nspiritual malady. Accordingly, young Gibbon was sent\\nto Lausanne, where he was placed under the care of M.\\nPavilliard, a Calvinistic clergyman of rare tact and good\\nsense. Here he passed the next five years of his life.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0371.jp2"}, "370": {"fulltext": "320 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nwhich proved the most important of all in his intellec-\\ntual development. He studied the French language with\\nsuch diligence that it became his spontaneous vehicle of\\nthought and afterward imparted to his great work a\\nGallic tinge.\\nUnder the wise direction of his instructor, who had\\nwon his confidence and respect, he entered upon a seri-\\nous course of study, which included the Latin and Greek\\nclassics, history, logic, mathematics, philosophy, and juris-\\nprudence. His ardor was extraordinary. The desire\\nof prolonging my time, he says, gradually confirmed\\nthe salutary habit of early rising, to which I have always\\nadhered. Among the books that contributed to form\\nthe historian of the Roman Empire, he particularly men-\\ntions Pascal s Provincial Letters. His mathematical\\nstudies were carried as far as conic sections. Then he\\nrelinquished the study. Nor can I lament, he adds,\\nthat I desisted before my mind was hardened by the\\nhabit of rigid demonstration, so destructive of the finer\\nfeelings of moral evidence, which must, however, deter-\\nmine the actions and opinions of our lives.\\nMeanwhile the main purpose of his sojourn at Lau-\\nsanne was not forgotten. The various points of Roman\\nCatholic doctrine were, from time to time, brought under\\ndiscussion and naturally the superior skill of M. Pavil-\\nliard made itself felt. But Gibbon s mind was itself\\nundergoing a change. I am willing, he writes, to\\nallow him a handsome share of the honor of my con-\\nversion yet I must observe that it was principally ef-\\nfected by my private reflections. Finally, the various\\narticles of the Romish creed disappeared like a dream", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0372.jp2"}, "371": {"fulltext": "EDWARD GIBBON. 321\\nand after a full conviction, on Christmas Day, 1754, I re-\\nceived the sacrament in the church of Lausanne. It was\\nhere that I suspended my religious inquiries, acquiescing\\nwith implicit belief in the tenets and mysteries which are\\nadopted by the general consent of Catholics and Protes-\\ntants.\\nWhile at Lausanne he made the acquaintance of Vol-\\ntaire, whose writings appear to have exerted no small\\ninfluence upon him. He listened with admiration while\\nthe great Frenchman declaimed his verses on the stage.\\nHe frequented the theatre which Voltaire had opened for\\nthe representation of his plays and the pleasure derived\\nfrom the French drama abated his idolatry, he tells us,\\nfor the gigantic genius of Shakespeare, which is incul-\\ncated, from infancy, as the first duty of an English-\\nman.\\nIt was at this time that Gibbon met Mademoiselle\\nCurchod, whose beauty, gifts, and culture at once won\\nhis heart. The attachment appears to have been mutual-;\\nbut, as events showed, he was far from being a heroic\\nlover. For a time he indulged his dream of felicity\\nbut on my return to England, to borrow his own frank\\nnarrative, I soon discovered that my father would not\\nhear of this strange alliance, and that without his con-\\nsent I was myself destitute and helpless. After a pain-\\nful struggle I yielded to my fate I sighed as a lover, I\\nobeyed as a son my wound was insensibly healed by\\ntime, absence, and the, habits of a new life. And the\\nyoung lady 1 She became the wife of Necker, the famous\\nfinancier and minister of France, and the mother of the\\ncelebrated Madame de Stael. The tender memories of", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0373.jp2"}, "372": {"fulltext": "322 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nthis early attachment never entirely vanished Gibbon\\nand Madame Necker always remained friends. It is a\\ntribute to his fidelity that, while he sighed as a lover and\\nobeyed as a son, he never afterward thought of marry-\\ning any other.\\nIn 1758 he was called home. Though he looked for-\\nward with apprehension to meeting his father, he was\\nkindly received as a man and friend. His relations with\\nhis stepmother, who was at first regarded with prejudice,\\nat length became filial and tender. The next two years\\nwere pleasantly spent in London and at the country resi-\\ndence of his father in Hampshire. His social circle in\\nthe metropolis at this time remained limited and fre-\\nquently withdrawing from crowds without company,\\nand dissipation without pleasure, he stayed in his room\\nwith his books. I had not been endowed, he acknow-\\nledges, by art or nature with those happy gifts of con-\\nfidence and address which unlock every door and every\\nbosom.\\nAt his father s country residence he yielded still more\\nto his studious habits. The library was considered his\\nespecial domain. To overcome the influence of his\\nFrench training, he read Addison and Swift. He ad-\\nmired the historical writings of Robertson, whose style he\\nhoped some day to rival, and especially those of Hume,\\nwhose nameless graces filled him at once with delight and\\ndespair. It was at this time that he began, the formation\\nof his own extensive library but he never bought a book\\nfor ostentation every volume before it was deposited on\\nthe shelf was either read or sufficiently examined. He\\nmade copious notes and abstracts of his extensive read-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0374.jp2"}, "373": {"fulltext": "b\\nEDWARD GIBBON. 323\\ning. He took but little interest in the amusements of\\nthe country. He seldom mounted a horse, was indiffer-\\nent to the sports of the chase, and even his philosophic\\nwalks were soon terminated by a shady bench, where he\\ndevoted himself to reading or meditation.\\nGibbon s first publication dates from this period. His\\nEssai sur I Etude de la Litterature was published in\\nLondon in 1761. It has been variously judged; but,\\nowing to its foreign garb, it was more successful abroad\\nthan at home. In England, he tells us, it was\\nreceived with cold indifference, little read, and speedily\\nforgotten a small impression was slowly dispersed the\\nbookseller murmured, and the author (had his feelings\\nbeen more exquisite) might have wept over the blunders\\nand baldness of the English translation. But after the\\npublication of his history, fifteen years later, he had the\\nsatisfaction of seeing a copy of the original edition of\\nthe Essai bring the fanciful price of thirty shillings.\\nShortly before the publication of the Essai, in 1759,\\nhe entered the military service as a captain of militia and\\nspent the next two years in camping, drilling, and march-\\ning in the southern counties of England. For a short\\ntime, in his enthusiasm, he thought of devoting himself to\\nthe profession of arms; but his bloodless and inglorious\\ncampaigns soon cured him of his military aspirations.\\nThe mode of life was uncongenial, and he lamented the\\ntime lost from his studies. Yet he recognized the benefits\\nof his military experiences. It made him an Englishman\\nand a soldier and what he especially valued, the dis-\\ncipline and evolution of a modern battalion gave him a\\nclearer notion of the phalanx and legion and the captain", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0375.jp2"}, "374": {"fulltext": "324 ENGLISH LITERATURE,\\nof the Hampshire grenadiers (the reader may smile) has\\nnot been useless to the historian of the Roman Empire.\\nFrom youth, he informs us, he had aspired to the char-\\nacter of a historian. This deep-seated ambition was not\\nforgotten during the uncongenial distractions of military\\nlife. He was in search of a theme and in turn he\\nthought of the expedition of Charles VHI. into Italy, the\\ncrusade of Richard I., the barons war against King John,\\nthe life of Sir Phihp Sidney, and then of Sir Walter\\nRaleigh. On some of these subjects he did no small\\namount of reading but none of them laid hold on him\\nwith irresistible attraction. It was not till his journey to\\nItaly two years later that he found the subject that was\\nlong to engage the earnest labors of his maturest man-\\nhood. It was at Rome, he says, on the 15th of\\nOctober, 1764, as I sat musing amidst the ruins of the\\ncapitol, while the barefooted friars were singing vespers\\nin the temple of Jupiter, that the idea of writing the\\ndecline and fall of the city first started to my mind.\\nAfter the disbanding of the militia, in 1763, Gibbon\\nspent the next two or three years in travel, during which\\nhe visited Paris, Switzerland, and Italy. He was charmed\\nwith the French capital, where the fame of his Essai\\ngained him admission to the most cultivated literary circles.\\nHis association with D Alembert, Diderot, Barthelemy,\\nHelvetius, Baron d Holbach, and others of the same scep-\\ntical spirit, no doubt intensified his growing hostihty to\\nChristianity. He assiduously studied the treasures of art\\nthat had been accumulated in Paris and without sacrificing\\nthe pleasures of society and of the drama, he diligently\\nused his opportunities to promote his general culture.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0376.jp2"}, "375": {"fulltext": "EDWARD GIBBON. 325\\nHe spent eleven months at Lausanne, where the good\\nPavilHard shed tears of joy as he embraced a pupil whose\\nliterary merit he might fairly impute to his own labors.\\nHere, in preparation for his Italian journey, he made a\\nlaborious review of Italian history and literature, filling\\na large commonplace book with notes and remarks.\\nAfter visiting the leading Italian cities, he went to Rome.\\nMy temper, he says, is not very susceptible of enthu-\\nsiasm, and the enthusiasm which I do not feel I scorn to\\naffect. But, at the distance of twenty-five years, I can\\nneither forget nor express the strong emotions which\\nagitated my mind as I first approached and entered the\\neternal city.\\nHe returned to England in 1765, and the next five years\\nhe designates as the least satisfactory of his life. He\\nannually attended the meeting of the militia at Southamp-\\nton, and rose to the rank of lieutenant-colonel but each\\nyear he was more and more disgusted with the inn, the\\nwine, the company, and finally he resigned his empty\\ncommission. He lamented the absence of a vocation and\\nhis consequent idleness, while so many of his acquaintance\\nwere advancing with rapid steps in the various roads of\\nhonor and fortune. He began a history of Switzerland\\nbut soon becoming discouraged, he threw his manuscript\\naside and gave up the attempt. In 1770 he successfully\\ncontroverted a fanciful interpretation which Bishop War-\\nburton, in his Divine Legation, had placed upon the\\nsixth book of the ^neid. But I cannot forgive my-\\nself, he said afterward, the contemptuous treatment of a\\nman who, with all his faults, was entitled to my esteem.\\nAfter the death of his father, in 1770, he came into", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0377.jp2"}, "376": {"fulltext": "326 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\npossession of a moderate estate, of which, on the whole,\\nhe made a judicious use. He estabUshed himself in Lon-\\ndon and divided his time between study and society. His\\ncircle of acquaintance was extended till it embraced nearly\\nall the eminent men of his day. He joined the Literary\\nClub, of which Johnson, Burke, Garrick, Reynolds, Gold-\\nsmith, and others were distinguished members. He now\\nundertook the composition of the first volume of his His-\\ntory, for which he had prepared himself by careful and\\nelaborate research. At the outset, he says, all was\\ndark and doubtful even the title of the work, the true\\nera of the decline and fall of the empire, the limits of the\\nintroduction, the division of the chapters, and the order\\nof the narrative and I was often tempted to cast away\\nthe labor of seven years. The style of an author should\\nbe the image of his mind, but the choice and command of\\nlanguage is the fruit of exercise. Many experiments were\\nmade before I could hit the middle tone between a dull\\nchronicle and a rhetorical declamation three times did I\\ncompose the first chapter, and twice the second and third,\\nbefore I was tolerably satisfied with their effect. The\\nfirst volume appeared in 1776 and was received with great\\napplause. Its excellence of matter and style was almost\\nuniversally recognized, and the author suddenly found\\nhimself famous.\\nTwo years before, while engaged on his History, he\\nhad been elected to a seat in Parliament, of which he re-\\nmained a member for nearly a decade. There is nothing\\nin his parliamentary career to add to his fame. His timid-\\nity, as well as the weakness of his voice, prevented him\\nfrom becoming an orator. After a fleeting illusive", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0378.jp2"}, "377": {"fulltext": "EDWARD GIBBON. 32/\\nhope, he says, prudence condemned me to acquiesce in\\nthe humble station of a mute. In the conflict between\\nGreat Britain and America, he supported, with many a\\nsincere and silent vote, the rights, though not perhaps the\\ninterests, of the mother country. While his career in\\nParliament was inglorious, it was not valueless to him. It\\nbecame a school of civil prudence, the first and most\\nessential virtue of a historian.\\nIn 1 78 1 he published two more volumes of his History,\\nwhich, owing to the opposition aroused by his hostile atti-\\ntude to Christianity, were somewhat coldly received. He\\nlong hesitated whether he should push his History beyond\\nthe fall of the Western Empire. During this period of\\nindecision, he turned to Greek literature, and read, not\\nonly the leading historians, but also the poets and drama-\\ntists. But after a few months he began to long for the\\ndaily task, the active pursuit, which gave a value to every\\nbook and an object to every inquiry; and once more he\\nturned to his vast undertaking.\\nFinding that his income was insufficient for the style of\\nliving he had been indulging in London, he resolved to\\nretire to Lausanne. He took up his residence there in\\n1783, in the midst of delightful and congenial society.\\nAfter a delay of nearly a year, occasioned by the inci-\\ndents of his removal, he settled down to daily toil and rap-\\nidly pushed his book to completion. I have presumed,\\nhe says, to mark the moment of conception I shall\\nnow commemorate the hour of my final deliverance.\\nIt was on the day, or rather night, of the 27th of June,\\n1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I\\nwrote the last lines of the last page, in a summer-house in", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0379.jp2"}, "378": {"fulltext": "128 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\n1\\nmy garden. After laying down my pen, I took several\\nturns in a berceati, or covered walk of acacias, which\\ncommands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the\\nmountains. The air was temperate, the sky was serene,\\nthe silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waters,\\nand all nature was silent. I will not dissemble the first\\nemotions of joy on recovery of my freedom and perhaps\\nthe establishment of my fame. But my pride was soon\\nhumbled, and a sober melancholy was spread over my\\nmind by the idea that I had taken an everlasting leave of\\nan old and agreeable companion, and that whatsoever\\nmight be the future date of my History, the life of the\\nhistorian must be short and precarious.\\nAfter an absence of four years, he returned to England\\nwith the manuscript of the last three volumes, which were\\nrapidly carried through the press. The day of publica-\\ntion was delayed for a short time, that it might fall on\\nthe fifty-first anniversary of his birth. The double festi-\\nval was celebrated by a literary dinner at the publisher s\\nhouse, where the historian seemed to blush at some\\nfulsome verses in his praise. The concluding volumes\\nwere widely read, but did not escape considerable adverse\\ncriticism. The entire work was translated into French,\\nGerman, and Italian, and on the Continent generally re-\\nceived the recognition to which its merits entitle it.\\nGibbon returned to Lausanne in 1788, where the next\\nfive years were spent in the miscellaneous delights of his\\nlarge library. It was during this period that he wrote the\\nbrief but admirable Autobiography, afterward given\\nto the world by his friend. Lord Shefifield. The storm\\nof the French Revolution had now burst on Europe. In", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0380.jp2"}, "379": {"fulltext": "EDWARD GIB BOM. 329\\nhis sympathies, Gibbon was an aristocrat, and the Gallic\\nfrenzy, the wild theories of equal and boundless freedom,\\nfilled him with terror. The democratic leaven found its\\nway to Switzerland. In the prospect of possible trouble,\\nhe did not exhibit a heroic spirit. For myself, he wrote,\\n(may the omen be averted!) I can only declare that the\\nfirst stroke of a rebel drum would be the signal of my\\nimmediate departure.\\nHe returned to England in 1793. He estimated that\\nthe laws of probability, so true in general, so fallacious\\nin particular, still allowed him about fifteen years of life.\\nHe looked forward to this closing period the mature\\nseason in which our passions are supposed to be calmed,\\nour duties fulfilled, our ambition satisfied with a mel-\\nancholy pleasure. But he was to be disappointed the\\nlaws of probability proved fallacious for hini. He died of\\na dropsical affection Jan. 16, 1794, nine months after his\\nreturn to London.\\nHe esteemed his lot in life a happy one. When I con-\\ntemplate the common lot of mortality, he writes, I must\\nacknowledge that I have drawn a high prize in the lottery\\nof Hfe. The far greater part of the globe is overspread\\nwith barbarism or slavery in the civilized world the most\\nnumerous class is condemned to ignorance and poverty\\nand the double fortune of my birth in a free and enlight-\\nened country, in an honorable and wealthy family, is the\\nlucky chance of an unit against millions. Few men have\\nbeen more favored in outward circumstances, and with a\\ngenuine Epicurean spirit he knew how to appreciate and\\nenjoy them.\\nThe essential features of his character have come out in", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0381.jp2"}, "380": {"fulltext": "330 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nthe course of this sketch. He was lacking in warmth, en-\\nthusiasm, heroic virtue and throughout his whole life we\\nfail to discover a single act of magnanimity. Though he\\nformed a few lasting friendships, he was not one to draw\\nabout him a large circle of enthusiastic admirers. For the\\nrest, we may accept his own estimate of his character I\\nam endowed with a cheerful temper, a moderate sensibility,\\nand a natural disposition to repose rather than to activity\\nsome mischievous appetites and habits have perhaps been\\ncorrected by philosophy or time. The love of study, a\\npassion which derives fresh vigor from enjoyment, supplies\\neach day, each hour, with a perpetual source of indepen-\\ndent and rational pleasure.\\nGibbon s fame rests almost exclusively on his History\\nof the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, to which\\nhe devoted twenty laborious years. He was admirably\\nequipped by nature and culture for this vast undertaking.\\nHe had a natural bent for historic investigation. Along\\nwith a wide sweep of intellect, he had a genius for minute\\ninvestigation. He had a strong artistic sense, which en-\\nabled him to marshal in due order and proportion the vast\\nmultitude of details. His methodical habits of study made\\nhim master of all available sources of information. Except\\nwhen Christianity comes under review, he is exceedingly\\njudicious in weighing evidence and forming 6onclusions.\\nIn treating of Christianity, the hostility imbibed from the\\nschool of Voltaire instantly betrays him into fallacy or un-\\nfairness. In spite of their brilliant and subtle irony, the\\nfamous fifteenth and sixteenth chapters, in which the\\nrapid spread of Christianity is accounted for, must remain\\na blemish, not only on the great work itself, but on the\\ncharacter of the historian.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0382.jp2"}, "381": {"fulltext": "EDWARD GIBBON. 33 I\\nThe style of The Decline and Fall is remarkable for\\nits stately dignity. It has been characterized as copious,\\nsplendid, elegantly rounded, distinguished by supreme ar-\\ntificial skill. It is enriched by suggestive epithets. With\\na less magnificent subject, the style must have been con-\\ndemned as false or even ridiculous. But no grander theme\\never engaged historian s pen. Mighty movements appear\\nin succession upon the broad historic canvas the triumph\\nof Christianity, the invasions of the barbarians, the devel-\\nopment of the papal power, the rise of Mohammedanism,\\nthe religious enthusiasm of the crusades, the fall of Con-\\nstantinople and the extinction of the empire of the East.\\nIt was but natural that the historian s soul should be ele-\\nvated by the contemplation of so grand a theme, and that\\nhis style should rise into a corresponding dignity and splen-\\ndor.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0383.jp2"}, "382": {"fulltext": "332 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nWILLIAM COWPER.\\nThere are two reasons why the poetry of Cowper,\\napart from its intrinsic excellence, deserves special atten-\\ntion. The first is, that it marks the transition from the\\nartificial to the natural school. While Cowper s first vol-\\nume clearly shows the influence of Pope, his subsequent\\nand more important works are decidedly modern in form\\nand spirit. Breaking away from the restraint of artificial\\nrules, the poet comes at last to treat of man and nature\\nwith simplicity and freedom. He exhibits great breadth\\nof sympathy. Nature is studied for its own sake and\\ndescribed with fond picturesqueness of detail. The\\nvarious interests and conditions of human life wealth\\nand poverty, freedom and slavery, city and country,\\nknowledge and ignorance are all brought before us in\\nan unconventional way.\\nThe second distinctive feature of Cowper s poetry is its\\nreligious element. He was the poet of the evangelical\\nrevival in England. Other great poets have treated moral\\nand religious themes but Cowper is the first to manifest\\na deeply pious spirit. No doubt the religious element is\\nsometimes carried to excess but it must be said that the\\nmoral condition of England at this time required vigorous\\npreaching.\\nThe life of Cowper is a strangely sad one. His mor-\\nbidly sensitive nature unfitted him for contact with the\\nruthless world. Certainly I am not an absolute, fool,", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0384.jp2"}, "383": {"fulltext": "After the painting by George Romney.\\nf/^", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0385.jp2"}, "384": {"fulltext": "n", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0386.jp2"}, "385": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM COWPER, 333\\nhe wrote in one of his letters, but I have more weak-\\nnesses than the greatest of all the fools I can recollect at\\npresent. In short, if I was as fit for the next world as I\\nam unfit for this, and God forbid I should speak it in\\nvanity, I would not change conditions with any saint in\\nChristendom. His religious life was frequently clouded\\nby doubt and despair. Worst of all, his mind on several\\noccasions gave way. But in spite of misfortune and suffer-\\ning, he became the best letter writer of England, and\\nwrote at least one work that will perish only with the\\nEnglish language itself.\\nWilliam Cowper was born Nov. 26, 1731, in Hert-\\nfordshire. His parentage on both sides was of ancient\\nlineage but for this he seems to have cared but little\\nMy boast is not that I deduce my birth\\nFrom loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth\\nBut higher far my proud pretensions rise,\\nThe son of parents passed into the skies.\\nHis father was chaplain to George H. His mother, a\\nwoman of excellent mind and heart, died when he was six\\nyears old. All through his life of sadness, he cherished\\nan affectionate remembrance of her tenderness and fifty\\nyears after her death, on receiving her picture from a\\nrelative, he wrote a poem that has become famous for its\\npathetic beauty\\nThe record fair\\nThat memory keeps of all thy kindness there,\\nStill outlives many a storm, that has effaced\\nA thousand other themes less deeply traced.\\nAt the age of six years this timid and sensitive child\\nwas placed in a large boarding-school, where he was tyran-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0387.jp2"}, "386": {"fulltext": "334 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nnized over by the larger boys. One in particular selected\\nhim as the special object of his cruelty. His savage\\ntreatment of me, Cowper wrote years afterward, im-\\npressed such a dread of his figure upon my mind that I\\nwell remember being afraid to lift my eyes upon him\\nhigher than to his knees, and that I knew him better by\\nhis shoe-buckles than by any other part of his dress.\\nThe recollection of the cruelties he suffered inspired his\\npoem Tirocinium, or a Review of Schools, in which he\\npoints out the evils of those institutions and makes a\\nstrong plea for home instruction.\\nAt the age of ten he entered Westminster School. He\\nmade excellent attainments in Latin and Greek, the prin-\\ncipal subjects of study at that time. In spite of frequent\\nfits of despondency, he excelled in cricket and foot-ball.\\nAmong his school-fellows afterward to become famous\\nwas Warren Hastings, in whose guilt he steadily refused\\nin after years to believe. His poetical turn manifested\\nitself in his school days, and Verses, written on finding\\nthe heel of a shoe, showed his moralizing disposition, and\\ncontained a promise of The Task\\nThis pondVous heel of perforated hide\\nCompact, with pegs indented, many a row,\\nHaply, for such its massy form bespeaks,\\nThe weighty tread of some rude peasant clown,\\nUpbore on this supported, oft he stretched\\nWith uncouth strides along the furrowed glebe,\\nFlattening the stubborn clod, till cruel time\\n(What will not cruel time?) or a wry step.\\nSevered the strict cohesion.\\nAt eighteen, conforming to the wish of his father,\\nCowper began the study of law with an attorney in London.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0388.jp2"}, "387": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM COWPER. 335\\nBoth in taste and talent he was unfitted for the legal pro-\\nfession. He read more in literature than in law. In the\\nsame office was another young man named Thurlow, who\\nafterward became lord chancellor. Cowper foresaw the\\nsuccess of his companion, and one evening, in the presence\\nof some ladies, he playfully said Thurlow, I am nobody,\\nand shall always be nobody, and you will be chancellor.\\nYou shall provide for me when you are. Thurlow re-\\nplied, with a smile, I surely will. These ladies,\\ncontinued Cowper, are our witnesses. Let them be\\nso, ans\\\\yered the future chancellor, for I will certainly\\ndo it. Cowper s foresight for his friend was better than\\nfor himself he certainly became somebody. As to the\\naid so generously promised, it never extended beyond some\\nadvice in the translation of Homer.\\nIn 1752 Cowper took up his residence in the Middle\\nTemple, but never gave himself seriously to law. He read\\nGreek and translated French. He became a member of a\\nliterary circle, called the Nonsense Club, and occasionally\\nwrote a bit of verse or prose. He contributed to the Con-\\nnoisse?ir a few papers in the style of Addison. But he\\nsuffered from morbid depression. The shadow of the\\ndreadful affliction that darkened his later years stole upon\\nhim. Day and night, he wrote in his painful memoir,\\nI was upon the rack, lying down in horror and rising up\\nin despair. He was admitted to the bar in 1754, but\\nbeyond the duties of a commissioner of bankrupts, he\\nnever followed his profession.\\nWhile a student of law he was a frequent visitor at the\\nhouse of his uncle, Ashley Cowper. He fell in love with\\nhis cousin Theodora, and, as might be expected, addressed", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0389.jp2"}, "388": {"fulltext": "336 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nto her a considerable number of poems. They are gen-\\nerally of a tame, mediocre quality but in the lines Upon\\na Venerable Rival there is a touch of jealous, spiteful\\nvigor\\nFor once attempt not to despise\\nWhat I esteem a rule\\nWho early loves, though young, is wise,\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nWho old, though gray, a fool.\\nHis devotion met with an ardent return, but encoun-\\ntered parental opposition. Cowper s poverty, as well as\\nhis kinship and despondency, was regarded by Theodora s\\nfather as a barrier to their union. What will you do if\\nyou marry your cousin.? inquired the prudent father.\\nDo, sir.? replied the heroic girl, wash all day and\\nride out on the great dog at night. But when, in spite of\\nprayers and tears, her father remained inexorable, she re-\\nsolved to obey him. She gave up her lover, whom she\\nnever saw afterward. But with beautiful constancy she\\nremained true to him at heart, watched over his life with\\ntender solicitude, and in various emergencies helped him\\nwith anonymous gifts. She fondly treasured the poems\\naddressed to her, and they were pubUshed only after her\\ndeath in 1824.\\nAt the age of thirty-one Cowper found his resources\\npretty well exhausted and was anxious to secure employ-\\nment. An influential relative nominated him for the office\\nof clerk of journals in the House of Lords. To establish\\nhis fitness it became necessary for him to stand an exami-\\nnation at the bar of the House. For some months he\\ntried to make preparation but his timid, sensitive nature\\nrecoiled more and more from the ordeal. They whose", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0390.jp2"}, "389": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM COW PER. 337\\nspirits are formed like mine, he wrote, to whom a pub-\\nUc exhibition of themselves is mental poison, may have\\nsome idea of the horrors of my situation others can\\nhave none. Finally, losing his mental balance entirely,\\nhe attempted suicide and was saved from death only by\\nthe breaking of the garter, with which he had hanged him-\\nself. His nomination was of course withdrawn, and he\\nwas placed in a private asylum. After eighteen months,\\nin which he went through a deep but morbid religious\\nexperience, he regained his health.\\nWith the year 1765 begins a new era in Cowper s life.\\nIn order to be near his brother, a fellow of St. Benet s\\nCollege, Cambridge, he removed to Huntingdon. The\\ntown and surrounding country were very agreeable to him.\\nFor his support a few relatives raised a fund, which he\\nreceived with humble gratitude. Here he began the\\nextensive correspondence, which, apart from his poetry,\\nwould have given him an honored place in English lit-\\nerature. Ease, grace, humor, are inimitably blended in\\nhis letters. He sympathized with the religious movement\\nled by Wesley and Whitefield. He adopted what is now\\ngenerally considered a rigorous type of piety, the earnest\\nspirit of which subsequently entered into his poetry. At-\\ntracted by religious sympathy and social culture, he became\\na boarder in the Unwin family, with which the rest of his\\nlife was to be intimately associated. Mrs. Unwin proved\\nespecially congenial, of whom he wrote to his cousin,\\nThat woman is a blessing to me, and I never see her\\nwithout being the better for her company.\\nTo most persons the family life of the Unwins will not\\nappear attractive or cheerful. We breakfast commonly", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0391.jp2"}, "390": {"fulltext": "338 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nbetween eight and nine, wrote Cowper with his usual\\nfondness for details; till eleven, we read either the Scrip-\\nture or the sermons of some faithful preacher of those\\nholy mysteries at eleven we attend divine service, which\\nis performed here twice every day and from twelve to\\nthree we separate and amuse ourselves as we please.\\nDuring the interval I either read in my own apartment,\\nor walk, or ride, or work in the garden. We seldom sit\\nan hour after dinner, but, if the weather permits, adjourn\\nto the garden, where, with Mrs. Unwin and her son, I\\nhave generally the pleasure of reHgious conversation till\\ntea-time. At night we read and converse as before,\\ntill supper, and commonly finish the evening either with\\nhymns or a sermon, and, last of all, the family are called\\nto prayers.\\nThis quiet life was not to continue undisturbed. At the\\nend of two years Mr. Unwin was thrown from his horse\\nand killed. Cowper continued an inmate of the Unwin\\nhome. The friendship existing between him and Mrs.\\nUnwin gradually ripened into an attachment, which was\\nto end only with life itself. At one time they contem-\\nplated marriage but this was prevented by a return of\\nCowper s malady. In 1767, on the invitation of the Rev.\\nJohn Newton, they moved to Olney in Buckinghamshire.\\nThe village, situated on the Ouse, was low, damp, and un-\\nhealthy but the partial eye of the poet, as we shall see\\nlater, discovered beauty in the landscape.\\nThe people were poor, illiterate lace-makers. Cowper\\ncordially assisted in the religious work of the devoted pas-\\ntor he visited the poor, distributed alms, and led in\\nprayer-meetings. For a hymn-book which Newton was", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0392.jp2"}, "391": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM COWPER.\\n339\\nI\\npreparing, he composed the celebrated Olney hymns, sixty-\\neight in number. Like most hymns, they are generally\\ndeficient in high poetic quality but several of them\\nOh for a closer walk with God,\\nThere is a fountain filled with blood,\\nWhat various hindrances we meet,\\nGod moves in a mysterious way\\nare found in all standard collections.\\nCowper s mode of life at Olney did not prove favorable\\nto his health, and in 1773 his insanity returned. It took\\nthe form of religiou,s despair. Through a long illness he\\nwas attended by Mrs. Unwin with affectionate, self-sacri-\\nficing care. Newton likewise was very patient and kind.\\nAs Cowper began to pass out of the shadow, he gave him-\\nself to light employment in carpentry and gardening. He\\nsurrounded himself with rabbits, cats, and other pets, on\\nwhich he lavished kindly care. In The Task he com-\\nmemorates a favorite pet\\nOne sheltered hare\\nHas never heard the sanguinary yell\\nOf cruel man, exulting in her woes.\\nInnocent partner of my peaceful home,\\nWhom ten long years experience of my care\\nHas made at last familiar, she has lost\\nMuch of her vigilant instinctive dread,\\nNot needful here, beneath a roof like mine.\\nWith returning health, his strong sense of humor re-\\nvived. It found expression in the poem Report of an\\nAdjudged Case, which is intended as a gentle satire on\\nthat class of legal judgments which, by adhering to the", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0393.jp2"}, "392": {"fulltext": "340 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nletter of the law, perverts justice. Every one knows the\\npoem\\nBetween Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose,\\nThe spectacles set them unhappily wrong;\\nThe point in dispute was, as all the world knows,\\nTo which the said spectacles ought to belong.\\nCowper was not a man of initiative energy. Left to\\nhimself, his life would have passed in meditative repose.\\nAll his longer poems were suggested to him by friends.\\nIn 1779 he was introduced to the Rev. William Bull, a\\ndissenting minister living some five miles from Olney,\\nwhom he learned to esteem both for his learning and his\\npiety. It was through him that he was induced to trans-\\nlate the quietistic poems of Madame Guyon. Though\\ndeeply spiritual in tone, these poems inculcate a morbid\\ntype of piety. Cowper was not unconscious of their faults,\\nand in his translation he corrected their irreverent famil-\\niarity toward God.\\nThe year 1781 marks the beginning of Cowper s literary\\nfame. He was now fifty years old and apart from the\\nnatural effects of age, his painful experience tended to en-\\nrich his thought and subdue his style. His taste had been\\nformed not only on the Latin and Greek classics, but also\\non the best English poets, of whom he expresses many\\nable judgments in his letters. He greatly admired\\nMilton and after reading Dr. Johnson s unfair sketch in\\nthe Lives of the Poets, he indignantly exclaimed Oh,\\nI could thrash his old jacket till I made his pension jingle\\nin his pocket\\nHe felt the need of congenial employment and at the\\nsuggestion of Mrs. Unwin, who proposed the subject,", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0394.jp2"}, "393": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM COWPER. ^.j\\nThe Progress of Error, he began his moral satires.\\nHe worked with enthusiasm, and in the course of a few\\nmonths finished The Progress of Error, Truth\\nTable Talk, Expostulation, Hope, Charity\\nConversation, and Retirement. The volume ap-\\npeared in 1782. Its reception by the pubHc was hardly\\nequal to its merits. The poet received unfavorable criti-\\ncism with admirable composure and humor. We may\\nnow treat the critics, he wrote, as the archbishop of\\nToledo treated Gil Bias, when he found fault with one of\\nhis sermons. His grace gave him a kick and said, Be-\\ngone for a jackanapes and furnish yourself with a better\\ntaste, if you know where to find it.\\nThe moral satires cover a wide range of subject and well\\nportray the manners of the time. Occasionally they are\\nenlivened by characteristic humor. I am merry, the\\npoet said, that I may decoy people into my company and\\ngrave, that they may be better for it. The following lines\\ngive us the ideal to v/hich he endeavored to conform his\\nverse\\nGive me the line that flows its stately course\\nLike a proud swan, conquering the stream by force\\nThat like some cottage beauty, strikes the heart,\\nQuite unindebted to the tricks of art.\\nIn what is said of the poet we discern the freedom of a\\nnew era\\nA poet does not work by square or line,\\nAs smiths and joiners perfect a design\\nAt least we moderns, our attention less,\\nBeyond the example of our sires digress,\\nAnd claim a right to scamper and run wide,\\nWherever chance, caprice, or fancy guide.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0395.jp2"}, "394": {"fulltext": "342 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThe following directions for story-telling are as applica-\\nble to written as to oral discourse\\nA tale should be judicious, clear, succinct\\nThe language plain, and incidents well linked.\\nTell not as new what everybody knows,\\nAnd, new or old, still hasten to a close\\nThere centring in a focus, round and neat,\\nLet all your rays of information meet.\\nAt this period Cowper was blessed with another friend-\\nship that told favorably on himself and English literature.\\nLady Austen, the widow of a baronet, was a witty, viva-\\ncious, sensible woman, who after an accidental acquain-\\ntance became deeply interested in the poet. Though she\\nhad been accustomed to the best drawing-rooms of London\\nand Paris, she took up her residence in the quiet village of\\nOlney and lived in close intimacy with the Unwin house-\\nhold. To her we are indebted for two of Cowper s best-\\nknown poems. Observing his depression one day, she\\nrelated to him the story of the luckless John Gilpin. It\\nhad the desired effect. That night he lay awake laughing\\nover the story and next morning turned it into the famous\\nballad of John Gilpin. It was published anonymously\\nin a newspaper, recited by an actor, and taken up by the\\npublic and since that time it has retained its place in\\npopular favor as one of the most humorous ballads in our\\nlanguage.\\nLady Austen was fond of blank verse, and urged Cow-\\nper to write a poem of that kind. When he asked for a\\nsubject, she assigned him The Sofa. The poet set to\\nwork, and in rapid succession completed The Sofa,", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0396.jp2"}, "395": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM COW PER. 343\\nThe Timepiece, The Garden, The Winter Even-\\ning, The Winter Morning Walk, and The Winter\\nWalk at Noon, which taken together constitute The\\nTask, his greatest work. In this poem Cowper s genius\\nfinds its fullest expression. It was published in 1785 and\\nat once obtained flattering recognition. Poetry at this\\ntime was at a low ebb in England. .The Task easily\\ngave Cowper a foremost place among the poets of his\\ntime. In style and theme it exhibits a complete rupture\\nwith the artificial school of the Augustan Age. It reveals\\na sympathy with the ordinary scenes and incidents of\\nlife, and its descriptions are based on close observation.\\nAs in the satires, there is a prevailing moral tone. Its\\ngeneral tendency, to use the poet s own words, is to dis-\\ncountenance the modern enthusiasm after a London life\\nand to recommend rural ease as friendly to the cause of\\npiety and virtue.\\nHere is his description of the Olney neighborhood, as\\nhe viewed it from an eminence in company with Mrs.\\nUnwin\\nThence with what pleasure have we just discerned\\nThe distant plough slow moving, and beside\\nHis laboring team that swerved not from the track,\\nThe sturdy swain diminished to a boy\\nHere Ouse, slow winding through a level plain\\nOf spacious meads, with cattle sprinkled o er,\\nConducts the eye along his sinuous course\\nDelighted. There, fast rooted in their bank,\\nStand, never overlooked, our favorite elms,\\nThat screen the herdsman s solitary hut\\nWhile far beyond, and overthwart the stream,\\nThat, as with molten glass, inlays the vale,", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0397.jp2"}, "396": {"fulltext": "344 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThe sloping land recedes into the clouds\\nDisplaying on its varied side the grace\\nOf hedge-row beauties numberless, square tower,\\nTall spire, from which the sound of cheerful bells\\nJust undulates upon the listening ear.\\nGroves, heaths, and smoking villages, remote.\\nThe poet had .not only an eye for rural sights, but\\nso an\\npassage\\nalso an ear for rural sounds. Note the following fine\\nMighty winds\\nThat sweep the skirt of some far-spreading wood\\nOf ancient growth, make music not unlike\\nThe dash of Ocean on his winding shore,\\nAnd lull the spirit while they fill the mind\\nUnnumbered branches waving in the blast,\\nAnd all their leaves fast fluttering, all at once.\\nNor less composure waits upon the roar\\nOf distant floods, or on the softer voice\\nOf neighboring fountain, or of rills that slip\\nThrough the cleft rock, and chiming as they fall\\nUpon loose pebbles, lose themselves at length\\nIn matted grass that with a livelier green\\nBetrays the secret of their silent course.\\nAs illustrating Cowper s attentive observation and\\ngraphic description, the following extract from the Win-\\nter Morning Walk will be of interest:\\nForth goes .the woodman, leaving unconcerned\\nThe cheerful haunts of man, to wield the axe\\nAnd drive the wedge in yonder forest drear,\\nFrom morn to eve his solitary task.\\nShaggy, and lean, and shrewd, with pointed ears\\nAnd tail cropped short, half lurcher and half cur.\\nHis dog attends him. Close behind his heel", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0398.jp2"}, "397": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM COW PER. 345\\nNow creeps he slow and now, with many a frisk\\nWide-scampering, snatches up the drifted snow\\nWith ivory teeth, or ploughs it with his snout\\nThen shakes his powdered coat, and barks for joy.\\nHeedless of all his pranks, the sturdy churl\\nMoves right toward the mark nor stops for aught,\\nBut now and then with pressure of his thumb\\nTo adjust the fragrant charge of a short tube,\\nThat fumes beneath his nose the trailing cloud\\nStreams far behind him, scenting all the air.\\nOne more extract from this admirable poem must suf-\\nfice. It reveals the poet s broad and kindly sympathies\\nI would not enter on my list of friends\\n(Though graced with polished manners and fine sense,\\nYet wanting sensibility) the man\\nWho needlessly sets foot upon a worm.\\nBefore The Task was finished, the friendly relations\\nexisting between the poet and Lady Austen were severed.\\nThe cause of the rupture has not been made clear. It has\\nbeen suggested that the mutual jealousy of the two ladies\\nhad something to do with it. However that may be, Lady\\nAusten dropped out of the poet s fife\\nLike the lost Pleiad, seen no more below.\\nBut her place was soon supplied by Lady Hesketh, a\\ncousin of the poet s, who had been drawn to him by his\\ngrowing fame. Scarcely inferior to Lady Austen in\\naccompHshments, she proved a more lasting friend. In\\n1786 she provided for Cowper a better home at Weston,\\nan elevated spot a short distance from Olney.\\nAt various times the poet amused himself with brief", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0399.jp2"}, "398": {"fulltext": "346 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nversions from the ancient classics. His renderings of\\nOvid, Virgil, and particularly Horace are characterized\\nby grace and fidelity. But his most important work was a\\ntranslation of Homer s Iliad and Odyssey, on which\\nhe worked diligently for five years. He found fault with\\nPope for departing so widely from the simplicity and\\nnaturalness of the original. His own version in large\\nmeasure avoids these mistakes, but somehow, when it\\nappeared in 1 791, it failed to give satisfaction. Perhaps\\nthe failure lay in the nature of the task itself, for no trans-\\nlation can ever fully reproduce the simplicity, melody, and\\ngraphic power of the original. Though Cowper was most\\nunworldly in money matters, he no doubt found some com-\\npensation for his failure in the thousand pounds paid him\\nby his publisher.\\nAmong his shorter poems, besides those previously\\nnoticed, there are several that deserve special attention.\\nThe poem on Friendship is a veritable storehouse of\\nwisdom and wit\\nWho seeks a friend should come disposed\\nTo exhibit in full bloom disclosed\\nThe graces and the beauties\\nThat form the character he seeks\\nFor tis a union that bespeaks\\nReciprocated duties.\\nThe man that hails you Tom or Jack,\\nAnd proves by thumps upon your back\\nHow he esteems your merit,\\nIs such a friend, that one had need\\nBe very much his friend indeed\\nTo pardon or to bear it.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0400.jp2"}, "399": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM COW PER. 347\\nHis Verses supposed to be written by Alexander\\nSelkirk is a poem known to every one. Mutual For-\\nbearance contains four often-quoted lines\\nThe kindest and the happiest pair\\nWill find occasion to forbear,\\nAnd something every day they live\\nTo pity and perhaps forgive.\\nThe Needless Alarm beautifully teaches the moral:\\nBeware of desperate steps. The darkest day\\nLive till to-morrow shall have passed away.\\nThe Poplar Field, The Shrubbery, and To Mary\\nare excellent, while The Castaway is remarkable both for\\nits vigor and for the fact that it was Cowper s last original\\npoem.\\nThe evening of his life was deeply overcast. Mrs.\\nUnwin, so long his support, was stricken with paralysis.\\nBy his tender and unfailing attention he nobly repaid his\\ngreat debt to her. But the strain proved too much for his\\nstrength, and his melancholy returned. In 1794 the king\\ngranted him a pension of three hundred pounds, but he\\nwas not in a condition to understand his good fortune.\\nLoyal friends gathered about him in his helplessness. A\\nchange of scene was tried, but in vain. In 1796 Mrs.\\nUnwin passed away. When taken to see her lifeless\\nbody, he uttered one passionate cry of pain and never\\nspoke of her more. He survived her nearly four years,\\nwith now and then a brief return of his literary power.\\nHe died peacefully April 25, 1800.\\nThe key-note of his character was sincerity. He did", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0401.jp2"}, "400": {"fulltext": "348 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nnot assume to be more than he actually was. His sincerity\\nexplains not only the singular charm of his society, but\\nalso the prevailing character of his poetry. Refusing to\\nstoop to artificialities, he wrote what he truly observed,\\nfelt, and thought. My descriptions, he said, are all\\nfrom nature not one of them second-hand. My delinea-\\ntions of the heart are from my own experience not one\\nof them borrowed from books or in the least degree con-\\njectural.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0402.jp2"}, "401": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0403.jp2"}, "402": {"fulltext": "1\\nEngraved by William Walker and Samuel Cousins, from the painting by Alexander Nasmyth\\ndone in 1787.\\nP\\\\Ool^ fi^A/md", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0404.jp2"}, "403": {"fulltext": "ROBERT BURNS. 349\\nROBERT BURNS.\\nThe greatest poet of Scotland and the best song writer\\nof the world such is but a moderate estimate of Burns.\\nScarcely any one will be found to claim less, and some to\\nclaim more. A careful study of his writings, in connec-\\ntion with the unfavorable circumstances of his life, im-\\npresses us with his extraordinary genius. He was the\\ngreatest poetic genius produced by Great Britain in the\\neighteenth century. A peculiar interest attaches to him.\\nHis great natural gifts were hampered by poverty and\\nmanual toil, and enslaved by evil habits, so that he ac-\\ncomplished only a small part of what was possible for him.\\nThat his genius was chained by untoward circumstances\\nawakens our profound pity and regret and that he\\nweakly yielded to intemperance and immorality arouses\\nour censure and indignation.\\nHis life was a tragedy a proud and powerful mind\\novercome at length in the hard struggle of life. The\\ncatastrophe was unspeakably sad yet let not our\\nadmiration of his gifts blind our judgment Burns him-\\nself, and not an unkind destiny, was chiefly to blame.\\nGenius has no exemption from the ordinary rules of\\nmorality. If he had abstained from drunken carousals\\nand illicit amours, his life might have been crowned with\\nbeauty and honor. No doubt, as is often charitably said,\\nhe had strong passions and severe temptations but these\\nhe ought to have resisted for, as Carlyle says, Nature", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0405.jp2"}, "404": {"fulltext": "350 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nfashions no creature without implanting in it the strength\\nneedful for its action and duration least of all does she\\nso neglect her masterpiece and darhng, the poetic soul.\\nRobert Burns was born in a clay-built cottage two miles\\nfrom the town of Ayr in 1759. His father was a man of\\nstrict integrity and deep piety. We have an imperishable\\nportrait of him in The Cotter s Saturday Night. His\\nearly years were spent on a small unfruitful farm in\\npoverty and toil. His strength was overtaxed, his shoulders\\nbecame stooped, and his nervous system was weakened.\\nHe afterward spoke of this period as combining the\\ncheerless gloom of a hermit with the unceasing moil of a\\ngalley slave.\\nYet this hardship was not without some relief. His\\nhumble home was sweetened with kindness and love and\\nthe future poet was taught, first in school and afterward\\nby his father, the elements of learning. His mind was\\nenlarged, and his taste refined by works of the highest\\nmerit. His early reading included the Spectator, Shake-\\nspeare, Pope, and Locke s Human Understanding.\\nIn his fifteenth year his genius was awakened under\\nthe sweet spell of love. You know, he says, our\\ncountry custom of coupling a man and woman together\\nas partners in the labors of harvest. In my fifteenth\\nsummer my partner was a bewitching creature, a year\\nyounger than myself. My scarcity of EngHsh denies me\\nthe power of doing her justice in that language but you\\nknow the Scottish idiom. She was a bonnie, sweet, sonsie\\nlass. In short, she, altogether unwittingly to herself,\\ninitiated me into that delicious passion which, in spite of\\nacid disappointment, gin-horse prudence, and bookworm", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0406.jp2"}, "405": {"fulltext": "ROBERT BURNS. 351\\nphilosophy, I hold to be the first of human joys here\\nbelow. The first offspring of his muse was entitled\\nHandsome Nell, which, though he afterward spoke of\\nit as puerile, still contains a touch of that charming\\nsimplicity of thought and expression which characterizes\\nso much of his poetry. Is not this stanza delightful\\nShe dresses aye sae clean and neat,\\nBaith decent and genteel,\\nAnd then there s something in her gait\\nGars 1 ony dress look weel/\\nAt the age of nineteen he went to Kirkoswald to study\\nmensuration and surveying. It turned out to be a bad\\nmove. The town was frequented by smugglers and\\nadventurers and Burns was introduced into scenes of\\nwhat he calls swaggering riot and roaring dissipation.\\nHe worked at his mensuration with sufficient diligence\\ntill he one day met a pretty lass and fell in love. The\\ncurrent of his thought was turned from mathematics to\\npoetry, and this change put an end to his studies. Love-\\nmaking now became a common business with him. He\\ncomposed a song on every pretty girl he knew. The most\\nbeautiful of the songs of this period is his Mary Mori-\\nson, which was inspired by a real affection\\nYestreen, when to the trembling string,\\nThe dance gaed thro the lighted ha\\nTo thee my fancy took its wing,\\nI sat, but neither heard nor saw\\nTho this was fair, and that was braw.\\nAnd yon the toast of a the town,\\nI sigh d and said amang them a\\nYe are na Mary Morison.\\n1 Makes.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0407.jp2"}, "406": {"fulltext": "352 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nOh, Mary, canst thou wreck his peace,\\nWha for thy sake wad gladly die\\nOr canst thou break that heart of his,\\nWhase only faut is loving thee?\\nIf love for love thou wilt na gie.\\nAt least be pity to me shown\\nA thought ungentle canna be\\nThe thought o Mary Morison.\\nIn spite of his sweet love songs his suit was rejected\\nan incident that long cast a shadow over his inner life.\\nHe was a great reader. He possessed a Collection of\\nEnglish Songs and this, he says, was my vade-mecum.\\nI pored over them driving my cart, or walking to labor,\\nsong by song, verse by verse carefully noticing the true,\\ntender, or sublime, from affectation or fustian and I am\\nconvinced I owe to this practice much of my critic craft,\\nsuch as it is. A consciousness of his strength began to\\ndawn upon him and to fill his mind with a great ambition.\\nAmidst his varied labors on the farm, as a beardless boy,\\nhe felt\\nE en then a wish, I mind its power,\\nA wish that to my latest hour\\nShall strongly heave my breast\\nThat I for poor auld Scotland s sake,\\nSome useful plan or book could make,\\nOr sing a sang at least.\\nIn the summer of 1781 he went to Irvine to learn the\\nflax-dressing business in the hope of increasing thereby\\nthe profits of farming. It turned out to be a disastrous\\nundertaking. As at Kirkoswald, he fell into the company\\nof smugglers and adventurers, by whom he was encour-\\naged in loose opinions and bad habits. With the unset-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0408.jp2"}, "407": {"fulltext": "ROBERT BURNS, 353\\ntling of his religious convictions, he overleaped the restraints\\nthat had hitherto kept him in the path of virtue.\\nHis flax-dressing came to an abrupt close. He was\\nrobbed by his partner, and his shop took fire at a New\\nYear s carousal and was burnt to the ground. Dispirited\\nand tormented with an evil conscience, he returned to his\\nhome, which was soon to be overshadowed by the death\\nof his father. Whoever lives to see it, the old man had\\nsaid, something extraordinary will come from that boy.\\nBut he went to the grave sorely troubled with apprehensions\\nabout the future of his gifted son.\\nBurns now made an effort to reform. In his own words,\\nI read farming books, I calculated crops, I attended mar-\\nkets, and, in short, in spite of the devil, the world, and the\\nflesh, I should have been a wise man but the first year,\\nfrom unfortunately buying bad seed, the second, from a\\nlate harvest, we lost half our crops. This overset all my\\nwisdom and I returned Hke the dog to his vomit, and the\\nsow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire. He\\ncame under ecclesiastical discipHne for immorality and re-\\nvenged himself by lashing the minister and church officers\\nwith keen and merciless satire. His series of reHgious\\nsatires, in spite of all their inimitable brilliancy of wit, re-\\nflect little credit either on his judgment or his character.\\nWhile his harvests were failing, and his business interests\\nwere all going against him, he found solace in rhyme. As\\nhe says\\nLeeze me on rhyme it s aye a treasure,\\nMy chief, amaist my only pleasure,\\nAt hame, a-fiel at wark, at leisure,\\n1 I am happy in rhyme.\\n2 A", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0409.jp2"}, "408": {"fulltext": "354 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThe Muse, poor hizzie\\nTho^ rough and raplock be her measure,\\nShe s seldom lazy.\\nThe year 1785, while he was laboring with his brother\\non a farm at Mossgiel, saw the greatest activity of his\\nmuse. It was at that time that he composed To a\\nMouse, The Cotter s Saturday Night, Address to the\\nDeil, Man Was Made to Mourn, and The Mountain\\nDaisy, which estabhshed his fame on a lasting founda-\\ntion. They were composed behind the plough and after-\\nward written in a little farmhouse garret. Thither,\\nsays Chambers, when he had returned from his day s\\nwork, the poet used to retire and seat himself at a small\\ndeal table, lighted by a narrow skylight in the roof, to\\ntranscribe the verses which he had composed in the fields.\\nHis favorite time for composition was at the plough.\\nHis immoral conduct again brought him into serious\\ntrouble. The indignant father of Jean Armour put the\\nofficers of the law upon his track. By a subsequent mar-\\nriage with Jean, he did something in the way of repairing\\nthe wrong. While lurking in concealment, he resolved to\\nemigrate to Jamaica and to secure the necessary means\\nfor the voyage, he published a volume of his poems in 1786.\\nThe result altered all his plans. The volume took Scot-\\nland by storm. Old and young, says a contemporary,\\nhigh and low, grave and gay, learned and ignorant, were\\nalike delighted, agitated, transported. I was at that time\\nresident in Galloway, contiguous to Ayrshire, and I can\\nwell remember how even plough-boys and maid-servants\\nwould have gladly bestowed the wages they earned most\\n1 Coarse.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0410.jp2"}, "409": {"fulltext": "ROBERT BURNS. 355\\nhardly, and which they wanted to purchase necessary\\nclothing, if they might procure the works of Burns.\\nAs a financial venture, the volume brought him only\\ntwenty pounds but what was of more importance, it re-\\ntained him in his native country and introduced him to\\nthe noble and the learned of Edinburgh. He has left a\\nhumorous account of the first time he met a nobleman\\nsocially, and dinner d wi a Lord\\nBut wi a Lord stand out my shin,\\nA Lord a Peer, an Earl s son\\nUp higher yet my bonnet\\nAnd sic a Lord lang Scotch ells twa,\\nOur Peerage he overlooks them a\\nAs I look o er a sonnet.\\nProfessor Dugald Stewart has given an interesting\\naccount of Burns s bearing on the same occasion His\\nmanners were then, as they continued ever afterward,\\nsimple, manly, and independent; strongly expressive of\\nconscious genius and worth, but without anything that\\nindicated forwardness, arrogance, or vanity. He took his\\nshare in conversation, but not more than belonged to him\\nand Hstened with apparent attention and deference on\\nsubjects where his want of education deprived him of the\\nmeans of information.\\nIn November, 1786, Burns deemed it wise to visit the\\nScottish metropolis. His journey thither on horseback\\nwas a continued ovation. He occupied very humble\\nquarters, lodging in a small room costing three shiUings\\na week. From this lowly abode he went forth into the\\nbest society of Edinburgh, to which his genius gained him\\nready admission. He was the social lion of the day.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0411.jp2"}, "410": {"fulltext": "356 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThe Scottish capital was noted at this time for the liter-\\nary talent gathered there. In the most pohshed drawing-\\nrooms of the city Burns met Dugald Stewart, William\\nRobertson, Adam Smith, Hugh Blair, and others of\\nscarcely less celebrity. He did not suffer from this\\ncontact with the ablest men of his country. Indeed, it\\nhas been said by one who knew him well that poetry was\\nnot his forte. His brilliant conversation his vigorous\\nthought, sparkling wit, and trenchant style sometimes\\neclipsed his poetry.\\nHis manner was open and manly, a consciousness of\\nnative strength preserving him from all servility. He\\nshowed, as Lockhart says, in the strain of his bearing\\nhis belief that in the society of the most eminent men\\nof his nation he was where he was entitled to be, hardly\\ndeigning to flatter them by exhibiting a symptom of being\\nflattered. He was especially pleasing to ladies, fairly\\ncarrying them off their feet, as one of them said, by\\nhis deference of manner and the mingled humor and\\npathos of his talk.\\nHe cherished a proud feeling of independence. He\\nemphasized individual worth and looked with contempt\\non what may be regarded as the mere accidents of birth\\nor fortune. To this feeling, which finds a response in\\nevery noble breast, he gave expression in his song, A\\nMan s a Man for a That, which mightily voiced the\\ndemocratic spirit of the age\\nIs there, for honest poverty,\\nThat hangs his head, and a that\\nThe coward slave, we pass him by\\nWe dare be puir for a that.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0412.jp2"}, "411": {"fulltext": "ROBERT BURNS. 357\\nFor a that, and a that,\\nOur toils obscure and a that,\\nThe rank is but the guinea-stamp\\nThe man s the gowd 1 for 2C that.\\nHe chafed under the inequahties of fortune he discov-\\nered in society and sometimes showed an inconsiderate\\nbitterness of feeling. There are few of the sore evils\\nunder the sun give me more uneasiness and chagrin, he\\nwrites in his diary, than the comparison how a man\\nof genius, nay, of avowed worth, is received everywhere,\\nwith the reception which a mere ordinary character, deco-\\nrated with the trappings and futile distinctions of fortune\\nmeets. He had not yet learned he never did learn\\nsays Principal Shairp, that lesson, that the genius he\\nhad received was his allotted and sufficient portion, and\\nthat his wisdom lay in making the most of this rare in-\\nward gift, even on a meagre allowance of this world s\\nexternal goods.\\nUnfortunately for Burns he did not confine himself to\\nthe cultivated circles of Edinburgh. He frequented the\\nsocial clubs that gathered nightly in the taverns. Here\\nhe threw off all restraint, and mirth frequently became\\nfast and furious. Deep drinking, rough raillery, and\\ncoarse songs made up the sum of these revellings, which\\nserved at once to deprave the poet s character and to ruin\\nhis reputation.\\nIn 1787 the ostensible purpose for which Burns had\\ncome to Edinburgh was accomplished, and a second vol-\\nume of his poems was issued by the leading publisher of\\nthe city. He then made two brief tours through the\\n1 Gold.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0413.jp2"}, "412": {"fulltext": "358 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nborder districts and the highlands of Scotland for the pur\\npose of visiting points celebrated for beautiful scenery\\nor consecrated by heroic deeds. He returned for a few\\nmonths to Edinburgh but the coarse revelries of his\\nprevious visit had undermined his influence, and he met\\nwith only a cold reception.\\nBefore leaving the city he received an appointment in\\nthe Excise. He had hoped for something better. But\\nhe wrote to a friend The question is not at what door\\nof fortune s palace we shall enter in, but what doors does\\nshe open for us. He also leased a farm at Ellisland,\\nwhich he had long set his heart on.\\nReturning to Ayrshire, he married Jean Armour, whom\\nan angered father had thrust from his door. The poet,\\nwho was not a hardened reprobate, wrote I have\\nmarried my Jean. I had a long and much-loved fellow-\\ncreature s happiness or misery in my determination, and\\nI durst not trifle with so important a deposit, nor have\\nI any cause to repent it. If I have not got polite tittle-\\ntattle, modish manners, and fashionable dress, I am not\\nsickened and disquieted with the multiform curse of board-\\ning-school affectation and I have got the handsomest fig-\\nure, the sweetest temper, the soundest constitution, and\\nthe kindest heart in the country. The truth of this char-\\nacterization is established by the patience with which Jean\\nbore the irregularities of her husband s life.\\nHis farm at Ellisland proved a failure. His duties as\\nexciseman, besides leading him into bad company, pre-\\nvented that strict supervision of farm work which was\\nnecessary to success. He suffered much from depression\\nof spirits, to which the recollections of a wayward life con-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0414.jp2"}, "413": {"fulltext": "ROBERT BURNS. 359\\ntributed no small part. Alas he writes, who would\\nwish for many years What is it but to drag existence\\nuntil our joys gradually expire, and leave us in a night of\\nmisery, like the gloom which blots out the stars, one by\\none from the face of heaven, and leaves us without a ray\\nof comfort in the howling waste\\nHe continued to find at intervals solace in poetry. One\\nmorning he heard the report of a gun and shortly after\\nsaw a poor wounded hare limping by. The condition of\\nthe little animal touched his heart and called forth the\\nexcellent poem On Seeing a Wounded Hare Limp by\\nMe, written in classic English\\nGo live, poor wanderer of the wood and field,\\nThe bitter little that of life remains\\nNo more the thickening brakes and verdant plains\\nTo thee shall home, or food, or pastime yield.\\nWe meet with this tender sympathy with nature, and\\nstrong sense of fellowship with lower creatures, in many\\nof his poems. It is one secret of their charm. In the\\npoem To a Mouse is the following\\nI m truly sorry man s dominion\\nHas broken Nature s social union,\\nAn justifies that ill opinion\\nWhich makes thee startle\\nAt me, thy poor earth-born companion\\nAn fellow-mortal\\nThe cold blasts of a winter night remind him of\\nIlk happing bird, wee helpless thing,\\nThat in the merry months o spring\\nDelighted me to hear thee sing,", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0415.jp2"}, "414": {"fulltext": "360 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nWhat comes o thee\\nWhere wilt thou cower thy chittering wing,\\nAnd close thy e e\\nThe choicest products of this sojourn at ElHsland are\\nthe immortal Tale o Tam o Shanter and To Mary\\nin Heaven. The latter is a song of deep pathos. Years\\nbefore he had loved his Highland Mary with a deep\\ndevotion. Their parting by the banks of Ayr which\\nthe untimely death of Mary made the last was attended\\nwith vows of eternal constancy. Her memory never van-\\nished from the poet s mind. On the anniversary of her\\ndeath, in October, 1786, he grew sad and wandered about\\nhis farmyard the whole night in deep agitation of mind.\\nAs dawn approached he was persuaded by his wife to\\nenter the house, when he sat down and wrote those\\npathetic lines, beginning\\nThou lingering star with lessening ray,\\nThat lov st to greet the early morn,\\nAgain thou usherest in the day\\nMy Mary from my soul was torn.\\nO Mary, dear departed shade\\nWhere is thy place of blissful rest\\nSee st thou thy lover lowly laid\\nHear st thou the groans that rend his breast\\nIn 1 79 1 Burns removed to Dumfries and gave his\\nwhole time to the duties of the Excise, for which he\\nreceived seventy pounds a year. At Ellisland he had\\nwritten\\nTo make a happy fireside clime.\\nFor weans and wife,\\nIs the true pathos and sublime\\nOf human life.\\nM\\\\", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0416.jp2"}, "415": {"fulltext": "c\\n0 -T;\\n0) cu M 5;\\nz\\nUl\\nH\\n2\\nX\\nW\\nb", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0417.jp2"}, "416": {"fulltext": "^1", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0418.jp2"}, "417": {"fulltext": "ROBERT BURNS. 36 1\\nUnfortunately he did not live as wisely as he sang. His\\nspirit became soured toward those more favored by fortune.\\nHis nights were frequently spent at the tavern with drink-\\ning cronies. His life is summed up in one of his letters\\nHurry of business, grinding the faces of the publican\\nand the sinner on the merciless wheels of the Excise,\\nmaking ballads, and then drinking and singing them;\\nand, over and above all, correcting the press of two\\ndifferent publications.\\nIn 1792 his aid was solicited in the preparation of\\nMelodies of Scotland. He entered into the undertak-\\ning with enthusiasm. When the editor, George Thomp-\\nson of Edinburgh, once sent him some money in return\\nfor a number of songs, the poet wrote I assure you,\\nmy dear sir, that you truly hurt me with your pecuniary\\nparcel. It degrades me in my own eyes. However, to\\nreturn it would savor of affectation but, as to any more\\ntraffic of that debtor and creditor kind, I swear by that\\nhonor which crowns the upright stature of Robert Burns s\\nintegrity, on the least motion of it, I will indignantly spurn\\nthe by-pact transaction and from that moment commence\\nentire stranger with you. In view of the financial straits\\ninto which he shortly afterward came, this must be re-\\ngarded as an unwise sacrifice of prudence to sentiment.\\nBurns strongly sympathized with the revolutionary move-\\nment in France and to this feeling no less than to his\\nScottish patriotism, if we may beheve his own account,\\nwe owe the thrilling lines of Bruce s Address, which\\nCarlyle says should be sung with the throat of the whirl-\\nwind. The excellence of this poem has been questioned\\nby Wordsworth and others but let the following lines be", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0419.jp2"}, "418": {"fulltext": "362 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\n1\\nread with something of the heroic fervor with which they\\nwere composed, and ail doubts will be set at rest\\nWha will be a traitor knave\\nWha can fill a coward s grave\\nWha so base as be a slave\\nLet him turn and flee.\\nThe end was drawing near. The irregularities of his\\nlife had undermined his strong constitution. He was\\noften serious. I find that a man may live like a fool,\\nhe said to his friend, but he will scarcely die like one.\\nIn April, 1796, he wrote: Alas, my dear Thompson, I\\nfear it will be some time before I tune my lyre again\\nBy Babel streams I have sat and wept, almost ever since\\nI wrote you last I have known existence only by the\\npressure of the heavy hand of sickness and have counted\\ntime by the repercussions of pain Rheumatism, cold,\\nand fever have formed to me a terrible combination. I\\nclose my eyes in misery and open them without hope.\\nI look on the vernal day, and say, with poor Ferguson,\\nSay wherefore has an all-indulgent heaven\\nLight to the comfortless and wretched given\\nHis last days were illumined now and then by flashes of\\npoetic fire. For Jessie Lewars, a young girl that had seen\\nthe poet s need, and from sympathy had come into his\\nhome to assist in domestic duties, he wrote the following\\nbeautiful lines\\nOh! wert thou in the cauld, cauld blast,\\nOn yonder lea, on yonder lea,\\nMy plaidie to the angry airt,^\\nrd shelter thee, Td shelter thee.\\nPoint of the compass.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0420.jp2"}, "419": {"fulltext": "ROBERT BURNS. 363\\nOr did misfortune s bitter storms\\nAround thee blaw, around thee blaw,\\nThy bield^ should my bosom be,\\nTo share it a to share it a\\\\\\nOr were I in the wildest waste,\\nSae black and bare, sae black and bare.\\nThe desert were a paradise,\\nIf thou wert there, if thou wert there\\nOr were I monarch o the globe,\\nWi thee to reign, wi thee to reign.\\nThe brightest jewel in my crown\\nWad be my queen, wad be my queen.\\nThe 2 1 St of July, 1796, with his children around his bed,\\nthe great poet of Scotland passed away. Let our final\\njudgment of him as a man be tempered by the gentle\\nspirit he commends in the Address to the Unco\\nGuid\\nThen gently scan your brother man.\\nStill gentler sister woman\\nTho they may gang a kennin wrang.\\nTo step aside is human\\nOne point must still be greatly dark,\\nThe moving why they do it\\nAnd just as lamely can ye mark,\\nHow far perhaps they rue it.\\nWho made the heart, tis He alone\\nDecidedly can try us\\nHe knows each chord its various tone,\\nEach spring its various bias\\nThen at the balance let s be mute.\\nWe never can adjust it\\nWhat s do7ie we partly may compute,\\nBut know not what s resisted.\\n1 Shelter. 2 Xrifle.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0421.jp2"}, "420": {"fulltext": "364 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nAs a poet Burns s life was incomplete. His struggle\\nwith poverty and his bad habits left him only fragments\\nof his power to be devoted to literature. He was not\\nguided by the controlling influence of a great purpose.\\nHis efforts were spasmodic the result of accidental cir-\\ncumstances. His genius has not the range of Shake-\\nspeare s but within its limit it is unsurpassed. He was\\nthe greatest peasant poet that ever lived. Unlike Words-\\nworth, in whom the reflective element is largely developed,\\nBurns is a painter of nature. He has glorified the land-\\nscape of his native land. Beyond all other poets he has\\ncaught the beauty, the humor, the pathos, of everyday\\nlife. He was thoroughly honest in his best writings.\\nThere is no attitudinizing in his poems, no pretence to\\nunreal sentiment. He was a poet\\nWhose songs gushed from his heart,\\nAs drops from the clouds of summer,\\nOr tears from the eyelids start.\\nHe felt deeply, and then poured forth his song because\\nhe could not otherwise find peace. He could not endure\\naffectation, rant, hypocrisy. At heart devout before the\\ngreat Author and Preserver of all things, he yet rebelled\\nagainst some of the hard features religion had assumed.\\nIn his Epistle to a Young Friend, his real feelings are\\nindicated _,\\nThe great Creator to revere,\\nMust sure become the creature\\nBut still the preaching cant forbear,\\nAnd ev n the rigid feature\\nYet ne er with wits profane to range,\\nBe complaisance extended\\nAn Atheist s laugh s a poor exchange\\nFor Deity ofifended.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0422.jp2"}, "421": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0423.jp2"}, "422": {"fulltext": "1\\nI", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0424.jp2"}, "423": {"fulltext": "ROBERT BURNS. 365\\nWhen ranting round in pleasure s ring,\\nReligion may be blinded\\nOr, if she gie a random sting,\\nIt may be little minded\\nBut when on life we re tempest-driven,\\nA conscience but a canker\\nA correspondence fixed wi Heaven,\\nIs sure a noble anchor.\\nMore than any other man he saw the beauty of a sincere\\nreligious Ufe, to a portrayal of which he devoted the best\\nof his poems. His sensibihties were extraordinarily sensi-\\ntive and strong. There is scarcely any earthly object,\\nhe says, gives me more I do not know if I should call\\nit pleasure but something which exalts me, something\\nwhich enraptures me than to walk in the sheltered side\\nof a wood or high plantation in a cloudy winter day and\\nhear the stormy wind howling among the trees and raving\\nover the plain. I listened to the birds and frequently\\nturned out of my path, lest I should disturb their little songs\\nor frighten them to another station. With such a sensi-\\ntive nature it is no wonder that we find contradictions in\\nhis poetry. The storm of emotion drives quickly from\\ngrave to gay, from high to low. He has written much\\nthat ought to be and will be forgotten. But upon the\\nwhole, his poetry is elevating in its tone a treasure for\\nwhich we ought to be thankful. It is the voice of a man\\nwho, with all his weakness and sin, was still, in his best\\nmoments, honest, manly, penetrating, and powerful.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0425.jp2"}, "424": {"fulltext": "1", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0426.jp2"}, "425": {"fulltext": "AGE OF SCOTT.\\nPRINCIPAL WRITERS.\\nCriticism. Francis Jefifrey (i 773-1 850). Lawyer and critic,\\neditor of the Edijiburgh Review (1802- 1829), and brilliant writer on\\nliterature, politics, and ethics.\\nWilliam Hazlitt (1778-1830). Critic and author of Character of\\nShakespeare s Plays (1817), A View of the English Stage (1818),\\nLectures on the English Poets (1818), Lectures on the English\\nComic Writers (1819), Literature of the Elizabethan Age (1821),\\nTable-Talk (1824), The Spirit of the Age (1825).\\nCharles Lamb (1775-1834). Critic and essayist. Author of Rosa-\\nmond Gray (1798), Tales from Shakespeare (1805), and Essays\\nof Elia (1 822-1 824).\\nJohn Wilson (i 785-1854). Critic and essayist, whose no}}i de\\nplume was Christopher North. Author of Noctes Ambrosianae,\\netc.\\nJohn Gibson Lockhart (1794-1854). Critic, novelist, biographer;\\nauthor of Adam Blair (1822), Life of Burns (1825), Life of\\nScott (1837), etc.\\nLeigh Hunt (1784-1859). Author of Juvenilia (1802), Classic\\nTales (1807), The Story of Rimini (181 6), etc.\\nHistory. Henry Hallam (i 778-1 859). Author of Views of the\\nState of Europe during the Middle Ages (1818), Constitutional\\nHistory of England (1827), and Introduction to the Literature of\\nEurope in the Fifteenth, Sixteenth, and Seventeenth Centuries (1838).\\nWilliam Mitford (1744-1827). Author of a History of Greece\\n(1784-1818), History and Doctrine of Christianity (1823), etc.\\nFemale Novelists and Poets. Ann Radcliffe (1764-1823).\\nNovelist of Romantic School, and author of The Romance of the\\n367", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0427.jp2"}, "426": {"fulltext": "368 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nForest (1791), The Mysteries of Udolpho (1794), and several\\nothers.\\nMaria Edgevvorth (i 767-1 849). Novelist of Irish Hfe author of\\nCastle Rackrent (1801), Moral Tales (1801), Tales of a Fashion-\\nable Life (181 1), etc.\\nJane Austen (1775-18 17). Novelist of social life author of Sense\\nand Sensibility (181 1), Pride and Prejudice (181 2), Emma\\n(1816), etc.\\nJane Porter (1776-1850). Novelist of the Romantic type; author\\nof Thaddeus of Warsaw (1803), The Scottish Chiefs (1810), etc.\\nAnna Letitia Barbauld (1743-1825). Poet and prose writer; author\\nof Lessons for Children (1808), etc.\\nFelicia Dorothea Hemans (1794-1835). Poet and author of The\\nVespers of Palermo (1823), a tragedy, The Forest Sanctuary\\n(1827), Songs of the Affections (1830), etc. Several of her shorter\\npoems The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers, The Homes of Eng-\\nland, The Hour of Death will always remain popular.\\nHannah More (i 745-1 833). Poet, novelist, dramatist, and moral\\nessayist author of Percy, a drama written for Garrick, which was\\nacted with success in 1777, Sacred Dramas (1782,) Ccelebs in\\nSearch of a Wife (1809), Character of St. Paul (1815), Moral\\nSketches (1818), etc.\\nJoanna Baillie (1762- 185 1). Poet and dramatist; author of Plays\\nof the Passions (1812), etc.\\nPoetry. Thomas Campbell (1777-1844). Author of The\\nPleasures of Hope (1799), Poems (1803), Gertrude of Wyoming\\n(1809).\\nJohn Keats (1795-1821). Author of Poems (1817), Endymion\\n(1 81 8), Hyperion (1820).\\nRobert Southey (i 774-1 843). Poet and historian author of Joan\\nof Arc (1796), Thalaba, the Destroyer (1801), The Curse of\\nKehama (1810), A History of Brazil, Life of Nelson, and a hun-\\ndred other volumes.\\nThomas Moore (1779-1852). Poet and biographer; author of\\nEpistles (1806), Lalla Rookh (1817), Life of Byron (1830),\\nIrish Melodies (1834), etc.\\nThomas Hood (i 798-1 845). Poet, editor, humorist; author of\\nWhims and Oddities (1826), Up the Rhine (1839), a delightful\\npiece of humor, and editor of Hoocfs Magazine, and other periodicals.\\n^i", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0428.jp2"}, "427": {"fulltext": "AGE OF SCOTT. 369\\nWalter Savage Lahdor (1775-1864). Poet and prose writer; au-\\nthor of Gebir (1798), Count Julian (1812), Imaginary Conver-\\nsations (1824-1846), etc.\\nJohn Keble (1792 -1866). Poet, clergyman, and Oxford professor;\\nauthor of The Christian Year (1827), a series of poems for the Sun-\\ndays and holidays of the church year.\\nSamuel Rogers (i 763-1 855). Author of the Pleasures of Memory\\n(1792), Columbus (1812), Human Life, etc. As a man of\\nwealth he entertained many literary celebrities, his breakfasts being\\nmore famous than his poems.\\nGREAT REPRESENTATIVE WRITERS.\\nSir Walter Scott. Samuel Taylor Coleridge.\\nLord Byron. Percy Bysshe Shelley.\\nWilliam Wordsworth. Thomas De Quincey.\\n26", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0429.jp2"}, "428": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0430.jp2"}, "429": {"fulltext": "VII.\\nAGE OF SCOTT.\\n(1800-1832.)\\nFavorable political condition Triumphs of democracy Periods not\\nsharply defined Eflfect of French Revolution Growing Intelli-\\ngence Periodicals Critics Jeffrey, Hazlitt, Lamb, Wilson,\\nLockhart History Hallam, Mitford Prominence of women\\nAnn Radcliffe, Maria Edgeworth, Jane Austen Poetry Thomas\\nCampbell John Keats Robert Southey Thomas Moore\\nSir Walter Scott Lord Byron William Wordsworth\\nSamuel Taylor Coleridge Percy Bysshe Shelley\\nThomas De Quincey.\\nThe political condition of England during this period\\nwas not unfavorable to literature. In 1800 the Emerald\\nIsle was joined to England under the title of the United\\nKingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. The Napoleonic\\nwars increased England s prestige as a world-power. She\\ncame into possession of the colonies of Spain, of Holland,\\nand of France. Waterloo finally ended her long struggle\\nwith the French. Her victories at Copenhagen and\\nTrafalgar made her the undisputed mistress of the seas.\\nThe population largely increased. Agriculture became\\nmore flourishing, and the inventions of Watt and Ark-\\nwright helped to build up prosperous cities in northern\\nEngland and to increase the national wealth. In 181 5\\nLondon was lighted with gas and a few years later an\\neffective police force was organized for the city, which\\n371", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0431.jp2"}, "430": {"fulltext": "372 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nhad then reached a population of a milHon and a half.\\nThough the transition from hand labor to machinery im-\\nposed great hardships on the working classes for a time,\\nand thus created much social discontent and suffering, it\\nlaid the foundation of the subsequent supremacy of Eng-\\nland as a manufacturing and commercial nation.\\nThough the influence of the government was generally\\nagainst the democratic tendencies of the times, the new\\nsense of human right and freedom could not be extin-\\nguished. Though held in check for a time, it achieved\\nlater notable triumphs in Parliament. In 1828 the Test\\nAct, by which Dissenters and Roman Catholics were ex-\\ncluded from government office, was repealed, and the fol-\\nlowing year Roman Catholics were admitted to Parliament.\\nIn 1832 the famous Reform Bill was passed, by which the\\nrotten boroughs were abolished, the list of voters was\\nincreased by half a million, and the manufacturing cities\\nof northern England Birmingham, Manchester, and\\nmany others were accorded representation.\\nIt will be understood that the periods into which the\\nhistory of any literature is divided are not sharply defined.\\nThey pass gradually from one into another under the op-\\neration of new influences. The age of Scott, a designa-\\ntion less descriptive than convenient, is characterized by\\nthe full development of the democratic and romantic\\ntendencies originating in the latter part of the preceding\\nperiod. They reached their climax in the literary outburst\\nthat has been called, not without considerable justification,\\nthe Second Creative Period. A copious literature, new\\nboth in form and spirit, bloomed forth. Scott, Words-\\nworth, Coleridge, Byron, Shelley, De Quincey, and others", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0432.jp2"}, "431": {"fulltext": "AGE OF SCOTT. 373\\nwere men of original and creative genius and in a retro-\\nspect of the long vista of English literature, they stand\\nout with striking prominence. With an inadequate ap-\\nprehension of the tendencies of the age, three of these\\nwriters Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Southey have\\nbeen designated the Lake School of Poets, from their\\nresidence in the northern part of England.\\nThe chief event that immediately affected literature,\\nin the closing decade of the eighteenth and the first third\\nof the nineteenth century, was the French Revolution.\\nIt not only crystallized the floating thought and feeling\\nof France, but it brought home to the English heart the\\nvague democratic movement of the time. The rights\\nof man, as distinguished from the privileges of class or\\ncaste, became the subject of earnest and enthusiastic\\nexamination. The literary men of England generally\\narrayed themselves, consciously or unconsciously, on the\\nside of progress or of conservatism. Dreams of a golden\\nage of right and happiness took hold of men like Words-\\nworth, Coleridge, and Southey and for a time, as we\\nshall see, they contemplated founding an ideal democ-\\nracy, or Pantisocracy, beyond the sea. On the other\\nhand, Scott, in whom the romantic movement reached\\nits climax, turned away from the turmoil of dissension\\nand conflict to write, in prose and poetry, of a chival-\\nrous past. Byron satirized the social conditions about\\nhim and Shelley, with a spirit still more radical and\\nviolent, sought to overturn the most sacred beliefs and\\ninstitutions.\\nThis period was one of rapidly growing intelligence.\\nThrough the labors of Andrew Bell and Joseph Lan-", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0433.jp2"}, "432": {"fulltext": "374 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ncaster, a new impulse was given to popular education,\\nand hundreds of schools were founded. In 1818 the\\ngovernment manifested its interest in education by ap-\\npointing a committee to inspect the public schools.\\nPeriodicals were multiplied and very significant for\\nliterature was the founding of the great magazines and\\nreviews, which became the vehicles, not only of vigor-\\nous criticism, but also of excellent miscellaneous pro-\\nductions. They gathered about them groups of gifted\\nwriters and elevated the taste of the reading public.\\nThe Edinbiirgli Review was founded in 1802, the Lon-\\ndon Quarterly, its political opponent, in 1809, Black-\\nwood s Magazine in 18 17, the Westminster Reviezv in\\n1824, and Fj asers Magazine in 1830. Two weekly\\npapers of high order, the Spectator and the Atkenceum,\\nboth of which figure in later literature, were established\\nin 1828.\\nOne of the best-known critics of the time was Francis\\nJeffrey. He was at the head of the Edinburgh Review\\nfor. more than a quarter of a century and wielded his\\ncritical pen with imperious spirit. Though Whiggish\\nin politics, he was conservative in literature and had\\nlittle patience with the literary innovations of the pe-\\nriod. He treated Byron with contempt, belittled Scott,\\nand pursued Wordsworth with relentless severity. But\\nthe results of this .unsympathetic and often ferocious\\ncriticism were not without benefit. Apart from the re-\\nplies it provoked, it forced an examination of funda-\\nmental principles, and grounded the new literature on\\na surer foundation.\\nWilliam Hazlitt justly ranks as one of the foremost of", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0434.jp2"}, "433": {"fulltext": "AGE OF SCOTT. 375\\nEnglish critics. Charles Lamb s quaint Essays of Elia\\ngive him enduring fame. His Dissertation upon Roast\\nPig is a noted piece of humorous writing. John Wilson,\\nfor many years the leading spirit of Blackzvood, has earned\\na place in English literature under the pseudonym of\\nChristopher North. John Lockhart, at first a contribu-\\ntor to Blackwood, and afterward editor of the Quarterly\\nReview, was conservative in his tastes and made severe\\nattacks both upon Keats and Tennyson in his earlier\\npoems. His Life of Scott, his father-in-law, is one of\\nthe best biographies in any language. Leigh Hunt s works\\nwere originally contributions to periodical literature.\\nThere are two historians that deserve mention, though\\nneither attained the heights of the great triumvirate of the\\npreceding period. Henry Hallam was both a historian and\\nliterary critic, distinguished for his extensive research and\\njudicial fairness. His View of the State of Europe dur-\\ning the Middle Ages, which was published in 1818, his\\nConstitutional History of England, which dates from\\n1827, and his Introduction to the Literature of Europe\\nin the Fifteenth, Sixteenth, and Seventeenth Centuries,\\nwhich was completed in 1839, still standard works.\\nBy reason of his conversative tastes, he is somewhat less\\ntrustworthy as a critic than as a historian. William M it-\\nford s History of Greece, which was completed in 18 18,\\nis recognized as a work of scholarly ability, though it is\\nseriously marred by the prejudices of the author. He was\\nalmost fanatical in his opposition to the democratic ten-\\ndencies of his age.\\nOne of the most remarkable features of this penod is\\nthe place that woman now assumes in literature. Awak-", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0435.jp2"}, "434": {"fulltext": "376 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ning to a sense of the conventional restraints by which she\\nhad long been surrounded, she began to desire a larger\\nfreedom of thought and action. The title of Mary Woll-\\nstonecraft s book, Vindication of the Rights of Woman,\\nis indicative of the rising movement. An unusually large\\ngroup of female writers, brought up under the influence of\\nthe closing decades of the eighteenth century, distinguished\\nthemselves in fiction and poetry. Ann Radcliffe belonged\\nto the romantic school and employed castles with secret\\npassages, trap-doors, forests, banditti, abductions, sliding\\npanels, as the machinery of her stories. Maria Edge-\\nworth was a novehst of Irish life, and Scott said that her\\nwork suggested his Scottish romances. Jane Austen, who\\nwrote realistic stories of contemporary social life, has been\\ncalled the mother of the modern novel. Other writers be-\\nlonging to this galaxy are Anna Letitia Barbauld, Jane\\nPorter, whose Thaddeus of Warsaw and Scottish\\nChiefs are still popular, and Hannah More, a poet,\\ndramatist, and novelist of real ability. A list of their\\nprincipal works will be found on a preceding page.\\nPoetry, recovering from its brief eclipse in the preced-\\ning period, shines forth with unwonted splendor. Apart\\nfrom the great representative names to be considered later,\\nWordsworth, Byron, Shelley, the list of secondary\\npoets is unusually long and unusually good.\\nThomas Campbell early showed a striking literary pre-\\ncocity. At the age of twenty-two, he published the Pleas-\\nures of Hope, the success of which was instantaneous.\\nIts opening lines are felicitous and well known\\nAt summer eve, when Heaven s ethereal bow\\nSpans with bright arch the gUttering hills below,", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0436.jp2"}, "435": {"fulltext": "AGE OF SCOTT. ^yy\\nWhy to yon mountain turns the musing eye,\\nWhose sunbright summit mingles with the sky?\\nWhy do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear\\nMore sweet than all the landscape smiling near?\\nTis distance lends enchantment to the view,\\nAnd robes the mountain in its azure hue.\\nHe did not profit much by his early success. The book-\\nsellers offered him lucrative employment; but through\\nprocrastination and constitutional indolence, he disap-\\npointed their expectations and forfeited their confidence.\\nIn 1809 he pubHshed his romantic poem of Gertrude of\\nWyoming, the scene of which is laid in Pennsylvania. It\\nranks next to the Pleasures of Hope. But it is, per-\\nhaps, in his lyrical pieces, among which are Lochiel s\\nWarning, Hohenlinden, Battle of the Baltic, Ye\\nMariners of England, O Connor s Child, Hdlowed\\nGround, The Soldier s Dream, The Last Man, that\\nhe attained the highest excellence. Elected lord rector\\nof the University of Glasgow in 1826, he discharged his\\nduties with a zeal that won admiration. He died in 1844\\na;nd was buried in Westminster Abbey.\\nJohn Keats was a brilliant but short-lived poet. Had he\\nlived to fulfil his early promise, it is probable that he would\\nhave stood among the first poets of the period. As it is,\\nseveral of his poems take rank among the choicest produc-\\ntions of the English muse. He began his literary career\\nb)^the publication of some sonnets, which were favorably\\nreceived. The sonnet on Chapman s Homer, contain-\\ning the lines,\\nThen felt I like some watcher of the skies\\nWhen a new planet swims into his ken,", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0437.jp2"}, "436": {"fulltext": "3/8 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nis truly admirable. A volume of poems, published in 1817,\\nwas coldly received. The following year appeared En-\\ndymion, which contains some fine passages, the opening\\nlines being well known\\nA thing of beauty is a joy forever\\nIts loveliness increases it will never\\nPass into nothingness but still will keep\\nA bower quiet for us, and a sleep\\nFull of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.\\nThe lusciousness of the rhythm, which breaks com-\\npletely with Augustan models, gave offence to conserva-\\ntive critics. The poem was savagely attacked both in\\nBlackivood 2Ci\\\\^XS\\\\^ Quarterly. In 1820 Keats sent forth\\nhis third volume, in which his poetic genius conquered\\nrecognition and secured for him an honorable place in\\nEnglish literature. His Hyperion, Lamia, Eve of\\nSt. Agnes, and his odes to a Nightingale, a Grecian\\nUrn, and Autumn, are all exquisite productions. He\\nwent to Italy shortly after the appearance of this volume,\\nwhere he died of pulmonary consumption early in 1821.\\nHis headstone bears the simple inscription, dictated by\\nhimself, Here lies one whose name was writ in water.\\nRobert Southey is an example of untiring industry\\nin literary pursuits. He depended upon literature for\\na living, and Byron pronounced him the only existing\\nman of letters. He worked with mechanical regularity\\nand produced more than a hundred volumes of poetry and\\nprose. He was a great lover of books and his library,\\nwhich contained fourteen thousand volumes, De Quincey\\ncalled his wife. When in his old age he became speech-\\nless and imbecile, he still wandered around his library,", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0438.jp2"}, "437": {"fulltext": "AGE OF SCOTT. 379\\ntaking down his books and fondly pressing them to his\\nHps.\\nAs a poet, Southey was ambitious and nourishing his\\ntalents on Tasso, Ariosto, and Spenser, he contemplated\\nand composed several lengthy epics. His Joan of Arc,\\na youthful performance, was well received. Thalaba\\nwas published in 1801, Madoc, on which the poet was\\ncontent to rest his fame, in 1805, and the Curse of\\nKehama in 18 10. His longer poems abound in splendid\\nimagery, but they are lacking in personal interest and\\ndramatic art. He was made poet laureate in 18 13.\\nThalaba, the Destroyer is a rhythmical romance in\\nirregular and unrhymed measure. The opening lines,\\nperhaps the best in the poem, are very pleasing\\nHow beautiful is night\\nA dewy freshness fills the silent air\\nNo mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain\\nBreaks the serene of heaven\\nIn full-orbed glory yonder moon divine\\nRolls through the dark blue depths.\\nBeneath her steady ray\\nThe desert circle spreads,\\nLike the round ocean, girdled with the sky.\\nHow beautiful is night\\nAmong his best short pieces are The Scholar, Auld\\nCloots, March to Moscow, Mary the Maid of the Inn,\\nLodore, The Well of St. Keyne.\\nIn prose Southey wrote criticism, biography, and history,\\nin all which he exhibited great learning and an admirable\\nstyle. His Life of Nelson is a classic biography.\\nAmong his other prose writings are the Life of Cowper,", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0439.jp2"}, "438": {"fulltext": "380 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nLife of Wesley, The British Admirals, and History\\nof the Peninsular War. The uprightness and beauty of\\nhis character, says Saintsbury, his wonderful helpfulness\\nto others, and the uncomplaining way in which he bore\\nwhat was almost poverty, are not more generally acknow-\\nledged than the singular and pervading excellence of his\\nEnglish prose style, the robustness of his literary genius,\\nand his unique devotion to literature.\\nThomas Moore, born of Irish parentage in Dublin, al-\\nways remained an Irish patriot, and labored both in poetry\\nand prose to advance the interests of his country. By his\\nkeen satires he brought reproach upon the oppressors of\\nIreland and by his songs he awakened and sustained ten-\\nder and patriotic sentiments. No other poet except Byron\\nwas more popular in his day. He possessed great social\\ngifts, a good voice, admirable conversational talents, and\\na musical skill that enabled him to render effectively his\\nerotic and patriotic songs. Though his poetry does not\\npossess the highest qualities, being artificial rather than\\ngenuine, glittering rather than true, yet his poems, with\\ntheir wit, sentiment, melody, are perused, especially by\\nyoung people, with more interest than those of any of his\\ncontemporaries, with the possible exception of Byron.\\nIn 1 80 1 he published a collection of amatory verses,\\nwhich earned him the position of poet laureate, and gained\\nhim the title of the young Catullus of his day. In 1806\\nhe sent forth another volume, which the EdmbiirgJi Reviezv\\ndenounced as a corrupter of morals. Enraged at the\\nseverity of the criticism, the poet challenged Jeffrey. But\\nthe duel was stopped by the police, and on examination\\nthe pistols were found charged only with villainous salt-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0440.jp2"}, "439": {"fulltext": "AGE OF SCOTT. ^gl\\npetre a circumstance that Byron did not fail to notice\\nin his English Bards and Scotch Reviewers\\nCan none remember that eventful day,\\nThat ever glorious, almost fatal fray,\\nWhen Little s leadless pistol met his eye,\\nAnd Bow Street myrmidons stood laughing by\\nAmong Moore s most popular and most enduring pro-\\nductions are the -Irish Melodies a collection of\\ncharming lyrics, tender, convivial, or patriotic, designed\\nto accompany popular airs. Their composition was a\\ncongenial task, one well suited to the poet s powers. He\\nwas for Ireland what Burns was for Scotland the singer\\nof his people. But the songs of the two poets, while\\nalike in attaining a high excellence, are very different.\\nMoore is artificial, polished, reminding us of the drawing-\\nroom Burns is unconventional and genuine, suggesting\\nthe green fields and singing birds.\\nMoore wrote two long and ambitious poems, Lalla\\nRookh and The Loves of the Angels. Both are\\nOriental in character, but the former is far superior in\\ninterest and felicity of treatment. Through a course of\\nlaborious reading, he familiarized himself with Oriental\\ncustoms and scenery. Lalla Rookh is an Oriental princess\\nwho with great pomp journeys from Delhi to Bucharia,\\nwhere she is to marry the king. On the way she is en-\\ntertained by a young minstrel, whose tender, passionate\\nsongs win her heart. With sadness she approaches the\\nend of her journey; but what is her joy to find the amia-\\nble minstrel her future husband and the King of Bucharia\\nThe poem is true in its local coloring, sparkling with Orien-", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0441.jp2"}, "440": {"fulltext": "382 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ntal gems, and fragrant with Oriental musk and roses. A\\nsingle quotation from the Paradise and Peri must\\nsuffice\\nGo, wing thy flight from star to star,\\nFrom world to luminous world, as far\\nAs the universe spreads its flaming wall\\nTake all the pleasures of all the spheres,\\nAnd multiply each through endless years,\\nOne minute of Heaven is worth them all.\\nAmong his prose works are The Epicurean, an East-\\nern romance, the Life of Sheridan, which is a friendly\\npanegyric, and the Life of Byron, which does not\\nreveal the whole truth touching that nobleman s life and\\ncharacter.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0442.jp2"}, "441": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0443.jp2"}, "442": {"fulltext": "n\\n^H\\n1\\n1\\nH^^^B\\nH\\n1\\n1\\n1\\nmm Jf^Wt^ -^^^^^^^^^^HBI^^^^^^^^^\\n^^^1\\n1\\n1\\n^M\\n^^^^1\\n1\\n1\\n^H\\n^^^^1\\n1\\n1\\n^1\\nI^^ #^H^\\n^^M\\n1\\n1\\n1\\nHk .^^^^^^^^I^^HBI;\\n^H\\n1\\n1\\nI\\nr^j^^^^^H\\n^^^^1\\n1\\n1\\nn\\nyr ^^^^^^^H\\n^^H\\n1\\n1\\n^HP%yr\\nr^^^^^H\\n^^^^^^^^^^^^E\\ni\\nH^^\\n^^^^^^H\\n^^^^^^^^^^v jl\\n1\\n1\\n^^^H\\n^Hl\\nV\\n^a^\\n^^i^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^i\\n^I^^^K\\n:^ims HSk\\n\u00c2\u00bb^i^\\n_Ji\\nHH^I^^^^^^l\\nEngraved by G. H. Phillips in mezzotint after the painting by C. R. Leslie, R.A., formerh in the\\npossession of Mr. Constable of Edinburgh, now in thecoUection of Alaric A. Watts, Esq.\\n^^u-u^^^-^", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0444.jp2"}, "443": {"fulltext": "SIR WALTER SCOTT. 383\\nSIR WALTER SCOTT.\\nThe greatest literary figure during the first quarter of\\nthe present century is undoubtedly Sir Walter Scott. He\\noccupied scarcely less relative prominence for a time than\\ndid Samuel Johnson a few decades earlier. It is not un-\\ncommon to associate his name with the period in which he\\n^vas preeminent. He distinguished himself in both poetry\\nnd prose. He created a species of romantic poetry that\\nwas received with great applause until it was eclipsed by\\nthe intenser productions of Byron. Why did you quit\\npoetry. a friend once inquired of Scott. Because\\nByron beat me, was the remarkably frank reply. He\\nthen turned to fiction and in his splendid series of histori-\\ncal romances he stands preeminent not only among the\\nwriters of England, but of the world.\\nSir Walter Scott descended from a line distinguished\\nfor sports and arms rather than letters. One of his re-\\nmote ancestors was once given the choice of being hanged,\\nor marrying a woman who had won the prize for ugliness\\nin four counties. After three days deliberation he decided\\nin favor of meikle-mouthed Meg, who, be it said, made\\nhim an excellent wife. It was from her that our author\\npossibly inherited his large mouth. His father was a\\ndignified man, orderly in his habits, and fond of ceremony.\\nIt is said that he absolutely loved a funeral and from\\nfar and near he was sent for to superintend mortuary\\nceremonies. As a lawyer he frequently lost clients by", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0445.jp2"}, "444": {"fulltext": "384 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ninsisting that they should be just a sturdy uprightness\\nthat was transmitted to his illustrious son.\\nSir Walter s mother was a woman of superior native\\nability and of .excellent education. She had a good mem-\\nory and a talent for narration. If I have been able to\\ndo anything in the way of painting past times, he once\\nwrote, it is very much from the studies with which she\\npresented me. He loved his mother tenderly and the\\nevening after his burial a number of small objects that\\nhad once belonged to her were found arranged in careful\\norder in his desk, where his eye might rest upon them\\nevery morning before he began his task. This is an in-\\nstance of filial piety as touching as it is beautiful.\\nWalter Scott, the ninth of twelve children, was born in\\nEdinburgh, Aug. 15, 1771. On account of sickness he was\\nsent into the country, where his childhood was spent in the\\nmidst of attractive scenery. Left lying out of doors one\\nday, a thunder-storm arose and when his aunt ran to\\nbring him in, she found him delighted with the raging\\nelements, and shouting, Bonny, bonny at every flash\\nof lightning. One of the old servants spoke of him as a\\nsweet-tempered bairn, a darling with all about the house.\\nBut at the same time he was active, fearless, and passion-\\nate. The Laird of Raeburn, a relative, once wrung the\\nneck of a pet starling. I flew at his throat like a wild\\ncat, said Sir Walter, as he recalled the circumstance\\nfifty years afterward, and was torn from him with no\\nlittle difficulty.\\nAt school he established a reputation for irregular\\nability. He possessed great energy, vitality, and pride,\\nand was naturally a leader among his fellow-pupils. He", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0446.jp2"}, "445": {"fulltext": "SIR WALTER SCOTT. 385\\nhad the gift of story-telling in a remarkable degree. He\\nfound difficulty in confining himself to the prescribed\\nstudies and persistently declined to learn Greek. In\\nLatin he made fair attainments. He delighted in the\\npast, reverenced existing institutions, sympathized with\\nroyalty, and as a boy, as in after life, he was a Tory.\\nAs a student of law at the University of Edinburgh\\nScott was noted for his gigantic memory and enormous\\ncapacity for work. His literary tastes ran in the direction\\nof mediaeval Ufe, and he devoured legend and romance\\nand border song with great avidity. He learned Italian\\nto read Ariosto, and Spanish to read Cervantes, whose\\nnovels, he said, first inspired him with the desire to\\nexcel in fiction. But his memory retained only what\\nsuited his genius. He used to illustrate this characteristic\\nby the story of an old borderer who once said to a Scotch\\ndivine No, sir, I have no command of my memory. It\\nonly retains what hits my fancy and probably, sir, if you\\nwere to preach to me for two hours, I would not be able,\\nwhen you finished, to remember a word you had been\\nsaying.\\nAs a lawyer Scott was not notably successful. He was\\nfond of making excursions over the country to visit locali-\\nties celebrated for natural beauty or historic events. In\\nview of this habit, his father reproached him as being\\nbetter fitted for a pedler than for a lawyer. He was\\nrather fond, it must be said, of living\\nOne crowded hour of glorious life.\\nBut drunk or sober, such is the testimony of one of\\nhis companions at this time, he was aye the gentleman.\\n2C", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0447.jp2"}, "446": {"fulltext": "386 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nScott practised at the bar fourteen years but his earnings\\nnever amounted to much more than two hundred pounds a\\nyear. In 1799 he was made sheriff of Selkirkshire on a\\nsalary of three hundred pounds and a few years later he\\nbecame clerk of the session, an officer in the court of\\nEdinburgh, a position that increased his income to six-\\nteen hundred pounds. He was not eloquent as a pleader\\nhis tastes were averse to legal drudgery and his proclivi-\\nties for poetry and for rambling over the country did not\\nenhance his reputation as a lawyer. But whether practis-\\ning at the bar or wandering over the country, he was\\nmakin himself a the time storing his mind with the\\nfacts, legends, and characters which he was afterward\\nto embody in his immortal works.\\nThe life of Scott was not without its romance, and,\\nbut for the effect upon his character and works, we might\\nsay, alas, its sorrow. He one day offered his umbrella\\nto a beautiful young lady who was coming out of the\\nGreyfriars church during a shower. It was graciously\\naccepted. The incident led to an acquaintance, and, at\\nleast on the part of Scott, to a deep attachment. His\\nlarge romantic nature was filled with visions of happiness.\\nThen came disappointment. For some reason the fair\\nMargaret rejected his attentions and married a rival.\\nAfter the first resentment was past, this attachment re-\\nmained throughout his life a source of tender recollec-\\ntions. Years afterward he went to visit Margaret s\\nmother and noted in his diary I fairly softened my-\\nself, like an old fool, with recalling old stories till I was\\nfit for nothing but shedding tears and repeating verses\\nfor the whole night. Within a twelvemonth of his", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0448.jp2"}, "447": {"fulltext": "SIR WALTER SCOTT. 387\\ndisappointment, urged on it may be by his pride, he\\nmarried Miss Carpenter, a lady of French birth and\\nparentage. Though it was a bird of paradise mating\\nwith an eagle, she made a good wife, and the union\\nwas upon the whole a happy one.\\nThough Scott s greatest literary work was to be in\\nprose, he began with poetry. His first undertaking was\\na translation from the German of Burger s spectral ballad,\\nLenore. Though his rendering is spirited, he was far\\ntoo healthy-minded to be perfectly at home in treating\\nspectral themes. He soon turned to more congenial sub-\\njects. From his college days he had been making a col-\\nlection of old Scottish ballads. In 1802 he pubUshed in\\ntwo volumes The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border,\\nwhich was an immediate success.\\nThis proved to be a well, says Carlyle, from which\\nflowed one of the broadest rivers. Metrical Romances\\n(which in due time pass into Prose Romances); the old\\nlife of men resuscitated for us; it is a mighty word Not\\nas dead tradition, but as a palpable presence, the past\\nstood before us. There they were, .the rugged old fight-\\ning men; in their doughty simplicity and strength, with\\ntheir heartiness, their healthiness, their stout self-help,\\nin their iron basnets, leather jerkins, jack-boots, in their\\nquaintness of manner and costume there as they looked\\nand lived. It was like a new-discovered continent in\\nliterature.\\nThe native bent of his mind, and his studies for many\\nyears, pecuHarly fitted him to restore and illustrate the sim-\\nplicity and violence of the old border life. The transition\\nto original poems, in which the legends and history of the", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0449.jp2"}, "448": {"fulltext": "388 ENGLISH LITERATURE,\\nsame region were embodied, was easily made. The Lay\\nof the Last Minstrel was published in 1805 and at once\\nbecame widely popular. More than two thousand copies\\nwere sold the first year; and by 1830 the sales reached\\nforty-four thousand copies, bringing the author nearly a\\nthousand pounds.\\nThree years later Marmion, his greatest poem, ap-\\npeared and this was followed in 1810 by the Lady of\\nthe Lake. They were read with enthusiasm. They\\nwere new in subject and treatment. Without any pre-\\ntension to classical regularity and finish, they were rapid,\\nenergetic, and romantic the style exactly suited to the\\nsubject. I am sensible, the author said, that if there\\nbe anything good about my poetry or prose either, it is a\\nhurried frankness of composition, which pleases soldiers,\\nsailors, and yoimg people of bold and active dispositions.\\nThey are so simple in structure and thought as to be\\neasily comprehended they abound in wild scenes and\\ndaring deeds they are suffused with a patriotic, martial\\nspirit, and the delirious enjoyment of wild outdoor life.\\nScott s poetry may be characterized as objective. In\\nplace of meditation and mysticism, a wrestling with the\\ngreat mystery of existence, we have graphic descrip-\\ntions of external objects. He pictures things for us, as\\nin the lines at the opening of Marmion, descriptive of\\nthe castle\\nThe warriors on the turrets high,\\nMoving athwart the evening sky,\\nSeemed forms of giant height\\nTheir armor, as it caught the rays,\\nFlashed back again the western blaze,\\nIn lines of dazzling light.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0450.jp2"}, "449": {"fulltext": "I", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0451.jp2"}, "450": {"fulltext": "js b", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0452.jp2"}, "451": {"fulltext": "SIR WALTER SCOTT. 389\\nJ\\nSome of his battle scenes are unsurpassed for their\\nvividness and power. His lyric faculty is very great\\nand some of the songs in The Lady of the Lake are I\\nalmost unequalled in their picturesque melody. Take, for\\nexample, Ellen s song, beginning:\\nSoldier, rest thy warfare o er,\\nSleep the sleep that knows not breaking\\nDream of battle-fields no more,\\nDays of danger, nights of waking.\\nIn our isle s enchanted hall,\\nHands unseen thy couch are strewing\\nFairy strains of music fall, j\\nEvery sense in slumber dewing.\\nSoldier, rest! thy warfare o er,\\nDream of fighting fields no more\\nSleep the sleep that knows not breaking, 1\\nMorn of toil, nor night of waking,\\nNearly all of Scott s poetry was written in a beautiful\\nlittle country house at Ashestiel. The locality is vividly\\ndepicted in the first canto of Marmion i\\nNovember s sky is chill and drear,\\nNovember s leaf is red and sear\\nLate, gazing down the steepy linn,\\nThat hems our little garden in,\\nLow in its dark and narrow glen,\\nYou scarce the rivulet might ken,\\nSo thick the tangled greenwood grew,\\nSo feeble trilled the streamlet through\\nNow, murmuring hoarse, and frequent seen, j\\nThrough bush and briar no longer green,\\nAn angry brook, it sweeps the glade,\\nBrawls over rock and wild cascade.\\nAnd, foaming brown with double speed, 1\\nHurries its waters to the Tweed.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0453.jp2"}, "452": {"fulltext": "390 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nHe devoted the first part of the day to his literary work.\\nArrayed in his shooting-jacket, or whatever dress he\\nmeant to use till dinner-time, he was seated at his desk by\\nsix o clock, all his papers arranged before him in the mo^t\\naccurate order, and his books of reference marshalled\\naround him on the floor, while at least one favorite dog lay\\nwatching his eye, just beyond the line of circumvallation.\\nThus, by the time the family assembled for breakfast, be-\\ntween nine and ten, he had done enough, in his own lan-\\nguage, to break the neck of the day s work.\\nDuring the seven years of his residence at Ashestiel,\\nhis literary labors included, besides his poetry, a Life of\\nDryden, The Secret History of James I., and many\\nother works of less importance.\\nIn 1812 Scott moved to Abbotsford, where he spent the\\nrest of his life. He was a man of great personal and\\nfamily pride. It was his ambition to live in great magnifi-\\ncence and to dispense hospitality on a large scale. He\\nbought a large area of land at an aggregate expense\\nof twenty-nine thousand pounds and erected a baronial\\ncastle. Here he realized for a time his ideal of life. He\\nwas visited by distinguished men and hero-worshippers\\nfrom all parts of the world. Indeed, his fame became op-\\npressive. His correspondence was enormous, and as many\\nas sixteen parties of sight-seers visited Abbotsford in a\\nsingle day.\\nFor his friends Scott was the prince of hosts. Devoting\\nonly the earlier part of the day to work, he placed his\\nafternoons wholly at the service of his guests. Hunting\\nwas his favorite sport, and he led many a brilliant party\\nover the hills and through the valleys to the echoing", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0454.jp2"}, "453": {"fulltext": "SIR WALTER SCOTT. 39 1\\nmusic of his hounds. His large benevolent nature drew\\nmen to him. To all classes he was thoroughly kind.\\nSir Walter speaks to every man as if they were blood\\nrelations, was a common description of his demeanor.\\nEven the dumb animals recognized in him a friend.\\nApart from his social enjoyments, Scott found most de-\\nlight in planting trees. He greatly beautified his estate\\nand imparted a taste for arboriculture to the landholders\\nabout him. Planting and pruning trees, he said, I\\ncould work at from morning to night. There is a sort of\\nself-congratulation, a little self-flattery, in the idea that\\nwhile you are pleasing and amusing yourself, yOu are\\nseriously contributing to the future welfare of the coun-\\ntry, and that your acorn may send its future ribs of oak\\nto future victories like Trafalgar.\\nThe great mistake in Scott s life lay in his business ven-\\ntures. Through them came ultimately embarrassment and\\ndisaster. In the hope of increasing his income, he estab-\\nlished the publishing house of John Ballantyne Co., in\\nEdinburgh. John Ballantyne was a frivolous, dissipated\\nman, wholly unfit for the management of the enterprise.\\nScott, though possessing sufficient discernment, was easily\\nled away by his feelings. As a consequence, the ware-\\nhouses of the new firm were soon filled with a quantity of\\nunsalable stock. Only the extensive sale of his novels\\nsaved the company from early bankruptcy. But ulti-\\nmately the crash came, and in 1825 Scott found himself\\npersonally responsible for the enormous debt of one hun-\\ndred and thirty thousand pounds.\\nFor years he had been the literary sovereign of Great\\nBritain. He had lived in the midst of great splendor at", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0455.jp2"}, "454": {"fulltext": "392 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nAbbotsford. To find his means swept away in a single\\nmoment was a terrific blow, sufificient to crush an ordinary\\nman. But at no time in his career did Scott exhibit so\\nfully his heroic character. Instead of crushing him, mis-\\nfortune only called forth his strength. With indomitable\\nwill and sturdy integrity he set to work to meet his im-\\nmense obligations. There is nothing more heroic in the\\ncourse of English literature. Work after work came from\\nhis pen in rapid succession. He well-nigh accomplished\\nhis purpose; but at last, as we shall see, his mind and\\nbody gave way under the tremendous strain, and he fell\\na martyr to high-souled integrity.\\nIn 1 8 14, when the affairs of Ballantyne Co. were in a\\nperplexing condition, Scott took up a work in prose, which\\nhe had begun in 1805, and pushed it rapidly to comple-\\ntion. This was Waverley, the first of that wonderful\\nseries which has placed his name at the head of historical\\nnovelists. Though published anonymously, as were all\\nits successors, it met with astonishing success. It decided\\nhis future literary career. His poetic vein had been ex-\\nhausted, and Byron s verse was attracting pubHc atten-\\ntion. Henceforth he devoted himself to historical fiction,\\nfor which his native powers and previous training were\\nprecisely adapted.\\nFor the remainder of his life he composed, in addition\\nto other literary labors, on an average two romances a\\nyear, illustrating every period in Scottish, Enghsh, and\\ncontinental history from the time of the Crusades to the\\nmiddle of the eighteenth century. The series is, upon\\nthe whole, remarkably even in excellence but among the\\nmost interesting may be mentioned Old Mortality,", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0456.jp2"}, "455": {"fulltext": "SIR WALTER SCOTT. 393\\nwhich describes the sufferings of the Covenanters The\\nHeart of Midlothian, to which many critics assign the\\nhighest rank; Ivanhoe, which is very popular; and\\nQuentin Durward, which holds a distinguished place.\\nBefore this time attempts at the historical novel had\\nbeen artificial. Contemporary ways were simply trans-\\nferred to a more or less remote period, without regard to\\nwhat is known as local coloring. While working in the\\nromantic spirit that had already appeared, Scott created in\\nits true sense the historical novel as a real transcript of\\nthe past, and raised it to an excellence that has never\\nbeen surpassed. He brought before the mind a magnifi-\\ncent living panorama, often idealized, indeed, of previous\\nages. His work is not without defects and limitations\\nbut, after all, it is such a body of literature as, for com-\\nplete liberation from any debts to models, fertility and\\nabundance of invention, nobility of sentiment, variety and\\nkeenness of delight, nowhere else exists.\\nIn the composition of these works Scott wrote with\\nextraordinary rapidity. Guy Mannering is said to\\nhave been written in six weeks. Carlyle finds fault with\\nwhat he calls the extempore method. But in reality it\\nwas not extempore. It had been Scott s delight from\\nchildhood to store his capacious memory with the anti-\\nquarian and historical information which he embodied in\\nhis novels. Instead of laborious special investigations, he\\nhad but to draw on this great reservoir of learning. He\\ndid not wait for moments of inspiration but morning\\nafter morning he returned to his task, with the same zest,\\nand turned out the same amount of work.\\nEven acute physical suffering did not overcome his", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0457.jp2"}, "456": {"fulltext": "394 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ncreative power. He dictated The Bride of Lammer-\\nmoor, The Legend of Montrose, and Ivanhoe to\\namanuenses. His suffering sometimes forced from him\\ncries of agony. When his amanuensis once begged him\\nto stop dictating, he only answered, Nay, WiUie, only\\nsee that the doors are fast I would fain keep all the cry\\nas well as all the wool to ourselves. A few other writers\\nhave equalled or even surpassed Scott in the number of\\nnovels; but, if we consider the quality of work and the\\nmany centuries covered by his romances, we must regard\\nhim as still without a successful rival.\\nThe Waverley novels are characterized by largeness of\\nthought and style. They turn on public rather than pri-\\nvate interests. In place of narrow social circles, we are\\nintroduced into the midst of great public movements.\\nCrusaders, Papists, Puritans, Cavaliers, Roundheads, Jaco-\\nbites, Jews, freebooters, preachers, schoolmasters, gyp-\\nsies, beggars, move before us with the reality of life.\\nHis comprehensive power, says Stopford Brooke,\\nwhich drew with the same certainty so many characters\\nin so many various classes, was the direct result of his\\nprofound sympathy with the simpler feehngs of the human\\nheart, and of his pleasure in writing so as to make human\\nlife more beautiful and more good in the eyes of men.\\nScott s style corresponds to the largeness of his subjects.\\nHe paints with a large brush. He could not have\\nachieved distinction in domestic novels, with their petty\\ninterests and trifling distinctions. He was an admirer of\\nMiss Austen, in reference to whose manner he said The\\nbig bow-wow strain I can do myself, like any now going\\nbut the exquisite touch which renders ordinary common-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0458.jp2"}, "457": {"fulltext": "SIR WALTER SCOTT.\\n395\\nplace things and characters interesting, from the truth of\\nthe description and the sentiment, is denied me. Scott\\nneeded, observes Hutton, a certain largeness of type, a\\nstrongly marked class-life, and, where it was possible, a free\\nout-of-doors life, for his deHneations. No one could paint\\nbeggars and gypsies, and wandering fiddlers, and merce-\\nnary soldiers, and peasants, and farmers, and lawyers, and\\nmagistrates, and preachers, and courtiers, and statesmen,\\nand best of all perhaps queens and kings, with anything\\nlike his ability.\\nIn 1825, after the failure of Ballantyne Co., Scott reso-\\nlutely set to work to pay his creditors. His only resource\\nwas his pen. Although his cherished hopes were all\\nblasted, he toiled on indomitably till nature gave way.\\nTwo days after the news of the crash reached him, he was\\nworking on Woodstock. In three years he earned and\\npaid over to his creditors no less than forty thousand\\npounds. If his health had continued, he would have dis-\\ncharged the enormous debt. But unfavorable symptoms\\nbegan to manifest themselves in 1829, and the following\\nyear he had a stroke of paralysis. Though he recovered\\nfrom it, his faculties never regained their former clearness\\nand strength. Nevertheless, in spite of the urgent advice\\nof physicians and friends, he continued to toil on. Count\\nRobert of Paris and Castle Dangerous appeared in\\n1 83 1. But they showed a decHne in mental vigor his\\nmagic wand was broken. An entry in his diary at this\\ntime is truly pathetic The blow is a stunning one, I sup-\\npose, for I scarcely feel it. It is singular, but it comes\\nwith as little surprise as if I had a remedy ready yet God\\nknows I am at sea in the dark, and the vessel leaky, I", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0459.jp2"}, "458": {"fulltext": "396 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nthink, into the bargain. It is the pathos of a strong man s\\nawaking to a consciousness that his strength is gone.\\nA sea voyage was recommended; and in October, 1831,\\nhe sailed, in a vessel put at his disposal by the government,\\nfor Malta. He visited various points on the Mediterra-\\nnean, but without material benefit. With the failing of his\\nstrength, he longed for Abbotsford. As he caught sight\\nof the towers once more, he sprang up with a cry of de-\\nlight. A few days before his death he called his son-in-\\nlaw Lockhart to his bedside. Lockhart, he said, I\\nmay have but a minute to speak to you. My dear, be a\\ngood man, be virtuous, be religious, be a good man.\\nNothing else will give you any comfort when you come to\\nlie here. These were almost his last words. Four days\\nafterward, during which time he showed scarcely any signs\\nof consciousness, he quietly passed away, Sept. 21, 1832,\\none of the grandest, but, also, if we think of his dis-\\nappointed hopes, one of the saddest characters in English\\nliterature.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0460.jp2"}, "459": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0461.jp2"}, "460": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0462.jp2"}, "461": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0463.jp2"}, "462": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0464.jp2"}, "463": {"fulltext": "LORD BYRON, 397\\nLORD BYRON.\\nNo other poet has so embodied himself in his poetry as\\nByron. Had he not possessed a powerful individuality,\\nhis works would long since have perished. He was\\nutterly lacking in the independent creative power of\\nShakespeare, who never identified himself with his char-\\nacters. Throughout Byron s many works, we see but one\\nperson a proud, misanthropic, sceptical, ungovernable\\nman. Whatever exaggerations of feature there may be in\\nthe portrait, we recognize the essential outlines of the poet\\nhimself.\\nHis poetry is largely autobiographical and his utterance\\nintense. Without the careful artistic polish of many\\nminor poets, his manner is rapid, stirring, powerful. He\\nwas, perhaps, the most remarkable poetic genius of the\\ncentury yet his powers were not turned to the best\\naccount. He lacked the balance of a noble character and\\na well-regulated life. On reading a collection of Burns s\\npoems, he once exclaimed What an antithetical mind\\ntenderness, roughness delicacy, coarseness senti-\\nment, sensuality soaring and grovelling dirt and deity\\nall mixed up in that one compound of inspired clay.\\nThe same antitheses might be applied with equal truth to\\nhimself.\\nHis place in literature is not yet fixed. In my mind,\\nwrote Carlyle, Byron has been sinking at an accelerated", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0465.jp2"}, "464": {"fulltext": "398 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nrate for the last ten years and has now reached a very\\nlow level. On the other hand, Taine declares that he\\nis so great and so English, that from him alone we shall\\nlearn more truths of his country and his age than from all\\nthe rest put together.\\nWhen the final verdict is made up, the Scotchman will\\nprobably be nearer the truth than the Frenchman. The\\nfinest strains of poetry are not to be found in his produc-\\ntions and the moral sense of the world has become too\\nstrong to approve his flippant scepticism or condone his\\nshameful immoralities. He once called himself, the\\ngrand Napoleon of the realms of rhyme. The compari-\\nson is not unjust but in both cases alike the glamour of\\nbrilliant achievement has been stripped off, and the for-\\nbidding personal character brought to light. Byron was\\nendowed with extraordinary ability but in large measure\\nhe used his powers to vent his misanthropy, to mock at\\nvirtue and religion, and to conceal the hideousness of vice.\\nGeorge Gordon, Lord Byron, was born in London,\\nJan. 22, 1788. His ancestry runs back in an unbroken\\nline of nobility to the time of William the Conqueror. His\\nfather was an unprincipled and heartless profligate, who\\nmarried an heiress to get her property, and who, as soon\\nas this was squandered, abandoned her. His mother was\\na proud, passionate, hysterical woman, who alternately\\ncaressed and abused her child. At one moment treating\\nhim with extravagant fondness, at the next she reproached\\nhim as a lame brat, and flung the poker at his head.\\nYour mother s a fool, said a school companion to him.\\nI know it, was the painful and humiliating answer.\\nWith such parentage and such rearing, it becomes us to", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0466.jp2"}, "465": {"fulltext": "LORD BYRON. 399\\ntemper somewhat the severity of our judgment of his\\ncharacter.\\nHe was sent to school at Harrow. I soon found,\\nwrote the head-master shortly afterward, that a wild\\nmountain colt had been submitted to my management.\\nByron did not take much interest in the prescribed studies\\nand never became an accurate scholar. His reading, how-\\never, was extensive, and he learned French and Itahan.\\nHe formed a few warm friendships. During one of his\\nvacations, he fell in love with Mary Ann Chaworth, whose\\nfather the poet s grand-uncle had slain in a tavern brawl.\\nHe was fifteen, and she was two years older. Looking\\nupon him as a boy, she did not take his attachment seri-\\nously, and a year later married another. To Byron, who\\nloved her with all the ardor of his nature, it was a griev-\\nous disappointment; and years afterward, when he him-\\nself stood at the altar, recollections of her disturbed his\\nsoul. The story is told in The Dream, a poem of\\nmuch beauty\\nThe boy had fewer summers, but his heart\\nHad far outgrown his years, and to his eye\\nThere was but one beloved face on earth.\\nIn 1805 Byron entered Trinity College, Cambridge,\\nwith which he was connected for nearly three years.\\nLike many of his predecessors of independent genius\\nBacon, Milton,, Locke, Gibbon he cared little for the\\nuniversity training. He was fond of outdoor sports and\\nexcelled in cricket, boxing, riding, and shooting. Along\\nwith a good deal of miscellaneous reading, he wrote\\nverses, and in 1808 he pubUshed a volume entitled Hours", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0467.jp2"}, "466": {"fulltext": "400 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nof Idleness. The work gave little evidence of poetic\\ngenius, and was the subject of a rasping critique in the\\nEdinburgh Review. The poesy of this young lord, it\\nwas said with some justice, belongs to the class which\\nneither gods nor men are said to permit. Indeed, we do\\nnot recollect to have seen a quantity of verse with so few\\ndeviations in either direction from that exact standard.\\nWhile affecting contempt for pubHc opinion, Byron was\\nalways acutely sensitive to adverse criticism and the\\nexasperating attack of the Edinburgh Review stung him\\nlike a blow, rousing him to fury. The result was, a little\\nlater, the furious and indiscriminate onslaught known as\\nEnglish Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Prepare, he\\nshouted,\\nPrepare for rhyme Til publish right or wrong\\nFools are my theme, let satire be my song.\\nThe first edition was exhausted in a month. Though\\nviolent, indiscriminate, and often unjust, the satire indi-\\ncated something of his latent power.\\nIn 1809, after a few weeks of wild revel at his ancestral\\nseat of Newstead Abbey, he set out upon his travels and\\nvisited Portugal, Spain, Greece, and Turkey. His restless\\nspirit found some degree of satisfaction in roving from\\nplace to place. While continuing to lead an ill-regulated\\nlife, he carried with him the eyes of a keen observer and\\nthe sentiments of a great poet. His experience and obser-\\nvation are given in the first two cantos of Childe Harold s\\nPilgrimage. Though he affirmed that Childe Harold is\\na fictitious character, it is impossible not to identify him\\nwith the poet himself.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0468.jp2"}, "467": {"fulltext": "LORD BYRON. 4OI\\nWhilome in Albion s isle there dwelt a youth,\\nWho ne in virtue s ways did take delight\\nBut spent his days in riot most uncouth,\\nAnd vexed with mirth the drowsy ear of night.\\nAnd now Childe Harold was sore sick at heart.\\nAnd from his fellow bacchanals would flee\\nTis said at times the sullen tear would start,\\nBut pride congealed the drop within his ee\\nApart he stalked in joyless reverie.\\nAnd from his native land resolved to go.\\nAnd visit scorching climes beyond the sea\\nWith pleasure drugged he almost longed for woe.\\nAnd e en for change of scene would seek the shades below.\\nThe poem is written in Spenserian stanza, and the anti-\\nquated style which he affected at first was soon cast aside.\\nIt opened a new field, and its rich descriptions seized the\\npublic fancy. It ran through seven editions in four weeks,\\nand to use the author s words, He woke up one morning\\nto find himself famous.\\nThe other results of his Eastern travels are The\\nGiaour, The Bride of Abydos, The Corsair, and\\nLara poetical romances of passion and violence, which\\nwere received with outbursts of applause. They equalled or\\nsurpassed Scott in his own field a fact which he had the\\njudgment to recognize and the manliness to confess.\\nThe Bride of Abydos contains, in its opening lines, a\\nbeautiful imitation of Mignon s song in Goethe s Wilhelm\\nMeister\\nKnow ye the land where the cypress and myrtle\\nAre emblems of deeds that are done in their clime?\\nWhere the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle.\\nNow melt into sorrow, now madden to crime!\\n2 D", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0469.jp2"}, "468": {"fulltext": "402 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThe Corsair is written in the heroic couplet of Pope.\\nThe stanza of Spenser, Byron says in the dedication, is\\nperhaps too slow and dignified for narrative, though I con-\\nfess, it is the measure most after my own heart Scott\\nalone, of the present generation, has hitherto completely\\ntriumphed over the fatal facility of the octosyllabic verse,\\nand this is not the least victory of his fertile and mighty\\ngenius in blank verse, Milton, Thomson, and our dram-\\natists are the beacons that shine along the deep, but warn\\nus from the rough and barren rock on which they are kin-\\ndled. The heroic couplet is not the most popular measure\\ncertainly but as I did not deviate into the other, from a\\nwish to flatter what is called public opinion, I shall quit it\\nwithout further apology.\\nByron had returned to England in 1812, after an absence\\nof two years and while the various works mentioned\\nwere appearing, he led a fashionable and dissipated life in\\nLondon. When the right mood was on him, he had the\\npower of making himself highly entertaining. His pres-\\nence was striking. As for poets, says Scott, I have\\nseen all the best of my time and country and though\\nBurns had the most glorious eye imaginable, I never\\nthought any of them could come up to an artist s notion of\\nthe character, except Byron. His countenance is a thing\\nto dream of.\\nByron was naturally idolized by women but never dis-\\ncerning the nobler elements of their character, he set a\\nlow estimate upon them. I regard them, he says, as\\nvery pretty but inferior creatures, who are as little in\\ntheir place at our tables as they would be in our council\\nchambers. I look upon them as grown-up children.\\ntfi", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0470.jp2"}, "469": {"fulltext": "LORD BYRON. 403\\nHe was destitute of the power of characterization as we\\nsee it in our best novelists and poets. His heroines are\\nall of one type Oriental beauties, loving and passion-\\nate, but without intellectual aspiration and true womanly\\ntenderness.\\nIn 181 5 he married Miss Milbanke but there was no\\nlove on either side, and it proved an ill-sorted match.\\nThough an excellent woman, his wife was exacting and\\nunsympathetic. Impatient at his late hours, she inquired\\nwhen he was going to leave off writing verses. On the\\nother hand, he was fitful, violent, and immoral.\\nAt the end of a year, and after the birth of their\\ndaughter Ada, she went to her father s, and informed\\nByron that she did not intend ever to return to him.\\nThe separation created a sensation and the burden of\\nblame, as was no doubt just, fell upon him. He sank\\nin popular esteem as suddenly as he had risen. He\\ndared not go to the theatres for fear of being hissed, nor\\nto Parliament for fear of being insulted. His poem Fare\\nThee Well was addressed to his wife after their separa-\\ntion. An acquaintance with the facts makes it hard for\\nus to believe in the sincerity of what would otherwise be\\na pathetic poem\\nThough my many faults defaced me,\\nCould no other arm be found\\nThan the one which once embraced me,\\nTo inflict a cureless wound\\nYet, oh yet, thyself deceive not,\\nLove may sink by slow decay.\\nBut by sudden wrench, believe not\\nHearts can thus be torn away.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0471.jp2"}, "470": {"fulltext": "404 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThe result of the opprobrium, which this unfortunate\\nevent in his Ufe brought upon him, is given in his own\\nwords I felt that, if what was whispered and muttered\\nand murmured was true, I was unfit for England if false,\\nEngland was unfit for me. Accordingly, in 1816, dis-\\nappointed and burdened at heart, he left his native shore\\nnever to return.\\nI depart,\\nWhither I know not but the hour s gone by.\\nWhen Albion s lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.\\nOnce more upon the waters! yet once more!\\nAnd the waves bound beneath me as a steed\\nThat knows his rider. Welcome to their roar!\\nSwift be their guidance, wheresoever it lead!\\nThough the strained mast should quiver as a reed,\\nAnd the rent canvas fluttering strew the gale,\\nStill I must on for I am as a weed\\nFlung from the rock, on ocean s foam to sail,\\nWhere er the surge may sweep, the tempest s breath prevail.\\nWith this voluntary exile he entered upon a new era\\nof authorship, in which he attained to the full maturity of\\nhis powers. At Geneva he wrote the third, and at Venice\\nthe fourth canto of Childe Harold, and at once placed\\nhimself among the great masters of English verse. Land-\\nscapes of unsurpassed majesty and beauty are portrayed;\\nhistory lives again our feelings are stirred with deep\\nemotion. Treasures are found on every page. For ex-\\nample\\nThe sky is changed! and such a change! O night,\\nAnd storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong.\\nYet lovely in your strength, as is the light\\nOf a dark eye in woman! Far along,", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0472.jp2"}, "471": {"fulltext": "LORD BYRON. 405\\nFrom peak to peak, the rattling crags among,\\nLeaps the live thunder! Not from one lone cloud,\\nBut every mountain now hath found a tongue.\\nAnd Jura answers through her misty shroud,\\nBack to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud.\\nOr again\\nI see before me the gladiator lie\\nHe leans upon his hand his manly brow\\nConsents to death, but conquers agony.\\nAnd his drooped head sinks gradually low\\nAnd through his side the last drops, ebbing slow\\nFrom the red gash, fall heavy, one by one.\\nLike the first of a thunder shower and now\\nThe arena swims around him he is gone.\\nEre ceased the inhuman shout that hailed the wretch who won.\\nOnce more\\nThere is a pleasure in the pathless woods,\\nThere is a rapture on the lonely shore,\\nThere is society where none intrudes,\\nBy the deep sea, and music in its roar\\nI love not man the less, but nature more,\\nFrom these our interviews, in which I steal\\nFrom all I may be or have been before.\\nTo mingle with the universe, and feel\\nWhat I can ne er express^, yet cannot all conceal.\\nAt Geneva he wrote the touching story of Bonnivard,\\nThe Prisoner of Chillon, which belongs to the group of\\nromantic tales. There is no resemblance between the\\nhero of the poem and the historic prisoner of Chillon, of\\nwhom Byron knew little or nothing at the time he wrote.\\nWhen the poem was composed, he frankly confesses,\\nI was not sufficiently aware of the history of Bonnivard,\\nor I should have endeavored to dignify the subject by", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0473.jp2"}, "472": {"fulltext": "406 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nan attempt to celebrate his courage and his virtues. It\\nis a pathetic story, with some beautiful lines\\nLake Leman lies by Chillon s walls\\nA thousand feet in depth below\\nIts massy waters meet and flow\\nThus much the fathom-line was sent\\nFrom Chillon s snow-white battlement,\\nWhich round about the wave enthrals.\\nFrom Switzerland, Byron went to Italy, living for a time\\nat Venice, Ravenna, Pisa, and Genoa. His Italian life was\\nvoluptuous and immoral. In every place of sojourn, how-\\never, he continued to write, composing many works of high\\nexcellence. Cain is a powerful drama. One of the\\ncharacters is Lucifer, of whom Byron apologetically says,\\nIt was difficult for me to make him talk like a clergyman\\nupon the same subjects. Manfred and Sardana-\\npalus are other dramas. The Vision of Judgment, a\\nsatire on George the Third and Bob Southey, is not\\nreverent, but it is the wittiest production of its class in our\\nlanguage. Don Juan, his longest poem, is a conglom-\\nerate of wit, satire, and immorality, relieved at intervals\\nby sage reflection and delicate poetic sentiment. It shows\\nat once the author s genius and degradation. Perhaps he\\nnever wrote more beautiful Hnes than these\\nTis sweet to hear,\\nAt midnight on the blue and moonlit deep,\\nThe song and oar of Adrians gondolier,\\nBy distance mellowed o er the water s sweep.\\nTis sweet to see the evening star appear\\nTis sweet to listen as the night-winds creep\\nFrom leaf to leaf tis sweet to view on high\\nThe rainbow, based on ocean, span the sky.\\n1", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0474.jp2"}, "473": {"fulltext": "LORD BYRON. 407\\nTis sweet to hear the watch-dog s honest bark\\nBay deep-mouthed welcome as we draw near home\\nTis sweet to know there is an eye will mark\\nOur coming, and look brighter when we come.\\nTis sweet to be awakened by the lark,\\nOr lulled by falling waters sweet the hum\\nOf bees, the voice of girls, the song of birds,\\nThe lisp of children, and their earliest words.\\nNotwithstanding its power and the frequent beauty of\\nsingle passages, Byron s poetry has serious defects. The\\nrapidity with which he wrote prevented a high degree of\\nartistic finish. Its structure and rhyme are sometimes\\nwhimsical or perverse. It is lacking in high seriousness,\\nwithout which poetry never reaches the greatest heights.\\nIt is, indeed, a reflection of the poet s Hfe, and to that ex-\\ntent may be pronounced true but because his Hfe was\\nperverse and wrong, his poetry is lacking in divine truth.\\nIt brings no helpful message to humanity. His criticism\\nof life is destructive he never reached the wisdom that\\nreplaces evil with good and in view of these facts, he\\nmay justly be said to belong to the Satanic school of letters.\\nHe refreshes us, to use the words of Carlyle, not with\\nthe divine fountain, but too often with vulgar strong waters,\\nstimulating indeed to the taste, but soon ending in dislike,\\nor even nausea.\\nThough few English authors were ever more popular at\\nhome, Byron s influence on the Continent was still greater.\\nHe simply took possession of the Continent of Europe\\nand kept it, says Saintsbury. He was one of the dom-\\ninant influences and determining causes of the French\\nRomantic movement in Germany, though the failure of\\nliterary talents and activity of the first order in that coun-", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0475.jp2"}, "474": {"fulltext": "408 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ntry early in this century made his school less important, he\\nhad great power over Heine, its one towering genius and\\nhe was almost the sole master of young Russia, young\\nItaly, young Spain, in poetry. Nor, though his active and\\ndirect influence has of course been exhausted by time, can\\nhis reputation on the Continent be said ever to have waned.\\nAt length the aimless and voluptuous life he was lead-\\ning filled him with satiety. He had drained the cup of\\npleasure to its dregs of bitterness. He began to long for\\na life of action. If I live ten years longer, he wrote in\\n1822, you will see that it is not all over with me.\\nI don t mean in literature, for that is nothing and I do\\nnot think it was my vocation but F shall do something.\\nGreece was at this time struggling for independence\\nfrom Turkish tyranny. Byron was a friend of liberty\\nthe struggling Greeks touched his sympathies. Accord-\\ningly, he embarked for Greece in 1823 to aid them in their\\nstruggle. As he was about to depart, the shadow of com-\\ning disaster fell upon him. I have a sort of boding, he\\nsaid to some friends, that we see each other for the last\\ntime, as something tells me I shall never return from\\nGreece.\\nHe was received at Missolonghi with salvos of mus-\\nketry and music. He received a military commission, and\\nin his subsequent movements displayed ability and cour-\\nage. But before he had been of much assistance to the\\nGreeks, he was seized with a virulent fever, and died April\\n9, 1824. The cities of Greece contended for his body;\\nbut it was taken to England, where, sepulture in West-\\nminster Abbey having been refused, it was conveyed to\\nthe village church of Hucknall.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0476.jp2"}, "475": {"fulltext": "LORD BYRON.\\n409\\nSuch lives are unutterably sad. Byron possessed what\\nmost men spend their lives for in vain genius, rank,\\npower, fame yet he lived a wretched man. His peace\\nof mind was broken, and his body prematurely worn by\\nvicious passions. He was himself oppressed with a sense\\nof failure and less than three months before his death he\\nwrote\\nMy days are in the yellow leaf\\nThe flowers and fruits of love are gone\\nThe worm, the canker, and the grief,\\nAre mine alone\\nLife had lost its charm and all he sought was a mar-\\ntial death in that land of ancient heroes\\nSeek out, less often sought than found,\\nA soldier s grave for thee the best;\\nThen look around, and choose thy ground,\\nAnd take thy rest.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0477.jp2"}, "476": {"fulltext": "410 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nWILLIAM WORDSWORTH.\\nIn striking contrast with the restless, passionate life of\\nByron stands the peaceful, uneventful life of Wordsworth.\\nInstead of furious, tormenting passions, there is a self-\\npoised, peaceful life of contemplation. Byron imparted to\\nthe beautiful or sublime scenes of nature the colorings\\nof his turbulent thoughts and violent emotions Words-\\nworth brought to mountain, stream, and flower the docility\\nof a reverent and loving spirit. His soul was open to the\\nlessons of the outward world, which to him was pervaded\\nby an invisible presence. In his pride and misanthropy,\\nByron felt no sympathy with the sufferings and struggles\\nof humanity. His censorious eye perceived only the foi-\\nbles and frailties that lie on the surface. With a far no-\\nbler spirit and a keener insight, Wordsworth discerned\\nbeauty and grandeur in human Hfe and aspired to be\\nhelpful to his fellow-men. It is indeed a deep satisfac-\\ntion, he wrote near the close of his life, to hope and be-\\nlieve that my poetry will be, while it lasts, a help to the\\ncause of virtue and truth, especially among the young.\\nWhile Byron trampled on the laws of morality, ruined his\\nhome and turned the joys of life to ashes, Wordsworth\\nlived in the midst of quiet domestic happiness humble\\nindeed, but glorified by fidelity, friendship, and love.\\nByron died in early manhood enslaved by evil habits and\\nJ", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0478.jp2"}, "477": {"fulltext": "Engraved by J. Bombey after the painting by W. Boxall, London. Published 1832.\\n^^^^.^-py^", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0479.jp2"}, "478": {"fulltext": "1\\nm", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0480.jp2"}, "479": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. 4I I\\noppressed with the emptiness of life Wordsworth reached\\nan honored old age, and passed away upheld with pre-\\ncious hopes. The one may be admired for his power and\\nmeteoric splendor the other will be honored and loved\\nfor his upright character, his human sympathy, and his\\nhelpful teachings.\\nWilHam Wordsworth was born at Cockermouth in Cum-\\nberland County, April 7, 1770, of an ancient family. His\\nviolent and moody temper as a child filled his mother with\\nanxiety about his future. He in no way distinguished\\nhimself at school, though some of the verses he then com-\\nposed were well spoken of.\\nAt the age of seventeen he entered Cambridge, where\\nhe gave no promise of his future greatness. His genius\\ndeveloped slowly. It was not from books, but from na-\\nture, that he derived the greatest inspiration and help.\\nThe celebrated Lake District, in which he was born and\\nin which his school-days and the greater part of his\\nmaturity were spent, is a region of varied and beautiful\\nscenery. With its mountains, forests, and lakes, it is\\ngrander than the typical English landscape, yet without\\nthe overpowering sublimity of Switzerland. It was a re-\\ngion specially suited to awaken and develop the peculiar\\npowers @f Wordsworth. He moved among the natural\\nbeauties of the country with an ill-defined but exquisite\\npleasure. In his own words\\nThe ever-living universe,\\nTurn where I might, was opening out its glories\\nAnd the independent spirit of pure youth\\nCalled forth at every season new delights.\\nSpread round my steps like sunshine o er green fields.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0481.jp2"}, "480": {"fulltext": "412 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\n1\\nIn 1 791 Wordsworth took the degree of Bachelor of\\nArts, and left the university without having decided upon\\na vocation. He did not feel himself good enough for\\nthe church, he said years afterward he felt that his\\nmind was not properly disciplined for that holy office, and\\nthat the struggle between his conscience and his impulses\\nwould have made life a torture. He was disinclined to\\nthe law and though he fancied that he had talents for\\nthe profession of arms, he feared that he might fall a prey\\nto disease in foreign lands. He passed some time in\\nLondon without a definite aim and also without much\\nprofit. He felt out of place amidst the rush and din of\\nthe city. Like the Farmer of Tilsbury Vale, whom he\\nafterward described\\nIn the throng of the town like a stranger is he,\\nLike one whose own country s far over the sea\\nAnd nature, while through the great city he hies,\\nFull ten times a day takes his heart by surprise.\\nAfter a few months he went to France for the purpose\\nof learning the language. His sympathies, which had\\nbeen with the revolutionists, were intensified by an\\nacquaintance at Orleans with the republican general\\nBeaupuis. Returning to Paris, Wordsworth contemplated\\nplacing himself at the head of the Girondist party a\\nstep that would inevitably have brought him to the guil-\\nlotine. From this danger he was saved by his friends,\\nwho, not in sympathy with his republicanism, stopped his\\nallowance, and thus compelled him to return to England.\\nThe excesses into which the Revolution ran were a rude\\nshock to him. He was driven to the verge of scepticism", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0482.jp2"}, "481": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. 413\\nEven the visible universe\\nFell under the dominion of a taste\\nLess spiritual, with microscopic view\\nWas scanned, as I had scanned the moral world.\\nBut his thoughtful nature could not rest in unbelief. A\\nsympathetic study of nature, the beautiful devotion of his\\nsister Dorothy, and a deeper insight into the lives of men,\\nrestored his healthfulness and peace of mind. As he\\nadvanced in years, he gave up the ardent republican hopes\\nof his youth, and settled down into a staid conservatism.\\nThere are few lives that might better serve to illustrate\\nthe doctrine of a special providence. All through his\\ncareer, the needed help came to him at the right moment.\\nWordsworth had nursed with tender care a young man\\nattacked by consumption. Upon his death it was found\\nthat he had left the poet a legacy of nine hundred pounds.\\nNothing could have come more opportunely. With this\\nsmall sum Wordsworth settled with his sister in a little\\ncottage at Racedown in Dorsetshire. Here be began to\\ndevote himself to poetry in earnest. In his sister he\\nfound a congenial and helpful companion. She filled his\\nhome with sunshine. Her poetic sensibilities were keenly\\nalive to the beauties of nature. In grateful recognition\\nof her helpfulness, the poet says\\nShe gave me eyes, she gave me ears,\\nAnd humble cares, and delicate fears\\nA heart the fountain of sweet tears\\nAnd love, and thought, and joy.\\nWith a beautiful devotion she found her life-work in\\naiding her gifted brother to fulfil his mission.\\nThe first volume of Wordsworth is entitled Lyrical", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0483.jp2"}, "482": {"fulltext": "414 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nBallads. It was published in 1798, and contained, be-\\nsides Coleridge s Ancient Mariner, and several pieces\\nthat were ridiculed for triviality, We Are Seven, Ex-\\npostulation and Reply, The Tables Turned, and above\\nall Tintern Abbey, all of which contain the essential\\nprinciples of Wordsworth s poetry. Indeed, the Tintern\\nAbbey more than any other single poem contains the\\nrevelation that the poet had to make to the world. The\\nfollowing passage, besides presenting the poet s view of\\nnature, is one of great beauty\\nAnd I have felt\\nA presence that disturbs me with the joy\\nOf elevated thoughts a sense sublime\\nOf something far more deeply interfused,\\nWhose dwelling is the light of setting suns,\\nAnd the round ocean and the living air\\nAnd the blue sky, and in the mind of man\\nA motion and a spirit, that impels\\nAll thinking things, all objects of all thought.\\nAnd rolls through all things.\\nUnfortunately the trivial pieces attracted most attention,\\nand the work was received with coldness and ridicule.\\nThe Idiot Boy a delightful poem to those who can feel\\nthe pathos of childish imbecility and the beauty of maternal\\nlove and solicitude was the subject of one of the crudest\\npassages in the English Bards and Scotch Reviewers.\\nSpeaking of Wordsworth, whom he denominates a mild\\napostate from poetic rule, Byron continues\\nThus when he tells the tale of Betty Foy,\\nThe idiot mother of an idiot boy,\\nA moon-struck silly lad who lost his way.\\nAnd like his bard confounded night with day,\\nJ", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0484.jp2"}, "483": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. 415\\nSo close on each pathetic part he dwells,\\nAnd each adventure so sublimely tells,\\nThat all who view the idiot in his glory,\\nConceive the bard the hero of the story.\\nImmediately after the publication of the Lyrical Bal-\\nlads Wordsworth and his sister went to Germany in order\\nto improve their imperfect acquaintance with the German\\nlanguage. They passed the winter at Goslar but as they\\nseem to have made no acquaintances, their means of advance-\\nment was confined to reading German books privately.\\nThe winter was severe, and their comforts were few.\\nWordsworth says I slept in a room over a passage that\\nwas not ceiled. The people of the house used to say,\\nrather unfeelingly, that they expected that I should be\\nfrozen to death some night. Notwithstanding these dis-\\ncomforts, his muse was active, and he produced some of\\nhis most charming and characteristic pieces, i^mong which\\nare L-ucy Gray, Ruth, Nutting, and the Poet s\\nEpitaph. It was here, too, that The Prelude, the poeti-\\ncal autobiography of the author s mental growth, was\\nbegun. The Prelude, says a biographer, is a book of\\ngood augury for human nature. We feel in reading it as\\nif the stock of mankind were sound. The soul seems\\ngoing on from strength to strength by the mere develop-\\nment of her inborn power.\\nThe Prelude throws much light on Wordsworth s\\nintellectual development and his poetic characteristics.\\nIt shows us that from childhood nature had a peculiar fas-\\ncination for him. Its varied scenes of beauty, majesty,\\nand power left a deep impression on his sensitive nature.\\nAt the age of ten, he tells us", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0485.jp2"}, "484": {"fulltext": "4l6 ENGLISH LITERATURE,\\nEven then\\nI held unconscious intercourse with beauty\\nOld as creation, drinking in a pure\\nOrganic pleasure from the silver wreaths\\nOf curling mist, or from the level plain\\nOf waters colored by impending clouds.\\nBut, at the same time, the beautiful pastoral life he be-\\nheld among his native hills and dales taught him to love\\nman also\\nThus was man\\nEnnobled outwardly before my sight.\\nAnd thus my heart was early introduced\\nTo an unconscious love and reverence\\nOf human nature hence the human form\\nTo me became the index of delight.\\nOf grace and honor, power and worthiness.\\nWordsworth returned to England in 1799 and settled at\\nGrasmere in the Lake District, in which he spent the rest\\nof his life. The following year he published a new edition\\nof the Lyrical Ballads, containing many new pieces and\\nthe famous preface in which he laid down his poetical\\ncanons. These canons may be briefly stated as follows\\nI. Subjects are to be taken from rustic or common life,\\nbecause in that condition the essential passions of the\\nheart find a better soil in which they can attain their\\nmaturity, are less under restraint, and speak plainer and\\nmore emphatic language. 2. The language of common\\nlife, purified from its defects, is to be adopted, because men\\nof that station hourly communicate with the best objects\\nfrom which the best part of language is originally derived;\\nand because, being less under the action of social\\nvanity, they convey their feelings and notions in simple", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0486.jp2"}, "485": {"fulltext": "c\\n7S\\nrt\\nuo\\np\\nU]\\nM\\nrt\\nTD\\nu\\nu\\nUJ\\nU!\\na.\\nC\\nij\\no\\n1^\\ncm\\nw\\no\\nU)\\nv\\nj=\\n_C\\nM\\n2\\nu\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0o\\n11\\n0\\nrt\\nu\\nJ=\\n-5\\n1)\\nc\\nc\\n3\\no\\no\\no\\n1)\\nV\\nbe\\nw^\\nV\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a25\\n1\\nt;\\nx;\\nCAl\\nH\\nto\\nIL\\ns\\nI\\nD\\n10\\nc\\n3\\nJ\\nrt\\nX\\nQ\\nZ\\nu\\na:\\nUJ\\nH\\nm\\nJS\\ni-,\\n_i\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0p\\nQ\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0a:\\nH\\nu\\nc\\nUJ\\nw\\nU)\\nH\\nUJ\\nDu\\nUJ\\nX\\nH", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0487.jp2"}, "486": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0488.jp2"}, "487": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. 417\\nand unelaborated expressions. 3. There neither is nor\\ncan be any essential difference between the language of\\nprose and metrical composition.\\nThe most, perhaps, that can be said in favor of these\\nprinciples is that, without being absolutely true, they con-\\ntain elements of truth. Like Burns, Wordsworth has con-\\nferred a blessing on humanity in pointing out the beauty\\nof commonplace objects and incidents. We cannot spare\\nWe Are Seven, or Michael, which ought to be one\\nof our most popular poems. His naturalness of diction is\\nto be commended. Yet it must be said that Wordsworth\\nsometimes carries his principles to a ridiculous extent.\\nWhen he hits upon phrases like dear brother Jim, and\\nobjects like skimmed milk and\\nA household tub, like one of those\\nWhich women use to wash their clothes,\\nhis greatest admirers are forced to grieve.\\nWordsworth s Ufe in the Lake District was character-\\nized by great simplicity. There were no stirring events,\\nno great changes. His resources were increased by the\\npayment of an old debt due his father s estate. His mar-\\nriage, in 1802, to Miss Mary Hutchinson, brought into his\\nhome a real helpmate. Though decidedly domestic in her\\nturn, she was not without poetic feeling and appreciated\\nher husband s genius. The poet paid her this glowing\\ntribute\\nA being breathing thoughtful breath,\\nA traveller between life and death\\nThe reason firm, the temperate will,\\nEndurance, foresight, strength, and skill\\n2E", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0489.jp2"}, "488": {"fulltext": "41 8 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nA perfect woman nobly planned,\\nTo warn, to comfort, and command\\nAnd yet a spirit still, and bright\\nWith something of angelic light.\\nWith true feminine tact she presided over the poet s\\nhome, and softened as far as possible the unconscious ego-\\ntism into which his retirement and contemplation had be-\\ntrayed him. Dorothy Wordsworth shared their home.\\nThe life of this happy family was an illustration of plain\\nliving and high thinking. Much time was spent in the\\nopen air, and every foot of ground in the neighborhood\\nwas traversed by the poet and his sister. A large part\\nof his verse was composed during these daily rambles.\\nWhile extending a cordial welcome to congenial friends,\\nDe Quincey, Coleridge, Wilson, Southey, and others, he\\ncared little for neighborhood gossip. To him it was a fruit-\\nless waste of time. As he tells us in the sonnets entitled\\nPersonal Talk\\nBetter than such discourse doth silence long,\\nLong, barren silence, square with my desire\\nTo sit without emotion, hope, or aim.\\nIn the loved presence of my cottage fire.\\nAnd listen to the flapping of the flame.\\nOr kettle whispering its faint undersong.\\nThis quiet, humble, reflective Uf e is beautiful yet it has\\nits objectionable features. It leads to narrow and one-\\nsided views of life. It is not the way in which to develop\\na strong or heroic character. Yet it was adapted to\\nWordsworth s genius and produced a rich fruitage.\\nThe first great sorrow that came into the poet s life was\\nthe death of his brother John, captain of an East Indiaman.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0490.jp2"}, "489": {"fulltext": "C C\\nrt O\\nC 3\\n-5 -o\\n1) Ml)\\nCA) f\\nCO\\nUJ\\n[L\\nO\\nO\\n5\\nd:\\no\\nD\\nO\\nQ\\n2\\nUJ\\nH\\nQ\\nQ::\\nUJ\\nw\\nCO\\nUJ\\no\\n(L\\nUl\\nX\\nH\\nO", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0491.jp2"}, "490": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0492.jp2"}, "491": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. 419\\nHis vessel was wrecked in 1805 and sank with the cap-\\ntain at his post of duty. He had several years previously\\nspent a few months at Grasmere, and was looking for-\\nward to the time when he might settle there for life.\\nA strong attachment existed between him and his\\nbrother. It was but natural, therefore, that the poet should\\nwrite For myself, I feel that there is something cut\\nout of my life which cannot be restored. I never thought\\nof him but with hope and delight. We looked forward to\\nthe time, not distant, as we thought, when he would settle\\nnear us when the task of his life would be over, and he\\nwould have nothing to do but reap his reward. I\\nnever wrote a line without the thought of giving him\\npleasure my writings, printed and manuscript, were his\\ndelight, and one of the chief solaces of his long voyages.\\nThe same year saw the death of Nelson at Trafalgar.\\nThe death of the hero brought grief to the national heart.\\nCombining the traits of his brother John and Admiral\\nNelson, Wordsworth composed The Happy Warrior, a\\npoem of great dignity and weight a veritable manual of\\ngreatness. Who is the happy warrior He who owes,\\nTo virtue every triumph that he knows\\nWho, if he rise to station of command,\\nRises by open means and there will stand\\nOn honorable terms, or else retire,\\nAnd in himself possess his own desire\\nWho comprehends his trust, and to the same\\nKeeps faithful with a singleness of aim\\nAnd therefore does not stoop nor lie in wait\\nFor wealth, or honors, or for worldly state\\nWhom they must follow, on whose head must fall,\\nLike showers of manna, if they come at all.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0493.jp2"}, "492": {"fulltext": "420 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nEvery year increased the number of notable poems.\\nThere are two or three that deserve especial mention as\\nembodying peculiar views to some extent Wordsworth s\\nphilosophy of life. In a little poem called The Rainbow,\\nhe says\\nMy heart leaps up when I behold\\nA rainbow in the sky\\nSo was it when my life began\\nSo is it now I am a man\\nSo be it when I shall grow old,\\nOr let me die\\nThe child is father of the man\\nAnd I could wish my days to be\\nBound each to each by natural piety.\\nFar more is here expressed than appears at first reading.\\nWordsworth holds, to adopt the excellent interpretation\\nby Myers, that the instincts and pleasures of a healthy\\nchildhood sufficiently indicate the lines on which our\\nmaturer character should be formed. The joy which be-\\ngan in the mere sense of existence should be maintained\\nby hopeful faith; the simplicity which began in inex-\\nperience should be recovered by meditation the love\\nwhich originated in the family circle should expand itself\\nover the race of men. In the Ode to Duty, one of\\nWordsworth s noblest productions, we meet with this\\ngenial sense of youth\\nSerene .will be our days and bright,\\nAnd happy will our nature be,\\nWhen love is an unerring light,\\nAnd joy its own security.\\nIn the Ode on Immortality, in which we have per-\\nhaps the highest attainment of poetry in this century, he\\n1", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0494.jp2"}, "493": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. 42 1\\nmakes use of the Platonic doctrine of the preexistence of\\nthe soul to account for the glory that hovers over the visible\\nworld in childhood. As a child looks upon the various ob-\\njects of earth and sky, he unconsciously invests them, the\\npoet says-, with the splendor of the spiritual world from\\nwhich he has come. But as life advances, these recollec-\\ntions of a previous existence become fainter and fainter,\\nand at last the world degenerates into a commonplace\\nreality. Now read these splendid lines\\nOur birth is but a sleep and a forgetting\\nThe soul that rises with us, our life s star,\\nHath had elsewhere its setting,\\nAnd Cometh from afar\\nNot in entire forgetfulness,\\nAnd not in utter nakedness,\\nBut trailing clouds of glory do we come\\nFrom God, who is our home\\nHeaven lies about us in our infancy\\nShades of the prison house begin to close\\nUpon the growing boy,\\nBut he beholds the light and whence it flows.\\nHe sees it in his joy\\nThe youth, who daily further from the east\\nMust travel, still is nature s priest,\\nAnd by the vision splendid\\nIs on his way attended\\nAt length the man perceives it die away.\\nAnd fade into the light of common day.\\nIn 18 1 3 Wordsworth removed to Rydal Mount, where\\nhe spent the rest of his life. With increasing family\\nthree sons and two daughters had been born unto him\\ncame increasing wants and expenditures. His good for-", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0495.jp2"}, "494": {"fulltext": "422 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ntune did not desert him. He was appointed distributer of\\nstamps for the county of Westmoreland an office that\\nbrought him little labor, but five hundred pounds a year.\\nThe following year he published The Excursion, a\\ntedious and prosaic poem relieved here and there with\\npassages of surpassing beauty. It was coldly received,\\nand proved a financial loss. Jeffrey began a famous review\\nwith the contemptuous sentence, This will never do.\\nUp to this time Wordsworth had been the subject of con-\\ntinuously unfavorable criticism. No other writer, per-\\nhaps, ever had so protracted a struggle to gain a proper\\nrecognition.\\nBut through all this long period of misrepresentation\\nand detraction, Wordsworth did not lose confidence in him-\\nself. His genius was its own sufficient witness. He felt a\\npity for the ignorance of the world, but looked forward to\\na time when the merits of his poetry would be recognized.\\nWriting to a friend, he says Let me confine myself to\\nmy object, which is to make you, my dear friend, as easy\\nhearted as myself with respect to these poems. Trouble\\nnot yourself upon their present reception. Of what mo-\\nment is that compared with what I trust is their destiny\\nto console the afflicted; to add sunshine to daylight, by\\nmaking the happy happier to teach the young and the\\ngracious of every age to see, to think and feel, and there-\\nfore to become more actively and securely virtuous this is\\ntheir office, which I trust they will faithfully perform long\\nafter we (that is, all that is mortal of us) are mouldered in\\nour graves. What in many a man would savor of egotism\\ncomes from the lips of Wordsworth with the calm dignity\\nof conscious strength.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0496.jp2"}, "495": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. 423\\nHis hopes were not disappointed. The latter years of\\nhis life brought him great popularity and honor. In 1839\\nthe University of Oxford conferred upon him the degree of\\nDoctor of Civil Law three years later the government\\ngranted him a pension of three hundred pounds and upon\\nthe death of Southey he became poet laureate. His pure\\nand peaceful life came to an end April 23, 1850. And\\nsurely of him, if of any one, we may think as of a man who\\nwas so in accord with nature, so at one with the very soul\\nof things, that there can be no mansion of the universe\\nwhich shall not be to him a home, no Governor who will\\nnot accept him among his servants, and satisfy him with\\nlove and peace.\\nWordsworth s mind was evenly balanced; thought, im-\\nagination, and conscience all worked together in harmony.\\nThis fact gave sanity not only to his life, but also to his\\npoetry. His was not, as some persons have supposed, a\\nmild, gentle nature without energy. He had a strong will\\nand deep feelings but through stern self -discipline, he\\nhad brought them under rational control. The power of\\nhis intellectual and emotional nature is shown in number-\\nless passages, in which he reaches the sublimest heights\\nof poetry regions far beyond the attainment of any but\\nmighty spirits. There is much that is commonplace in his\\npoetry great tracts of dulness but in his moments of\\nfully aroused imaginative energy, he is unsurpassed, per-\\nhaps, by any other English poet except Shakespeare.\\nLike other lovers of nature, Wordsworth had a keen\\neye and ear for its beauties. His observations are minute\\nand accurate. Forms, colors, sounds, are all vividly caught\\nand reproduced in his poetry. To take but a single illus-", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0497.jp2"}, "496": {"fulltext": "424 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ntration, we read in A Night-Piece, dating from 1798, the\\nfollowing\\nThe traveller looks up the clouds are split\\nAsunder, and above his head he sees\\nThe clear moon, and the glory of the heavens.\\nThere, in a black-bkie vault she sails along.\\nFollowed by multitudes of stars, that, small\\nAnd sharp, and bright, along the dark abyss\\nDrive as she drives how fast they wheel away,\\nYet vanish not the wind is in the tree.\\nBut they are silent still they roll along\\nImmeasurably distant and the vault\\nBuilt round by those white clouds, enormous clouds.\\nBut Wordsworth was more than a mere observer. He\\nwas not satisfied to report the outward appearance of\\nthings, as were Scott and, in a large measure, Byron. He\\nlooked upon nature as interpenetrated by a divine, con-\\nscious spirit that could speak to his soul. Beneath the\\noutward beauties of the world he tried to catch its spirit-\\nual message. To him nature was a great teacher, sur-\\npassing the storehouses of human wisdom\\nBooks! tis a dull and endless strife\\nCome, hear the woodland linnet.\\nHow sweet his music on my life,\\nThere s more of wisdom in it.\\nAnd hark how blithe the throstle sings\\nHe, too, is no mean preacher\\nCome forth into the light of things.\\nLet Nature be your teacher.\\nOne impulse from a vernal wood\\nMay teach you more of man,\\nOf moral evil and of good,\\nThan all the sages can.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0498.jp2"}, "497": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0499.jp2"}, "498": {"fulltext": "Aged 42. Engraved by Samuel Cousins, A. R. A. .after the painting by Washington Allston, from\\nthe original picture in possession of George L. Barnard, Esq., London. Published 1854.\\nJ^ y. Cr^ L. i^^^ f^", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0500.jp2"}, "499": {"fulltext": "SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 425\\nSAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.\\nThe influence of Coleridge was surprising. Though his\\nworks are singularly fragmentary, he stands out as a prom-\\ninent figure among his great contemporaries. His in-\\nfluence seems due chiefly to his originality, his magnetic\\npersonal presence, and the stimulating quality of his intel-\\nlectual activity. He invented new forms of poetry, to\\nwhich Scott acknowledged himself indebted and he in-\\ntroduced German metaphysics, which was not without\\neffect on Wordsworth and many subsequent writers. His\\nstrong, restless intellect, while deficient in executive power,\\nwas constantly blazing new paths for others. He pos-\\nsessed, in extraordinary degree, the mental endowment\\nwhich we denominate genius.\\nSamuel Taylor Coleridge was born in Devonshire,\\nOct. 21, 1772, the youngest of a family of ten children.\\nHis mother, though a woman of strong sense, was not\\nwithout her prejudices. She bade her sons beware of what\\nshe called harpsichord ladies. His father was vicar of\\nOttery St. Mary and head-master of the free grammar\\nschool there. He was a scholar of some attainments and\\nprepared a Latin grammar, in which he proposed to clear\\nup the obscurities of the accusative by calling it the\\nquale-quare-quidditive case. He was accustomed to\\nedify his congregation by quotations from the Hebrew,\\nwhich he commended to their attention as the immediate", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0501.jp2"}, "500": {"fulltext": "426 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nlanguage of the Holy Ghost. The image of my father,\\nColeridge wrote years afterward, my revered, kind,\\nsimple-hearted father, is a religion to me.\\nColeridge was educated at home until he was eight years\\nold. His imaginative and meditative temper led observers\\nto regard him as a remarkable child and to predict for\\nhim no ordinary career. At the age of ten he was entered\\nat Christ s Hospital, where poetry, metaphysics, and theol-\\nogy engrossed his attention. At a very premature age,\\neven before my fifteenth year, he tells us in the Bio-\\ngraphia Literaria, I had bewildered myself in metaphysics\\nand in theological controversy. Nothing else pleased me.\\nHistory and particularly facts lost all interest in my mind.\\nPoetry (though for a schoolboy of that age I was above\\npar in English versification, and had already produced two\\nor three compositions which I may venture to say were\\nsomewhat above mediocrity, and which had gained me\\nmore credit than the sound good sense of my old master\\nwas at all pleased with) poetry itself, yea, novels and\\nromances, became insipid to me.\\nIt is to this period that Lamb s well-known description\\nin the Essays of Elia belongs. Come back into mem-\\nory, he exclaims, like as thou wast in the daysprihg of\\nthy fancies, with hope like a fiery column before thee\\nthe dark pillar not yet turned Samuel Taylor Coleridge,\\nlogician, metaphysician, bard How have I seen the cas-\\nual passer through the cloisters stand stijl, entranced with\\nadmiration (while he weighed the disproportion between\\nthe speech and the garb of the young Mirandula), to hear\\nthee unfold, in thy deep and sweet intonations, the mys-\\nteries of lamblichus or Plotinus (for even in those years", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0502.jp2"}, "501": {"fulltext": "SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERLDGE. 427\\nthou waxedst not pale at such philosophic draughts), or\\nreciting Homer in his Greek, or Pindar, while the walls of\\nthe old Gray Friars reechoed to the accents of the inspired\\nchanty-boy\\nUnder the master, the Rev. James Bowyer, a man of\\nsevere taste, he received a careful training in composition\\nand literary criticism. No mercy was shown to any phrase\\nor metaphor that would not stand the test of sound sense.\\nHarp, lyre, muse, Pegasus, Parnassus, words so dear to\\nmany a schoolboy, were severely dealt with. In\\nfancy, says Coleridge as he writes his literary memoirs,\\nI can almost hear him now, exclaiming Harp Harp\\nLyre.? Pen and ink, boy, you mean! Muse, boy. Muse.?\\nYour nurse s daughter, you mean Pierian spring Oh,\\naye the cloister-pump, I suppose The young student\\nwas taught to prefer Demosthenes to Cicero, Homer to\\nVirgil, and Virgil to Ovid. His attention was called to the\\nexquisite skill with which the great poets select and arrange\\ntheir words.\\nIn 1792 he entered Jesus College, Cambridge. The\\nrecords of his college life are meagre. Within a few\\nmonths of his entrance he won a gold medal for a Greek\\node on the slave-trade a poem of which he himself\\nafterward said that -the ideas were better than the\\nlanguage or metre in which they were conveyed. His\\nreading was extensive and miscellaneous. He took a keen\\ninterest in the political movements of the day, and with\\nhis leisurely habits and splendid conversational gifts\\nnaturally drew a crowd of admirers around him. Accord-\\ning to the account of a fellow-student, He was ready at\\nany time to unbend his mind in conversation, and for the", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0503.jp2"}, "502": {"fulltext": "428 ENbLISH LITERATURE.\\nsake of this his room was a constant rendezvous of con-\\nversation-loving friends.\\nIn the latter part of 1793 Coleridge suddenly left\\nCambridge and going to London enlisted in the Light\\nDragoons. The cause of this singular escapade, whether\\ndisappointment in love or despondency over debts, has not\\nbeen made plain. He was utterly unsuited to military\\nservice. Apart from constitutional awkwardness, he sadly\\nlacked physical energy a lack that manifested itself par-\\nticularly in a strong repugnance to caring for his horse.\\nFinally, a striking Latin sentence which he wrote on the\\nstable wall attracted attention to his scholarly attainments,\\nand after four months of service influential friends ob-\\ntained his discharge. He returned to the university, but\\nleft it in a few months without taking his degree.\\nIn 1794 Coleridge visited Oxford, where he met Southey.\\nThis was the beginning of a lifelong friendship. The\\nyoung men were drawn together by their poetic gifts and\\npolitical sympathies. Coleridge communicated his newly\\nformed scheme to found a socialistic community on the\\nbanks of the Susquehanna a scheme to which he had\\ngiven the novel and descriptive name of Pantisocracy. All\\nproperty was to be held in common each member was to\\nwork for the good of the entire community and all were\\nto have an equal share in administering the government.\\nSouthey greeted the Utopian scheme with enthusiasm.\\nDisappointed by the cruel excesses of the French Revolu-\\ntion, from which both young men had expected a new and\\nbetter social order, they wished to show their faith in a\\npure democracy, and with this pantisocratic community to\\nmark the beginning of a happier age. But there was one\\n1\\n4", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0504.jp2"}, "503": {"fulltext": "SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERLDGE.\\n429\\ndifficulty in the way of these hopeful young men. That\\nwas money. And when after a year s effort the requisite\\nmeans were not forthcoming, the splendid scheme was\\nreluctantly abandoned.\\nBut it had not been without at least one important result\\nfor Coleridge. One of the requirements of the pantisocratic\\nscheme was that each member should take unto himself a\\ngentle, loving woman as his wife. To this requirement\\nColeridge had responded with more than his usual prompt-\\nness. In 1795 he married Miss Sarah Fricker, sister to\\nSouthey s betrothed, and at last added another to the\\nunfortunate list of unhappy marriages in the history of\\nEnglish men of letters. After a few years his transcen-\\ndental moods refused to submit to the yoke of common-\\nplace domestic duties. His wife was perhaps lacking in\\nappreciation and sympathy; but his dreamy, shiftless\\nways, which often left the family without bread, imposed\\nno ordinary strain on her patience. Unable to provide\\nfor his family, Coleridge finally left them dependent on\\nSouthey, while he himself led an unsettled, precarious life\\namong various friends.\\nIn 1796 Coleridge may be said to have begun his\\neditorial career with the pubHcation of The Watchman,\\na periodical appearing every eight days and devoted to\\ntruth and freedom. The editor himself made a tour of\\nnorthern England for subscribers, and in the Biographia\\nLiteraria has left us a humorous and delightful account\\nof his experiences. At Birmingham he was introduced to\\na tallow-chandler, upon whom he exhausted all the mar-\\nvellous resources of his brain and tongue. I argued, he\\nsays, I described, I promised, I prophesied and begin-", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0505.jp2"}, "504": {"fulltext": "430 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nning with the captivity of nations, I ended with the near\\napproach of the millennium. But it was all in vain. The\\nhard man of the world refused to be persuaded and finally\\nbrought the interview to an abrupt termination. I am\\nas great a one, he said, as any man in Brummagem, sir,\\nfor liberty and truth and all them sort of things, but as to\\nthis, no offence I hope, sir, I must beg to be excused.\\nColeridge had no talent for business and as a writer, in\\nthe interests of liberty and truth, he showed a sublime\\ndisregard for the opinions and prejudices of his patrons.\\nAs a natural result. The Watchmaji, after a career more\\nvaliant than wise, suspended publication at the end of two\\nmonths. More than a dozen years later he established\\nanother weekly called The Friend, which, as might be\\nsupposed, had likewise only a brief existence.\\nIn 1797 Coleridge published at Bristol his first volume\\nof poetry. A second edition, enlarged and revised, ap-\\npeared the following year. Though this volume met with\\nan encouraging reception, it was still criticised for its\\ngeneral turgidity of style. The poet recognized the jus-\\ntice of this criticism and frankly confessed that in the\\nsecond edition he used his best efforts to tame the swell\\nand glitter both of thought and diction. He wrote from\\nthe necessity of an inner impulse and expected neither\\nprofit nor fame. Poetry has been to me, he says, its\\nown exceeding great reward it has soothed my afflic-\\ntion it has multiplied and refined my enjoyments; it has\\nendeared solitude and it has given me the habit of wish-\\ning to discover the good and the beautiful in all that meets\\nand surrounds me.\\nThe poems in this volume, which hardly contains any-\\nm", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0506.jp2"}, "505": {"fulltext": "SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 43 1\\nthing preeminent, reveal to us something of the power\\nand spirit of Coleridge. He is master of lofty thought,\\nfervid feehng, and splendid expression. Many of the\\npoems, juvenile in character, do not rise above the com-\\nmonplace but the best of them move on a lofty plane\\nand have a deep, majestic music. Sincere in thought and\\npurpose, they give us glimpses into the poet s life and re-\\nveal to us his poHtical convictions and religious beliefs.\\nIn the ^Eolian Harp he shows us something of the tran-\\nscendental spirit, which is frequently met with in his\\npoetry\\nAnd what if all of animated nature\\nBe but organic harps diversely framed,\\nThat tremble into thought as o er them sweeps,\\nPlastic and vast, one intellectual breeze,\\nAt once the soul of each, and God of all\\nAfter his marriage Coleridge retired to Clevedon on the\\nBristol Channel, where he spent a protracted honeymoon.\\nIn his Reflections on Leaving a Place of Retirement\\nhe has given us a description of the pretty cottage he\\noccupied there, in which he passed what were probably\\nthe happiest months of his Hfe\\nLow was our pretty cot our tallest rose\\nPeeped at the chamber-window. We could hear\\nAt silent noon, and eve, and early morn,\\nThe sea s faint murmur. In the open air\\nOur myrtles blossomed and across the porch\\nThick jasmines twined the little landscape round\\nWas green and woody, and refreshed the eye.\\nReligious Musings is a majestic poem on religion\\nand politics. The Destiny of Nations, besides some", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0507.jp2"}, "506": {"fulltext": "432 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\neloquent passages, contains a noteworthy definition of\\nfreedom\\nFor what is freedom, but the unfettered use\\nOf all the powers which God for use had given?\\nIn the Ode to France, which Shelley pronounced the\\nfinest in the English language, the poet tells, with great\\nfervor of emotion,\\nWith what deep worship he has still adored\\nThe spirit of divinest Liberty.\\nIn 1 797 Coleridge removed to Nether Stowey in Somer-\\nsetshire, where he occupied a house placed at his disposal\\nby an admiring friend. Here he lived on terms of inti-\\nmacy with Wordsworth, whom he had met a year or two\\npreviously. In spite of his self-complacency, Coleridge\\nsaid that he felt himself as nothing in comparison with\\nWordsworth. And Wordsworth, who was far from flat-\\ntering his contemporaries, declared that Coleridge was\\nthe only wonderful man he had ever known. Without\\na thought of hterary jealousy, the two poets worked\\ntogether in beautiful fellowship, seeking each other s coun-\\nsel and stimulating each other s activity.\\nIn his poem To William Wordsworth Coleridge pays\\na beautiful tribute to the preeminent gifts of his friend.\\nThe poem was written on the night after Wordsworth had\\nrecited some verses on the growth of an individual mind in\\nThe Prelude\\nO great Bard\\nEre yet that last strain dying awed the air,\\nWith steadfast eye I viewed thee in the choir\\nOf ever-enduring men. The truly great", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0508.jp2"}, "507": {"fulltext": "SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 433\\nHave all one age, and from one visible space\\nShed influence They, both in power and act,\\nAre permanent, and Time is not with them,\\nSave as it worketh for them, they in it.\\nThe poems of this period exhibit clearly, especially in\\ntheir deeper sympathy with nature, the influence of Words-\\nworth. Thus, in The Nightingale, written in 1798, Cole-\\nridge says that there is nothing melancholy in nature, and\\nthat the sorrowing poet, who wronged philomel by calling\\nits song sad,\\nHad better far have stretched his limbs\\nBeside a brook in mossy forest-dell.\\nBy sun or moon-light, to the influxes\\nOf shapes and sounds and shifting elements\\nSurrendering his whole spirit, of his song\\nAnd of his fame forgetful so his fame\\nShould share in Nature s immortality,\\nA venerable thing and so his song\\nShould make all Nature lovelier, and itself\\nBe loved like Nature.\\nFor Coleridge the most important poetic result of this\\nassociation with Wordsworth was the composition of The\\nRime of the Ancient Mariner. The poem appeared in\\nthe Lyrical Ballads prepared jointly by the two poets in\\n1798. This volume was written to illustrate two points,\\nnamely, the power of exciting the sympathy of the reader\\nby a faithful adherence to the truth of nature, and the power\\nof giving the interest of novelty by the modifying colors of\\nthe imagination. In carrying out these principles, it was\\nagreed that Coleridge should treat of persons and charac-\\nters supernatural, or at least romantic. Wordsworth, on\\n2F", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0509.jp2"}, "508": {"fulltext": "434 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nthe other hand, was to give the charm of novelty to com-\\nmonplace things and direct attention to the loveliness and\\nwonders of the world about us. Both did their work mar-\\nvellously well and produced an epoch-making book. I\\nfound in these poems, says De Quincey, the ray of a\\nnew morning, and an absolute revelation of untrodden\\nworlds, teeming with power and beauty, as yet unsuspected\\namong men.\\nIn conformity with the guiding principle he had adopted,\\nColeridge wrote the Ancient Mariner, in which he lends,\\nin a wonderful degree, the force of reality to what is purely\\nimaginary. It is wholly unlike anything else he ever\\nwrote. It is remarkable for its strong ballad style, for its\\nvivid descriptions, and for its rounded completeness of\\nform. Of its kind there is, perhaps, nothing better in our\\nlanguage. The lesson of the poem, though it was not\\nwritten for its moral, is contained in the parting words of\\nthe dreadful mariner\\nFarewell, farewell but this I tell\\nTo thee, thou wedding-guest\\nHe prayeth well who loveth well\\nBoth man and bird and beast.\\nHe prayeth best, who loveth best\\nAll things both great and small\\nFor the dear God who loveth us,\\nHe made and loveth all.\\nAnother piece appearing in the Lyrical Ballads is\\nLove, the sweetest of all Coleridge s poems. It is dis-\\ntinguished for its soft, fascinating melody a quality for\\nwhich the author especially prized it. The opening stanza\\nis often quoted", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0510.jp2"}, "509": {"fulltext": "SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERLDGE. 435\\nAll thoughts, all passions, all delights,\\nWhatever stirs this mortal frame,\\nAll are but ministers of Love,\\nAnd feed his sacred flame.\\nChristabel, originally intended for the Lyrical Bal-\\nlads, but not published till several years later, was written\\naccording to the poetic principle that had produced the\\nAncient Mariner. Unfortunately it was never com-\\npleted. Of the two parts we have, one was written in\\n1797 and the other in 1800. The metre is founded on\\na new principle, namely, that of counting in each line the\\naccents, not the syllables. Though the latter may vary\\nfrom seven to twelve, yet in each line the accents will be\\nfound to be only four. The characters of Christabel,\\nSir Leoline, and the sorceress Geraldine are a Httle\\nshadowy; but when read and reread, the poem is seen\\nto possess astonishing power the noblest torso in Eng-\\nlish literature. It contains a remarkable passage, which\\nthe poet regarded as the best he ever wrote\\nAlas they had been friends in youth\\nBut whispering tongues can poison truth.\\nThey parted ne er to meet again\\nBut never either found another\\nTo free the hollow heart from paining\\nThey stood aloof, the scars remaining,\\nLike cliffs which had been rent asunder\\nA dreary sea now flows between,\\nBut neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder.\\nShall wholly do away, I ween.\\nThe marks of that which once hath been.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0511.jp2"}, "510": {"fulltext": "436 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nIn 1798, impelled perhaps by the lack of means, Cole-\\nridge thought of becoming a Unitarian preacher and of\\nabandoning literature forever. Hazlitt has given an en-\\nthusiastic description of one of his sermons, in which\\npoetry and philosophy, truth and genius, had embraced,\\nunder the eye and with the sanction of religion. But an\\nannuity of one hundred and fifty pounds bestowed upon\\nhim by the Wedgwood brothers, who admired his genius,\\nsaved him for literature. In September, in company with\\nWordsworth and his sister Dorothy, Coleridge went to\\nGermany, where he devoted himself assiduously first to\\nthe language and afterward to metaphysics and theology.\\nIn Satyrane s Letters he has given an account of his\\nexperiences, and exhibited a larger sense of humor than\\nis to be found elsewhere in his writings. It was during\\nthis sojourn abroad that he wrote the sublime Hymn\\nbefore Sunrise, inspired by the awful grandeur of Mont\\nBlanc.\\nHe returned to England at the end of fourteen months\\nand as the first fruit of his visit to Germany he translated\\nSchiller s Wallenstein, which was printed in 1800. The\\ntranslation is admirably made, improving, some maintain,\\non the original but it was not till some years later, when\\nColeridge s fame was well established, that its excellence\\nwas fully recognized. This same year he took charge of\\nthe literary and political department of the Morning Post.\\nHis princely gifts were speedily recognized, and the pro-\\nprietor offered him a half-interest in the newspaper busi-\\nness, which would have brought him, as he estimated,\\nabout two thousand pounds a year. But I told him,\\nsays Coleridge in a characteristic passage, that I would", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0512.jp2"}, "511": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0513.jp2"}, "512": {"fulltext": "7", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0514.jp2"}, "513": {"fulltext": "SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERLDGE. 437\\nnot give up the country and the lazy reading of old folios\\nfor two thousand times two hundred pounds in short,\\nthat beyond three hundred and fifty pounds a year I con-\\nsidered money a real evil.\\nThe year Wallen stein was published, Coleridge\\nremoved to the Lake District in the north of England,\\nmade famous by the residence also of Wordsworth and\\nSouthey. To these three poets, who have something in\\ncommon m style, has been given the name of Lake School.\\nAt this period the mind and character of Coleridge under-\\nwent a serious and baleful change. About a year after his\\nsettling at Keswick, his health became seriously impaired\\nand seeking relief from acute pain, he resorted to the use\\nof opiates. He found physical relief for a time, but at\\nlength discovered that he was held in a terrible bondage.\\nHis will became more enfeebled and vacillating and,\\nworst of all, his imagination lost its imperial sweep and\\npower. His Ode to Dejection, written in the spring of\\n1802, possesses a deep biographic interest:\\nBut now afflictions bow me down to earth\\nNor care I that they rob me of my mirth,\\nBut oh each visitation\\nSuspends what nature gave me at my birth,\\nMy shaping spirit of Imagination.\\nIn 1804 Coleridge sailed for Malta, where for a time he\\nacted as secretary to the governor of the island, Sir Alex-\\nander Bell. The drudgery of his office, and the regular\\nhabits it enforced, at length became intolerable. He went\\nto Rome, where he interested himself in the treasures of\\nart, and after an absence of two years and a half he", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0515.jp2"}, "514": {"fulltext": "438 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nreturned to England. The opium habit, which had gained\\na deeper hold on him, rendered his life for the next ten\\nyears almost indescribably wretched. His poetic faculty\\nhad passed away, and in prose he was unequal to any\\nserious task. Southey shed tears over the wreck of his\\ngenius. Only his colloquial powers still retained some-\\nthing of their former splendor. He talked very much\\nUke an angel, Lord Egmont said, and did nothing\\nat all.\\nDuring the period under consideration Coleridge deliv-\\nered several courses of lectures in London and Bristol.\\nHis first series, delivered in 1808, was a course on Poetry\\nand the Fine Arts, for which the Royal Institution agreed\\nto pay him one hundred guineas. His reputation at first\\nattracted large audiences of distinguished people. But he\\nhad become, to use a word of his own coinage, wholly\\nunreliable. In spite of his honorable intentions, no de-\\npendence could be placed in any appointments he made.\\nHe frequently disappointed his audiences and when he\\ndid appear, he sadly failed to meet expectations. His\\nvast powers of extemporaneous discourse had deserted\\nhim. But a few years later, when he had somewhat\\nrecovered his natural tone of body and mind, his old-time\\nfervor and power returned. His words seemed to flow,\\nit was said, as from a person repeating with grace and\\nenergy some delightful poem. His lectures on Shake-\\nspeare, the substance of which has been preserved, give\\nhim a foremost place among Shakespeare s critics.\\nIn 18 1 3 his play Remorse, which had been written\\nyears before, was accepted, upon Byron s recommenda-\\ntion, by Drury Lane Theatre. The scene is laid in Spain", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0516.jp2"}, "515": {"fulltext": "SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERLDGE. 439\\nat the time of the Inquisition under PhiHp II. The piece\\nis not without striking passages and had a brilHant suc-\\ncess, running for twenty nights. It brought Coleridge\\nthree times as much as all his other literary productions\\nput together a most welcome boon at a time of pressing\\nnecessity. A second drama, Zapolya, written at the\\nsuggestion of Byron, was destined never to see the foot-\\nlights, but on its publication in 181 7 it became so popular\\nthat two thousand copies were sold in six weeks.\\nWith the year 18 16 there came a change for the better.\\nRealizing his inability to break the bonds of his terrible\\nslavery, Coleridge placed himself under the care of Mr.\\nGillman, a surgeon of Highgate, London. No wiser or\\nkinder guardian could have been chosen. For the rest of\\nhis life Coleridge remained an inmate of this hospitable\\nhome, and succeeded, in large measure, in breaking away\\nfrom the thraldom of his fatal habit. With returning\\nhealth something of his former power came back. His\\nmost important prose works belong to this period.\\nThe Statesman s Manual appeared in 1816, and the\\nyear following he published the Biographia Literaria, or\\nSketches of my Literary Life and Opinions, one of the\\nmost interesting of his many works.\\nThe life of Coleridge has been divided into three periods,\\naccording to the prevailing character of his intellectual\\nactivity. The first, extending to the year 1798, has been\\ncalled the poetic period the second, extending to the year\\n18 1 8, the critical period and the third, extending to his\\ndeath in 1834, the theological period. During this last\\nperiod the prevaiUng interest of his life was metaphysics\\nand theology. In philosophy he was a transcendentalist.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0517.jp2"}, "516": {"fulltext": "440 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nHe was a profound student of the German metaphysicians,\\nparticularly of Kant, Schelling, and Hegel, whose teach-\\nings he was the first to naturalize in England. In large\\nmeasure he adopted the philosophical system of Kant, and\\ninsisted particularly on the great German s distinction be-\\ntween the reaso7t and the iinderstajiding. In 1825 he pub-\\nlished his Aids to Reflection, the purpose of which was\\nto show that the Christian faith is the perfection of\\nhuman intelligence. It is regarded by many as his\\nablest work.\\nThere was a wonderful magnetism about Coleridge s\\npersonality. He gathered about him a circle of disciples,\\nwho revered him as a prophet. His conversation exerted\\na fascinating power, even when by reason of its depth or\\ntranscendentalism it was not clearly understood. No\\nmore wonderful talker has appeared since the days of\\nJohnson. His Table Talk, preserved by his nephew,\\ngives an idea of the acuteness and variety of his ob-\\nservation, though not of his inspired impressiveness.\\nThroughout a long-drawn summer s day, says Henry\\nNelson Coleridge, would this man talk to you in low,\\nequable, but clear and musical tones, concerning things\\nhuman and divine marshalling all history, harmonizing\\nall experiment, probing the depths of your consciousness,\\nand revealing visions of glory and of terror to the imagi-\\nnation but pouring withal such floods of light upon the\\nmind that you might, for a season, like Paul, become blind\\nin the very act of conversion.\\nColeridge calmly passed away July 25, 1834. In spite\\nof his many defects of character and life, his aims were\\n1 See Carlyle s sketch in the Life of Sterling.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0518.jp2"}, "517": {"fulltext": "SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 441\\npure and good. As God hears me, he wrote only a\\nfew months before his death, the originating, continuing,\\nand sustaining wish and design in my heart were to exalt\\nthe glory of His name and, which is the same thing in\\nother words, to promote the improvement of mankind.\\nThat he did not, with his magnificent gifts, accomplish\\nmore was due to a will of singular infirmity. He did not\\nrestrain his thought and imagination, which moved in\\nlarge orbits like Saturn or Jupiter, within the range of his\\npower of achievement. And in the composition of his\\nworks he was constantly drawn aside from the logical\\npath of development by every beautiful prospect that\\nburst upon him from adjacent fields. His works are rarely\\nsystematic and complete but in spite of their obvious de-\\nfects, they are suggestive, original, profound, ranking him\\nas one of the greatest thinkers of his age.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0519.jp2"}, "518": {"fulltext": "442 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nPERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.\\nNo one can doubt that Shelley s fame has been growing\\nsince his death. The age in which he wrote was little\\ntolerant toward his revolutionary principles and ideals.\\nBut since that time human culture has gained in breadth.\\nWe have become more catholic in our sympathies and\\nmore tolerant in our judgments. Instead of an incon-\\nsiderate condemnation of Shelley, we are disposed to give\\nhim a hearing and to recognize any excellence he may be\\nshown to possess. In our inquiry we shall find much to\\ncondemn, but also much to admire.\\nShelley s life was a tragically sad one. He started out\\nwith the high and sanguine hopes of an ardent nature.\\nHe was thoroughly unselfish in his aims. He hoped to\\nsee society regenerated and to play an important part in\\nits regeneration. But his ardent efforts were coldly re-\\nceived. He was misunderstood he was harshly assailed\\nhe finally suffered from a sense of loneliness. Even the\\nbeauties of nature failed at length to awaken the bound-\\ning joy of his earlier years. In **The Lament, the best\\nof his short lyrics, he has given beautiful expression to his\\ngrowing sadness\\nO world, O life, O time\\nOn whose last steps I climb,\\nTrembling at that where I had stood before\\nWhen will return the glory of your prime?\\nNo more oh, never more.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0520.jp2"}, "519": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0521.jp2"}, "520": {"fulltext": "^1", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0522.jp2"}, "521": {"fulltext": "PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. 443\\nOut of the day and night\\nA joy has taken flight\\nFresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar,\\nMove my faint heart with grief, but with delight\\nNo more oh, never more.\\nPercy Bysshe Shelley was born in Sussex, Aug. 4,\\n1792, in a family of wealth and titles. His mother was\\na woman of great beauty, but without literary tastes. His\\nfather was a choleric, obstinate man, whose notions of\\nmorality had been imbibed in the school of Chesterfield.\\nIn Parliament his statesmanship was confined to a rigid\\nadherence to party measures. As a hard-headed, practical\\nman, he utterly failed to appreciate the genius of his son.\\nShelley exhibited in childhood the leading traits that\\ncharacterized him in manhood. His literary bent mani-\\nfested itself in the composition of a play before he was\\nten years old. At Zion House Academy, the first public\\nschool to which he was sent, he learned the classic lan-\\nguages almost by intuition. He was fond of reading, but\\nwas indifferent to physical sports and while his school-\\nfellows were at their games, he frequently remained alone,\\nabsorbed in day-dreams. His sensitive, independent nature\\ncould not brook\\nThe harsh and grating strife of tyrants and of foes\\nand it was here, as we learn from the prologue to The\\nRevolt of Islam, that he first consciously espoused the\\nprinciples of freedom.\\nAt the age of thirteen Shelley entered Eton, where, as\\nwe might expect, he did not fall in readily with the dis-\\ncipline and customs of the school. His spirit of inde-\\npendence asserted itself strongly, and he organized a", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0523.jp2"}, "522": {"fulltext": "444 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nformal rebellion against the fagging system. He was\\nknown as Mad Shelley. Though he became very pro-\\nficient in Latin and Greek, a large part of his time was de-\\nvoted to other than the prescribed studies. He acquired\\nknowledge with astonishing facility, for he had a retentive\\nmemory, and mastered books with extraordinary rapidity.\\nHe wrote a novel, Zastrozzi, which, in spite of its small\\nmerit, found a publisher, and brought him forty pounds.\\nHe had a special fondness for natural science, of which he\\npredicted great things and though it was forbidden, he\\nspent a good deal of time in chemical and electrical ex-\\nperiments. His yearning for knowledge, in connection\\nwith his imaginative temperament, led him, like another\\nFaust, to seek communion with the world of spirits. Of\\nthis experience we have an interesting reminiscence in the\\nsplendid Hymn to Intellectual Beauty\\nWhile yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped\\nThro many a listening chamber, cave, and ruin,\\nAnd starlight woods, with fearful steps pursuing\\nHopes of high talk with the departed dead\\nI called on poisonous names with which our youth is fed.\\nI was not heard, I saw them not.\\nIn due course of time Shelley entered University\\nCollege, Oxford, in 1810. His brief university career\\nmay be anticipated in its essential features. He cared\\nlittle for the prescribed studies and showed a marked\\ndistaste for mathematics. He had a strong predilection\\nfor metaphysical studies, and Plato, at this time, became\\na favorite author. The perusal of Hume and the French\\nmaterialists now confirmed him in his sceptical beliefs.\\nHis enthusiasm for natural science continued without", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0524.jp2"}, "523": {"fulltext": "PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. 445\\nabatement, and his room, it is said, was a perfect chaos of\\nchemical apparatus, electrical machines, furniture burned\\nby acids, scattered volumes, and unfinished manuscripts.\\nHe was tall and handsome too beautiful to paint, it\\nwas said. His life was singularly pure and a coarse or\\nindecent jest aroused his indignation. His manners, gov-\\nerned by an innate delicacy of feeling, were charming for\\ntheir unvaried grace and refinement. Two fixed principles\\nof his character, according to the testimony of his friend\\nand biographer Hogg, were a strong irrepressible love of\\nliberty of liberty in the abstract, and somewhat after\\nthe pattern of the ancient republics, without reference\\nto the English constitution, respecting which he knew\\nlittle and cared nothing, heeding it not at all. The second\\nwas an equally ardent love of toleration of all opinions,\\nbut more especially of religious opinions of toleration,\\ncomplete, universal, unlimited and, as a deduction and\\ncorollary from which latter principle, he felt an intense\\nabhorrence of persecution of every kind, public or private.\\nThough paying but little attention to poetry, he yet\\nrelieved his severer studies with occasional verses. At\\nlength, in connection with Hogg, he turned a collection\\nof them into burlesque effusions, breathing tyrannicide\\nand revolution. These were published as the Posthu-\\nmous Fragments of Margaret Nicholson, an insane old\\nwoman who had attempted the life of George HI. with\\na carving knife. The printer entered into the joke,\\nand the book was issued in fine style. It was received\\nas a genuine production, was soon in everybody s hands,\\nand became the talk of the town to the great delight,\\nno doubt, of the youthful jokers.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0525.jp2"}, "524": {"fulltext": "446 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nBut Shelley s next publication was not so pleasant in\\nits results. He made a brief abstract of Hume s essays\\nand published it as a two-page pamphlet entitled The\\nNecessity of Atheism. This he sent to various promi-\\nnent people, saying that he had come across it casually,\\nand that he desired their assistance in answering it.\\nThose who were caught in the trap by answering, he\\nfell upon with merciless severity. But this trick was\\nsuddenly cut short. One day (March 25, 181 1) he was\\nsummoned before the master of the university and\\nupon his refusing to answer any questions in regard to\\nthe obnoxious pamphlet, he was unceremoniously ex-\\npelled.\\nThis unexpected action was a stunning blow and carried\\nwith it more serious consequences than the surrender of\\nhis agreeable life at the university. He was tenderly\\ndevoted to his cousin, Harriet Grove, who now discarded\\nhim on account of his atheistical views. His father, after\\nsome futile efforts at concihation, forbade his return home,\\nand cut off his allowance of money. Thus he was thrown\\nupon his own resources at a time when he was poorly\\nfitted to make his way in the world.\\nHe went to London and in his distress and need his\\nsisters, who were at school there, came to his assistance.\\nThey generously turned over to him their pocket money\\nand other small gifts, with which for a time he eked out a\\nsubsistence. The acquaintance he now formed with a\\nschool friend of his sisters was attended with momentous\\nresults. Harriet Westbrook was a pretty, bright girl of\\nsixteen, with a pleasant voice and cheerful temper. He\\nbegan to initiate her into his sceptical and free-love prin-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0526.jp2"}, "525": {"fulltext": "PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. AfA. J\\nciples, by which, as he said, she was to be added to the\\nlist of the good, the disinterested, and the free. She\\nproved an apt scholar and repaid her teacher, as was to\\nbe expected, with a feeling deeper than gratitude. She\\nnot unnaturally grew tired of school and when her father,\\na wealthy coffee-house keeper, insisted on her return, she\\npersistently refused and threw herself on the protection\\nof Shelley. He could not resist this appeal, especially as\\nhe had advised resistance and having now received an\\nallowance of two hundred pounds from his father, he\\neloped with her to Edinburgh, where out of deference to\\nthe anarch custom they were married in August, 1811.\\nThe next several years of Shelley s life were remarkably\\nmigratory. For a short time he lived at York then at\\nKeswick in the Lake District, where he met Southey and\\nWordsworth; next in Dublin, where he went as a self-\\nappointed champion of Catholic emancipation after-\\nward in Wales, and then back in London. During this\\nperiod his domestic life, in spite of frequent removals,\\nwas happy. His wife was fond of reading aloud to\\nhim she pursued her studies under his direction, and\\nin every way she proved an affectionate and helpful\\ncompanion.\\nDuring this time of restless wandering Shelley dili-\\ngently kept up his studies. Everywhere he went, he sur-\\nrounded himself with books. He dipped into Kant and\\nSpinoza, and studied Italian in order to read Dante, Tasso,\\nand Petrarch. He completed his first extended poem,\\nQueen Mab, in 181 3, and printed two hundred and\\nfifty copies for private distribution. It is an intemperate\\nattack on the existing form of society, government, and", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0527.jp2"}, "526": {"fulltext": "448 ENGLISH LITERATURE,\\nreligion. It sets forth the poet s peculiar social and polit-\\nical principles but his fervid enthusiasm at times carries\\nhim into amusing or pitiable extravagance. Though gen-\\nerally esteemed but lightly, it exhibits his great lyrical\\npower and contains passages of rare beauty. Here is\\nthe opening stanza\\nHow wonderful is Death,\\nDeath and his brother Sleep\\nOne, pale as yonder waning moon,\\nWith lips of lurid blue\\nThe other, rosy as the morn\\nWhen, throned on ocean s wave,\\nIt blushes o er the world\\nYet both so passing wonderful\\nContrary to his professions, Shelley was not in the strict\\nsense an atheist. He recognized the immanence of a world-\\nforming and world-governing Spirit. To this belief he\\ngives beautiful expression in Queen Mab\\nSpirit of Nature thou\\nLife of interminable multitude\\nSoul of those mighty spheres\\nWhose changeless paths through Heaven s deep silence lie\\nSoul of that smallest being,\\nThe dwelling of whose life\\nIs one faint April sun-gleam\\nMan, like these passive things.\\nThy will unconsciously fulfilleth\\nLike theirs, his age of endless peace,\\nWhich time is fast maturing,\\nWill swiftly, surely, come\\nAnd the unbounded frame which thou pervadest\\nWill be without a flaw\\nMarring its perfect symmetry.\\ni", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0528.jp2"}, "527": {"fulltext": "PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. A,Af)\\nShelley was an irrepressible optimist. All the sorrows\\nand disappointments that came to him never extinguished\\nhis confidence in humanity and in the ultimate reign of\\nrighteousness and truth. He confidently predicted a\\nveritable golden age\\nBut hoary-headed selfishness has felt\\nIts death-blow, and is tottering to the grave\\nA brighter morn awaits the human day,\\nWhen every transfer of earth s natural gifts\\nShall be a commerce of good words and works\\nWhen poverty and wealth, the thirst of fame,\\nThe fear of infamy, disease, and woe.\\nWar with its million horrors, and fierce hell,\\nShall live but in the memory of time,\\nWho like a penitent libertine shall start,\\nLook back, and shudder at his younger years.\\nAs we have seen, Shelley returned to London in 1813.\\nFor reasons that are not perfectly clear, the course of his\\ndomestic life began to be perturbed. Its prosaic duties\\nwere apt to j^all on his undisciplined and imaginative tem-\\nper. A frequent visitor in the family of William Godwin,\\nwhose political and social principles he shared, he became\\ninfatuated with his daughter, Mary WoUstonecraft God-\\nwin, a young ^oman of charming person and brilliant intel-\\nlect. In common with her father and Shelley, she held to\\nthe doctrine of elective af^nities, and looked upon the\\nmarriage tie as conventional tyranny. The result can\\neasily be foreseen. Shelley deserted his wife and two\\nchildren, and eloped with Miss Godwin to Switzerland in\\n1 8 14. While held simply as a theory, his doctrine of free\\nlove remained comparatively harmless but once put into\\npractice, its cruel and hideous character became apparent.\\n2G", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0529.jp2"}, "528": {"fulltext": "450 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nAfter an absence of six weeks, Shelley returned to Eng-\\nland. By an arrangement with his father, toward whom\\nhe cherished a morbid dislike, he received an allowance of\\na thousand pounds. He took up his residence on the\\nborders of Windsor Forest, where he composed what may\\nbe regarded as his first great poem. This is Alastor,\\nwhich describes a pure and gifted youth, who, at first satis-\\nfied with the beauty and grandeur of nature, goes in search\\nof an ideal womanhood. As ideal perfection does not exist\\nin mortal form, his search proved in vain, and at length\\nthe imaginative wanderer, worn out by disappointment,\\ndescends to an untimely grave. It is written in majestic\\nblank verse and first revealed the fulness of the poet s\\npower. In the opinion of Lady Shelley, none of his\\npoems is more characteristic than this. The solemn\\nspirit that reigns throughout, the worship of the majesty\\nof nature, the broodings of a poet s heart in solitude, the\\nmingling of the exalted joy w^hich the various aspects of\\nthe visible universe inspire, with the sad and struggling\\npangs which human passion imparts, give a touching inter-\\nest to the whole. Here is the vision of beauty that came\\nto him in a lonely dell of Cachmire\\nHe dreamed a veiled maid\\nSat near him, talking in low, solemn tones.\\nHer voice was like the voice of his own soul\\nHeard in the calm of thought its music long,\\nLike woven sounds of streams and breezes, held\\nHis inmost sense suspended in its web\\nOf many-colored woof and shifting hues.\\nKnowledge and truth and virtue were her theme,\\nAnd lofty hopes of divine Hberty,\\nThoughts the most dear to him, and poesy,\\n1", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0530.jp2"}, "529": {"fulltext": "PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. 45 I\\nHerself a poet. Soon the solemn mood\\nOf her pure mind kindled through all her frame\\nA permeating fire wild numbers then\\nShe raised, with voice stifled in tremulous sobs\\nSubdued by its own pathos her fair hands\\nWere bare alone, sweeping from some strange harp\\nStrange symphony, and in their branching veins\\nThe eloquent blood told an ineffable tale.\\nIn i8i6, the year Alastor was published, he made\\nanother visit to Switzerland. Here he first met Byron,\\nand in company with him made a tour of Lake Geneva in\\na boat. When, after a few months, he returned to Eng-\\nland, an event occurred that seems to have cast a shadow\\nover his subsequent life. His wife Harriet, after form-\\ning an illicit and unhappy relation, committed suicide by\\ndrowning. By public sentiment, as well as by his own\\nconscience, he was held in a measure responsible for her\\ndeath and it is asserted by one of his biographers that he\\ncontinued to be pursued, like another Orestes, with haunt-\\ning memories. He was legally deprived of the custody of\\nhis children on the double ground of his atheistical opin-\\nions and his previous desertion.\\nShortly after the suicide of his deserted wife, Shelley\\nand Miss Godwin, presumably under the stress of outside\\npressure, were married in December, 1816. They were\\nliving at Marlow, a few miles from London on the Thames.\\nIt was here, in 181 7, as he floated in his boat on the river,\\nor wandered over the surrounding country, that he com-\\nposed his longest poem, The Revolt of Islam. It is\\nwritten in the Spenserian stanza, and the luxuriance of its\\nimagery greatly obscures the narrative. As in Alastor,\\nthe hero Laon is an idealized portrait of the poet himself.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0531.jp2"}, "530": {"fulltext": "452 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nAll his peculiar principles his hatred of tyranny, enthu-\\nsiasm for freedom, ardor for social regeneration, the rights\\nof woman, and love according to the law of elective affin-\\nity here find expression. The story relates the awak-\\nening of a nation to freedom under the eloquence of a\\nhero-poet, the temporary success of the cause of human\\nliberty, and the final triumph of despotic power. The\\nhero as well as the heroine, sustained by a quenchless\\nfaith in the righteousness and ultimate triumph of their\\ncause, suffer a martyr s death.\\nHis life at Marlow was one of simple and busy routine.\\nHe rose early, read before breakfast, studied the greater\\npart of the forenoon, dined on vegetables (for he had\\nbecome a vegetarian), conversed with friends, to whom\\nhis house was always open, strolled over the country, read\\nto his wife in the evening, and retired at ten o clock. His\\nfavorite books at this time were Plato, Homer, the Greek\\ntragedians, and the Bible, in which, particularly in Job, he\\ntook great delight. While assaiHng dogma and ecclesias-\\nticism, he revered Christ, and in unusual degree exempli-\\nfied the law of love in relation to his fellow-men. He\\nwas generous with his money and systematically aided the\\nnumerous poor about him. Without a murmur, without\\nostentation, says a judicious biographer, this heir of the\\nrichest baronet in Sussex illustrated by his own conduct\\nthose principles of democratic simplicity and of fraternal\\ncharity which formed his political and social creed.\\nIn 1818 Shelley went to Italy, where the remaining\\nfour years of his life were spent. Apart from his roving\\ndisposition, the principal consideration in this move was\\nhis health, which was seriously threatened by a pulmo-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0532.jp2"}, "531": {"fulltext": "PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. 453\\nnary trouble. He resided successively at many places,\\nincluding Milan, Pisa, .Venice, Rome, and Naples. His\\nletters of this period are excellent specimens of descrip-\\ntive prose. He was not disappointed with Italy the\\naspect of its nature, the sunny sky, its majestic storms,\\nthe luxuriant vegetation of the country, and the noble\\nmarble-built cities, enchanted him. He lived on terms\\nof intimacy with Byron, though he admired the writings\\nmore than the character of his brother bard. In August\\nhe visited him at Venice and embodied his experience\\nin the admirable poem of Julian and Maddalo. Be-\\nsides its excellent poetry, it is notable for its portrayal of\\nthe two poets. This poem furnishes one of the remarka-\\nbly few passages in Shelley s works suitable for popular\\nquotation\\nMost wretched men\\nAre cradled into poetry by wrong\\nThey learn in suffering what they teach in song.\\nThe year 18 19 marks the climax of Shelley s creative\\npower. What he might have accomplished if his life had\\nbeen prolonged, must remain a matter of speculation but\\nin this year, in addition to numerous other productions\\n(among them^ Peter Bell the Third, the Masque of\\nAnarchy, and the fine Ode to the West Wind\\nhe wrote Prometheus Unbound and The Cenci.\\nThese two tragedies may be considered the masterpieces\\nof Shelley s genius. The title of the first is an antithesis\\nto the Prometheus Bound of ^schylus. Prometheus\\nstands for the upward striving spirit of our race Jove for\\nall that thwarts or hinders it. The Titan, with infinite\\npatience and fortitude, defies the wrath and tortures of", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0533.jp2"}, "532": {"fulltext": "454 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nthe Olympian and his ultimate deUverance typifies the\\ntriumph of humanity over the various forms of existing\\nevil. Then,\\nLove, from its awful throne of patient power,\\nIn the wise heart, from the last giddy hour\\nOf dread endurance, from the slippery, steep,\\nAnd narrow verge of crag-like agony, springs\\nAnd folds over the world its healing wings.\\nThe poem lifts us above the common experiences of life\\ninto a region of the poet s own creation. The dramatis\\npersonce are superhuman beings. Though Shelley de-\\nlighted in metaphysical speculation, the poem is almost\\nwholly imaginative and descriptive. There is an almost\\nutter absence of philosophic reflection but the handling\\nof form and color is unapproachably opulent and master-\\nful. The wealth of the English language in musical\\nrhythm and descriptive power was never exhibited to\\nbetter advantage. The choral songs are delightful ex-\\namples of liquid melody. Take the hymn of Asia in\\nillustration\\nLife of Life, thy lips enkindle\\nWith their love the breath between them\\nAnd thy smiles before they dwindle\\nMake the cold air fire then screen them\\nIn those looks, where whoso gazes\\nFaints, entangled in their mazes.\\nChild of Light! thy limbs are burning\\nThrough the vest which seems to hide them\\nAs the radiant lines of morning\\nThrough the clouds, ere they divide them\\nAnd this atmosphere divinest\\nShrouds thee wheresoe er thou shinest.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0534.jp2"}, "533": {"fulltext": "PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. 455\\nThe Cenci occupies a unique place among the poet s\\nworks. In it he descends from his usual wild and imagi-\\nnative flights to the realities of life. The poem is a dra-\\nmatic rendering of the legend of Beatrice Cenci, who,\\nunder insupportable provocation, killed her monster of a\\nfather. The poet himself, who has criticised it freely,\\nsays It is written without any of the peculiar feelings\\nand opinions which characterize my other compositions I\\nhave attended simply to the impartial development of such\\ncharacters as it is probable the persons represented really\\nwere, together with the greatest degree of popular effect\\nto be produced by such a development. It ranks among\\nthe best dramas produced since the death of Shakespeare.\\nThe year 1820, which was spent chiefly at Pisa, saw the\\nproduction of some of his choicest lyrics. Among these are\\nthe Ode to Naples, the Ode to Liberty, To a Skylark,\\nthe most popular of his lyrics, and the inimitable Cloud\\nI bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,\\nFrom the seas and the streams\\nI bear light shade for the leaves when laid\\nIn their noon-day dreams.\\nFrom my wings are shaken the dews that waken\\nThe sweet buds every one,\\nWhen rocked to rest on their mother s breast,\\nAs she dances about the sun.\\nI wield the flail of the lashing hail,\\nAnd whiten the green plains under,\\nAnd then again I dissolve it in rain.\\nAnd laugh as I pass in thunder.\\nThe Letter to Maria Gisborne, in the same key as\\nJulian and Maddalo, is specially interesting for its char-\\nacterizations of some of the poet s contemporaries.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0535.jp2"}, "534": {"fulltext": "456 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nShelley took the poet s art seriously. While he be-\\nstowed careful labor on the correction and finish of his\\noriginal drafts, he emphasized most of all the necessity\\nof special inspiration. In his prose work Defence of\\nPoetry, written in 1820, he says: Poetry is not like\\nreasoning, a power to be exerted according to the deter-\\nmination of the will. A man cannot say I will compose\\npoetry. The greatest poet even cannot say it, for the\\nmind in creation is as a fading coal, which some invisible\\ninfluence, like an inconstant wind, awakens to transitory\\nbrightness this power arises from within, like the color\\nof a flower which fades and changes as it is developed,\\nand the conscious portions of our natures are unprophetic\\neither of its approach or its departure. Could this influ-\\nence be durable in its original purity and force, it is impos-\\nsible to predict the greatness of the results but when\\ncomposition begins, inspiration is already on the decline,\\nand the most glorious poetry that has ever been commu-\\nnicated to the world is probably a feeble shadow of the\\noriginal conceptions of the poet.\\nThe most important of his remaining productions (many\\nworthy of mention must be passed over) are Epipsy-\\nchidion, addressed to a beautiful but unfortunate lady in\\nwhom Shelley became deeply interested, and Adonais,\\na lament over the death of the Doet Keats. The latter is\\ni.\\nan elegy of great beauty, deserving to rank with Milton s\\nLycidas and Tennyson s In Memoriam. Shelley did\\nnot regard death as annihilation, but as a return of the\\nsoul to the Spirit of Nature, from which it originally came.\\nWithout losing its personal consciousness, the soul thus\\nbecomes participant in a broad, divine life, and has its part", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0536.jp2"}, "535": {"fulltext": "PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. 457\\nin all the glories of the universe. So Shelley sings of his\\nfriend and brother poet\\nHe is made one with Nature tliere is heard\\nHis voice in all her music, from the moan\\nOf thunder to the song of night s sweet bird\\nHe is a presence to be felt and known\\nIn darkness and in light, from herb and stone,\\nSpreading itself where er that Power may move\\nWhich has withdrawn his being to its own\\nWhich wields the world with never-wearied love,\\nSustains it from beneath, and kindles it above.\\nThe last dwelling-place of Shelley was on the Gulf of\\nSpezia, whither he removed in April, 1822. He was now\\nsurrounded by congenial friends, and life seemed opening\\nto him with fairer prospects. He felt a tranquillity of\\nspirit, to which he had hitherto been a stranger, I am\\ncontent, he wrote, if the heaven above me is calm for\\nthe passing moment. Under these favorable conditions,\\nhe began a lengthy poem, The Triumph of Life, which\\nwas conceived on the lofty plane of his masterpieces.\\nBut the end was near. He was passionately fond of boat-\\ning. He owned a schooner, in which he had gone to Leg-\\nhorn to meet his friend, Leigh Hunt. On his return, July\\n8, 1822, he encountered a sudden squall, the boat was cap-\\nsized, and he, with two companions, was drowned. His\\nbody was found a few days later, and, after the ancient\\nGreek fashion, was cremated on the shore near Via\\nReggio. The poet s ashes were collected and buried in\\nthe Protestant cemetery at Rome.\\nShelley is, perhaps, the most poetical of our poets. He\\nhas not the philosophic quality of Wordsworth, nor the", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0537.jp2"}, "536": {"fulltext": "458 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nversatile power of Byron but in sustained loftiness and\\nsweep of imagination he surpasses both his great contem-\\nporaries. He can never be a popular poet. He dwells\\nhabitually in an imaginative realm beyond the popular\\ntaste and the popular capacity. No other poet seems to\\nhave the rapture of inspiration in a fuller degree. To\\nsome extent he was as the voice of one crying in the\\nwilderness. He not only pointed out many of the evils\\nof social life, but with steadfast faith prophesied a happier\\nera. The principles that inspired much of his poetry,\\nseparated indeed from his extravagance, have since met\\nwith wide acceptance.\\nAs a practical reformer, Shelley s life must be regarded\\nas a failure. While his aims were essentially pure and\\nnoble, his ignorance of the world betrayed him into fatal\\nmistakes. His ardor outstripped discretion and he\\nsought to do in a brief space what can be accomplished\\nonly in the slow evolution of centuries. His unbalanced\\nenthusiasm betrayed him into extravagances and thus,\\nwhile seeking unselfishly to improve the state of society,\\nhe advocated radical doctrines, which in practice would\\nhave increased tenfold the evils they were intended to\\ncure.\\nJ", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0538.jp2"}, "537": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0539.jp2"}, "538": {"fulltext": "1\\nA photograph after paintinj; by Arclier.\\n^A(i^?n4~^ 9z^^^\\nU/huC\\nCt^", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0540.jp2"}, "539": {"fulltext": "THOMAS DE QUINCEY. 459\\nTHOMAS DE QUINCEY.\\nDe Quincey was, like Pope, of insignificant stature, but\\nof a singularly intelligent face. A noble brow rose over\\nhis thin, finely chiselled features, and his blue eyes glowed\\nwith an unfathomable depth. He was nervously shy, and,\\nlike Hawthorne, almost morbidly averse to every sort of\\npublicity. His mental activity was prodigious, and at his\\nbest he deserves to rank as one of the most delightful\\nEnglish talkers. Both as a talker and writer he used\\nan awfu sicht o words, as a shrewd Scotch servant\\nsaid of him but they were so fastidiously chosen and so\\nmusically uttered as to be little less than charming. He\\nwas a unique personality and beyond almost all other\\nwriters he has infused his character idiosyncrasies and\\nall into his writings.\\nDe Quincey s family was an old one. When a boy about\\nfifteen, he once met the king near Windsor. Did your\\nfamily, his Majesty kindly inquired, come into England\\nwith the Huguenots at the revocation of the edict of\\nNantes With a flush of pride the boy answered\\nPlease your Majesty, the family has been in England\\nsince the Conquest. How do you know that. the\\nking again asked with a smile. From the very earliest\\nof all English books, Robert of Gloucester s Metrical\\nChronicle, which was written about 1280, the young\\nscholar replied. The aristocratic prefix de, which had", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0541.jp2"}, "540": {"fulltext": "460 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nlong been dropped by the family, appears to have been\\nresuscitated by our author himself.\\nThomas de Quincey was born in Manchester, the fifth\\nof eight children, Aug. 15, 1785. His father was a\\nplain English merchant of large means, esteemed for\\nhis great integrity, and strongly attached to literary pur-\\nsuits. My mother, De Quincey says, I may mention\\nwith honor, as still more highly gifted for though unpre-\\ntending to the name and honors of a literary woman, I\\nshall presume to call her (what many literary women are\\nnot) an intcllectiLal woman. Her letters are character-\\nized by strong sense and idiomatic grace.\\nIt is peculiarly true of De Quincey that the child was\\nfather of the man. As a child he was shy, sensitive,\\ndreamy, marvellously precocious in thought and feeling.\\nOwing to this strange precocity, his early years brought\\nhim unwonted anguish of spirit. But the sorrow that\\ntouched him most deeply was the death of his oldest\\nsister Elizabeth, a child of wonderful promise and beauty,\\nto whom he was attached with all the ardor of a super-\\nsensitive nature. He stole into the room where the body\\nwas resting in almost angelic sweetness. Awe, not\\nfear, he says, in a passage of deep pathos, fell upon\\nme and whilst I stood, a solemn wind began to blow\\nthe saddest that ear ever heard. It was a wind that might\\nhave swept the fields of mortality for a thousand centuries\\nin this world the one great audible symbol of eternity.\\nThen a trance fell upon him, attended with a magnificent\\nvision. But at length he came to himself, kissed the lips\\nthat he should kiss no more, and stole, like a guilty thing,\\nfrom the room a sad, imperishable memory in his heart.\\nJ", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0542.jp2"}, "541": {"fulltext": "THOMAS DE QUINCE Y. 46 1\\nDc Ouincey loved solitude, the charms of which he has\\noften portrayed in his writings. All day long, he says\\nin recalling his childhood, when it was not impossible for\\nme to do so, I sought the most silent and sequestered\\nnooks in the grounds about the house or in the neighbor-\\ning fields. The awful stillness oftentimes of summer\\nnoons, when no winds were abroad, the appealing silence\\nof gray or misty afternoons, these were fascinations as\\nof witchcraft. Into the woods, into the desert air, I gazed,\\nas if some comfort lay hid in them. I wearied the heaven^s\\nwith my beseeching looks. Obstinately I tormented the\\nblue depths with my scrutiny, sweeping them forever with\\nmy eyes, and searching them for one angelic face that\\nmight, perhaps, have permission to reveal itself for a\\nmoment.\\nIn his later childhood De Quincey passed under the\\nabsolute tyranny of a horrid, pugilistic boy, an elder\\nbrother who had returned home from the rough discipline\\nof a public school. His genius for mischief, to quote\\nthe victim s humorous account written years afterward,\\namounted to inspiration it was a divine afflatus which\\ndrove him in that direction and such was his capacity for\\nriding in whirlwinds and directing storms, that he made it\\nhis trade to create them, as a cloud-compelling Jove, in\\norder that he might direct them. He despised his frail\\nand pensive brother, and took no pains to conceal his feel-\\nings. The pillars of Hercules, to quote the victim\\nfurther, upon which rested the vast edifice of his scorn,\\nwere these two: ist, my physics; he denounced me for\\neffeminacy; 2d, he assumed, and even postulated as a\\ndatum, which I myself could never have the face to re-", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0543.jp2"}, "542": {"fulltext": "462 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\n1\\nfute, my general idiocy. Physically, therefore, and intel-\\nlectually, he looked upon me as below notice but, morally,\\nhe assured me that he would give me a written character\\nof the very best description, whenever I chose to apply for\\nit. You re honest, he said; you re willing, though lazy;\\nyou zvould pull, if you had the strength of a flea; and,\\nthough a monstrous coward, you don t run away!\\nThe family now lived at Greenhay, a handsome resi-\\ndence a mile or so from Manchester, and the two boys, on\\ntheir way to school, had to pass daily by a cotton mill.\\nThe elder brother, with uncontrollable martial propensities,\\nstirred up a feud with the factory boys, which led every\\nday to a pitched battle with stones. As commander-in-\\nchief, he held his timid brother to a rigid military obedi-\\nence. The war raged with varying fortunes, month after\\nmonth. Though sometimes denounced or cashiered for\\ncowardice, Thomas s conduct appeared on the whole com-\\nmendable, and before his eighth year he was elevated by\\nhis brother to the rank of major-general. For some three\\nyears and a half the shy, timid, dreamy boy, subject to the\\nmischievous tyranny of his brother, knew no rest day or\\nnight. It was only when his brother went to London to\\nstudy drawing, that he once more regained his freedom.\\nIn 1796, the year to which the preceding incidents have\\nbrought us, De Quincey was placed in the public school\\nof Bath, a town to which his mother had recently removed.\\nHe brought to his new surroundings an unusual amount\\nof information gathered from miscellaneous reading. In\\nLatin he was recognized as little short of a prodigy and\\nwas weekly paraded for distinction at the supreme tri-\\nbunal of the school. The result may easily be foreseen.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0544.jp2"}, "543": {"fulltext": "THOMAS DE QUINCE Y. 463\\nSome of his jealous comrades inaugurated what he de-\\nscribed as a state of warfare at a public school. He\\nwas threatened with immediate annihilation but fortu-\\nnately for English literature, the threat was never carried\\nout.\\nHe next spent a year or more at a private school in\\nWiltshire, the chief recommendation of which was its re-\\nligious character. He disliked the school, as it afforded\\nonly a narrow field for the display of his attainments.\\nWithout effort he stood at the head. His attainments in\\nGreek now equalled his attainments in Latin. At thir-\\nteen, he says, I wrote Greek with ease and at fifteen\\nmy command of that language was so great that I not only\\ncomposed Greek verses in lyric metres, but would converse\\nin Greek fluently and without embarrassment. This flu-\\nency he acquired by his habit of turning the daily papers\\ninto Greek. That boy, said one of his masters to a\\nstranger, that boy could harangue an Athenian mob bet-\\nter than you or I could address an English one.\\nThe year 1800 De Quincey designates as the period of\\nhis entry into the world. He was invited by Lord West-\\nfort, a young friend of his own age, to accompany him on\\na visit to Ireland. The various experiences of the next\\nfew months lifted him to what he calls premature man-\\nhood, for he was yet but fifteen years of age. He was\\ninvited to court entertainments he passed a short time in\\nthe nation of London. More than all, he met on a boat\\na young lady of great beauty and culture, who inspired\\nhim with a new and uplifting reverence for woman. This\\nincident fixed, as he thought, a great era of change in his\\nlife. Ever after, throughout the period of youth, he", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0545.jp2"}, "544": {"fulltext": "464 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nsaid, I was jealous of my own demeanor, reserved and\\nawe-struck, in the presence of woman reverencing often\\nnot so much them as my own ideal of woman latent in\\nthem. For I carried about with me the idea, to which\\nI often seemed to see an approximation, of\\nA perfect woman, nobly planned,\\nTo warn, to comfort, and command.\\nAfter spending some weeks in Ireland, where he met a\\nnumber of the most distinguished men of the day, he re-\\nturned to England and passed several months at the resi-\\ndence of Lady Carbery, an intimate friend of his mother s.\\nChiefly through the influence of De Quincey s mother,\\nLady Carbery had become deeply interested in religion.\\nWishing to ground herself more thoroughly in theological\\nlore, she consulted her youthful but scholarly friend. She\\nwas advised to study the Greek Testament and under his\\nenthusiastic tuition she made rapid progress. She called\\nhim her Admirable Crichton. As will be readily under-\\nstood, these were days of rapid improvement and great\\nhappiness to De Quincey and when he left the park gates\\nof Laxton, it was not without forebodings for the future.\\nHe was now, late in 1800, placed in the Manchester\\nGrammar School. He was thoroughly dissatisfied with\\nthe school and when his mother, after a year and a half,\\nrefused to Hsten to his pleas for removal, he formed the\\ndesperate resolution to run away. He went to Wales,\\nwhere he tramped over the country at will, often, for the\\nsake of economy, sleeping under the open sky and dining\\non the blackberries by the roadside. At length growing\\ntired of this wandering life, which, however, was not with-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0546.jp2"}, "545": {"fulltext": "THOMAS DE QUINCE Y. 465\\nout interesting adventures, he determined to seek his for-\\ntune in London. He ceased writing to his mother and\\nthus depriving himself of the small stipend that had been\\nallowed him, he was brought to the verge of beggary and\\nstarvation in the great metropolis. SThe incidents of his\\nLondon vagrancy his sleeping on the straw in Brunell s\\noffice, his efforts to borrow money, and his acquaintance\\nwith the poor outcast Ann of Oxford Street, who once\\nsaved his Hf e are all graphically and pathetically told in\\nhis Confessions. Finally he was discovered and re-\\nclaimed by his friends.\\nIn December, 1803, De Quincey entered Worcester\\nCollege, Oxford. He was connected with the university\\nfor five years, but finally left it without a degree. He led\\na life of great retirement. He calculates that for the first\\ntwo years he spoke less than a hundred words. But his\\nmorbid seclusion and silence were not spent in idleness.\\nHe had an insatiable thirst for reading and books and to\\nincrease his library he sorely stinted his wardrobe. He\\nlamented the excessive devotion to Latin and Greek, and\\nthe utter neglect of English literature at the university.\\nHe stoutly maintained the superiority of modern over\\nancient literature. We engage, he said, to produce\\nmany scores of passages from Chaucer, not exceeding\\nfifty to eighty lines, which contain more of picturesque\\nsimplicity, more tenderness, more fidelity to nature, more\\nfelicity of sentiment, more animation of narrative, and more\\ntruth of character than can be matched in all the Iliad\\nor the Odyssey.\\nIn 1808 he left Oxford, to which he professed to owe\\nnothing. Of its vast riches he took nothing away. Once\\n2 H", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0547.jp2"}, "546": {"fulltext": "466 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nseeking relief from neuralgic pain, he resorted to lauda-\\nnum and, like Coleridge, he became henceforth an opium\\nfiend. It never gained quite so complete a mastery over\\nhim as over his illustrious contemporary but for more\\nthan fifty years, sometimes in enormous quantities, it re-\\nmained a necessity v^ith him. He became, in some meas-\\nure, the apologist of opium, to which he addresses more\\nthan one eloquent but unpleasing apostrophe.\\nBefore his connection with Oxford ceased, he had al-\\nready met several writers destined to achieve great dis-\\ntinction. On one of his frequent visits to London, he met\\nCharles Lamb. In 1807 he met Coleridge and Words-\\nworth, to whom he had been especially attracted by the\\nLyrical Ballads. The poems in this volume had been\\nto him as the ray of a new morning. It is a striking\\nproof of his literary insight and courageous independence\\nthat he championed Wordsworth s poetry at a time when\\nit was almost universally decried.\\nIn November, 1809, Quincey took up his residence\\nat Grasmere, occupying the pretty cottage that Words-\\nworth had just left for Allan Bank. Here, first as a\\nbachelor and afterward as a married man, he lived till his\\nremoval to Edinburgh in 1830. He devoted himself to\\nstudy, particularly to German metaphysics, with great as-\\nsiduity. He associated on terms of intimacy with all the\\nother celebrities of the Lake District, including Wordsworth,\\nColeridge, Southey, and Wilson. For a time he was almost\\nutterly prostrated from the use of opium. A quart of\\nruby-colored laudanum in a decanter and a book of Ger-\\nman metaphysics by its side these he mentions as sure\\nindications of his being in the neighborhood.\\nI", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0548.jp2"}, "547": {"fulltext": "THOMAS DE QUINCE Y. 467\\nIn his Literary Reminiscences, one of the most inter-\\nesting volumes of his collected works, De Quincey dwells\\nprincipally on this period of his life. Nowhere else do we\\nfind life in the Lake District so finely portrayed. The\\nsketches of Coleridge and Wordsworth are extended and\\nexquisite studies, though at times there is a suggestion of\\nvenom in his treatment of these great writers. His early\\nreverence for Wordsworth, whose hospitality he frequently\\nenjoyed, was little short of idolatry but in later years,\\nowing apparently to the poet s self-complacent unrespon-\\nsiveness, De Quincey became estranged almost to the\\npoint of bitterness.\\nThe inherited means, which De Quincey had hitherto\\nlived upon, were now exhausted. Under the stress of\\ndomestic necessities, he roused himself, by a prodigious\\neffort, from the intellectual torpor to which the opium\\nhabit had reduced him. In 1821 he began his literary\\ncareer with his Confessions of an Opium-Eater, which\\nappeared in the Loiidoji Magazine anonymously. The\\nConfessions were honestly autobiographical; and be-\\nsides many interesting facts of his early life, they told of\\nthe growing power of the terrible drug, and described,\\nin passages of almost incomparable splendor, the nightly\\nvisions that came to him waking and sleeping. The arti-\\ncles, both for their style and matter, attracted general at-\\ntention, and opened to him the best magazines of the day.\\nHe wrote about one hundred and fifty articles, which taken\\ntogether, \\\\wth the exception of two or three unimportant\\nbooks, constitute his literary remains.\\nIn 1824 he published an article on Goethe, based on\\nCarlyle s translation of Wilhelm Meister. The article", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0549.jp2"}, "548": {"fulltext": "468 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nwas chiefly an onslaught on the great German, who was\\nrepresented as a tiresome and immoral impostor. But the\\ntranslator himself came in for a good share of criticism,\\nhis Scotticisms, his mistakes in German, and his awkward\\nprose being dwelt upon. The review accidentally fell into\\nthe surly Scotchman s hands and in his Reminiscences,\\nwhere he speaks of the matter, he more than quits the\\nscore with a sketch in aqua fortis. De Quincey, he says,\\nwas a pretty little creature, full of wire-drawn ingenui-\\nties, bankrupt enthusiasms, bankrupt pride, with the finest\\nsilver-toned low voice, and most elaborate gently winding\\ncourtesies and ingenuities in conversation. A bright,\\nready, and melodious talker, but in the end inconclusive\\nand long-winded. One of the smallest man figures I ever\\nsaw shaped like a pair of tongs, and hardly above five\\nfeet in all. When he sate, you would have taken him by\\ncandlelight for the beautif ullest little child blue-eyed,\\nsparkling face, had there not been something, too, which\\nsaid, Eccovi this child has been in hell.\\nIn 1825 De Quincey brought out Walladmor, which\\nhe pronounced the most complete hoax ever perpetrated.\\nAt this period there was a great demand, not only in Eng-\\nland but on the Continent, for the Waverley novels. Ac-\\ncordingly, when no new work of Scott s was forthcoming\\nin 1823, a German writer perpetrated the forgery of\\nWalladmor a long-winded and stupid production.\\nDe Quincey gave it a hasty but favorable review, and\\nas a consequence he was commissioned to translate it.\\nHe entered upon the task but a careful examination\\nshowed him its utter worthlessness. It was too late, how-\\never, to retreat. And, accordingly, he condensed and re-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0550.jp2"}, "549": {"fulltext": "THOMAS DE QUINCE Y. 469\\nwrote the book, reducing the three German volumes to\\ntwo slender English ones. It thus became a forgery upon\\na forgery but seeing the humorous side of the thing,\\nDe Quincey dedicated his pretended translation to the\\nGerman author in a preface of excellent humor and\\ndrollery.\\nAfter 1826 his literary career is transferred from Lon-\\ndon to Edinburgh. Through the influence of Wilson,\\nwith whom he had roamed over the valleys and mountains\\nof the Lake District, he became a contributor to Black-\\nzvood. Besides articles on Lessing and Kant, he published\\nin 1827 his famous essay On Murder Considered as One\\nof the Fine Arts. It is a piece of sustained wit and\\nhumor. He deals with murder as some critics deal with\\nliterature he admits that morally it is not exactly to be\\napproved but when tried by principles of taste, it turns\\nout sometimes to be a very meritorious performance.\\nIn 1830 De Quincey moved his family to Edinburgh,\\nand ten years later he occupied the cottage of Lasswade,\\na few miles out of the city. His life was now one of al-\\nmost unintermitting suffering and struggle. In 1835 he\\nlost his faithful wife Margaret, to whom he was deeply\\nattached, and who, throughout the sore trials of her domes-\\ntic life, had steadfastly maintained her character as a brave\\nand gentle woman. His health was frequently frail, and\\nat times he succumbed to his appetite for opium. He\\navoided society, and it was only with difficulty that he\\ncould be entrapped for a dinner party. But through it\\nall he continued to produce, at the rate of half a dozen a\\nyear, that marvellous series of papers that have given him\\nan imperishable place in English literature. Besides those", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0551.jp2"}, "550": {"fulltext": "470 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nalready mentioned, the following are worthy of special\\nattention Suspiria de Profundis, The English Mail\\nCoach, Revolt of the Tartars, On War, Joan of\\nArc, Style, Rhetoric, Language.\\nDe Ouincey rejects the common opinion that style is\\nthe dress of thought. To him it is something far more\\nprofound. Adopting a happy phrase of Wordsworth s, he\\ndefines style as the incarnation of thought. He be-\\nstowed exceeding care on his composition. He had an\\nexquisite sense of the force of words and beauty of form.\\nHe had a singularly sensitive ear and took great pains, as\\nhe tells us, not only to avoid cacophony, but also to\\nframe musical sentences. For precision in the use of lan-\\nguage and for melody in the structure of his periods, De\\nQuincey takes high rank among English writers. Less\\nmonotonous than Gibbon or Macaulay, his style varies,\\naccording to the changing thought, from the careless ease\\nof colloquial forms to the sustained grandeur of impas-\\nsioned eloquence. The Dream Fugue in The English\\nMail Coach may be described as a prose poem.\\nDe Quincey did not begin his literary career until his\\nmind was well stored with knowledge. His reading cov-\\nered a wide field, including not only English literature and\\nEnglish history, but also Greek and Latin literature, Ger-\\nman metaphysics, and a whole multitude of unusual and\\nnondescript works. His well-kept library numbered more\\nthan five thousand volumes. His writings cover a wide\\nrange of subjects and are peculiarly rich in their allusions.\\nHistory, nature, art, poetry, music, are all called upon to\\ngrace the substantial structure of his thought. His vo-\\ncabulary is exceedingly copious he not only drew on the", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0552.jp2"}, "551": {"fulltext": "THOMAS DE QUINCE Y. 47 1\\nnative Saxon and Latin elements of our language, but\\nruthlessly lugged in Latin, Greek, French, German, or\\nwhatever other tongue furnished him with a fitting phrase.\\nTo De Quincey we owe an interesting distinction in\\nliterature one that is readily applicable to his own writ-\\nings. There is first, he says, **the literature of knowl-\\nedge, and, secondly, the literature of poivei^ The function\\nof the first is to teach the function of the second is to\\nmove the first is a rudder, the second an oar or a sail.\\nThe first speaks to the mere discursive understanding; the\\nsecond speaks ultimately, it may happen, to the higher\\nunderstanding or reason, but always tJiroiigJi the affections\\nof pleasure and sympathy. To this latter kind of litera-\\nture belong those works of De Quincey The Confes-\\nsions, Suspiria, English Mail Coach, Murder as a\\nFine Art, Joan of Arc, and the Autobiographical\\nSketches and Literary Reminiscences by which\\nhe will retain a permanent place among great English\\nwriters.\\nDe Quincey can hardly be classed as a great thinker.\\nHe is ingenious and graceful rather than profound. He\\nrarely submitted to the restraints of a strict logical method.\\nHis digressions are as frequent as those of Coleridge, but\\nare held under better control instead of running entirely\\naway with him, they always return, and sometimes felici-\\ntously, to the main subject in hand. He is conscious of\\nhis digressive style and sometimes makes humorous refer-\\nence to it. In his essay On War, after being switched\\noff for a couple of pages, he returns to the main line of\\nthought with the remark This digression, now, on anec-\\ndotes, is what the learned call an excursus, and I am afraid", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0553.jp2"}, "552": {"fulltext": "4/2 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ntoo long by half not strictly in proportion. But don t\\nmind that. I ll make it all right by being too short upon\\nsomething else at the next opportunity and then nobody\\ncan complain.\\nDe Quincey s life was preeminently intellectual.\\nWithout breach of truth or modesty, he says, I may\\naffirm that my life has been, on the whole, the life of a\\nphilosopher from my birth I was made an intellectual\\ncreature and intellectual in the highest sense my pur-\\nsuits and pleasures have been, even from my school-boy\\ndays. Even his irrepressible humor has an eminently\\nintellectual flavor. De Quincey was not, like Carlyle, a\\ngreat moral force in the world. While capable of deep\\naffection, he was not subject to violent outbursts of indig-\\nnation at the sight of evil. He did not set himself up as a\\nreformer. I am too much of a eudaemonist, he said\\nI hanker too much after a state of happiness for my-\\nself and others. He sought refuge from the hard con-\\nflicts of the world in the retirement of his study. He\\ntried to smooth the path of life by tireless courtesies of\\nmanner and speech. He possessed in an eminent degree\\nthe grace of perfect breeding, everywhere persuasive,\\nand nowhere emphatic.\\nHis death, which occurred Dec. 8, 1859, was calm\\nand beautiful. His mind seemed to revert to his early\\nassociations. At the last his heart asserted its supremacy\\nover the intellect, and his last act was to throw up his arms\\nand exclaim, as if with a cry of surprised recognition,\\nSister, sister, sister Perhaps it was a vision of his\\ndearly loved sister Elizabeth, dead nearly seventy years\\nbefore, who had now come to lead him beyond the river.\\nJ", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0554.jp2"}, "553": {"fulltext": "VICTORIAN AGE.\\nPRINCIPAL WRITERS.\\nNovelists. Edward Bulwer, Lord Lytton (1805-1873). Volumi-\\nnous and popular novelist and dramatist; author of Eugene Aram\\n(183 1), The Last Days of Pompeii (1834), Last of the Barons\\n(1843), The Caxtons (1849), My Novel (1853), etc. The\\nLady of Lyons and Richelieu are two of the best modern dramas.\\nBenjamin Disraeli, Earl of Beaconsfield (i 804-1 881). Statesman\\nand novelist author of Vivian Grey (1827), Coningsby (1844),\\nLothair (1870), Endymion (1881), and many others.\\nCharles Kingsley (1819-1875). Clergyman, poet, and novelist;\\nauthor of Alton Locke (1,849), Hypatia (1853), Westward Ho\\n(1855), Hereward the Wake (1866), etc.\\nFrederick Marryat (i 792-1 848). NoveJist of nautical adventure,\\nwho is unsurpassed in his sphere. Peter Simple, Jacob Faithful,\\nand Mr. Midshipman Easy are perhaps his best. Other novels are\\nThe Phantom Ship (1839), Masterman Ready (1841), The Pri-\\nvateersman (1844), and many more.\\nAnthony Trollope (181 5-1882). One of the most voluminous of all\\nnovelists; author of The Warden (1855), Barchester Towers\\n(1857), Framley Parsonage (i860), Can You Forgive Her (1864),\\nPhineas Finn (1869), etc.\\nCharles Reade (1814-1884). Author of Peg Woffington (1852),\\nIt is Never Too Late to Mend (1856), The Cloister and the Hearth\\n(1861), etc.\\nWilkie Collins (i 824-1 889). Author of numerous novels, among\\nwhich are The Woman in White (i860), No Name (1862), The\\nMoonstone (1868), Man and Wife (1870), etc. Some of his novels\\nhave been dramatized.\\nRobert Louis Stevenson (i 845-1 894). Novelist of the new romantic\\nschool; author of Virginibus Puerisque (1881), Treasure Island\\n473", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0555.jp2"}, "554": {"fulltext": "474 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\n1\\n(1883), Prince Otto (1885), Kidnapped (1886), The Master of\\nBallantrae (1889).\\nDinah Maria Craik (i 826-1 888). Author of many novels, preeminent\\namong which are John Halifax, Gentleman and A Life for a Life\\n(1859). Others are Mistress and Maid (1863), A Noble Life\\n(1866), The Woman s Kingdom (1869), etc.\\nPoetry. Arthur Hugh Clough (1819-1861) The Bothie of\\nTober-na-Vuolich 1 848) and Depsychus 1 862) A poet of doubt,\\nwho has neither the strength to believe nor the courage to disbelieve.\\nLord Lytton Owen Meredith (1831-1892). Statesman, novelist,\\nand poet; author of the following poetical works: Clytemnestra\\n(1855), The Wanderer (1859), Lucile (i860), Fables in Song,\\nand several others.\\nWilham Morris (i 834-1 896). Novelist and poet. His principal\\npoetical works are The Defence of Guinevere (1858), The Life\\nand Death of Jason (1867), The Earthly Paradise (1868-1871),\\nLove is Enough (1873).\\nAlgernon Charles Swinburne (i 837-). Poet, dramatist, and critic\\nauthor of Atalanta in Calydon a Tragedy (1865), Poems and\\nBallads (1866), Siena: a Poem (1868), -Songs Before Sunrise\\n(1871), Poems and Ballads (1878), Songs of the Spring Tides\\n(1880), and many others.\\nDante Gabriel Rossetti (i 828-1 882). Artist and poet; author of\\nThe Blessed Damozel (1848), Sister Helen (1851), Early\\nItalian Poets (1861), Poems (1870-1882). Rossetti, Swinburne,\\nand Morris are the chief representatives of the romantic spirit in the\\npoetry of the Victorian Age.\\nHenry Austin Dobson (1840-). Poet and critic; author of Vig-\\nnettes in Rhyme (1873), Proverbs in Porcelain (1877), At the\\nSign of the Lyre (1885), etc.\\nAndrew Lang (1844-). Poet and prose writer author of Ballads\\nin Blue China (1881), Rhymes a la Mode (1884), Ballads of\\nBooks (1888). Among his prose writings are Custom and Myth\\n(1884) and Myth, Ritual, and Religion (1887).\\nEdwin Arnold (1832-). Sanskrit scholar, editor, and poet; author\\nof The Light of Asia (1878), Pearls of the Faith (1882), The\\nSong Celestial (1885), and The Light of the World (1891).\\nWilliam Watson (1844-). Poet, and author of The Prince s\\nGuest (1880), Wordsworth s Grave (1889), and Poems (1892).", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0556.jp2"}, "555": {"fulltext": "VICTORIAN AGE. 475\\nHistory. George Grote (1794-1871). Member of Parliament,\\nan extreme Liberal in politics, and author of an excellent History of\\nGreece (1846-1856), and intended as an antidote to Mitfosd.\\nConnop Thirlwall (i 797-1 875). Bishop of St. David s, and author\\nof a History of Greece (1835-1847), likewise written from a Liberal\\npoint of view. This work, as well as that by Grote, is standard.\\nHenry Hart Milman (1791-1868). Dean of St. PauPs, and author\\nof a History of the Jews (1829), History of Latin Christianity\\n(1854). In addition to his excellent histories, he edited Gibbon, and\\npublished a few poems.\\nJames A. Froude (1818-1894). Essayist and historian; author of\\na History of England (1856-1869), The English in Ireland\\n1 871-1874), Short Studies on Great Subjects (1867), Life of\\nCarlyle (1884) One of the most interesting of historians, but some-\\ntimes inaccurate.\\nEdward Augustus Freeman (1823-1892). A voluminous historian;\\nauthor of A History of Architecture (1849), History of the Sara-\\ncens (1856), History of the Norman Conquest (1867-1879),\\nGrowth of the English Constitution (1872), and many other works,\\nall distinguished for careful statement.\\nW. E. H. Lecky (1838-). Philosophic historian author of Leaders\\nof Public Opinion in Ireland (1861), History of Rationalism in Eu-\\nrope (1865), History of European Morals (1869), and a History\\nof England in the Eighteenth Century (1878-1890).\\nJohn Richard Green (i 837-1 883). Clergyman, and author of Short\\nHistory of the English People (1874), History of the English People\\n(1878-1880), a work in four volumes, and The Making of England\\n(1882). All are admirable works.\\nThomas Arnold (1795-1842). Clergyman, head-master of Rugby,\\nand author of five volumes of sermons, an edition of Thucydides, and\\na History of Rome in three volumes.\\nSir Archibald Alison (1792- 1867). Lawyer and historian; author\\nof History of Europe (i 839-1 859), Life of the Duke of Marlborough\\n(1847), etc. His History of Europe is interesting rather than pro-\\nfound.\\nScience and Philosophy. Charles Darwin (1809-1882). Emi-\\nnent naturalist; author of Journal of Researches (1839-1845),\\nOrigin of Species (1859), Descent of Man (1871), etc. His writ-\\nings have exerted an immense influence on modern thought.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0557.jp2"}, "556": {"fulltext": "4/6 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nHerbert Spencer (1820-). The ablest of evolutionist philosophers;\\nauthor of Principles of Psychology (1855), First Principles (1862),\\nPrinciples of Biology (1867), Principles of Psychology (1872),\\nThe Study of Sociology (1872), etc.\\nThomas Henry Huxley (i 825-1 895). Biologist, lecturer, and\\nessayist; author of Oceanic Hydrozoa (1859), Man s Place in\\nNature (1863), Lay Sermons (1870), Introduction to the Classifi-\\ncation of Animals (1877), Science, Culture, and Other Essays (1882),\\netc. He has done much to popularize scientific knowledge.\\nJohn Stuart Mill (1806-1873). Editor, essayist, and philosopher;\\nauthor of a System of Logic (1843), Political Economy (1848),\\nRepresentative Government (i860), Subjection of Women (1869),\\nExamination of Hamilton s Philosophy (1865), etc.\\nSir William Hamilton (i 788-1 856). One of the ablest Scotch\\nmetaphysicians author of Discussions in Philosophy, Literature, and\\nEducation (1853), Lectures on Metaphysics and Logic, published\\nafter his death.\\nHugh Miller (1802-1856). Geologist and able writer; author of\\nOld Red Sandstone (1841), Footprints of the Creator, My\\nSchools and Schoolmasters, and Testimony of the Rocks, the last\\nbeing an attempt to reconcile geology and Genesis.\\nGREAT REPRESENTATIVE WRITERS.\\nThomas Babington Macaulay. Robert Browning.\\nCharlotte Bronte. Alfred Tennyson.\\nWilliam Makepeace Thackeray. Thomas Carlyle.\\nCharles Dickens. Matthew Arnold.\\nGeorge Eliot. John Ruskin.\\nElizabeth Barrett Browning.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0558.jp2"}, "557": {"fulltext": "VIII.\\nVICTORIAN AGE.\\n(1832-1900.)\\nGrandeur of the age Inventions Notable era Scientific inves-\\ntigation Practical tendencies Educational advancement Peri-\\nodical press International relations Political progress Social\\nimprovement Religion and philanthropy Creative and diffusive\\nliterature Essay writing History Fiction Realism and ro-\\nmanticism Poetry Thomas Babington Macaulay Char-\\nlotte Bronte William Makepeace Thackeray Charles\\nDickens George Eliot Elizabeth Barrett Browning\\nRobert BrowxNIng Alfred Tennyson\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Thomas Carlyle\\nMatthew Arnold John Ruskin.\\nIt may be safely claimed that upon the whole there has\\nbeen no grander age in the history of the world. It may\\nlack, as some are disposed to claim, the aesthetic culture\\nof the Age of Pericles, the great martial spirit of ancient\\nRome, the lofty ideals of the age of chivalry. But as we\\ncompare the conditions of the present day with those of\\nany period of the past, who can doubt the fact of human\\nprogress The world has grown into a liberty, intelli-\\ngence, happiness, and morality unknown at any previous\\ntime. To be sure, the golden age has not been reached\\nthat lies, and perhaps far distant, in the future. Many\\nevils in society, in the state, and in the church need to be\\ncorrected. But the advancement during the present cen-\\ntury, and particularly during the reign of Queen Victoria,\\nhas been marvellously rapid.\\n477", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0559.jp2"}, "558": {"fulltext": "4/8 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nIf we think of the wonderful improvements in the\\nmechanic arts, we recognize this period as an age of\\ninvention. Within a few decades are comprised more\\nnumerous and more important inventions than are found\\nin many preceding centuries taken together. Social and\\nindustrial life has been thoroughly revolutionized. Think\\nof the wonders accomplished by steam It has supplied a\\nnew motive power, accelerated travel, and built up manu-\\nfacturing inland towns and cities. Electricity is at pres-\\nent accomplishing scarcely less. It carries our messages,\\nlights our cities, and runs our street railways. The capac-\\nity of the printing-press has been vastly increased. While\\nthe sewing-machine has taken the place of the needle in the\\nhouse, the reaper and the mowing-machine have supplanted\\nthe sickle and the scythe in the field. The breech-loading\\nand repeating rifle has driven out the muzzle-loading flint-\\nlock.\\nThese are but a few of the inventions belonging to the\\nVictorian Age. A reign, says Justin McCarthy, which\\nsaw in its earlier years the application of the electric cur-\\nrent to the task of transmitting messages, the first success-\\nful attempts to make use of steam for the business of\\ntransatlantic navigation, the general development of the\\nrailway system all over these countries, and the introduc-\\ntion of the penny-post, must be considered to have ob-\\ntained for itself, had it secured no other memorials, an\\nabiding place in history. Many a man still living has\\nseen the entire system of manufacturing, travel, agricul-\\nture, and transmission of intelligence completely changed,\\nwitnessing a greater transformation than if he had lived\\nthrough the preceding five centuries.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0560.jp2"}, "559": {"fulltext": "VICTORIAN AGE.\\n479\\nThe present period is an age of scientific investigation\\nand progress. The Baconian spirit prevails and investi-\\ngation systematic, minute, and prolonged has taken\\nthe place of empty speculation. In the presence of rapid\\nchanges, tradition has lost much of its power and with\\ntheir growing intelligence men are less willing to be guided\\nby mere authority. Careful and patient toilers are at work\\nin every department of learning and nature, questioned as\\nnever before, is gradually yielding up her secrets. All\\nthe natural sciences physics, zoology, botany, geology,\\nchemistry, physiology, astronomy have been wonderfully\\nexpanded; Faraday, Tyndall, Darwin, Spencer, and others\\nare honored names in natural science.\\nThe same patient methods of investigation are appUed\\nto the study of the mind, the origin of man, the history of\\nthe past. The theory of evolution, sometimes with greater\\nor less modification, has been generally accepted, and, like\\nthe law of gravitation or the Copernican system, has greatly\\nchanged our views of nature and of history. Many old\\nbeliefs have been modified or destroyed but the general\\nresult has been to give us greater breadth of thought and\\na clearer insight into the laws of God.\\nThis is preeminently a practical age, aiming at visible\\nresults. The vast resources, which science and invention\\nhave placed at our command, are applied in various ways\\nto the comfort and well-being of man. The material\\nwealth of every country is being developed and daring-\\nexplorers, supported by private enterprise or ro3^al bounty,\\nare sent to examine unknown regions. Every effort is put\\nforth to make living less costly and more comfortable. No\\ndoubt, as is pointed out sonietimes, this practical tendency", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0561.jp2"}, "560": {"fulltext": "480 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ngoes too far, subjecting aesthetic and spiritual interests to\\nmaterial ends. The ideal is, in too great a degree, ban-\\nished from life. But, in spite of these facts, the practical\\ntendency of our age deserves to be considered one of its\\nmany claims to superiority.\\nIt is an age of educational advancement. In England\\nas elsewhere, schools of every class have been multiplied,\\nand education has been brought within the reach of the\\ncommon people. The methods of instruction are more\\nnearly conformed to the nature of the child, and the sub-\\njects of study are designed to fit the pupil for the duties\\nof practical life. In higher education the change is no\\nless remarkable the traditional curriculum, consisting\\nlargely of Latin and Greek, has been greatly expanded,\\nand subjects of immediate practical importance the mod-\\nern languages, natural and political science, the mother\\ntongue, and history receive increased attention. Women\\nnow have the advantages of higher education, either in\\nseparate or in coeducational colleges.\\nIntelligence was never so generally diffused. The pe-\\nriodical press exerts an immense influence. Great dailies\\nspread before the people every morning the news of the\\nworld. Monthly magazines and reviews, unsurpassed in\\ntasteful form and literary excellence, have been greatly\\nmultipHed. They powerfully stimulate literary activity,\\nwhile cultivating the taste, intelligence, and character\\nof the people. They are often the original vehicles, not\\nonly for what is best in fiction, poetry, and criticism, but\\nalso for what is most interesting in science and history.\\nThe present is an age of close international relations.\\nSubmarine cables and fleet steamers bring the various", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0562.jp2"}, "561": {"fulltext": "VICTORIAN AGE. 48 1\\nnations of the earth close together. They are united by\\ncommercial interests. They share in common social, in-\\ndustrial, scientific, and literary interests and what is true\\nof England in these particulars is substantially true of\\nAmerica or, in a less degree, of France, or of Germany.\\nChristendom has become more homogeneous culture is\\nmore cosmopolitan. With a clearer knowledge of one\\nanother, and with common interests fostered by commerce,\\nthe nations of the earth have developed kindlier feelings.\\nFrom time to time they unite in great expositions of their\\nchoicest products, and settle minor differences by diplo-\\nmacy or arbitration.\\nIt is a time of political progress. The democratic prin-\\nciples, announced and defended in America and France\\nat the close of the last century, have become generally\\ndiffused. It is now commonly recognized that govern-\\nments exist, not for sovereigns or favored classes, but\\nfor the people. New reform bills have greatly extended\\nthe right of suffrage in England, the elective franchise\\nbeing extended, in certain cases, even to women. The\\nscience of government is better understood, and legisla-\\ntive enactments have become more intelligent and equi-\\ntable. The public administration has become purer. If\\nbribery, self-aggrandizement, and dishonesty still exist,\\nthese evils are much less frequent than in former ages.\\nPublic men live in the light and are held accountable\\nat the bar of public opinion.\\nThe present period is an era of social progress. The\\nincreased facilities of production have greatly cheapened\\nthe necessaries of life. Wages have generally increased\\nand the poor, as well as the rich, live better than ever\\n21", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0563.jp2"}, "562": {"fulltext": "482 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nbefore. Women enjoy greater advantages. But, at the\\nsame time, there is great social unrest. Many believe\\nthat the existing economic conditions are not final.\\nWasteful wealth sometimes exists by the side of starving\\npoverty. Gigantic combinations of capital, which often\\nabuse their power to wrong the people, are commonly\\nrecognized as a serious evil. Great attention is given to\\nthe study of economic and sociological questions, which\\nare treated, not only in scientific, but also in fictitious,\\nworks.\\nThe religious advancement of the period under con-\\nsideration is specially noteworthy. The conflict between\\ndogma and science, which at times has been sharp, has\\nnot been prejudicial to Christianity. Superstition has\\nbecome a thing of the past, and the emphasis of religious\\nteaching is now centred upon fundamental and practical\\ntruths. The Gospel is looked upon as a rule of life for\\nthe present world, and Christ is becoming more and more\\nthe conscious ideal of men. The ascetic spirit has given\\nplace to an active spirit, which finds the highest service\\nof God in bravely meeting the duties of everyday Ufe.\\nThe asperities of religious sects are softening Jews\\nas well as Roman Catholics are admitted to Parliament\\nrehgious tests are aboHshed at Oxford and Cambridge\\nDissenters, since 1880, have had the right to bury in the\\npublic churchyards with their own religious services. The\\nEvangelical Alliance and the Young Men s Christian As-\\nsociation are the practical manifestation of the general\\ntendency toward closer union and cooperation among\\nChristian people.\\nIn harmony with the practical tendencies of the age,", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0564.jp2"}, "563": {"fulltext": "VICTORIAN AGE. 483\\nreligion has become more benevolent in its activities. The\\nfatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man are appre-\\nciated as never before. The church is active in mission-\\nary work at home and abroad. It is prominent in every\\nwork that seeks to reUeve the unfortunate and reclaim\\nthe lost.. The treatment of the unfortunate and the\\ncriminal classes is more humane. The insane are no\\nlonger chained in loathsome cells, the unfortunate debtor\\nis not thrown into jail, the petty criminal is not hanged.\\nThe church seeks to bring a pure and benevolent spirit\\nto the settlement of the great social and political problems\\nof the day.\\nThe foregoing survey of present conditions, as they\\nexist in England and elsewhere, enables us to understand\\nmore fully the literary character of the Victorian Age.\\nIt will be recognized that this period has been exceedingly\\nfavorable to general literature. The rich and varied Hfe\\nof the English people has been reflected in their writing.\\nIf we seek to characterize this period on its literary side,\\nwe may designate it as creative and dijfusive. New fields\\nof thought have been opened up new questions have\\nbeen brought before society and the interests of life\\nsocial, religious, industrial, scientific have been enor-\\nmously multiplied. Never before, if we except the drama,\\nwas English literature so rich and so varied. In style\\nthere has been a return to nature at the same time there\\nhas been an artistic finish, particularly in prose, unknown\\nin previous eras.\\nWith the estabhshment of many periodicals, essay writ-\\ning has attained a new importance and excellence. In\\nthe days of Addison and Johnson, the essay was devoted", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0565.jp2"}, "564": {"fulltext": "484 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nchiefly to brief discussions of light social and moral topics.\\nThe great critics of the Age of Scott were usually pon-\\nderous. But at present, in the form of popular reviews\\nand magazine articles, the essay deals with every subject\\nof interest or importance. The scholar, the scientist, the\\nphilosopher, the historian, each uses the periodical press\\nto set forth the results of his studies and investigations.\\nOur leading magazines and reviews register the successive\\nstages of human progress and without an acquaintance\\nwith their contents, it is difficult to keep fully abreast with\\nthe times.\\nA notable advance is discernible in the writing of his-\\ntory. Greater prominence is given to the social condition\\nof the people. The sources of information have been\\ngreatly enlarged, and historians are expected to base their\\nstatements on trustworthy data. Besides, a philosophy of\\nhistory has been recognized. Greater attention is given\\nto the moving causes of events and to the general ten-\\ndencies in national life. With this greater trustworthiness\\nand more philosophic treatment, history has lost nothing\\nof its excellence of style. If it has given up the uniform\\nstateliness of Robertson and Gibbon, it has become more\\ngraphic, more varied, and more interesting.\\nNo other department of literature has shown a richer\\ndevelopment during the present period than fiction. It\\noccupies the place .filled by the drama during the Eliza-\\nbethan period. The plot is skilfully conducted the char-\\nacters represent every class of society the thoughts are\\noften the deepest of which our nature is capable. Fiction is\\nno longer simply a means of amusement. Without laying\\naside its artistic character, it has become in great measure", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0566.jp2"}, "565": {"fulltext": "VICTORIAN AGE. 485\\ndidactic. In the form of historical romance, it seeks to\\nreproduce in a vivid manner the thoughts, feelings, and\\ncustoms of other ages. The novel of contemporary life\\noften holds up to view the foibles and vices of modern\\nsociety. In many cases fiction is made the means of popu-\\nlarizing various social, religious, and political views.\\nDuring the Victorian Age there has been a notable re-\\naction, generally called realism, against the romanticism\\nof the earlier part of the century. The scientific spirit of\\nthe time became dissatisfied with the fanciful pictures of\\npast ages and with the impossibilities of wild romance.\\nRealism, as the term indicates, adheres to reality. Dis-\\ncarding what is idealistic or unreal in characters and\\nsituations, it aims at being true to life. All the greatest\\nnovelists of this period Dickens, Thackeray, George\\nEliot were, in the best sense of the word, realists.\\nTheir works present a striking contrast with those of\\nScott, who was the prince of romanticists.\\nAs an effort to represent life as it is, we must acknowl-\\nedge the worth of realism. In its proper appHcation, it\\nplaces the novel on an immovable basis. Like Shake-\\nspeare s plays, it holds the mirror up to nature. Unfortu-\\nnately, the reahstic writers have not, in many cases, been\\ntrue to their fundamental principles. The great conti-\\nnental leaders of realism Tolstoi, Zola, Ibsen have\\nbeen tainted with a fatal pessimism. Realists of this type\\nseem to see only one side of life the darker side of sin,\\nand wretchedness, and despair. They often descend to\\nwhat is coarse, impure, obscene. No doubt their pictures\\nare true, as far as they go; but the fatal defect of their\\nwork is that it does not reflect life as a whole. It does", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0567.jp2"}, "566": {"fulltext": "486 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nnot portray the pure and noble and happy side of Ufe,\\nwhich is just as real as the other.\\nExcept in the hands of genius, realism is apt to be dull.\\nIt gives us uninteresting photographs. There are times\\nwhen we do not so much care for instruction as for amuse-\\nment and recreation. This fact opens a legitimate field\\nfor the imaginative story-teller. There is to-day a decided\\nreaction against realism in the form of what has been\\ncalled the new romanticism. It does not present to us\\nelaborate studies of life, but entertains us with an inter-\\nesting or exciting story. The leaders of this movement in\\nEngland are Doyle, Stevenson, Weyman, and Hope, whose\\nworks in recent years have been widely read.\\nAs might be expected from the practical tendencies of\\nthe time, poetry is less prominent in literature than in\\nsome previous periods. But it has had not a few illustri-\\nous devotees, who stand out with prominence in the Vic-\\ntorian era. There are, perhaps, no names that stand\\nhigher than those of Tennyson and Browning. Poetry\\npartakes of the many-sided character of the age. While\\nthe poetic imagery inherited from Greece and Rome has\\nbeen swept away by the progress of science, poetry itself\\nhas gained in variety and depth. It treats with equal\\nfacility the present and the past. It voices the manifold\\ninterests and aspirations of the age social, political,\\nscientific, religious. Never before did the stream of poe-\\ntry have such volume and power and if sometimes, as in\\nClough and Matthew Arnold, it has been lacking in faith\\nand cheer, it has in the main borne to men a message\\nof hope, courage, and truth.\\nWhile in large measure realistic, poetry has not cast", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0568.jp2"}, "567": {"fulltext": "VICTORIAN AGE. 487\\naside its ideal character. Modern progress in culture has\\nplaced it on a high vantage ground far in advance of all\\nthe preceding ages and from this new position its pene-\\ntrating vision pierces farther into the realms of unexplored\\nand undiscovered truth. With its present expansion in\\nthought and feeling, poetry has naturally assumed new\\nforms. While in dramatic poetry there is a humiliating\\ndecay in comparison with the Elizabethan era, yet in lyric,\\nnarrative, and didactic poetry we find almost unrivalled ex-\\ncellence. With naturalness of form and expression, there\\nis a careful and conscientious workmanship not found in\\nprevious periods.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0569.jp2"}, "568": {"fulltext": "488 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nTHOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY.\\nMacaulay does not belong to the writers who have been\\nobliged to appeal from their own generation to a more dis-\\ncerning posterity. From the time he leaped into promi-\\nnence by his essay on Milton at the age of twenty-five,\\nhe has been immensely popular. No other English writer\\nexcept, perhaps, some of the great novelists, has been more\\nwidely read. Though nearly half a century has passed\\nsince his death, there is scarcely an abatement of popular\\ninterest in his works. His History of England, his\\nEssays, and his Lays of Ancient Rome find a place\\nin our cheap editions of standard works. In many homes\\nthey take their place by the side of the Bible and Shake-\\nspeare.\\nIn recent years, through the development of a more\\nchastened style of writing, a noteworthy reaction against\\nMacaulay s fame has been manifest. His faults as a writer,\\ncritic, and historian have been pointed out by thoughtful\\nscholars. In some cases, no doubt, the reaction has gone\\ntoo far, and failed to do justice to his splendid merits. What-\\never abatements from a former unqualified laudation a new\\nstudy of his works may force us to make, surely we shall\\nfind abundant reason to vindicate the popular judgment of\\nthe past three-quarters of a century, and to assign him a\\nhigh rank among the writers of the Victorian Age.\\nMacaulay counted his age by the years of the century,", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0570.jp2"}, "569": {"fulltext": "Engraved bj- James Faed in 1854 after the painting bj- Sir Francis Grant, P.R.A.\\nJ^^", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0571.jp2"}, "570": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0572.jp2"}, "571": {"fulltext": "THOMAS BABINGTON MACAU LAY. 489\\nhaving been born Oct. 25, 1800, in Leicestershire. He was\\nblessed in his parentage. His father Zachary Macaulay, of\\nScotch Presbyterian ancestry, was a man of strong charac-\\nter. Though sparing of words, he thought deeply and he\\npersisted in whatever he undertook with the tenacity of a\\nstern sense of duty. He displayed a reformer s zeal for\\nthe abolition of slavery in the British dominions. Macau-\\nlay s mother, of Quaker descent, supplied the tenderness\\nand grace that might otherwise have been lacking in the\\nhome. She was a mild, affectionate woman; but, at the\\nsame time, she had the firmness and the good sense to\\nhold her son in the line of duty and high achievement.\\nIn his childhood Macaulay was regarded as nothing less\\nthan a prodigy. He acquired knowledge with astonishing_\\nease and possessed an extraordinary power in casting it\\ninto literary form. At eight years he knew Scott s Mar-\\nmion by heart. He produced history, epics, hymns,\\nwith surprising facility. But whatever joy these promises\\nof future eminence may have awakened in his mother s\\nbreast, she took care not to stimulate his vanity. When\\nhe was thirteen, she gave him this sensible advice I\\nknow you write with great ease to yourself, and would\\nrather write ten poems than prune one. All your pieces\\nare much mended after a little reflection therefore, take\\nyour solitary walks and think over each separate thing.\\nSpare no time or trouble, and render each piece as perfect\\nas you can.\\nIn 1 8 18 he entered Trinity College, Cambridge. He\\nexhibited an intense repugnance to mathematics. Oh,\\nfor words to express my abomination of that science, he\\nwrote to his mother, if a name sacred to the useful", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0573.jp2"}, "572": {"fulltext": "490 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nand embellishing arts may be applied to the perception\\nand recollection of certain properties in numbers and\\nfigures! His dominant taste was for literature. While\\nmaking excellent attainments in the ancient classics, he ex-\\ntended his reading over a wide field of modern literature.\\nPoetry and fiction especially delighted him. His disposi-\\ntion was amiable and generous and among his large circle\\nof friends he exercised an almost sovereign sway through\\nhis brilliant power in conversation. With his large stores\\nof knowledge and great command of language, he naturally\\ntook high rank as a debater.\\nHis literary productions of this period possess unusual\\ninterest. They show that his literary faculties matured\\nearly, and that his distinctive style was a natural gift. In\\na prize essay on William HI., fragments of which have\\nbeen preserved, we find the following characteristic pas-\\nsage Lewis XIV. was not a great general. He was\\nnot a great legislator. But he was in one sense of the\\nword a great king. He was a perfect master of all the\\nmysteries of the science of royalty of the arts which at\\nonce extend power and conciliate popularity, which most\\nadvantageously display the merits and most dexterously\\nconceal the deficiencies of a sovereign.\\nHis contributions to Knight s Quarterly Magazine, in-\\ncluding verse, fiction, and criticism, reveal rare maturity\\nof thought and expression. The poem, Battle of\\nIvry,\\nNow glory to the Lord of Hosts,\\nFrom whom all glories are!\\nis scarcely surpassed by any of his later verse. The\\nFragments of a Roman Tale and Scenes from the", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0574.jp2"}, "573": {"fulltext": "THOMAS BABINGTON MAC AULA Y. 49 1\\nAthenian Revels exhibit special gifts in fiction and dra-\\nmatic dialogue. His study of Dante and Petrarch\\nshow the largeness of method and the wealth of knowl-\\nedge that characterize nearly all of his literary essays.\\nIn 1825 he began his long series of contributions to the\\nEdmbtircrJi Review with his elaborate and well-known\\nessay on Milton. Though it contained, as he afterward\\nsaid, scarcely a paragraph such as his matured judgment\\napproved, it almost took England by storm. It revealed\\nthe presence of a new force in literature. It introduced\\nhim with great eclat to the literary and social circles of the\\nmetropolis, where his genial nature and brilliant talk in-\\ncreased his popularity. At this period he was described\\nby Henry Crabb Robinson as a man overflowing with\\nwords, and not poor in thought.\\nWhile he was yet at Cambridge, his father lost his for-\\ntune in business. This event brought out the sterling side\\nof his character. He received the news of his father s\\nfailure with cheerful courage, and surrendering his cher-\\nished plans, he bravely undertook the care of the family.\\nIn the course of the efforts which he expended on the\\naccomplishment of this result, says Trevelyan, he un-\\nlearned the very notion of framing his method of life with\\na view to his own pleasure and such was his high and\\nsimple nature that it may well be doubted whether it ever\\ncrossed his mind that to live wholly for others was a sac-\\nrifice at all. His conduct in this emergency cannot be\\ntoo much admired. It shows us that however great as a\\nwriter, Macaulay was still greater as a man.\\nHe entered the legal profession in 1826, but he had\\nno liking for law, and got little practice. But his talents", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0575.jp2"}, "574": {"fulltext": "492 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nwere generally recognized, and a wider career soon opened\\nto him. In 1830 he entered Parliament and speedily took\\na foremost place. As a Whig, he warmly supported the\\nReform Bill of 1832. His first speech created little less\\nthan a sensation and afterward, says Gladstone, when-\\never he rose to speak, it was a summons like a trumpet-\\ncall to fill the benches. His perspicuous thought, his\\ncopious diction, and his vigorous utterance all gave him\\ngreat power as a speaker. He was a hard worker, and\\nthroughout his political career he exhibited not only an\\nincorruptible integrity, but also a self-sacrificing devotion\\nto the welfare of his country. During this laborious\\nperiod, in the spare moments gained by early rising, he\\nwrote some of his best-known essays, among which are\\nMoore s Life of Lord Byron, Samuel Johnson, John\\nHampden, and Lord Burleigh.\\nIn 1834 Macaulay sailed for India as legal adviser to\\nthe Supreme Council. It was a sacrifice to leave his\\nnative country and well-earned fame but his new ofBce,\\nwhich paid a salary of ten thousand pounds, brought him\\nthe means to provide better for those dependent upon\\nhim. He spent the long voyage in reading. Except\\nat meals, he said, I hardly exchanged a word with any\\nhuman being. I devoured Greek, Latin, Spanish, Italian,\\nFrench, and English. He was always an insatiable\\nreader history, travels, novels, poetry he devoured\\nthem all with but little discrimination. He possessed the\\nuncommon faculty of riding post through an author\\nand frequently mastered a volume during a morning s\\nwalk. As often happens with far less vigorous minds,\\nbooks were allowed to take the place of reflection. To", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0576.jp2"}, "575": {"fulltext": "THOMAS BABINGTON MA CAUL AY. 493\\nuse the words of Gladstone, He was always conversing\\nor recollecting or reading or composing but reflecting,\\nnever.\\nMacaulay was a man of strong personality, of great\\ngood sense, and of indefatigable industry. In Calcutta,\\nas in London, he accomplished, apart from his special\\noffice, a large amount of valuable work. As chairman of\\nthe Committee of Public Instruction, he exerted a decisive\\ninfluence on the educational policy of India. Instead of\\nencouraging Oriental learning, he maintained that the\\ngreat object of the British government ought to be the pro-\\nmotion of European literature and science among the\\nnatives of India. During his four years stay in India\\nhe wrote only two articles for the Edinburgh Review but\\none of these was the famous essay on Bacon.\\nHe returned to England in 1838. He seized upon the\\nhomeward voyage as a favorable opportunity to acquire\\nGerman. People tell me, he said, that it is a hard\\nlanguage, but I cannot easily believe that there is a lan-\\nguage which I cannot master in four months by working\\nten hours a day. He pursued the undertaking with\\nhis accustomed vigor and though we may well doubt\\nwhether he succeeded in mastering the German language\\nin four months, he made sufficient attainments to read\\nGoethe, Schiller, and Lessing. In his subsequent literary\\nwork, he seems to have made but little use of the German.\\nA few months after his return, he left England for a\\ntour in Italy. His familiarity with Latin and Italian liter-\\nature prepared him to enjoy in rich measure the historic\\nassociations of the country. He was sensitive to architec-\\ntural beauty, and St. Peter s made a deep impression on", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0577.jp2"}, "576": {"fulltext": "494\\nENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nhim. I really could have cried with pleasure, he wrote.\\nHe used this journey to verify the local coloring of his\\nLays of Ancient Rome. I then went to the river,\\nhe wrote again, to the spot where the old Pons Sublicius\\nstood, and looked about to see how my Horatius agreed\\nwith the topography. Pretty well but his house must be\\non Mount Palatine, for he could never see Mount Coelius\\nfrom the spot where he fought. Accordingly, we read in\\nthe poem,\\nBut he saw on Palatinus\\nThe white porch of his home\\nAnd he spake to the noble river\\nThat rolls by the towers of Rome.\\nWhile visiting various points of interest in Italy he was\\nmeditating his History of England. With his restless\\nand inexhaustible energy, he soon tired of sight-seeing\\nand longed to be at work again. Considerable time, how-\\never, was to elapse before he could give himself fully to\\nhis History. On his return to England, he was elected\\nto Parliament as member for Edinburgh, and shortly\\nafterward entered the cabinet as Secretary of War. Po-\\nlitical duties once more absorbed most of his time and\\neffort. But in 1841 a change in the government gave him\\na welcome release from that closely watched slavery\\nwhich is mocked with the name of power. And though\\nat intervals he held a seat in Parliament for the rest of\\nhis Ufe, his energies were henceforth chiefly devoted to his\\nliterary pursuits.\\nIt is time to consider more fully Macaulay s literary\\nachievements. First in time, and if the popular estimate\\nis to be taken, first in importance, are the Essays. The", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0578.jp2"}, "577": {"fulltext": "THOMAS BABINGTON MACAU LAY. 495\\nchief of these appeared in the EdiiibiirgJi Review between\\n1825 and 1844. They cover a wide field and may be\\ndivided into two principal groups, historical and critical.\\nIn English history we have the essays on Burleigh,\\nHallam, Hampden, Temple, Mackintosh, Wal-\\npole, Chatham, Clive, and Warren Hastings, which\\ntaken together give a tolerably complete view of the period\\nbetween Elizabeth and George HI. Among the essays\\ntreating of continental history, Machiavelli, Mirabeau,\\nFrederic, and above all Von Ranke, deserve special\\nmention. The critical essays include, as will be seen, a\\nconsiderable number of the most prominent English writ-\\ners Addison, Bacon, Bunyan, Byron, Dry-\\nden, Johnson, and Milton.\\nThese Essays were produced in the vigor of early\\nmanhood, and most of them under the stress of a busy\\npolitical life. Instead of constituting Macaulay s main\\nvocation, they were little more than recreations. He\\nwrote, to use his own expression, because his head was\\nfull. While lacking in critical acumen, judicial fairness,\\nand indisputable accuracy, they display astonishing re-\\nsources of diction, unequalled clearness of thought, and\\na masterful knowledge of history. Any absence of deli-\\ncacy in touch is amply compensated by a spacious canvas\\nand unstinted color. Macaulay may be fairly styled the\\nRubens of essayists.\\nHis style, about which so much has been said, is pre-\\neminently rhetorical and declamatory. It is better adapted\\nto oral discourse than that of any other English author.\\nIt is essentially the same style that appears in his eloquent\\nparliamentary speeches. It abounds in repetitions for the", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0579.jp2"}, "578": {"fulltext": "496 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nsake of clearness in tremendous emphasis of statement\\nin a luxuriant expansion and illustration of ideas. Though\\nnatural to him, it has the appearance of being artificial.\\nIt surrenders its flexibility to the demands of a uniform\\nrhetorical movement. It lacks the freedom and melody\\nof the best forms of prose and in spite of its striking\\nantitheses and its agreeable succession of long and short\\nsentences, there is an unvaried sameness of tone that at\\nlength grows tiresome. While in Macaulay s hands it was\\ncapable of splendid results, it is not a style to be blindly\\nimitated.\\nHis mind was quick, direct, and vigorous in its opera-\\ntions. It soon caught the main outlines of a subject.\\nWith a few prominent points before him, Macaulay pro-\\nceeded to fill in his picture from the ample resources of\\nhis memory and imagination. There is an absence of\\ngentle gradation and subdued tints. But whatever may\\nbe lacking in fine discrimination and exquisite delicacy,\\nthere is always an unfailing lucidity and impressive power.\\nThese considerations throw light on a serious and\\nacknowledged failing. Macaulay is generally a partisan.\\nWhile he was thoroughly honest at heart, and while he\\nwould have scorned to do any one intentional wrong, yet\\nthe clearness and impetuosity of his mental processes\\nsometimes hurried him to unwarranted conclusions. He\\nwas deficient in judicial calmness and reserve. Hence,\\nhowever interesting his treatment, and however imposing\\nhis assertions, it must be confessed that his conclusions\\nare not always decisive and final.\\nMacaulay lacked philosophic depth, but was sensitive to\\ndramatic situation. He delighted m facts rather than in", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0580.jp2"}, "579": {"fulltext": "THOMAS BABINGTON MACAU LAY. 497\\nprinciples. He preferred to describe events rather than\\nto trace their underlying causes. It may be doubted\\nwhether he appreciated the subtile feeling of the finest\\npoetry. In his literary criticism we miss a luminous inter-\\npretation of exquisite passages. He frankly admitted that\\ncriticisms like Goethe s Hamlet or Lessing s Laocoon\\nwere at once his admiration and despair.\\nThere are noted passages in his Essays that might\\nbe chosen to illustrate more or less fully the foregoing\\nobservations. The famous article on Bacon exhibits his\\nlack of judicial fairness. The third paragraph of the\\nessay on Von Ranke, in which he describes the an-\\ntiquity of the Roman Catholic Church, shows his won-\\nderful skill in expanding and impressing an idea. His\\ndescription of the trial of Warren Hastings is a vivid\\nand impressive picture. The following extract from the\\nessay on Samuel Johnson will serve to illustrate at\\nonce his clearness, his force, his fondness for paradox,\\nhis exaggerated emphasis of statement, and his partisan\\nattitude of mind\\nMany of the greatest men that ever lived have\\nwritten biography. Boswell was one of the smallest of\\nmen that ever lived, and he has beaten them all. He\\nwas, if we are to give any credit to his own account or\\nto the united testimony of all who knew him, a man of\\nthe meanest and feeblest intellect. Johnson described\\nhim as a fellow who had missed his only chance of im-\\nmortality by not having been alive when the Dunciad\\nwas written. Beauclerk used his name as a proverbial\\nexpression for a bore. He was the laughing-stock of\\nthe whole of that brilliant society which has owed to\\n2 K", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0581.jp2"}, "580": {"fulltext": "498 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nhim the greater part of its fame. He was always laying\\nhimself at the feet of some eminent man, and begging\\nto be spit upon and trampled upon. Everything\\nwhich another man would have hidden, everything the\\npublication of which would have made another man hang\\nhimself, was matter of gay and clamorous exultation to his\\nweak and diseased mind. That such a man should\\nhave written one of the best books in the world is strange\\nenough. But this is not all. Many persons who have\\nconducted themselves foolishly in active life, and whose\\nconversation has indicated no superior powers of mind,\\nhave left us valuable works. Goldsmith was very justly\\ndescribed by one of his contemporaries as an inspired\\nidiot, and by another as a being\\nWho wrote like an angel, and talked like poor Poll.\\nLa Fontaine was in society a mere simpleton. His\\nblunders would not come in amiss among the stories of\\nHierocles. But these men attained literary eminence\\nin spite of their weaknesses. Boswell attained it by\\nreason of his weaknesses. If he had not been a great\\nfool, he would never have been a great writer. Of\\nthe talents which ordinarily raise men to eminence as\\nwriters, Boswell had absolutely none. There is not in all\\nhis books a single remark of his own on literature, politics,\\nreligion, or society, which is not either commonplace or\\nabsurd. Logic, eloquence, wit, taste, all those things\\nwhich are generally considered as making a book valuable,\\nwere utterly wanting to him. He had, indeed, a quick\\nobservation and retentive memory. The se qualities, if\\nhe had been a man of sense and virtue, would scarcely", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0582.jp2"}, "581": {"fulltext": "THOMAS BAB IN G TON MA CA ULA Y. 499\\nof themselves have sufficed to make him conspicuous;\\nbut because he was a dunce, a parasite, and a coxcomb,\\nthey have made him immortal.\\nMacaulay was not a poet, yet he pubUshed a slender\\nvolume of poems that have kept their place as a popular\\nfavorite. These are the Lays of Ancient Rome, which\\nwere published in 1842. In the preface the author tells\\nus that he speaks, not in his own person, but in the per-\\nsons of ancient minstrels, who know only what a Roman\\ncitizen, born four or five hundred years before the Chris-\\ntian era, may be supposed to have known, and who are\\nin no wise above the passions and prejudices of their\\nage and nation. In this way the legends of Horatius\\ndefending the bridge, of the battle of Regillus, of the\\nslaying of Virginia, and of the prophecy of Capys are\\ntreated. Macaulay frankly acknowledges his indebted-\\nness to the old English ballad, to Scott, and above all to\\nHomer. He reproduces the heroic spirit, and especially\\nthe patriotic devotion of the ancient Roman, in a manner\\ndeeply impressive.\\nIt is safe to say that the ballad is the only form of\\npoetry in which Macaulay could have met with success.\\nThe ballad does not require the finest emotion nor the\\ndeepest thought. It is narrative in form, and its essential\\nelements are clearness, rapidity, and force. In these quali-\\nties Macaulay was gifted in an eminent degree. His sub-\\njects were happily chosen. In the field of Roman history\\nhe was unusually versed, and his visit to Italy enabled him\\nto perfect the topography of his poems. His great mas-\\ntery of language took away the difficulties of rhyme, and\\nhis knowledge of prosody gave an almost faultless correct-", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0583.jp2"}, "582": {"fulltext": "500 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nness to his metre. The Lays were kept under the file\\na long time, and the criticism of scholarly friends was in-\\nvoked. The simplicity and directness of the language are\\noften admirable, as may be seen from the following stanza\\nin Horatius, describing the destruction of the bridge\\nBut with a crash like thunder\\nFell every loosened beam,\\nAnd, like a dam, the mighty wreck\\nLay right athwart the stream\\nAnd a long shout of triumph\\nRose from the walls of Rome,\\nAs to the highest turret-tops\\nWas splashed the yellow foam.\\nAs a historian Macaulay is distinctly modern in his aims\\nand methods. Instead of accepting traditional or legen-\\ndary views, he goes to the original sources of information.\\nWhatever fault may be found with some of his conclu-\\nsions, his painstaking research is universally acknowledged.\\nHe shared the democratic tendency of his age, and in his\\nHistory he attaches importance, not simply to the fate of\\njDrinces, but also to the life of the common people. It\\nwill be my endeavor, he says in the first chapter of the\\nHistory of England, to relate the history of the peo-\\nple as well as the history of the government, to trace the\\nprogress of useful and ornamental arts, to describe the\\nrise of religious sects and the changes of literary taste, to\\nportray the manners of successive generations, and not\\nto pass by with neglect even the revolutions which have\\ntaken place in dress, furniture, repasts, and public amuse-\\nments.\\nIn several of his Essays Macaulay has laid down his", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0584.jp2"}, "583": {"fulltext": "THOMAS BABINGTON MACAU LAY, 501\\ntheory of history. He would make it a combination of\\nfact and fiction, of poetry and philosophy yet these ele-\\nments should be so presented as to make a truthful im-\\npression. He would combine the imagination of .Scott\\nand the research of Hallam. In his essay on Machia-\\nvelli he says: The best portraits are perhaps those in\\nwhich there is a slight mixture of caricature, and we are\\nnot certain that the best histories are not those in which a\\nlittle of the exaggeration of fictitious narrative is judiciously\\nemployed. Something is lost in accuracy, but much is\\ngained in effect. The fainter lines are neglected but the\\ngreat characteristic features are imprinted on the mind\\nforever.\\nHe aimed to give his History of England the charm\\nof a historical romance. He followed the method of the\\nhistorical novelist in the minute portrayal of incident, the\\ncareful delineation of character, and the dramatic arrange-\\nment of his narrative. I shall not be satisfied, he wrote,\\nunless I produce something which shall for a few days\\nsupersede the last fashionable novel on the table of young\\nladies. He realized his aim in producing a wonderfully\\nsuccessful work. But after all, his method, except in nar-\\nrow limits, is not practicable. Macaulay miscalculated his\\nstrength. It has been shown that the completion of his\\nHistory as originally planned would have filled fifty vol-\\numes and occupied one hundred and fifty years in compo-\\nsition. His five volumes narrate the events of only sixteen\\nyears from 1685 to 1701.\\nThe History of England, completed in 1855, exhibits\\nthe same general characteristics exemplified in the Es-\\nsays. Its style is rhetorical, pellucid, and strong. It", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0585.jp2"}, "584": {"fulltext": "502 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nabounds in admirable descriptions of persons, places, and\\nevents. It has been styled, not unjustly, a veritable por-\\ntrait gallery. To use his own language, it invests with the\\nreality of human flesh and blood beings whom we are too\\nmuch inclined to consider as personified qualities in an\\nallegory calls up our ancestors before us with all their\\npeculiarities of language, manners, and garb shows us\\nover their houses, seats us at their tables, rummages their\\nold-fashioned wardrobes, explains the uses of their pon-\\nderous furniture. But, at the same time, it frequently\\nshows a partisan bias. In the multitude of details it sac-\\nrifices a true perspective and throughout it all there is a\\nsingular lack of philosophic spirit.\\nThe closing years of Macaulay s life are not free from\\npathos. He had been a strong man physically, broad-\\nshouldered and stout-limbed. He was blessed with a\\nsuperabounding energy and spirit that made him the life\\nof every company. But at last, in 1852, he was suddenly\\nstricken with heart disease, which was soon followed by\\nan incurable asthma. Thus to be shorn of his strength\\nwas a cruel blow. I became, he says, twenty years\\nolder in a week.\\nBut his sterling worth never showed itself to better ad-\\nvantage than in the trials of broken health. He sustained\\nhis sufferings with a cheerful fortitude. He was faithful\\nin every duty, whether public or private. He never lost\\nhis tender consideration for those about him. He faced\\ndeath calmly, thinking chiefly of the sorrow of those whom\\nhe loved. The end came Dec. 28, 1859, days\\nlater he was laid to rest in the Poets Corner of West-\\nminster Abbey. Absolutely without literary affectation,", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0586.jp2"}, "585": {"fulltext": "THOMAS BABINGTON MACAU LAY. 503\\nto borrow the words of Justin McCarthy, undepressed\\nby early poverty, unspoiled by later and almost unequalled\\nsuccess, he was an independent, quiet, self-relying man,\\nwho, in all his noon of fame, found most happiness in the\\ncompanionship and the sympathy of those he loved, and 1\\nwho, from first to last, was loved most tenderly by those j\\nwho knew him best.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0587.jp2"}, "586": {"fulltext": "504 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nCHARLOTTE BRONTE.\\nNot long since an investigator made an inquiry as to\\nthe stature of people of genius. His tabulated statement\\nof measurements indicates that people of genius are gen-\\nerally either below or above the medium height. What-\\never may be thought of this conclusion, it is certain that\\nCharlotte Bronte might be adduced in confirmation of\\nits truth. While she was one of the most highly gifted\\nliterary women of England, she was diminutive in form\\nand fragile in health. But what she lacked in size and\\nstrength, she made up in force of will and persistency of\\neffort. Genius has rarely achieved greater triumphs over\\nunfavorable surroundings.\\nIn her novels she has portrayed her own character with\\ngreat clearness. Forced by solitude and suffering to pro-\\nlonged introspection, she acquired a rare self-knowledge.\\nShe gazed steadily into the tragic depths of the human\\nsoul. She had but a limited acquaintance with literature\\nand society. Her genius was singularly restricted in its\\nmaterials. Hence her work is largely autobiographical\\nit is her experience as contemplated in the light of a\\nstrong imagination. Jane Eyre, Lucy Snowe, and\\neven The Professor are Charlotte Bronte herself. She\\nwas of delicate mould; and whether she experienced joy\\nor sorrow, it was in an intense degree. What has been\\nsaid of her last work Villette may be justly applied to\\nall her writings Out of the dull record of humble woes.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0588.jp2"}, "587": {"fulltext": "After Chappel. Engraved by S. HoUyer.\\n^C^\u00e2\u0080\u0094 J7", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0589.jp2"}, "588": {"fulltext": "1", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0590.jp2"}, "589": {"fulltext": "CHARLOTTE BRO1VTJ 505\\nmarked by no startling episodes, adorned by few of the\\nflowers of poetry, she created such a heart history as re-\\nmains to this day without a rival in the school of English\\nfiction to which it belongs.\\nThere are few lives that have been so sad. Her his-\\ntory, it has been suggested, ought to be written in tears.\\nDeath early robbed her of a mother s care. Her school\\nlife, as depicted in the early chapters of Jane Eyre,\\nwas characterized by harsh treatment, insufficient food,\\nand enforced exposure to wet and cold. The dissipated\\nhabits of a loved and talented brother brought a con-\\nstant care and humiliating sorrow. Her life as a gov-\\nerness was scarcely better than a prolonged torture to\\nher sensitive nature. Her efforts to estabhsh a school\\nwere an ignominious failure. Yet, in the midst of this\\nclouded existence, her spirit continued to burn with\\nquenchless fire; and out of her bitter trials she wrought\\na series of works which, by their beauty and depth and\\npower, have gained a permanent place in our literature.\\nCharlotte Bronte was born Apr. 21, 18 16, at Thornton,\\nin Yorkshire. Her father, Patrick Bronte, was an Episco-\\npal clergyman of literary tastes, who was afterward, for\\nmore than forty years, settled in the living at Haworth.\\nThough upon the whole an unambitious, estimable man,\\nhe was not devoid of eccentricities, and his authority in\\nthe home was exercised with severity. Her mother was\\na sensitive woman, of attractive appearance, and the let-\\nters written to her husband before marriage show that\\nshe was not without literary ability and culture. She died\\nwhen Charlotte was five years old, and henceforth there\\nwas but little joy in the household.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0591.jp2"}, "590": {"fulltext": "506 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThere were six children in all, Charlotte being the third.\\nThe parsonage at Haworth, a sufficiently commodious\\nbuilding, looked out on a graveyard near by and on\\nextensive gloomy moors. The Yorkshire people, whose\\ncharacter is portrayed in Shirley, are independent,\\nbrusque, and thrifty. But, at the same time, they are apt\\nto become obstinate, and when they believe their rights\\ninvaded, they do not hesitate to resort to lawless force.\\nIn the midst of these cheerless surroundings, and without\\ncongenial companionship, the Bronte children were driven\\nback on themselves, and in their thought and manners\\nexhibited an unseasonable maturity. They were grave,\\nsilent, studious, beyond their years.\\nThey received instruction from their father, who, along\\nwith the usual studies, discoursed to them on the political\\nand religious questions that engaged his attention. They\\nremained ignorant of the usual sports of childhood and\\nnever knew how to be merry. In 1824 the four older\\nsisters entered the school for clergymen s daughters at\\nCowan s Bridge. Owing to their delicate constitution and\\nprecocious training, they were ill-adapted to the coarse\\nfare and harsh discipline of the school. Charlotte always\\nmaintained the substantial correctness of the description\\nof its brutalities which she has given in Jane Eyre.\\nThe beautiful character of little Helen Burns is a por-\\ntrait of her oldest sister, Maria. In a few months after\\nentering the school, the two older sisters Maria and Eliza-\\nbeth died, and Charlotte and Emily were taken home.\\nFor the next six years, dating from 1825, Charlotte re-\\nmained at home, and, as the oldest of the children living,\\nexercised over them a maternal care. The entire family", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0592.jp2"}, "591": {"fulltext": "CHARLOTTE BRONT 507\\nhad a remarkable penchant for writing, which, apart from\\nthe devouring of all sorts of books, constituted their prin-\\ncipal amusement. After the domestic cares of the day\\nwere over, they were accustomed to assemble in the\\nkitchen, where, seated at one table, they proceeded to\\ncompose stories, fairy tales, poems, and dramas. An\\nastonishing amount of this childish manuscript, written\\nin almost microscopic hand, has been preserved, and re-\\nveals to us their precocious talents and their imaginative\\npower. Upon the whole, Charlotte seems to have been\\nthe most gifted of the children and it was in the practice\\nof these early years that she acquired the copious vocab-\\nulary and forcible style which distinguish her subsequent\\nworks.\\nIn 1 83 1 she entered a small boarding-school at Roe\\nHead. Here she passed the next eighteen months in\\nunwonted happiness. She looked a little old woman,\\nsays one of her schoolmates and dearest friends, so\\nshort-sighted that she always appeared to be seeking\\nsomething, and moving her head from side to side to\\ncatch a sight of it. She was very shy and nervous, and\\nspoke with a strong Irish accent. When a book was given\\nher, she dropped her head over it till her nose nearly\\ntouched it, and when she was told to hold her head up, up\\nwent the book after it, still close to her nose, so that it was\\nnot possible to help laughing. She was ignorant of tech-\\nnical grammar and geography; but her knowledge of\\nHterature, art, and politics was a matter of general aston-\\nishment. With an insatiable thirst for knowledge, she\\ngave herself with great diligence to study. She seemed\\nto grudge the time spent in necessary relaxation and play.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0593.jp2"}, "592": {"fulltext": "508 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nBut in spite of her extreme devotion to study, her oblig-\\ning amiability made her a favorite with her schoolmates,\\nand her gifts in story-telling were a constant source of\\ndelight. It was at Roe Head that she found much of the\\ncharacter and incident worked up in Shirley.\\nIn 1832 Charlotte returned home, where for the next\\nthree years she led a life of routine. In the morning,\\nfrom nine o clock till half past twelve, she writes to a\\nfriend, I instruct my sisters and draw then we walk till\\ndinner-time. After dinner I sew till tea-time, and after tea\\nI either write, read, or do a little fancy-work, or draw, as I\\nplease. Thus, in one delightful though somewhat mo-\\nnotonous course, my life is passed. Her reading at this\\ntime covered a considerable field. She was exceedingly\\nfond of Scott, in comparison with whose works she\\nesteemed all other novels worthless. Hume and Rollin\\nwere her favorite historians. In biography she read John-\\nson s Lives of the Poets, Lockhart s Life of Burns,\\nMoore s Life of Byron, and Boswell s Life of John-\\nson. But her principal authors were the poets, among\\nwhom she preferred Shakespeare, Milton, Scott, Byron,\\nand Wordsworth. In the choice of books her rule was,\\nAdhere to standard authors and avoid novelty.\\nIn 1835, at the age of nineteen, she returned to Roe\\nHead as teacher. Her labors there finally proved too\\nmuch for her health, and after three years she returned\\nto Haworth. When she had regained her usual strength,\\nshe became a governess but this employment was not\\nsuited either to her talents or tastes. She had little tact\\nin amusing or managing children. While possessing un-\\ncommon ability in the acquisition of knowledge, she had", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0594.jp2"}, "593": {"fulltext": "CHARLOTTE BRONT\\n509\\nno gifts in imparting it. She was not unconscious of her\\nsuperior endowments and the supercilious treatment to\\nwhich she was exposed from unrefined natures was an\\nalmost intolerable humiliation.\\nThe next step in her career was a period of study in a\\nboarding-school at Brussels. She had formed the project\\nof opening a school, and in preparation for it, she desired\\nto improve her knowledge of French, especially in its col-\\nloquial use. She spent two years in the pensiomiat of\\nMonsieur Heger, and of her surroundings and experi-\\nences she has given a faithful picture in Villette and\\nThe Professor. She studied with indefatigable indus-\\ntry and some French themes, which have been preserved,\\nshow. not only a remarkable literary ability, but also ad-\\nmirable attainments in the French language. As an\\nardent Protestant, she freely criticised Roman Catholic\\ninstitutions. Nevertheless, the private confession to a\\npriest, so graphically detailed in Villette, was an actual\\noccurrence. The story that she fell in love with Monsieur\\nHeger, to whom she gave lessons in English, and from\\nwhom she received instruction in French, is probably with-\\nout foundation. But there is no question that she greatly\\nadmired him; and in Villette he is the original of Paul\\nEmanuel.\\nShe returned to England in 1844, and endeavored to\\ncarry out her long-cherished purpose to open a school at\\nthe Haworth parsonage. Her efforts proved a failure.\\nIn spite of earnest efforts to secure pupils, not one ever\\ncame. Perhaps it was just as well; for about this time her\\nbrother Branwell, a young man of fine natural gifts, began\\nto be a source of anxiety and care. He had fallen into", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0595.jp2"}, "594": {"fulltext": "5IO ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nhabits of dissipation and at last he returned home, where,\\nafter causing his father and sisters indescribable humilia-\\ntion and sorrow, he died in 1848, a victim to opium and\\nwhiskey.\\nBut humiliation and sorrow were not sufficient to extin-\\nguish the literary impulse and ambition of Charlotte and\\nher sisters, Emily and Anne. Perhaps they had recourse\\nto the pen as a solace in their tribulation. At all events,\\nthe sisters discovered, in 1845, the poetic effort to which\\nthey had been secretly giving themselves, and, against the\\nadvice of friendly publishers, they resolved to risk a volume\\nin print. It was issued at their expense in 1846, under the\\ntitle, Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell. These\\nnames were assumed partly to avoid publicity, and partly\\nto escape the prejudice which the sisters believed to exist\\nagainst female authors. The poetry is scarcely above me-\\ndiocrity and, as was to be expected, the volume proved a\\nfailure. The leading periodicals treated it coldly and in\\nspite of advertising, the publisher sold only two copies in a\\nyear.\\nCharlotte and her sisters, however, were not wholly dis-\\ncouraged. They each set about preparing a story in prose,\\nfor which alone their talents were suited. Emily wrote\\nWuthering Heights and Anne Agnes Grey, both of\\nwhich promptly found a publisher, but on terms somewhat\\nimpoverishing to the two authors. Charlotte s story was\\nentitled The Professor, a delightful book, the characters\\nand incidents of which were taken chiefly from her life in\\nBrussels. Strange to say, it failed, after repeated efforts,\\nto find a publisher, and did not see the light till after the\\ngifted writer s death.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0596.jp2"}, "595": {"fulltext": "CHARLOTTE BRONT 51I\\nThe Professor, as indeed all of Charlotte Bronte s\\nworks, is written in a spirit of realism. She explains the\\nprinciples that guided her in its composition, as follows I\\nsaid to myself that my hero should work his way through\\nlife as I had seen real living men work theirs that he\\nshould never get a shilling he had not earned that no sud-\\nden turn should lift him in a moment to wealth and high\\nstation that whatever small competency he might gain,\\nshould be won by the sweat of his brow that before he\\ncould find so much as an arbor to sit down in, he should\\nmaster, at least, half the ascent of the Hill of Difficulty\\nthat he should not even marry a beautiful girl or a lady\\nof rank. As Adam s son he should share Adam s doom,\\nand drain, throughout life, a mixed and moderate cup of\\nenjoyment. But this realism, which has since so largely\\ndominated fiction, was not at that time acceptable to the\\npublic taste, which still demanded what was thrilling,\\npoetic, idealistic.\\nWhile The Professor was rejected by a succession of\\npublishers, its author s ability did not utterly escape recog-\\nnition. She was encouraged to try her hand on a three-\\nvolumed novel, and in spite of previous discouragements\\nshe resolutely set to work. The result was her master-\\npiece, Jane Eyre, which was written in the midst of do-\\nmestic distractions and sorrows. It appeared in 1847 3-^^^\\nat once occasioned a flutter of excitement in the literary\\ncircles of London. It was recognized as a work of unusual\\npower and the timid, patient, determined little authoress\\nawoke to find herself famous.\\nJane Eyre was published as the work of Currer Bell.\\nThe identity of the author at once became a matter of", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0597.jp2"}, "596": {"fulltext": "512 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nspeculation, and the secret was not discovered till after\\nthe publication of her next work. The opinions expressed\\nin the periodicals of the time furnish an amusing illustra-\\ntion of the fallibility of criticism. A distinguished Ameri-\\ncan critic pronounced Jane Eyre the work of more than\\none hand and one sex, and a prominent English woman\\nproved upon irresistible evidence that it was the work\\nof a man.\\nThe style exhibits a direct and masculine vigor that\\nplaces Miss Bronte among the masters of English prose.\\nThe leading characters, far from an ideal perfection, are\\nportrayed with a deeply impressive realism. Some of the\\nscenes are intensely dramatic, and the reader is carried\\nforward with eager interest to the close. Unconventional\\nin form and sentiment, its originality gave rise to some\\nCarping criticism and in the preface to the second edition,\\nwhich was speedily called for, the author took occasion to\\nremind her readers that Conventionality is not morality.\\nSelf-righteousness is not religion. To attack the first is\\nnot to assail the last. To pluck the mask from the face of\\nthe Pharisee is not to lift an impious hand to the Crown\\nof Thorns. Though not without faults of conception,\\nof taste, and of ignorance, Jane Eyre stands as one of\\nthe great impressive books of our century.\\nJane Eyre contains a brave word on the sphere of\\nwoman. Miss Bronte was an independent thinker, and\\nshe had the courage of her convictions. The agitation of\\nrecent years and the ever widening sphere of woman s\\nactivity would seem to confirm the truth of the following\\nvigorous passage, which no doubt came as a shock to\\nmany a conservative reader on its first appearance It", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0598.jp2"}, "597": {"fulltext": "CHARLOTTE BRONT 513\\nis in vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with\\ntranquilUty they must have action and they will make it\\nif they cannot find it. Millions are condemned to a stiller\\ndoom than mine, and millions are in silent revolt against\\ntheir lot. Women are supposed to be very calm gener-\\nally; but women feel just as men feel; they need exercise\\nfor their faculties and a field for their efforts as much as\\ntheir brothers do they suffer from too rigid a restraint,\\ntoo absolute a stagnation, precisely as men would suffer\\nand it is narrow-minded in their more privileged fellow-\\ncreatures to say that they ought to confine themselves to\\nmaking puddings and knitting stockings, to playing on the\\npiano and embroidering bags. It is thoughtless to con-\\ndemn them, or laugh at them, if they seek to do more or\\nlearn more than custom has pronounced necessary for\\ntheir sex.\\nThe next work of Miss Bronte was Shirley, which\\nappeared in 1849. It was written, one might say, in the\\nvalley of the shadow of death. Between its beginning and\\ncompletion, her brother Branwell and her sisters Emily\\nand Anne were called away. Her agony of soul is re-\\nflected in its pages. Yet the occupation of writing it was\\na boon to her. It took me, she wrote, out of dark and\\ndesolate reality into an unreal but happier region. But\\nit told injuriously on her health. You can write nothing\\nof value, she said, unless you give yourself wholly to\\nthe theme and when you so give yourself, you lose appe-\\ntite and sleep it cannot be helped.\\nThe characters of Shirley, as in Miss Bronte s other\\nworks, were taken from life. The heroine, Shirley\\nKeeldar, was an idealized portrait of her sister Emily.\\n2L", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0599.jp2"}, "598": {"fulltext": "514 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nNot a few of the most thrilling incidents the night at-\\ntack on the mill, the attempted assassination of the owner,\\nthe cauterizing of the arm torn by a mad dog were\\nactual occurrences. The book was a faithful delineation\\nof Yorkshire scenery and Yorkshire character. It was\\ncomposed with extreme care and was generally regarded\\nas worthy of the author of Jane Eyre. A few weeks\\nafter its publication, she spent some days in London,\\nwhere among other literary celebrities she met Thackeray,\\nand was moved to speak to the giant of some of his\\nshortcomings. But her retiring disposition shrank as\\nmuch as possible from all unnecessary publicity.\\nAs her successive works appeared, she awaited and\\nread with undue interest the reviews pubHshed in promi-\\nnent periodicals. She recognized the superficiality and\\nignorance displayed in many of them but, at the same\\ntime, her sensitive nature prevented her from rising above\\nthem. Like most authors of serious purpose, she highly\\nvalued an intelligent and discriminating review. She was\\nready to avail herself of any suggestions that might im-\\nprove her work. But then, as now, haste, incompetency,\\nor self-interest frequently stripped criticism of any value\\nwhatever.\\nThe next several years were spent chiefly in the soli-\\ntude of the Haworth parsonage. Feeble health added to\\nher depression of spirits. The principal event to break\\nthe monotony of her life was the arrival of the postman.\\nIn addition to the letters from admiring readers of her\\nbooks, she maintained a regular correspondence with a\\nnumber of friends. She was a charming letter-writer\\nand the letters preserved for us in Mrs. Gaskell s Life", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0600.jp2"}, "599": {"fulltext": "CHARLOTTE BRONTA. 515\\nof Charlotte Bronte, and still more fully in Shorter s\\nCharlotte Bronte and her Circle, reveal very fully not\\nonly her daily life, but also her character and her opinions\\non a great variety of subjects. Her genius as a writer was\\nsupported by a rare common sense.\\nShe received occasional calls from distinguished visitors,\\nattracted to Haworth by her fame. She made brief visits\\nto the homes of friends or to London but she never over-\\ncame her native repugnance to prominence or publicity.\\nAt the request of her publishers, she undertook another\\nwork but, owing to her interrupted health, it progressed\\nslowly. Conscientious in her literary labors, she was sat-\\nisfied only with the best she could do. Replying to an\\ninquiry of her publishers, she wrote It is not at all\\nlikely that my book will be ready at the time you mention.\\nIf my health is spared, I shall get on with it as fast as is\\nconsistent with its being done, if not well, yet as well as I\\ncan do it. Not one whit faster. When the mood leaves\\nme (it has left me now, without vouchsafing so much as a\\nword or a message when it will return), I put by the MS.\\nand wait till it comes back again. God knows I some-\\ntimes have to wait long very long it seems to me.\\nThe work in question was Villette, which was pub-\\nlished in 1853 and enthusiastically received. It is based\\non her Belgian experiences. It is defective in plot, the\\ninterest shifting from one set of characters to another.\\nThe fate of the hero, Paul Emanuel, is left somewhat\\nambiguous. But in spite of artistic blemishes, it is de-\\nlightful for its reality and truth. There are few authors\\nwho would have discovered so much interest and character\\nin the everyday life of a boarding-school.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0601.jp2"}, "600": {"fulltext": "5l6 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nVillette was the last of Miss Bronte s works. She\\nwas not a proHfic author her Uterary work is comprised\\nin four volumes written in twice as many years. No\\ndoubt her early death cut her off from other literary\\nachievements but it is questionable whether she would\\nhave produced anything to add to her fame had she lived\\nto a ripe old age. In her four novels she pretty thor-\\noughly exhausted the materials at her command. Any\\nsubsequent works would probably have lacked in fresh-\\nness. Jane Eyre and Shirley embodied her obser-\\nvation and experience in England The Professor and\\nVillette, not without virtual repetition, reflected her life\\nabroad. Thus, without being voluminous, her writings\\nattained a well-rounded completeness.\\nHer books do not yield the highest pleasure to those\\nreaders who seek in fiction ideal characters and ideal inci-\\ndents. She is not to be classed with the romantic school\\nof fiction. She adheres closely to reality as she has seen\\nand experienced it. Her books owe their enduring charm\\nto their profound truthfulness. She wrote from the treas-\\nures of an acute observation and from the depths of a\\npassionate heart, without concerning herself about conven-\\ntional forms. Her works, in their depth and sincerity of\\nfeeling, appeal to the primal sympathies of human nature.\\nThe sorely tried life of Charlotte Bronte was not to\\nclose without a brief taste of happiness. In the evening\\nof her life the sky, for a brief space, became radiant.\\nAfter rejecting, in her earlier years, several suitors who\\nhad been attracted by her rare gifts and noble character,\\nshe was married in 1854 to her father s curate, Arthur\\nBell Nicholls, a man worthy of her esteem and love. In", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0602.jp2"}, "601": {"fulltext": "I\\nCHARLOTTE BRONTA. 517\\nShirley, before the days of courtship, she had paid him\\na tribute in the character of Mr. Macarthey He labored\\nfaithfully in the parish; the schools, both Sunday and day\\nschools, flourished under his sway like green bay trees.\\nBeing human, of course he had his faults these, however,\\nwere proper, steady-going, clerical faults.\\nHer husband had not loved her for the literary ability\\nshe had exhibited or for the literary fame she had achieved.\\nHe preferred that she should give up her literary pursuits\\nin her devotion to domestic and social duties. With the\\nself-sacrificing spirit that characterized her whole life, she\\nyielded for a time to her husband s wishes. She assis ted\\nhim in his parish work and seemed to find a new pleasure\\nin it. But at last the literary impulse became too strong,\\nand she began a new story entitled Emma, which she\\ndid not live to complete.\\nThe months that followed her marriage were the hap-\\npiest of her Hfe. To use her own words, she did not\\nwant now for kind companionship in health and the ten-\\nderest nursing in sickness. A great calm seemed to fall\\nupon her life, and she was observed to exhibit a gentle\\ntenderness not noticeable before. But the larger and\\nhappier life upon which she had entered was not to con-\\ntinue. The end came in a few months. Early on the\\nmorning of March 31, 1855, the Haworth church bell an-\\nnounced her death to villagers who had known her from\\nchildhood and had proudly rejoiced in her success.\\nOf the multitude that have read her books, says\\nThackeray in a generous tribute, who has not known\\nand deplored the tragedy of her family, her own most sad\\nand untimely fate Which of her readers has not become", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0603.jp2"}, "602": {"fulltext": "5 1 8 ENGLISH LITER A TURE.\\nher friend Who that has known her books has not ad-\\nmired the artist s noble English, the burning love of truth,\\nthe bravery, the simplicity, the indignation at wrong, the\\neager sympathy, the pious love and reverence, the pas-\\nsionate honor, so to speak, of the woman What a story\\nis that of that family of poets in their solitude yonder on\\nthe gloomy northern moors", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0604.jp2"}, "603": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0605.jp2"}, "604": {"fulltext": "Photograph alter painting by Samuel Laurence\\nluut\\nru^\\nM", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0606.jp2"}, "605": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. 519\\nWILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.\\nMany parallels have been drawn between Thackeray\\nand Dickens, the two greatest novelists of their day.\\nBoth attained great popularity yet in character, methods\\nof work, and attitude toward life, they were very differ-\\nent. In place of Thackeray s almost feminine timidity,\\nDickens had a virile self-confidence and determination.\\nIn place of Thackeray s distrust of himself and the world,\\nDickens had an invincible confidence in both. In place\\nof Thackeray s irresolution and unsystematic methods of\\nwork, Dickens was resolute and regular in a marked\\ndegree. In place of Thackeray s satirical attitude, which\\nmade him dwell chiefly on the shams and foibles of life,\\nDickens dwelt chiefly on the good to be found in human\\nnature, even in its most degraded forms. Of the two, it\\nis needless to say that Dickens has been the more popular\\nbut it would be rash to say that he was the greater intel-\\nlect or better artist.\\nThe name of Thackeray is an old one in England,\\ntraceable beyond the date when French was still the\\nofficial language of the country. The family seemed to\\nhave a talent for religion and many of its members were\\nclergymen in the EstabHshed Church. William Make-\\npeace, the subject of this sketch, was born in Calcutta,\\nJuly 18, 181 1, where his father held a position under the\\nIndian government. His mother is spoken of as one of", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0607.jp2"}, "606": {"fulltext": "520 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nthe handsomest old ladies in the world. She lived to see\\nher son become distinguished, surviving him by a year.\\nWhile a child Thackeray was brought to England, and\\nplaced in Charter House School. The head-master was\\nunsympathetic, and its rude manners were distasteful to\\nhis sensitive nature. He was not an example of youthful\\nprecocity and though he had some popularity among the\\nboys, he detested the place, and was accustomed for many\\nyears to refer to it as Slaughter House. Sparring and\\ncricket seem to have been his principal acquisitions. In\\nhis last year at the school he wrote to his mother\\nThere are but 370 in the school. I zuish tJiere were only\\n3^9- The only intimation at this time of his literary\\ngifts was found in his faculty for writing humorous verse.\\nIn 1829 Thackeray entered Trinity College, Cambridge,\\nwhere he spent only one year. The glimpses we get of\\nhis life there are not displeasing. He was a leading spirit\\nin a literary society, several members of which afterward\\nrose to distinction in the church. He did not distinguish\\nhimself in the prescribed studies of the College, but read\\na great deal in English poetry, and in the old novelists,\\nof whom he chose Fielding as his model. He was suffi-\\nciently prominent in social life, giving and receiving his\\nshare of dinners. His literary tastes and talents began\\nto manifest themselves more* strongly. He was connected\\nwith an undergraduate periodical called The Snob, for\\nwhich he wrote a burlesque of Tennyson s prize poem on\\nTimbuctoo\\nIn Africa a quarter of the world\\nMen s skins are black their hair is crisp and curled\\nAnd somewhere there, unknown to public view,\\nA mighty city lies, called Timbuctoo.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0608.jp2"}, "607": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. 52 1\\nIn 1830 Thackeray left Cambridge without a degree;\\nbut his sojourn there had not been in vain. Apart from\\nhis enlarged acquaintance with books, and his still larger\\nacquaintance with men, he laid there the foundation of\\nhis literary taste and style. The loose and romantic\\nmanner of Dickens became impossible to him. He de-\\nveloped the severe self-restraint that belongs to the classic\\nspirit. His style is characterized by clearness, flexibility,\\nand force and it may be fairly claimed that he is the\\nmost classic of all our novehsts.\\nAfter leaving the University, he spent some months\\nin travel on the Continent. He visited Paris, Rome,\\nDresden, and Weimar, entered largely into the life of\\nthe people, and thus broadened his knowledge and his\\nsympathies. He spent several months at Weimar, where\\nhe met Goethe. I think, he wrote in after years, I\\nhave never seen a society more simple, charitable, courte-\\nous, gentleman-like, than that of the dear little Saxon\\ncity where the good Schiller and the great Goethe lived\\nand lie buried. He preferred Schiller to Goethe, and\\nbelieved him to be, after Shakespeare, the Poet. He\\nfor a time thought of translating Schiller; but this, like\\nmany other great projects of his, was destined not to be\\nrealized.\\nAfter returning to England, Thackeray began the study\\nof law. As with so many other men of literary instincts,\\nit proved distasteful. He found difficulty in bringing\\nhimself down to the necessary toil. In Pendennis he\\nhas given us a picture of the plodding and the idle law-\\nstudent, and dwells on the losses and limitations of the\\ndiligent toiler. He could not cultivate a friendship, or", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0609.jp2"}, "608": {"fulltext": "522 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ndo a charity, or admire a work of genius, or kindle at the\\nsight of beauty or the sound of a sweet song he had\\nno time and no eyes for anything but his law books. All\\nwas dark outside his reading lamp. Love and nature and\\nart (which is the expression of our praise and sense of\\nthe beautiful world of God) were shut out from him.\\nAnd as he turned off his lonely lamp at night, he never\\nthought but that he had spent the day profitably, and\\nwent to sleep alike thankless and remorseless. This\\nmay be taken as an ingenious defence of his own lack\\nof diligence.\\nWhen he became of age, he had a comfortable fortune of\\ntwenty thousand pounds and an income of five hundred a\\nyear. This he speedily lost, partly through gambling with\\nsharpers, and partly through unfortunate newspaper enter-\\nprises. Forced to earn a livelihood for himself, he turned\\nto art and went to Paris to find a home for himself and his\\nmother. He bore his reverses philosophically and after-\\nward turned them to literary account. Writing to his\\nmother in December, 1833, he says: I have been very\\ncomfortably installed in the new house for ten days and\\nUke much my little study and airy bedroom. I am sure\\nwe shall be as happy here as possible and I believe\\nthat I ought to thank Heaven for making me poor, as\\nit has made me much happier than I should have been\\nwith the money. He became an artist of some skill\\nand in subsequent years was accustomed to illustrate\\nhis own writings.\\nBut the man who is born to write will write. In a year\\nor two we find him again in London, doing whatever work\\nhe could for the papers. In 1835 he is recognized among", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0610.jp2"}, "609": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. 523\\nthe contributors to Frasers Magazine, with which he re-\\nmained connected for a dozen years. The Memoirs of\\nYellowplush, which contains the observations of a foot-\\nman in many genteel famiUes, appeared in 1837. It is a\\nsatire, in which the orthogwaphy is inaccuwate, but the\\ndiction none the less telling. The author s own expe-\\nrience no doubt furnished the basis of the story of. Mr.\\nDawkins, who was fleeced out of his fortune by Mr.\\nDeuceace. There is probably an autobiographic touch in\\nthe remonstrance of the footman, who says, when his\\nmaster, in recognition of his talent, is about to dismiss\\nhim Don t send me away. I know them littery chaps,\\nand, believe me, I d rather be a footman. The work s\\nnot so hard the pay is better the vittels incompyrably\\nsupearor.\\nThe next story of any length was Catherine, which was\\nintended to satirize Bulwer, Ainsworth, and even Dickens\\nfor throwing a factitious charm around blackguards and\\ncriminals. It is written under the name of Ikey Solomons\\nBe it granted, Solomons is dull but don t attack his mo-\\nrality he humbly submits that, in his poem, no man shall\\nmistake virtue for vice, no man shall allow a single senti-\\nment of pity or admiration to enter his bosom for any char-\\nacter of the piece it being from beginning to end a scene\\nof unmixed rascality performed by persons who never\\ndeviate into good feeling.\\nBut more important than either of the foregoing tales\\nwas The History of Samuel Titmarsh and the Great\\nHoggarty Diamond, which came out in Fraser in 1841.\\nThough it did not attract great attention, and the editor\\nmade the disagreeable suggestion that it be curtailed, it", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0611.jp2"}, "610": {"fulltext": "524 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\npossesses much interest, and illustrates, within brief com-\\npass, the leading characteristics of Thackeray s manner.\\nIts main purpose is to expose the villany of bubble com-\\npanies, and to exhibit the methods by which rural inexpe-\\nrience is imposed upon. It concludes with the sensible\\nadvice never to embark in any speculation, of which the\\nconduct is not perfectly clear, and of which the agents\\nare not perfectly open and loyal.\\nOther contributions to Fraser were, Fitz-Boodle s Con-\\nfessions, Men s Wives, and Barry Lyndon. They\\nare all satires on the weaknesses, blunders, and sins of\\nlife. Thackeray had an almost morbid hatred of humbug\\nand pretentiousness, and was never weary of girding at\\nthem. In the first chapter of Mr. and Mrs. Frank\\nBerry, in Men s Wives, there is a description of\\nThackeray s fisticuff at Charter House, which resulted in\\na broken nose and permanent disfigurement. The most\\nimportant of this group of works is Barry Lyndon, in\\nwhich a sharper, liar, and villain is made to give a me-\\nmoir of himself. In spite of his unbroken series of villa-\\nnies, his energy and valor call forth some measure of\\nsympathy.\\nThe consideration of the Fraser contributions has car-\\nried us far beyond an important event in Thackeray s life.\\nThis was his marriage, which took place in 1836. For\\nthree or four years he found strength and happiness\\nin his domestic relations. His nature craved woman s\\ntenderness. It was during these years, as we have seen,\\nthat he laid the foundations of his great literary fame.\\nThen came a misfortune worse even than death. The\\nhealth of his wife gave way, and it became necessary to", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0612.jp2"}, "611": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. 525\\nplace her in a private asylum. Henceforth, he worked\\nwithout the encouragement of a cheerful home and with\\na heavy sorrow in his heart.\\nIn 1843 Thackeray became connected with PtincJi, to\\nwhich he contributed for the next nine or ten years. He\\ncontinued the same admirable vein of satire. The first of\\nhis contributions was The Lucky Speculator a ser-\\nvant who, beginning with twenty pounds, acquired a for-\\ntune speculating in stocks, and who, in the flood-tide of\\nhis prosperity, cut his former friends and affected the\\nfashionable gentleman. The story is told in extracts\\nfrom his diary. The portrayal of snobbery is admirable.\\nThe hero fell in love with a noble lady, Angelina, for\\nwhom, as he tells us, his pashn hogmented daily. I\\ngave went to my feelings, to quote from the diary, in\\nthe following lines. She was wobbling at the py-\\nanna as I hentered. I flung the convasation upon mew-\\nsick; said I sung myself; and on her rekwesting me to\\nfavor her with somethink, I bust out with my pom\\nWhen moonlike on the hazure seas\\nIn soft effulgence swells,\\nWhen silver jews and balmy breaze\\nBend down the lily s bells\\nWhen calm and deap, the rosy sleap\\nHas lapt your soul in dreems,\\nR Hangeline, R lady mine\\nDost thou remember Jeames\\nAnother admirable satire, appearing in Pimch, was\\nNovels by Eminent Hands, in which the pecuHarities\\nand weaknesses of Bulwer, DisraeH, Cooper, and others\\nare amusingly caricatured. The best of these satires is", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0613.jp2"}, "612": {"fulltext": "526 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nCodlingsby, in which the manner of Disraeli is taken\\noff, and The Stars and Stripes, in which Cooper s style\\nis imitated. But more important than either The Lucky\\nSpeculator or Novels by Eminent Hands was The\\nBook of Snobs, which relentlessly pursues snobbery in\\nevery class of society. The author professes to have an\\neye for snobbery a gift for which he felt an abid-\\ning thankfulness. But his satirical vein sometimes car-\\nries him too far; and his eye for snobbery was so keen\\nthat he occasionally discerned it where it does not exist.\\nAmong the most delightful of his burlesques is Rebecca\\nand Rowena, a sequel to Scott s Ivanhoe, in which\\nThackeray corrects what he regarded as the unjust treat-\\nment of the Jewish maiden.\\nThe year 1847 niarks a turning point in Thackeray s\\nliterary career. Up to this time, in spite of the admirable\\nwork he had done, he remained comparatively unknown.\\nHis great contemporary Dickens had fairly distanced him\\nin popularity and fame. Only a few recognized his excep-\\ntional power. He chafed somewhat under this neglect,\\nand thought for a time of working up a reputation through\\nthe puffing system but his sterling sense of honor soon\\nput aside the temptation. Puffs are good, he wrote to\\na friend, and so is the testimony of good men but I\\ndon t think these will make a success for a man, and he\\nought to stand as the public chooses to put him. But\\nthe time had now come for him to receive the recognition\\nto which his brilliant gifts entitled him.\\nIn the year last mentioned, he began the publication of\\nVanity Fair in monthly numbers. After a few months\\nits success was assured. Mrs. Carlyle wrote to her hus-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0614.jp2"}, "613": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. 527\\nband after getting the first four numbers, Very good,\\nindeed beats Dickens out of the world. The Edinburcrh\\nReview praised the novel, placing its author among the\\nmost remarkable of current writers. But most significant\\nand valuable of all were the words of Charlotte Bronte in\\nher preface to Jane Eyre. I think I see in him, she\\nsays, an intellect profounder and more unique than his\\ncontemporaries have yet recognized. His wit is bright,\\nhis humor attractive, but both bear the same relation to\\nhis serious genius that the mere lambent sheet-lightning\\nplaying under the edge of the summer cloud, does to the\\nelectric death-spark hid in its womb. From this time on\\nhe was recognized as a great man and honored by every\\nclass of society.\\nVanity Fair, which its author regarded as his best\\nwork, is a masterpiece of fiction, though it departs from\\nthe usual canons of novel-writing. In his lectures on the\\nEnglish Humorists, Thackeray said: I suppose, as\\nlong as novels last and authors aim at interesting their\\npublic, there must always be in the story a virtuous and\\ngallant hero, a wicked monster his opposite, and a pretty\\ngirl who finds a champion bravery and virtue conquer\\nbeauty and vice, after seeming to triumph through a\\ncertain number of pages, is sure to be discomfited in\\nthe last volume, when justice overtakes him and honest\\nfolks come by their own. There never was, perhaps, a\\ngreatly popular story but this simple plot was carried\\nthrough it. With the audacity of genius, Thackeray\\ndeparted in Vanity Fair from this conventional and\\npopular type. It is a novel without a hero. Though\\nDobbin has many admirable traits of character, his part", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0615.jp2"}, "614": {"fulltext": "528 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\namong the dramatis personcs is subordinate. Becky Sharp\\nis the heroine but she is the embodiment, not of all femi-\\nnine loveliness, but of unprincipled shrewdness.\\nIn constructing a work of fiction, the novelist may\\nadopt any one of three methods he may describe what\\nis romantic or extravagant in character and incident he\\nmay depict ideal or poetic personages and conditions\\nor he may adhere strictly to reality, portraying men\\nand events as they actually exist. Thackeray adopted\\nthe last method and may be justly regarded as the\\nprince of English realists. At the same time, he did\\nnot aim to portray life in its fulness and with his in-\\ntense dislike of sham and villany, he made the false\\nand sinful side of society most prominent in his works.\\nIn Vanity Fair he warns his readers that he is going\\nto tell a tale of harrowing villany. To many persons\\nit is depressing. We can easily understand why Thack-\\neray s children used to say to him, Papa, why don t\\nyou write books like Mr. Dickens But after a large\\nacquaintance with life has taught us something of its\\nshams and villanies, Vanity Fair becomes a delight-\\nful book, holding the mirror up to the darker side of\\nsociety.\\nThackeray s next great novel was Pendennis, the\\nfirst number of which appeared in 1848, a few months\\nafter the conclusion of Vanity Fair. It contains a\\nlarger autobiographic element than any of his other\\nwritings. Arthur Pendennis, the hero, is a very good-\\nnatured, generous young fellow, he once wrote, and I\\nbegin to like him considerably. I wonder whether he\\nis interesting to me for selfish reasons, and because I", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0616.jp2"}, "615": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. 529\\nfancy we resemble each other in many points, and\\nwhether I can get the pubUc to like him too. It\\nfairly rivals its predecessor in interest. Thackeray was\\nnot usually happy in his portrayal of good women. As\\nwith Amelia in Vanity Fair, their goodness is not\\nsupported by a corresponding wisdom. But in Pen-\\ndennis we find an exception Laura Bell is capable\\nand clever as well as good entirely too bright and\\ngood, some persons think, for the very faulty hero,\\nArthur Pendennis.\\nIn the original preface to Pendennis the author\\ndefends his realistic method. He mildly censures the\\npublic for preferring what is unreal to what is true. He\\ndeclares that it is not his purpose to idealize his char-\\nacters with Raphaelistic touches. You will not sym-\\npathize, he says substantially, with this young man of\\nmine, this Pendennis, because he is neither angel nor imp.\\nIf it be so, let it be so. I will not paint for you angels\\nor imps, because I do not see them. The young man of\\nthe day, whom I do see, and of whom I know the inside\\nand the out thoroughly, him I have painted for you and\\nhere he is, whether you like the picture or not.\\nThackeray has often been accused of being a cynic, but\\nthe accusation is hardly just. No one had a kinder heart\\nand a larger charity for the weaknesses of men. While\\nhis experience and his observation made him feel keenly\\nthe evils in life, he has not portrayed them with the bit-\\nterness of the cynic. The closing words of Pendennis\\nreveal to us the spirit with which he wrote If the best\\nmen do not draw the great prizes in life, we know it has\\nbeen so settled by the Ordainer of the lottery. We own,\\n2 M", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0617.jp2"}, "616": {"fulltext": "530 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nand see daily, how the false and worthless live and pros-\\nper, while the good are called away, and the dear and\\nyoung perish untimely we perceive in every man s life\\nthe maimed happiness, the frequent falling, the bootless\\nendeavor, the struggle of right and wrong, in which the\\nstrong often succumb and the swift fail we see flowers\\nof good blooming in foul places, as, in the most lofty\\nand splendid fortunes, flaws of vice and meanness, and\\nstains of evil and, knowing how mean the best of us is,\\nlet us give a hand of charity to Arthur Pendennis, with\\nall his faults and shortcomings, who does not claim to\\nbe a hero, but only a man and a brother.\\nHenry Esmond, which appeared in 1852, is com-\\nmonly regarded as the best of Thackeray s novels, though\\nit was rather coldly received at the time of its publication.\\nGeorge Eliot pronounced it an uncomfortable book, and\\neven Charlotte Bronte thought it contained too much\\nhistory and too little story. The author bestowed great\\nlabor on Henry Esmond. The period of the story\\nis the a2:e of Oueen Anne, and a number of historical\\ncharacters, including Steele and Addison, are introduced.\\nThe style is in perfect keeping with the times described,\\nand the incidents of the story are so naturally inter-\\nwoven with the historical events that the earlier half of\\nthe eighteenth century is made to live again before us.\\nIt is a great historical novel one of the greatest in our\\nlanguage. The tone of the book is one of disappointment\\nand sadness. And yet, to use the words of Trollope,\\nthere is not a page in the book over which a thoughtful\\nreader cannot pause with delight. The nature in it is true\\nnature.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0618.jp2"}, "617": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. 53 1\\nThackeray wrote two other novels that rank among his\\nprincipal works, The Newcomes, which appeared in\\n1855, and The Virginians, which appeared in 1859.\\nThe former is a sequel to Pendennis, and the latter to\\nHenry Esmond. The Virginians is not a closely\\nwoven story, and as a whole is lacking in interest. But\\nThe Newcomes deserves a place by the side of the\\nauthor s two or three greatest works. It exhibits his usual\\nmelancholy and satirical vein. Colonel Newcome is one\\nof his most admirable creations, and the death-bed scene\\nis a notable passage for its simple pathos At the usual\\nevening hour the chapel bell began to toll, and Thomas\\nNewcome s hands outside the bed feebly beat time. And\\njust as the last bell struck, a peculiar sweet smile shone\\nover his face, and he lifted up his head a little, and quickly\\nsaid, Adsum and fell back. It was the word we used\\nat school, when names were called and lo, he, whose\\nheart was as that of a little child, had answered to his\\nname, and stood in the presence of the Master.\\nBefore his last great works were written, Thackeray had\\ntaken to lecturing, to which he was impelled not so much\\nby natural inclination as by financial need. He began his\\ncareer as a lecturer in 185 1, with a course of six lectures\\non The English Humorists, among whom he included,\\nbesides a few others. Swift, Addison, Steele, Pope, and\\nGoldsmith. The subject was a thoroughly congenial one,\\nand the general treatment is sympathetic and delightful.\\nHe speaks of the men and their lives rather than of their\\nbooks, and makes humor mean more than the power of\\nexciting laughter. The humorous writer, he says, pro-\\nfesses to awaken and direct your love, your pity, your", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0619.jp2"}, "618": {"fulltext": "532 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nkindness, your scorn for untruth, pretension, imposture,\\nyour tenderness for the weak, the poor, the oppressed,\\nthe unhappy. In this sense Thackeray himself deserves\\nto rank among the greatest of EngUsh humorists.\\nUnhke Dickens, who was perfectly at ease before an\\naudience, Thackeray was painfully timid. He could not\\nthink of appearing in public without trepidation. His first\\ncourse was attended by the world of fashion. Charlotte\\nBronte, who was present at the lecture on Congreve and\\nAddison, admirably characterized their matter and deliv-\\nery They are a sort of essays, characterized by his own\\npeculiar originality and power, and delivered with a fin-\\nished taste and ease, which is felt but cannot be described.\\nit\\nAfter delivering the lectures in the principal cities of\\nEngland, Thackeray came to America in the latter part\\nof 1852. He looked at American life with very kindly\\neyes, and enjoyed, as he wrote, the rush and restlessness.\\nNaturally, the lion business night after night became\\nirksome to him but he was pleased with the enthusiastic\\nreception he generally received. Three years later he\\nvisited this country again and delivered his Four\\nGeorges. These lectures are not historical treatises, but\\npersonal sketches set in the social life of the times. Filled\\nwith striking incident and anecdote, they give an interest-\\ning glimpse of the period of the Georges, and were re-\\nceived in America with even more favor than The\\nEnglish Humorists. They were afterward delivered in\\nthe principal cities of England, but with less applause.\\nThough Thackeray can hardly be regarded as a poet,\\nhe was a versifier of uncommon skill. Like his prose\\nworks, his poems are mostly humorous and satirical but", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0620.jp2"}, "619": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. 533\\nat the same time there is an undertone of seriousness and\\npathos running through them. The Sorrows of Wer-\\nther, a satire on Goethe s romance of the same name, is\\nwell known\\nWerther had a love for Charlotte\\nSuch as words could never utter\\nWould you know how first he met her?\\nShe was cutting bread and butter.\\nThe End of the Play is one of the best of his more\\nserious poems, breathing a pathetic sadness. The Cane-\\nBottomed Chair was the author s favorite ballad but in\\nno other poem has he put so much of his feeling in regard\\nto life as in Vanitas Vanitatum\\nO vanity of vanities\\nHow wayward the decrees of fate are\\nHow very weak the very wise,\\nHow very small the very great are!\\nThough thrice a thousand years have past,\\nSince David s son, the sad and splendid,\\nThe weary King Ecclesiast,\\nUpon his awful tablets penned it,\\nMethinks the text is never stale.\\nAnd life is every day renewing\\nFresh comments on the old, old tale\\nOf folly, fortune, glory, ruin.\\nIn 1857 Thackeray made an effort to secure a seat in\\nParliament, but was defeated. Two years later the Corn-\\nhill Magazi7ie was established under his editorial manage-\\nment. He gathered about him a large number of able\\ncontributors, and the Magazine was a success from the", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0621.jp2"}, "620": {"fulltext": "534 ENGLISH LITERATURE,\\nstart. More than one hundred thousand copies of the\\nfirst number were sold. In this periodical appeared\\nthe stories of LoveJ the Widower and The Adven-\\ntures of Philip, neither of which is up to the standard of\\nThackeray s best work. The most interesting of his con-\\ntributions to the CoriiJiill was the Roundabout Papers,\\nessays in which his imaginative and moralizing faculties\\nwere allowed free play. They are delightful papers, re-\\nvealing the more playful and amiable side of his nature.\\nThere are many autobiographic touches. Perhaps of all\\nthe novel-spinners now extant, he says in playful refer-\\nence to his manner of writing, the present speaker is the\\nmost addicted to preaching.\\nBeneath the heavy cares and sorrows of life, Thackeray\\nhad aged prematurely. He died on Christmas eve, 1863,\\nand lies buried in Kensal Green Cemetery. A plain stone,\\nbearing his name and the date of his birth and death, miarks\\nhis resting place a greater monument is found in his im-\\nperishable works. His nature was deeply religious, and\\nhe seems to have remained untouched by the doubts so\\nprevalent in this century. He looked upon death as a\\nfriend. A just man summoned by God, he once wrote,\\nfor what purpose can he go but to meet the Divine love\\nand goodness", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0622.jp2"}, "621": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0623.jp2"}, "622": {"fulltext": "V?\\ni\\n~^^H\\n1\\nfe\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0--\u00e2\u0096\u00a0^S\\n^E^ ^^^SR^\\nr\\n^u/l\\n^/J^rAt\\n_^______^^___^_^^__\\nEtching by Samuel Hollj er.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0624.jp2"}, "623": {"fulltext": "CHARLES DICKENS. 535\\nCHARLES DICKENS.\\nJUST how much a man owes to the age in which he\\nhappens to be born, it is difficult to determine. But what-\\never genius he may possess, it is certain that to a greater\\nor less degree he is influenced and moulded by his sur-\\nroundings. No account of an author s life and work is\\ncomplete without a consideration of his environment.\\nThis consideration shows us something of the nature of\\nhis attainments, the source of his material, and the char-\\nacter of the public he addresses.\\nDickens was fortunate in coming upon the stage at\\nan opportune moment. The brilliant Victorian Age had\\nscarcely begun. Shelley, Keats, Byron, Coleridge, Lamb,\\nwere names of the past and that mighty constellation of\\nVictorian writers Carlyle, Macaulay, Tennyson, Brown-\\ning, and others was just appearing above the horizon.\\nIn the realm of fiction particularly, there was a void.\\nScott had lain in his tomb five years and in spite of the\\npartial success of Bulwer and Disraeli, no one had been\\nfound worthy to take his place. At such a time did Dick-\\nens appear upon the scene to become for many years the\\nacknowledged prince of novelists.\\nCharles Dickens, the second in a family of eight chil-\\ndren, was born in Portsea, Feb. 7, 18 12. His father\\nwas at that time a government clerk connected with the\\nPortsmouth dockyard. He was, according to his son s", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0625.jp2"}, "624": {"fulltext": "536 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ntestimony, industrious and conscientious in the discharge\\nof business, and as kind-hearted and generous a man as\\never lived in the world. But thrift was not one of his\\nvirtues. With an increasing family and accumulating\\ndebts, he moved* to London when his son was two years\\nold, and not long afterward to Chatham. His wife was\\na woman of some accomplishments, but without much\\npractical wisdom and force of character.\\nThe experiences of the family at this period and after\\ntheir return to London have been immortalized in David\\nCopperfield. To have a complete record, it is only\\nnecessary to substitute John Dickens for the easy-going\\nMr. Micawber. Even the Boarding Estabhshment for\\nYoung Ladies is not a fiction but unfortunately for the\\nwelfare of the family no pupils ever came, and the house\\nwas visited only by a growing number of inexorable\\ncreditors. At last the elder Dickens was thrown into\\nthe Marshalsea prison for debt, where he moralized in\\nmuch the same strain as Micawber. With tears he con-\\njured his son to take warning by his fate, and to observe\\nthat if a man had twenty pounds a year for his income,\\nand spent nineteen pounds nineteen shillings and sixpence\\nhe would be happy, but that if he spent twenty pounds\\none he would be miserable.\\nAt Chatham the young Charles had been sent to school,\\nwhere he showed decided literary tastes. He once said\\nof himself that he had been a writer from a mere baby,\\nan actor always. His father had collected a little library,\\nin which the precocious boy was able to gratify his taste\\nfor reading. He had a greedy relish for books of voyage\\nand travel but those which exerted the greatest influence", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0626.jp2"}, "625": {"fulltext": "CHARLES DICKENS. 537\\nupon him were works of fiction. They appealed to his\\nactive imagination. Among the books read at this time\\nwere the works of the older novelists Roderick Ran-\\ndom, Hmnphrey Clinker, Tom Jones, The Vicar\\nof Wakefield, Don Quixote, Gil Bias, and Robin-\\nson Crusoe. He entered into the deepest sympathy with\\nthe leading characters, and emulated their deeds of adven-\\nture and heroism. It is not strange that thus early he\\ncherished the ambition to become a learned and dis-\\ntinguished man.\\nIn 1 82 1 the family removed from Chatham to London,\\nand the trials of the young Charles began. The family\\nfinances went from bad to worse. At the age of ten the\\nbookish, imaginative boy was placed in a blacking ware-\\nhouse, where he pasted labels on bottles for six or seven\\nshillings a week. Neglected by his parents, thrown with\\nrude companions, and subject to many hardships, he felt\\na strong sense of degradation. Years afterward he wrote\\nof this sorrowful time How much I suffered, it is utterly\\nbeyond my power to tell. I know that but for the\\nmercy of God, I might easily have been, for any care that\\nwas taken of me, a little robber or a little vagabond. My\\nwhole nature was so penetrated with grief and humiliation\\nof such considerations, that even now, famous and caressed\\nand happy, I often forget in my dreams that I have a dear\\nwife and child, and wander desolately back to that time\\nof my life. But more than he ever realized, perhaps,\\nthis experience was valuable to him. Out of the trials\\nof this period he was storing up treasures of character\\nand incident, of which he afterward made golden use.\\nA fortunate legacy, at the end of a few months, enabled", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0627.jp2"}, "626": {"fulltext": "538 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nthe elder Dickens to get out of the debtors prison and\\nCharles, released by a timely quarrel from the drudgery\\nof the blacking warehouse, was sent in 1824 to Wellington\\nHouse Academy. It was a school of the old style, which\\nhe did so much in later years to render impossible in\\nEngland. The head-master s chief qualification was\\ndexterity in the use of the cane, and he furnished more\\nthan one trait for Mr. Creakle. Charles did not bring\\naway from the school any great store of classic learning.\\nHe always lamented his defective education. But with-\\nout knowing it, he got what for him was better than book\\nlearning. He enriched his experience with the humors\\nand characters of the school. Whatever may have been\\nhis success as a student, his literary gifts were recognized\\namong his comrades, and he was looked up to as a writer\\nof tales and a leader in amateur theatricals.\\nHis school life lasted only a year or two. It then be-\\ncame necessary for him to think of earning his bread.\\nIn 1827 he entered a solicitor s office on a salary of thir-\\nteen shillings and sixpence a week. Here he had a new\\nfield of observation, which he turned to good account.\\nHe not only acquainted himself with the technicalities of\\ncourts and law, but also enriched his mind with a store\\nof characters and incidents relating to the legal profes-\\nsion. But his ambition was not satisfied with the drudg-\\nery of a clerkship and at the end of eighteen months,\\nstimulated by the example of his father who had become\\nparliamentary reporter for one of the London papers, he\\nresolved to become a reporter too.\\nHe was at this time about seventeen and character-\\nized by an indomitable will and a determination if he", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0628.jp2"}, "627": {"fulltext": "CHARLES DICKENS. 539\\ndid anything at all, to do it with his might. He threw\\nhimself into his new career with great energy. Short-\\nhand then, even more than at the present time, was a\\ndifficult art, and he spent many weary months in diligent\\npractice before offering himself as a skilled reporter.\\nHe soon discovered that his lack of general reading was\\na serious obstacle to his success, and with dauntless\\ncourage he set about supplying this deficiency by con-\\nstant attendance at the British Museum. Of the many\\nhardships of these days he has given us a charming\\ndescription in an address delivered at a public dinner\\nsome two years before his death. I have often tran-\\nscribed for the printer, he said, from my shorthand\\nnotes important public speeches, in which the strictest\\naccuracy was required, and a mistake in which would\\nhave been, to a young man, severely compromising, writ-\\ning on the palm of my hand, by the light of a dark lan-\\ntern, in a post-chaise and four, galloping through a wild\\ncountry, and through the dead of night, at the then sur-\\nprising rate of fifteen miles an hour. Returning home\\nfrom excited political meetings in the country to the wait-\\ning press in London, I do verily believe I have been\\nupset in almost every description of vehicle known in\\nthis country. I have been, in my time, belated in miry\\nby-roads, toward the small hours, forty or fifty miles\\nfrom London, in a wheelless carriage, with exhausted\\nhorses and drunken postboys, and have got back in time\\nfor publication, to be received with never-forgotten com-\\npliments.\\nWe have now reached the time when Dickens at last\\nfound his true vocation, for which, unconsciously to himself,", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0629.jp2"}, "628": {"fulltext": "540 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nall his previous experience, and particularly his newspaper\\ntraining, had specially fitted him. In December, 1833, his\\nfirst literary sketch was dropped stealthily, with fear and\\ntrembling, to use his own words, into a dark letter-box,\\nin a dark office, up a dark court in Fleet Street. It was\\naccepted, and appeared in all the glory of print. He\\nwas so filled with pleasure and pride, he tells us, in pur-\\nchasing a copy of the Magazine in which it was published,\\nthat he went into Westminster Hall to hide the tears\\nof joy that would come into his eyes. The paper which\\nhe thus described, was subsequently published in the\\nSketches by Boz, as Mr. Minns and his Cousin.\\nEncouraged by this success, Dickens continued for the\\nnext year or two to write stories and sketches for The Old\\nMonthly Magazine and for The Eveimig Chronicle. They\\nwere then republished in a volume, for which the author\\nreceived two hundred and fifty pounds. The Sketches\\nreveal the extraordinary power of Dickens as an observer,\\nand contain clear intimations of his future greatness.\\nLondon ^^its sins and sorrows, its gayeties and amuse-\\nments, its suburban gentilities and central squalor, the\\naspects of its streets, and the humors of the dingier classes\\namong its inhabitants all this had certainly never been\\nso seen and described before.\\nWhile continuing his duties as reporter, Dickens began\\nthe work that was quickly to establish his reputation and\\nto confirm him in a literary career of astonishing fruitful-\\nness and success. In a later preface to the book, he tells\\nus how Pickwick came to be written. It was proposed\\nby the publishers that he should write something to accom-\\npany monthly illustrations by the caricaturist Seymour.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0630.jp2"}, "629": {"fulltext": "CHARLES DICKENS. 54 1\\nHe consented on condition that he was to have control of\\nthe story, and that the illustrations should rise naturally\\nfrom its characters and incidents. The first number of the\\nPosthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club appeared in\\nMarch, 1836. At first the success of the story seemed\\ndoubtful but after the fifth number, in which Sam Weller\\nappeared, it grew rapidly in popularity. In a few months\\nthe sale of the successive numbers jumped from a few\\nhundred to forty thousand, and Pickwick was recog-\\nnized as the most popular novel of its day.\\nPickwick has remained one of its author s most popu-\\nlar books. In several particulars it illustrates his peculiar\\nmethods and powers. Though possessed of no small de-\\ngree of dramatic talent, Dickens does not often make use\\nof elaborate plots. He is preeminently a novelist of inci-\\ndent. He places before us graphic scenes rather than\\nprofound studies. His characters are vividly drawn, but\\ngenerally with the exaggeration of caricature. He has a\\ndominant but kindly sense of humor, which, less refined\\nthan that of a Lamb or Irving, is exhibited most frequently\\nin absurd characters and ridiculous situations. Besides all\\nthis, there is found in Pickwick an abounding and con-\\ntagious vitality, which constitutes one of the great charms\\nof the book.\\nAn etching by Carlyle, who met Dickens at a dinner\\nparty, brings before us his personal appearance and man-\\nner at this time. He is a fine little fellow Boz, I think.\\nClear, blue, intelligent eyes, eyebrows that he arches\\namazingly, large protrusive rather large mouth, a face of\\nmost extreme mobility, which he shuttles about eye-\\nbrows, eyes, mouth, and all in a very singular manner", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0631.jp2"}, "630": {"fulltext": "542 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nwhile speaking. Surmount this with a loose coil of com-\\nmon-colored hair, and set it on a small compact figure, very\\nsmall, and dressed a la U Orsay rather than well this is\\nPickwick. For the rest, a quiet shrewd-looking little\\nfellow, who seems to guess pretty well what he is and\\nwhat others are.\\nTwo days after the appearance of the first number of\\nPickwick Dickens married Catharine Hogarth, the\\ndaughter of a fellow-worker on the Chronicle, He began\\nhis wedded life modestly, taking his bride to his bachelor\\nquarters in Furnival s Inn, much after the manner of\\nTommy Traddles in David Copperfield. But as his in-\\ncome increased, he occupied more comfortable lodgings,\\ntill at last he purchased Gad s Hill Place as his permanent\\nhome, and so fulfilled a resolution of his ambitious child-\\nhood. For a number of years his domestic relations were\\nhappy enough. He delighted in his children. He never\\nwas too busy, his daughter tells us, to interest himself\\nin his children s occupations, lessons, amusements, and gen-\\neral welfare. But later there came an unfortunate\\nchange and after twenty years of wedded life, the un-\\nhappy pair agreed to separate. It was a case of incom-\\npatibility of temper, which neither had the strength to\\novercome or the patience to bear.\\nDuring the next few years after the success of Pick-\\nwick, the amount of work Dickens accomplished is amaz-\\ning. While writing the successive numbers of Pickwick,\\nhe assumed the editorship of Beittley s Miscellany, and\\nbegan at once the publication of Oliver Twist. Early\\nin 1838, and simultaneously with Oliver Twist, he issued\\nthe first numbers of Nicholas Nickleby. Besides these", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0632.jp2"}, "631": {"fulltext": "H\\nu\\nc\\nh\\n\u00c2\u00abi! C (A,\\nu\\n4 o c Q", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0633.jp2"}, "632": {"fulltext": "i", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0634.jp2"}, "633": {"fulltext": "CHARLES DICKENS. 543\\nthree masterpieces, he wrote several plays, none of which,\\nhowever, added to his fame. Oliver Twist, one of the\\nmost interesting of our author s works, was written to por-\\ntray the criminal side of London life. It appeared to\\nme, he says, that to draw a knot of such associates in\\ncrime as really did exist; to paint them in all their de-\\nformity, in all their wretchedness, in all the squalid misery\\nof their lives to show them as they really were, forever\\nskulking uneasily through the dirtiest paths of life, with\\nthe great, black, ghostly gallows closing up their prospect,\\nturn them where they might it appeared to me that to\\ndo this, would be to attempt a something which was\\nneeded, and which would be a service to society. It is a\\nstrong piece of realism, in which the glamour sometimes\\nthrown around crime is ruthlessly torn away.\\nNicholas Nickleby was likewise written with a pur-\\npose. It was intended to expose the cruelties practised in\\ncertain Yorkshire schools, and to awaken sympathy for\\nthe unhappy victims. So thoroughly had Dickens ac-\\nquainted himself with the scene of the story that the origi-\\nnal of Dotheboys Hall was identified without difficulty.\\nThe book hit its mark, and as a result of the exposures it\\nmade, and of the public interest it aroused, the class of\\nschools attacked was in large measure reformed.\\nHis methods of work, as followed at this period, are not\\nwithout interest. His favorite time for writing was the\\nmorning, though when heavily pressed he labored far into\\nthe night. He worked with intense concentration. When\\nweary with mental exertion, he sought recreation in abun-\\ndant physical exercise. At first riding fifteen miles out\\nand fifteen miles in was his favorite means, but soon he", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0635.jp2"}, "634": {"fulltext": "544 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nbecame an indefatigable pedestrian and perambulated\\nLondon in all directions. He frequently walked twenty\\nor thirty miles at a stretch. His favorite time for walk-\\ning was at night, when the great city seemed to possess a\\nfascination for him. He never grew tired of it, and looked\\nat in this light, the opening pages of Old Curiosity Shop\\nhave an autobiographic interest.\\nIn 1840 Dickens began the publication of a weekly\\nperiodical, Master Humphrey s Clock, containing essays,\\nshort stories, and miscellaneous papers. It started with a\\nsale of seventy thousand copies. But the public was dis-\\nappointed, and Dickens saved the enterprise from failure\\nby beginning the publication of Old Curiosity Shop.\\nThe heroine of this novel is Little Nell, the original of\\nwhom was Mary Hogarth, a younger sister of the author s\\nwife. She had won a large place in his heart as the ideal\\nof feminine loveHness. Of all the children Dickens has\\nportrayed (and he had a rare sympathy with the humor\\nand pathos of childhood). Little Nell has been the fav-\\norite. The pathos of her story has won all hearts even\\nJeffrey, the savage editor of the Edinburgh Review, paid\\nher the tribute of tears.\\nAfter Old Curiosity Shop came Barnaby Rudge,\\nwhich was published also in weekly instalments in 1841.\\nIt is one of the two historical novels which Dickens es-\\nsayed, the other being A Tale of Two Cities, which is\\nconnected with the French Revolution. Many of the\\nscenes of Barnaby Rudge are laid among the No\\nPopery Riots of 1780. It describes these riotous scenes\\nin words of blood and fire. But the book did not afford\\nample scope for the author s pathos and humor; and, in", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0636.jp2"}, "635": {"fulltext": "CHARLES DICKENS. 545\\nspite of its interest, it is generally regarded as one of his\\nleast characteristic works.\\nDuring this period of great literary activity Dickens s\\npassion for travelling became very strong. While at work\\nhe taxed his nervous energies to the utmost, and therefore\\nfelt, from time to time, the need of rest and recreation.\\nHe also desired, no doubt, to enrich his experience by see-\\ning new countries and new manners. He wandered over\\nnearly every part of England and made trips to the Con-\\ntinent. In 1 84 1 he was invited to Edinburgh, where he\\nwas given the freedom of the city and almost over-\\nwhelmed with hospitalities. Early the following year, in\\ncompany with his wife, he embarked for America, where\\nhe spent four months in visiting the principal cities. At\\na great public dinner in New York Washington Irving\\nwelcomed him as the guest of the nation. But the\\nyoung republic did not make a favorable impression upon\\nhim. It is of no use, he wrote to a friend, I am dis-\\nappointed. This is not the republic I came to see; this\\nis not the republic of my imagination.\\nA few months after his return to England he gave the\\npublic his impressions of our country in American Notes,\\nand a year or two later in Martin Chuzzlewit, one of his\\nstrongest books. In spite of the princely inception that\\nhad been accorded him, his criticism and satire of Ameri-\\ncan life were severe and unjust. In Martin Chuzzlewit,\\nin particular, he portrayed some of its cruder features in\\na harsh and unfriendly spirit, which justly gave offence.\\nDickens himself afterward recognized the injustice of his\\nattack; and on his second visit to the United States,\\ntwenty-five years later, he spoke of the astonishing strides\\n2 N", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0637.jp2"}, "636": {"fulltext": "546 ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nour country had made in wealth and culture, and acknowl-\\nedged that his impressions of an earlier time had been\\nextreme and unjust.\\nDuring the intervals of Martin Chuzzlewit Dickens\\nwrote in 1843 The Christmas Carol, a story that was\\nat once acknowledged to be a masterpiece. The first\\nedition of six thousand copies was sold on the day of\\npublication. Nothing better of its kind has ever been\\ndone. It exhibits our author s great gifts his humor,\\nhis simple pathos, his bright, poetic fancy, and his sym-\\npathy with the down-trodden at their best. The next\\nbest of his Christmas stories is The Cricket on the\\nHearth.\\nFor some reason Dickens s popularity at this period\\nseemed to wane. There was a large falling off in the\\nsale of Martin Chuzzlewit and as he had been living\\nin a liberal style, he found himself in financial difficulties,\\nfrom which, to use his own words, he suffered intolerable\\nanxiety and disappointment. Under these circumstances\\nhe resolved to spend some time on the Continent with his\\nfamily, where he could live more economically and ac-\\ncordingly, in 1844, he went to Genoa, and afterward vis-\\nited the other principal cities of Italy. His sojourn\\nabroad was not marked by great literary activity but\\nthe ringing of the numerous bells of Genoa suggested to\\nhim the Christmas story called The Chimes. He re-\\nturned to London the following year, and became editor\\nof a new daily. The News, which has since had a vigorous\\ngrowth. But the engagement proved a mistake, and after\\nthree weeks he tendered his resignation. But he still con-\\ntinued for a time to write for it, and in its columns first\\nI", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0638.jp2"}, "637": {"fulltext": "CHARLES DICKENS. 547\\nappeared his excellent letters of travel called Pictures of\\nItaly.\\nNot long after his release from editorial work, he again\\nwent to the Continent, this time establishing himself at\\nLausanne. At this place, in a villa that did not belie its\\nname of Rosemont, he began another great work, Dom-\\nbey and Son. But the grandeur of Alpine scenery could\\nnot supply the inspiration that came to him in the me-\\ntropolis of England. The toil and labor of writing, day\\nafter day, he said, without the magic lantern of the\\nLondon streets, is immense! After finishing three\\nparts of Dombey and Son, he went to Paris, where\\nhe spent three months, living on terms of friendly inter-\\ncourse with Dumas, Hugo, Lamartine, and Chateaubriand.\\nDombey and Son was completed in London and\\npublished in 1848. Its purpose is to expose the vice\\nof pride, and in its originality and force it deserves\\nto rank among our author s best works. No small part\\nof its beauty and pathos is due to the character of little\\nPaul.\\nThe five years beginning with 1847 ^^y be reckoned\\nthe happiest and busiest of Dickens s life. His inimitable\\naddresses on public occasions brought him into closer re-\\nlations with the people, while his splendid strolling at\\nthe head of an amateur theatrical troupe won him fresh\\napplause. As an actor and manager he possessed remark-\\nable ability and was recognized as the life of the whole\\ncompany. The proceeds of the entertainments given by\\nthe troupe were devoted to benevolent objects. In 1850\\nhis long-cherished desire to conduct a successful periodical\\nwas realized in Household Words. We hope, he wrote.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0639.jp2"}, "638": {"fulltext": "548 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nto do some solid good, and we mean to be as cheery and\\npleasant as we can.\\nIn David Copperfield, which was completed in 1850,\\nDickens may be said to have reached the culmination of\\nhis career as a writer. In no other work has he attained\\nso high a degree of artistic excellence. Its autobiographic\\nelement is an additional source of interest. Of all my\\nbooks, Dickens declares, I like this the best. It will\\nbe easily believed that I am a fond parent to every child\\nof my fancy, and that no one can ever love that family as\\ndearly as I love them. But like many fond parents, I\\nhave in my heart of hearts a favorite child and his name\\nis David Copperfield.\\nWe cannot follow Dickens further in his work as a\\nnovelist. Other great works were to be produced,\\nBleak House, Little Dorrit, Tale of Two Cities,\\nOur Mutual Friend, and others, but none of them in-\\ncreased his fame. They lacked, to a greater or less degree,\\nthe abounding humor and vitality of his earlier books.\\nHis intense and protracted labors, together with domestic\\ndiscomforts, began to tell on his health. A morbid rest-\\nlessness came upon him. I am become incapable of\\nrest, he wrote to a friend. I am quite confident that I\\nshould rust, break, and die, if I spared myself. Much\\nbetter to die, doing. His roving spirit became stronger\\nthan ever; and in 1855, speaking of a contemplated trip,\\nhe humorously described himself as going off, I don t\\nknow where or how far, to ponder about I don t know\\nwhat. The closing years of his life were filled with rest-\\nless activity.\\nThough he had previously given readings for benevolent", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0640.jp2"}, "639": {"fulltext": "CHARLES DICKENS. 549\\nobjects, Dickens began his career as a professional reader\\nin 1858. His readings were eminently successful, adding\\nlargely both to his fame and fortune. Wherever he went,\\nlarge crowds were anxious to see and hear the distinguished\\nnovelist. He prepared for his readings with almost infi-\\nnite care, rehearsing scores of times and studying every\\nintonation and gesture. His flexible voice, his fine per-\\nsonal presence, and above all his unusual dramatic gifts,\\nmade his entertainments unique. He was a whole theatre\\nin himself. Carlyle, who once went reluctantly to hear\\nhim, felt constrained to say Dickens does it capitally,\\nsuch as it is acts better than any Macready in the world\\na whole tragic, comic, heroic theatre visible, performing\\nunder one hat, and keeping us laughing in a sorry way,\\nsome of us thought the whole night. His readings in\\nAmerica during the winter of \\\\%6j-\\\\%6Z brought him the\\nenormous sum of nearly one hundred thousand dollars.\\nThe last years of his life were marked by failing strength.\\nHis reading tours drew heavily upon his physical energies,\\napd a serious railroad accident, in which he nearly lost his\\nlife, shattered his nerves. But he toiled on with heroic\\ncourage, his indomitable will triumphing over bodily in-\\nfirmity. Among intimate friends he sometimes exhibited\\nthe boyish gayety of earlier years. In the autumn of 1869\\nhe began the novel of Edwin Drood, which he was des-\\ntined never to finish. The end came suddenly June 9,\\n1870, in his home at Gad s HilL His body was quietly\\nlaid to rest in Westminster Abbey, among those who by\\nword and deed have done most to make England and\\nEnglish literature. The last day of his life he wrote\\nI have always striven in my writings to express venera-", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0641.jp2"}, "640": {"fulltext": "5 so ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ntion for the life and lessons of our Saviour because I\\nfeel it. In this faith he lived and died.\\nAs a novelist, Dickens followed a large and diffuse\\nmethod. He lacked the severe self-restraint that belongs\\nto the classic spirit. His scenes and characters are almost\\nexclusively confined to the lower half of society and when\\nhe has attempted to portray a higher type of manhood\\nand womanhood; he has generally failed. But these and\\nother defects that have been pointed out in the course of\\nthis sketch are so heavily counterbalanced by prevailing\\nexcellences that we can afford to ignore them. In spite of\\ncaricature, many of his characters are genuine creations,\\nwhose doings and sayings are quoted with the tacit assump-\\ntion that they are familiar to every one. Who can forget\\nPickwick, or Mr. Micawber, or Bill Sikes, or a score of\\nothers Dickens is always pure and true in his moral\\nfeeling. He never confounds vice and virtue, nor loses\\nsight of the great truth that the wages of sin is death.\\nHe had a wide human sympathy, which discovered, even\\nin the lowest outcast, some remaining spark of goodness.\\nThis humane kinship with the vulgar and the common,\\nsays Frederic Harrison, **this magic which strikes poetry\\nout of the dust of the streets, and discovers the traces\\nof beauty and joy in the most monotonous of lives, is, in\\nthe true and best sense of the term, Christ-like, with a\\nmessage and gospel of hope.\\nWe may venture to predict that the future of Dickens\\nis secure. He wished no other monument than his\\nworks, and they are likely to prove an enduring one.\\nWith the changing taste of each generation, and with\\nthe growing intensity of life, he will not be so extensively", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0642.jp2"}, "641": {"fulltext": "CHARLES DICKENS. 55 I\\nread in the future as in the past. Perhaps no other novel-\\nist, except Scott, has ever been so popular. But a few of\\nhis works, at least, will no doubt continue to live and a\\nhundred years from now people will laugh over Pickwick\\nand sympathize with David Copperfield.\\nI", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0643.jp2"}, "642": {"fulltext": "552 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nGEORGE ELIOT.\\nGeorge Eliot did not begin to write novels, upon which\\nher fame chiefly depends, till she had reached the full ma-\\nturity of her intellectual powers and had garnered a rich\\nstore of observation and experience. She was thirty-eight\\nwhen her first story was pubhshed. Her novels do not\\nbelong to what she calls, in one of her review articles, the\\nmind and millinery species, which is described as frothy,\\nprosy, pious, or pedantic. Gifted with a large and pene-\\ntrating mind, she was a profound student of the human\\nsoul and few other writers, even among the very greatest,\\nhave sounded lower depths. She was deeply impressed by\\nthe ethical significance of Hfe, and everywhere discerned\\nthe same tragedy of hunger and labor, sin and suffering,\\nlove and death. Unlike the silly novelists whom she\\ncriticised in the article referred to, she chose to portray\\nordinary life in its deeper thought and feeling; and her\\nmethod, to express it in a single phrase, is that of psycho-\\nlogic realism.\\nMary Ann Evans (for George Eliot was but her nom\\nde plume^ was born in Warwickshire, Nov. 22, 18 19.\\nHer mother was an earnest-minded woman, solicitous\\nfor the moral and reHgious welfare of her children, and\\nendowed with a notable readiness and sharpness of tongue.\\nHer father, a farmer and surveyor, was a man of sound\\njudgment and wide reputation for integrity of character.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0644.jp2"}, "643": {"fulltext": "^?^vi^- .-vt.-\\nC (Krrrji^", "height": "3507", "width": "2385", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0645.jp2"}, "644": {"fulltext": "n", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0646.jp2"}, "645": {"fulltext": "GEORGE ELIOT. 553\\nHe raised himself from being an artisan, says his\\ndaughter, to be a man whose extensive Icnowledge in\\nvery varied practical departments made his services valued\\nthrough several counties. The local scenery familiar to\\nher in childhood she has accurately depicted in Scenes\\nfrom Clerical Life and in The Mill on the Floss.\\nIn her earliest school days she cared but little for books.\\nShe and her brother Isaac, who furnish the prototypes of\\nMaggie and Tom Tulliver in The Mill on the Floss,\\nwere always together. But after her tenth or twelfth\\nyear, she became fond of her studies and developed an\\nunusual capacity for acquiring knowledge. She became a\\ngreat reader and eagerly devoured Scott, Lamb, and De-\\nfoe. In a letter written in 1838, she speaks of a serious\\nfault into which her thirst for knowledge had betrayed\\nher I am generally in the same predicament with books\\nas a glutton with his feast, hurrying through one course\\nthat I may be in time for the next, and so not relishing or\\ndigesting either.\\nAt Coventry she spent three years in a school that was\\npervaded by a deeply religious atmosphere. This influ-\\nence, together with the religious training of her home,\\nleft a deep impression on her character. She devoted\\nmuch time to works of charity, visiting the poor and pro-\\nviding for their needs. After the death of her mother, in\\n1836, the care of her father s house fell upon her. She\\nbecame an adept in butter-making, stood sentinel over\\ndamson cheese and a warm stove, and disciplined her fin-\\ngers to the skilful use of the needle.\\nBut with all her charitable and domestic duties, she still\\nfound time for reading and study. She familiarized her-", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0647.jp2"}, "646": {"fulltext": "554 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nself with no fewer than six languages, namely, Latin,\\nGreek, Hebrew, French, Italian, and German. Her read-\\ning covered a wide field. In a letter written in 1839 she\\nsays My mind presents an assemblage of disjointed\\nspecimens of history, ancient and modern, scraps of poetry\\npicked up from Shakespeare, Cowper, Wordsworth, and\\nMilton newspaper topics morsels of Addison and Ba-\\ncon, Latin verbs, geometry, entomology, and chemistry\\nreviews and metaphysics, all arrested and petrified and\\nsmothered by the fast-thickening anxiety of actual events\\nand household cares and vexations. With untiring dili-\\ngence she laid a broad foundation for her subsequent\\nwork.\\nFrom letters written at this period of her life, we get a\\nclear insight into the peculiar temperament and charac-\\nter of George Eliot. She was distrustful of self, felt a\\ncontinual need of sympathy, and longed to be helpful to\\nothers. In her moral development, says her husband\\nand biographer Cross, she showed, from the earliest\\nyears the trait that was most marked in her through Hfe,\\nnamely, the absolute need of some one person who should\\nbe all in all to her, and to whom she should be all in all.\\nVery jealous in her affections, and easily moved to smiles\\nor tears, she was of a nature capable of the keenest enjoy-\\nment and the keenest suffering knowing all the wealth\\nand all the woe of a preeminently exclusive disposition.\\nShe was affectionate, proud, and sensitive in the highest\\ndegree.\\nIn 1 841 George EUot s father moved to Foleshill, on\\nthe outskirts of Coventry. This turned out an event of\\ngreat importance in her life. Here she made the acquain-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0648.jp2"}, "647": {"fulltext": "GEORGE ELIOT. 555\\ntance of the Brays, whose house was a centre for the radi-\\ncal Hterary and reHgious thought of that region. Emerson,\\nFroude, and other men of mark were guests from time to\\ntime. In this atmosphere of free-thinking and scepticism\\nGeorge EHot abandoned the reUgious behefs of her earUer\\nyears and, with something of a proselyte s zeal, attacked\\nthe current theology and its representatives. For a time\\nher religious convictions remained unfixed she passed\\nfrom rationahsm to pantheism, and finally settled down\\ninto a religion of toleration and humanity. She rejected\\nall supernaturalistic belief and maintained that the su-\\npreme duty of life is to do good to our fellow-men.\\nIn 1873, when on a visit to Cambridge, she gave full ex-\\npression to the beliefs of her later years. I remember,\\nsays Mr. Frederick Myers in a passage of great beauty,\\nhow, at Cambridge, I walked with her once in the Fel-\\nlows Garden of Trinity on an evening of rainy May and\\nshe, stirred somewhat beyond her wont, and taking as her\\ntext the three words which have been used so often as the\\ninspiring trumpet-call of men, the words God, Immor-\\ntality, Duty, pronounced with terrible earnestness how\\ninconceivable was the first, how unbelievable the second,\\nand yet how peremptory and absolute the third. Never,\\nperhaps, have sterner accents affirmed the sovereignty of\\nimpersonal and unrecompensing Law. I listened, and\\nnight fell, her grave, majestic countenance turned toward\\nme Hke a sibyl s in the gloom it was as though she with-\\ndrew from my grasp, one by one, the two scrolls of prom-\\nise, and left me the third scroll only, awful with inevitable\\nfates. And when we stood at length and parted, amid\\nthat columnar circuit of the forest trees, beneath the last", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0649.jp2"}, "648": {"fulltext": "556 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ntwilight of starless skies, I seemed to be gazing, like Titus\\nat Jerusalem, on vacant seats and empty halls on a\\nsanctuary with no Presence to hallow it, and heaven left\\nlonely of a God.\\nAt an early age George Eliot showed an inclination for\\nwriting. In 1840 a poem of hers was published, and soon\\nafterward she engaged in preparing a chart of ecclesiastical\\nhistory. But her first important literary work was a trans-\\nlation of Strauss s Leben Jesu, the purpose of which\\nwas to eliminate the miraculous element of the Gospel\\nnarrative. It required more than two years to complete\\nthe task, which at length grew irksome by reason of her\\nserious disagreement at times with the German theologian.\\nShe received but little money for her labor, but the work\\nof translation was helpful in disciplining her faculties into\\nscholarly accuracy of thought and expression.\\nIn 1849 her father died. She felt his loss most keenly,\\nand a week after the funeral sought relief in a trip to\\nthe Continent. She visited France and Italy and then\\ntook up her abode in Geneva. She lodged in the house\\nof Albert Durade, a humpbacked artist of great refine-\\nment, who probably suggested Philip Wakem in The Mill\\non the Floss. His portrait of George Eliot is the most\\npleasing likeness of her that we possess. Her health was\\nnot good, but she continued her indefatigable reading and\\nstudy. I take walks, she wrote^ play on the piano,\\nread Voltaire, talk to my friends, and just take a dose of\\nmathematics every day to prevent my brain from becom-\\ning quite soft. Her sojourn at Geneva marks a turning-\\npoint in her life for henceforth we find greater fixity of\\npurpose and deeper consciousness of power.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0650.jp2"}, "649": {"fulltext": "i\\nGEORGE ELIOT. 557\\nAfter an absence of eight months, she returned to Eng-\\nland and shortly afterward became associate editor of\\nthe Westminster Review. The choice and arrangement\\nof articles fell chiefly upon her. She complained of the\\nheavy burden of her editorial work, which left her but\\nlittle time for writing. She prepared only a few articles,\\nWorldliness and Other- Worldliness, German Wit,\\nEvangeUcal Teaching, and others, which exhibit much\\nlearning and force but there is sometimes a lack of judi-\\ncial calmness and tolerant amiability. She had not yet\\nlearned the broad sympathy and large tolerance that\\nbelonged to her later hfe.\\nHer connection with the Westminster Revieiv brought\\nher into contact with some of the ablest advanced thinkers\\nof her time. Among her friends she numbered Carlyle,\\nHarriet Martineau, Lewes, Herbert Spencer, and others.\\nHerbert Spencer, with whom her relations were very cor-\\ndial, was the first to discover her genius for fiction. A still\\ndeeper attachment sprang up between her and George H.\\nLewes, a man of bright and genial nature, whose wife had\\nabandoned him. When he found it impossible to secure\\na divorce, George Eliot entered into a conjugal relation\\nwith him without the usual sanction of church and state.\\nThis bold and irregular step cost her the respect and con-\\nfidence of many friends. But leaving aside its unfortu-\\nnate irregularity, the union turned out singularly helpful\\nand happy and in the confidence and encouragement of\\nher husband George Eliot found a much needed stimulus\\nin her work.\\nImmediately after their union, in 1854, the venturesome\\npair went to Germany, where they spent eight months at", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0651.jp2"}, "650": {"fulltext": "558 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nWeimar and Berlin in congenial studies. After returning\\nto England George Eliot continued her review writing.\\nIn an article entitled The Natural History of German\\nLife, she laid down the realistic principle that was after-\\nward to govern her own artistic productions. Art is\\nthe nearest thing to Ufe it is a mode of amplifying ex-\\nperience and extending our contact with our fellow-men\\nbeyond the bounds of our personal lot. All the more\\nsacred is the task of the artist when he undertakes to\\npaint the Ufe of the people. Falsification here is far more\\npernicious than in the more artificial aspects of life. It\\nis not so very serious that we should have false ideas\\nabout evanescent fashions, about the manners and con-\\nversation of beaux and duchesses but it is serious that\\nour sympathy with the perennial joys and struggles, the\\ntoil, the tragedy, and the humor in the life of our more\\nheavily laden fellow-men should be perverted and turned\\ntoward a false object instead of the true one.\\nThe time had now come for her to enter upon a wider\\nliterary career and to exemplify her profound conceptions\\nof the novelist s art. For years she had cherished the\\npurpose of trying her hand at fiction. She was encour-\\naged by Lewes to begin, though he was not entirely con-\\nfident of her success. You have wit, description, and\\nphilosophy, he used to say to her, and these go a good\\nway toward the production of a novel. It is worth while\\nfor you to try the experiment. In the fall of 1856 she\\nwrote Amos Barton, the first story in Scenes of Cleri-\\ncal Life. The scenery, incidents, and characters were\\ntaken from her childhood recollections. The story was\\nsent to Blackwood, who enclosed :i check for fifty guineas.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0652.jp2"}, "651": {"fulltext": "GEORGE ELIOT. 559\\nIt is a long time, he wrote, since I have read anything\\nso fresh, so humorous, and so touching. Very sensitive\\nto praise or blame, George Eliot felt encouraged by the\\nsuccess of her first venture, and soon added to the same\\nseries Mr. Gilfil s Love Story and Janet s Repentance.\\nIn Scenes from Clerical Life we discover the distin-\\nguishing features of George Eliot s work. Lacking in\\ndramatic power, she aimed at a truthful portrayal of\\ncharacter rather than an exciting train of incident. She\\nis a novelist of the soul, as Dickens is of manners. The\\nprevailing tone of her work is one of sadness. Weakness,\\nerror, and sin are allowed, as in actual life, to bring forth\\nfailure and suffering. The background of her own nature\\nwas shrouded in gloom. Though her sceptical opinions\\nare carefully repressed, they cast a shadow over her work\\nand with one or two exceptions we are apt to rise from a\\nperusal of any of her books with a feeling of depression.\\nShe was content to reveal the tragic joys and sorrows\\nhid beneath the surface of everyday life. These com-\\nmonplace people, she said in defence of her chosen char-\\nacters, many of them, bear a conscience, and have felt\\nthe sublime prompting to do the painful right they have\\ntheir unspoken sorrows and their sacred joys their hearts\\nhave perhaps gone out toward their first-born, and they\\nhave mourned over the irreclaimable dead. Nay, is there\\nnot a pathos in their very insignificance in our compari-\\nson of their dim and narrow existence with the glorious\\npossibilities of that human nature which they share\\nIn writing fiction George Eliot had at last found her\\nvocation, and in this fact she experienced a satisfaction\\nunknown before. Her domestic life was happy, and", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0653.jp2"}, "652": {"fulltext": "560 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nhenceforth her career is one of stately grandeur. Her\\nnew-found contentment is reflected in her letters, and the\\nlast night of 1857 she wrote in her journal My life has\\ndeepened unspeakably during the last year I feel a\\ngreater capacity for moral and intellectual enjoyment, a\\nmore acute sense of my deficiencies in the past, a more\\nsolemn desire to be faithful to coming duties, than I re-\\nmember at any former period of my life.\\nScarcely were the Scenes from Clerical Life finished,\\nwhen George Eliot nerved herself for a stronger flight.\\nShe set to work on Adam Bede late in 1857, continued\\nit during a pleasant sojourn of some months in Germany,\\nand completed it in England in November, 1858. It was\\npublished the following year, and rarely has any book\\ncreated so great a sensation in the literary world. Charles\\nReade pronounced it the finest thing since Shake-\\nspeare Charles Buxton quoted it in Parliament Her-\\nbert Spencer said that he felt the better for reading it.\\nNo fewer than eighteen thousand copies were sold the first\\nyear, and George Eliot suddenly found herself in the fore-\\nfront of English novelists.\\nThough not, perhaps, the greatest of her novels, yet\\nAdam Bede has remained the most popular. Like\\nScenes from Clerical Life, the book was based on the\\nexperiences of her early life. She wrote it with more ease\\nand pleasure than any of her other works. Usually her\\nbooks cost her great travail of soul. My books are deeply\\nserious things to me, she wrote shortly after the appear-\\nance of Adam Bede, and come out of all the painful\\ndiscipline, all the most hardly learned lessons, of my past\\nlife. The sad story of Hetty was a true one, which she", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0654.jp2"}, "653": {"fulltext": "GEORGE ELIOT. 56 1\\nhad heard from her aunt in youth. The manly Adam was\\nan idealization of her father, while her mother furnished\\nsome of the traits of the inimitable Mrs. Poyser. The\\nsaintly Dinah was a portrait of her aunt, who in her earlier\\nwomanhood had been a vehement preacher or exhorter.\\nHer next book, completed and published in i860, was\\nThe Mill on the Floss. It contains a larger autobio-\\ngraphic element than any of her other works. It was\\nwritten under more than usual depression of spirit. I\\nam assured, she wrote to Blackwood, that Adam Bede\\nwas worth writing worth living through long years to\\nwrite. But now it seems impossible to me that I shall\\never write anything so good and true again. I have\\narrived at faith in the past, but not at faith in the future.\\nThe result did not justify her misgivings. Though inferior\\nto Adam Bede, The Mill on the Floss is still a piece\\nof deep, strong work.\\nIn i860, after the publication of The Mill on the\\nFloss, George Eliot spent several months in Italy. She\\nvisited the principal cities and studied their works of art.\\nShe was especially interested in Florence, which suggested\\nto her an undertaking in a new field. When we were in\\nFlorence, to use her own words, I was rather fired with\\nthe idea of writing a historical romance scene, Florence\\nperiod, the close of the fifteenth century, which was\\nmarked by Savonarola s career and martyrdom. Mr. Lewes\\nhas encouraged me to persevere in the project, saying that\\nI should probably do something in historical romance rather\\ndifferent in character from what had been done before.\\nBut before this idea was carried out, another English\\nstory intervened. This was Silas Marner, the most ar-\\n20", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0655.jp2"}, "654": {"fulltext": "562 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ntistic, perhaps, of all our author s works. Not so lengthy\\nas her other novels, it is more rapid in movement and\\nsymmetrical in form. For the first time in her writings,\\nimagination takes the place of reminiscence. Though\\nserious, as are all her books, it is less depressing than most\\nof them. It is lighted up with many a touch of humor,\\nand ends with wedding bells. The transformation in Silas\\nMarner s character, through his love for the little waif that\\nhad stolen into his cottage, is something that is beautiful\\nin itself and full of promise for humanity.\\nWith Silas Marner off hands, George Eliot at once\\nset about her historical novel. With a genuine artist\\nspirit she gave herself to conscientious preparation for it.\\nI will never write anything, she said, to which my\\nwhole heart, mind, and conscience don t consent, so that\\nI may feel that it was something however small which\\nwanted to be done in this world, and that I am just the\\norgan for that little bit of work. For the sake of local\\ncoloring, she again spent some weeks in Florence and\\nfor the sake of historical truth she carried on a compre-\\nhensive course of reading. Two hundred volumes, it has\\nbeen said, contributed of their treasures to Romola.\\nThe book drew heavily on the author s vital energies.\\nI began it a young woman, she said; I finished it\\nan old woman. After nearly two years of self-distrusting\\nlabor, it was completed in 1863; ^-^d the first right of\\npublication was sold to the CoiiiJiill Magazine for seven\\nthousand pounds.\\nRomola is one of the greatest of historical novels.\\nIt reproduces with wonderful power the stirring scenes\\nand interests of the close of the fifteenth century. The\\nI", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0656.jp2"}, "655": {"fulltext": "GEORGE ELIOT. 563\\nnewly awakened ardor for classical learning is strongly\\nshown in the bUnd old Bardo. Romola is no less noble\\nin soul than beautiful in person and the ideals she cher-\\nished may be regarded as those of George Eliot herself.\\nListen, as she speaks to her son Lillo, who has just re-\\nvealed his desire for fame and happiness It is only a\\npoor sort of happiness that could ever come by caring\\nvery much about our own narrow pleasures. We can\\nonly have the highest happiness, such as goes along with\\nbeing a great man, by having wide thoughts and much\\nfeeling for the rest of the world as well as ourselves and\\nthis sort of happiness often brings so much pain with it\\nthat we can only tell it from pain by its being what we\\nwould choose before everything else, because our souls\\nsee it is good. There are so many things wrong and dif-\\nficult in the world that no man can be great he can\\nhardly keep himself from wickedness unless he gives\\nup thinking much about pleasure or rewards, and gets\\nstrength to endure what is hard and painful.\\nAfter the completion of Romola, George Eliot rested\\nmore than a year. She was now living in a commodious\\nand attractive home and much sought after by friends\\nand by persons attracted by her reputation, she gave\\nmore time to social duties and enjoyments. Her weekly\\nreceptions were attended by many distinguished men and\\nwomen. Gossip and scandal had no place in these gath-\\nerings. She always gave us of her best, says Oscar\\nBrowning, who knew her well. Her conversation was\\ndeeply sympathetic, but grave and solemn, illumined by\\nhappy phrases and by thrilling tenderness, but not by\\nhumor. Although her features were heavy and not well", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0657.jp2"}, "656": {"fulltext": "564 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nproportioned, all was forgotten when that majestic head\\nbent slowly down, and the eyes were lit up with a pene-\\ntrating and lively gaze. She appeared much greater than\\nher books. Her ability seemed to shrink beside her moral\\ngrandeur.\\nAfter publishing Felix Holt, one of her least success-\\nful novels, she gave herself earnestly to the completion of\\na poem, The Spanish Gypsy, which she had begun a\\nyear or two previously. Among several trips to the Con-\\ntinent during this period, she visited Spain, where the\\nscene of her poem was laid. With her usual conscien-\\ntiousness, she made extensive studies in Spanish history\\nand Spanish literature. The subject of the poem was a\\nnoble conception, presenting the tragic conflict between\\nindividual and tribal claims. But the truth must be told\\nin spite of her elevated thought, keen insight, and often\\neloquent utterance, George Eliot was not a poet. Though\\nThe Spanish Gypsy was received with favor on its pub-\\nlication in 1868, helped no doubt by the author s great\\nreputation as a novelist, it is rather tedious reading now.\\nOf her other poems, though a fine passage is to be met\\nwith here and there, it is not necessary to speak. The\\nbest of them, really a little gem, is as follows\\nSweet evenings come and go, love,\\nThey came and went of yore\\nThis evening of our life, love.\\nShall go and come no more.\\nWhen we have passed away, love,\\nAll things will keep their name\\nBut yet no life on earth, love,\\nWith ours will be the same.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0658.jp2"}, "657": {"fulltext": "GEORGE ELIOT. 565\\nThe daisies will be there, love,\\nThe stars in heaven will shine\\nI shall not feel thy wish, love,\\nNor thou my hand in thine.\\nA better time will come, love,\\nAnd better souls be born\\nI would not be the best, love.\\nTo leave thee now forlorn.\\nBut little space is left for the remaining works of our\\nauthor. Middlemarch was published in 1872 and\\nDaniel Deronda in 1876. The rank these works hold\\namong her writings is a disputed point but the fact seems\\nto be that, with less of popular interest, they exhibit greater\\ndepth and breadth of thought. There are not a few who\\nregard Middlemarch as the greatest of her works. In\\nDaniel Deronda she shows her sympathy with the\\nJews, to whom, she maintained, the Western people, who\\nhave adopted Christianity, owe a pecuHar debt. But how-\\never great these books may be, their depth and seriousness\\nwill prevent them from being general favorites.\\nIn 1878 her husband Lewes died. Notwithstanding\\nher great grief, she at once set about editing his works\\nand to perpetuate his memory, she established a scholar-\\nship, open to students of either sex, for original investiga-\\ntion in physiology. This shows her attitude toward the\\nhigher education of women. She wished them to be edu-\\ncated equally with men, seeing in this higher culture a\\nbetter preparation for the duties of Hfe. It was often in\\nher mind and on her heart, says Cross, her best biog-\\nrapher, that the only worthy end of all learning, of all\\nscience, of all Ufe, in fact, is, that human beings should", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0659.jp2"}, "658": {"fulltext": "566 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nlove one another better. Culture, merely for culture s\\nsake, can never be anything but a sapless root, capable\\nof producmg at best a shrivelled branch.\\nHer second marriage in 1880 to Mr. John Cross, a man\\ntwenty years her junior, naturally provoked a good deal of\\ncriticism. It was a severe shock to those who were dis-\\nposed to idolize her. But she did not long survive to\\nlament the alienation of friends, or to enjoy what she\\ncalled a renewed interest in life. On the 22 of Decem-\\nber, 1880, seven months after her marriage, she quietly\\npassed away, leaving a vacancy in the world of letters that\\nhas not since been filled.\\nThough destitute of many feminine graces, George EUot\\nwas a woman of extraordinary intellectual power. Her\\nliterary gifts reach the high plane of genius. Her writ-\\nings were the product, not merely of studious preparation\\nand tremendous toil, but also of that deeper self, which\\nlies beyond all scrutiny and understanding. In her best\\nwork she was guided by a spontaneous and controlling im-\\npulse, which lay beyond the reach of her will. She told\\nme, says Cross, that in all that she considered her best\\nwriting, there was a not herself which took possession of\\nher, and that she felt her own personality to be merely\\nthe instrument through which this spirit, as it were, was\\nacting. To a greater or less degree, this is true of all\\nreal genius.\\nIn her life she made grave mistakes, and suffered much\\nbut in all her trials of body and soul, she never lost her no-\\nbility of purpose nor her sympathy with burdened, strug-\\ngling humanity. The deep purpose of her life she has\\nbeautifully expressed in one of her poems", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0660.jp2"}, "659": {"fulltext": "I\\nGEORGE ELIOT. 567\\nMay I be to other souls\\nThe cup of strength in some great agony,\\nEnkindle generous ardor, feed pure love,\\nBeget the smiles that have no cruelty\\nBe the sweet presence of a good diffused.\\nAnd in diffusion ever more intense.\\nSo shall I join the choir invisible\\nWhose music is the gladness of the world.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0661.jp2"}, "660": {"fulltext": "568 ENGLISH LITERATURE,\\nELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.\\nThe present century has produced many female writers\\nof high excellence. They are represented in almost all\\ndepartments of literature, but notably in poetry and fiction.\\nThis result has been brought about by the larger culture\\nwhich is now open to women. They have risen to the\\ndemands of a larger sphere of thought and action. Among\\nour great female writers, Mrs. Browning occupies a fore-\\nmost place. She is beyond question the greatest poetess\\nof England, and, as many believe, of the world. What\\nother poetess deserves a place beside her In genuine-\\nness of inspiration and in vigor of thought, she stands\\nabove all her sister singers.\\nHer life, as we sha^ll see, was not without great trials.\\nMost persons would have been crushed by them. But, as\\npart of her endowment of genius, she had an indomitable\\nenergy; and, as often happens, her sufferings but deep-\\nened and ennobled her character. She experienced and\\nbelieved, what another poet has said\\nThese severe afflictions\\nNot from the ground arise,\\nBut oftentimes celestial benedictions\\nAssume this dark disguise.\\nSuffering gave depth of insight and emotion to her\\nsong. But better than her poetry, with all its excellence,\\nwas the brave, pure, noble womanhood that stood behind it.\\nElizabeth Barrett was born in the county of Durham,", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0662.jp2"}, "661": {"fulltext": "Photograph alter the painting by Field Telfourd.\\ny^/c^^/^76ay2yu/T^i^\\n7\u00c2\u00a3^Zc/ 7/-", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0663.jp2"}, "662": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0664.jp2"}, "663": {"fulltext": "ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. 569\\nMarch 6, 1806. Her ancestors lived for a long time in\\nthe island of Jamaica, from which her father was taken to\\nEngland in his childhood. When she was two or three\\nyears old, the family removed from the north of England\\nto Herefordshire, where she grew to womanhood. In one\\nof her letters, written in 1843, she has given us a picture\\nof these years, which were filled with the Enghsh poets,\\nLatin and Greek classics, and ambitious efforts at verse.\\nMost of my events, she says, and nearly all my in-\\ntense pleasures have passed in my thoughts. I wrote\\nverses as I dare say many have done who never wrote\\nany poems very early at eight years old and earlier.\\nBut, what is less common, the early fancy turned into a\\nwill, and remained with me, and from that day to this\\npoetry has been a distinct object with me an object to\\nread, think, and live for. And I could make you laugh,\\nalthough you could not make the public laugh, by the nar-\\nrative of nascent odes, epics, and didactics crying aloud\\non obsolete muses from childish lips.\\nBesides Byron and Coleridge, she delighted in Pope s\\nHomer, which at the age of eleven or twelve inspired\\nan epic of four books entitled The Battle of Marathon.\\nProud of his daughter s precocity, Mr. Barrett, who at this\\ntime possessed considerable wealth, had fifty copies of\\nthis epic printed for private circulation. At seventeen\\nor eighteen she wrote a didactic poem called an Essay\\non Mind. The poem is imitative in form, she wrote in\\nafter years, yet is not without traces of an individual\\nthinking and f eehng the bird picks through the shell in\\nit. Recalling the omnivorous reading of those days, she\\nwrote in Aurora Leigh many years afterward", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0665.jp2"}, "664": {"fulltext": "570 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nWe get no good\\nBy being ungenerous, even to a book,\\nAnd calculating profits so much help\\nBy so much reading. It is rather when\\nWe gloriously forget ourselves, and plunge\\nSoul-forward, headlong, into a book s profound,\\nImpassioned for its beauty and salt of truth,\\nTis then we get the right good from a book.\\nHer thirst for Greek literature was first awakened by\\nPope s translations. After acquiring the elements of the\\nlanguage, she pursued a wide course of reading under the\\njudicious guidance of Hugh Stuart Boyd, an eminent\\nscholar who had lost his sight. She read to him the\\nprincipal Attic poets, and also the\\nNoble Christian bishops\\nWho mouthed grandly the last Greek.\\nIn Wine of Cyprus she has preserved a beautiful pic-\\nture of those youthful studies\\nAnd I think of those long mornings\\nWhich my thought goes far to seek,\\nWhen, betwixt the folio s turnings.\\nSolemn flowed the rhythmic Greek\\nPast the pane the mountain spreading.\\nSwept the sheep-belPs tinkling noise,\\nWhile a girlish voice was reading,\\nSomewhat low for ai\\\\ and s.\\nIn 1832 Mr. Barrett again moved his family, this time to\\nSidmouth, in Devonshire. The house was comfortable\\nand cheerful, commanding a view of the sea in front.\\nMiss Barrett had now reached maturity in character and\\nculture. None of her predecessors had laid so broad a", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0666.jp2"}, "665": {"fulltext": "ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. 57I\\nfoundation for genius to build upon. Her new home, with\\nits agreeable surroundings, proved favorable to literary\\neffort. Before the year had elapsed, she made a transla-\\ntion of Prometheus Bound, which was published soon\\nafterward with a few original pieces. The translation,\\nwhich had been prepared in twelve days, was not a suc-\\ncess. The translator herself said years afterward that it\\nshould have been thrown into the fire\u00e2\u0080\u0094 the only means\\nof giving it a little warmth. In 1845 it was replaced by\\nthe present admirable translation found in Mrs. Brown-\\ning s works.\\nThe family residence at Sidmouth did not prove a per-\\nmanent one. In 1835 Mr. Barrett took his family to Lon-\\ndon. For the ambitious poetess this was an important\\nchange. It brought new friends and larger opportunities.\\nUnfortunately her health, which had suffered from an\\naccident years before, gave way in the London atmos-\\nphere, and her prolonged invalid life had its beginning.\\nBut her energy could not be quenched. In her invalid\\nseclusion, as one of her friends testified, she read almost\\nevery book worth reading in almost every language, and\\ngave herself, heart and soul, to that poetry of which she\\nseemed born to be the priestess. Cut off in large meas-\\nure from social enjoyments, she began the voluminous\\ncorrespondence which gives her an honorable place among\\nEnghsh letter-writers.\\nShe now entered upon a larger literary career by pub-\\nUshing in the New Monthly, then edited by Bulwer, the\\nbeautiful but sad Romaunt of Margret. It is a story\\nof love and despair. Its form and tone may be judged by\\nthe last of its twenty-seven stanzas", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0667.jp2"}, "666": {"fulltext": "5/2 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nHang up my harp again\\nI have no voice for song.\\nNot song, but wail, and mourners pale,\\nNot bards, to love belong.\\nO failing human love!\\nO light, by darknfess known!\\nOh false, the while thou treadest earth\\nOh deaf beneath the stone!\\nMargret, Margret.\\nThis was followed several months later by The Poet s\\nVow, pitched in the same melancholy key, but wrought\\nout with rich fancy and deep feeling. It teaches the\\nlesson that we cannot cut ourselves loose from our kind\\nand renounce our humanity. This self-sufficiency is not\\npossible even to the angels\\nThe self-poised God may dwell alone\\nWith inward glorying\\nBut God s chief angel waiteth for\\nA brother s voice to sing\\nAnd a lonely creature of sinful nature,\\nIt is an awful thing.\\n^to\\nIn 1838 Miss Barrett appeared before the public in a\\nvolume entitled The Seraphim and Other Poems. The\\ntime was favorable. The great poets of the earlier part\\nof the century Scott, Byron, Shelley, Coleridge had\\nfinished their work. Tennyson was but exercising himself\\nin metrical effects, and Browning had only given intima-\\ntions of his power. The volume met with an encouraging\\nreception. The critics recognized the author s poetic abil-\\nity. Her genius was pronounced of a high order she\\nwas declared to possess many of the highest qualities of", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0668.jp2"}, "667": {"fulltext": "ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. 5/3\\nthe divine art. But the praise was tempered with no\\nlittle censure; she was charged with mannerism, a lack\\nof taste, and obscurity of style. The Seraphim is a\\nlyrical drama, of which the dramatis personcE are two\\nseraphs, standing first on the outer side of the shut\\nheavenly gate, and then in mid-air above the Jordan.\\nThe theme is ambitious and while its lyrical excellence\\nis readily recognized, it is obviously beyond the reach of\\nhuman genius. Among the other poems printed in this\\nvolume Cowper s Grave has been justly admired.\\nIn 1838 the state of Miss Barrett s health became so\\nalarming that her physician recommended a warmer cli-\\nmate. Accordingly she went to Torquay, a watering-place\\non the south coast of Devonshire. She was accompanied\\nby her brother Edward, who had been her favorite com-\\npanion from childhood. Notwithstanding her continued\\nphysical weakness, her tireless intellect was engaged in\\nliterary labors and ambitious literary schemes. Among\\nthe poems dating from this period is Crowned and\\nBuried, a strong and elevated tribute to the first Napo-\\nleon. But her stay here was destined to have a mournful\\nend. Her brother, with two companions, was drowned.\\nShe was prostrated by the dreadful shock; and hence-\\nforth Torquay, with its horrible associations, became in-\\ntolerable to her sensitive nature.\\nIn 1 84 1 she returned to her father s house in London,\\nwhere her life for the next five years was that of a con-\\nfirmed invalid. The greater part of the year she was\\nconfined to her room, and it was only on warm summer\\ndays that she could venture out of the house at all. Only\\na few intimate friends were permitted to see her. But", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0669.jp2"}, "668": {"fulltext": "574 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nunder these unfavorable conditions she carried on her\\nliterary work. In 1842 she published in the AthencBiim\\na series of papers on the Greek Christian poets, and a\\nfew months later a series on the English poets. She con-\\ntinued her studies in Greek literature, and among other\\nthings read Plato entire in the original.\\nThe year 1844 was an important epoch in the life of\\nMiss Barrett. She published two volumes of poetry, which\\nestablished her fame on a permanent basis. Shortly be-\\nfore this Tennyson and Browning had published some\\nof their best-known work but these volumes placed her\\nby the side of these masterful intellects. She took her\\nplace as the first of English poetesses. Blackwood, in an\\nelaborate review, declared that her genius is profound,\\nunsullied, and without a flaw.\\nThese two volumes of 1844 contain some of Miss\\nBarrett s most popular work. The Drama of Exile\\nrefers to the expulsion of Adam and Eve from Para-\\ndise. It contains passages of striking thought and lyrical\\nbeauty, though as a whole it is too remote from human\\nexperience to become widely popular. The following\\nlines may be taken as expressing the author s fundamental\\nview of life\\nLive and love.\\nDoing both nobly, because lowlily\\nLive and work, strongly, because patiently!\\nAnd, for the deed of death, trust to God\\nThat it be well done, unrepented of.\\nAnd not to loss. And thence with constant prayers\\nFasten your souls so high, that constantly\\nThe smile of your heroic cheer may float\\nAbove all floods of earthly agonies,\\nPurification being the joy of pain!", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0670.jp2"}, "669": {"fulltext": "ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. 575\\nA Vision of Poets, which contains a brief characteri-\\nzation of the principal Greek, Roman, Italian, French, and\\nEngHsh bards, abounds in deep thought. The moral of\\nthe poem, which the author herself had learned by expe-\\nrience, is contained in the last stanza\\nGlory to God to God he saith,\\nKnowledge by suffering enter eth^\\nAnd life is perfected by deaths\\nThe Romaunt of the Page and the Rhyme of the\\nDuchess May are ballads of deathless love. The Dead\\nPan is a noble song, which recognizes the fact of human\\nprogress\\nEarth outgrows the mythic fancies\\nSung beside her in her youth,\\nAnd those debonair romances\\nSound but dull beside the truth.\\nPhoebus chariot course is run\\nLook up, poets, to the sun\\nPan, Pan is dead.\\nThe Sleep, with its refrain,\\nHe giveth his beloved sleep,\\nis a poem of sweet comforting power. But the most\\npopular of all was the romantic, unconventional Lady\\nGeraldine s Courtship. It was hastily written to swell\\nthe first volume to the requisite number of pages, the\\nlast hundred and forty-seven lines being written in a\\nsingle day. In spite of Lady Geraldine s infatuation,\\nthe hero seems wanting in true manliness of feeling and\\nconduct.\\nThe volume in question did more than establish Miss", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0671.jp2"}, "670": {"fulltext": "5/6 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nBarrett s fame. In Lady Geraldine s Courtship she\\nhad made a graceful reference to Browning. This led\\nto an acquaintance, which speedily ripened into love. In\\nview of her invalid condition, she for a time rejected his\\nsuit. Her conduct exhibited the highest degree of unsel-\\nfishness. But at length, when her health had become bet-\\nter, she consented to marriage, which took place Sept. 12,\\n1846. Owing to Mr. Barrett s unreasonable objection to\\nthe marriage of his children, the ceremony was clandes-\\ntine. Though her father never forgave her, the results\\namply justified her independent course. In all the annals\\nof literature, there is scarcely a record of a happier union.\\nA week after the marriage, the couple started to Italy,\\nwhich, for the rest of her life, was to be Mrs. Brown-\\ning s home.\\nIn one of her letters she has told the story of her\\ncourtship and marriage, in a straightforward way but\\nthe deepest and truest record of her inner life during\\nthat period is found in her Sonnets from the Portu-\\nguese. They were not written for the public and it\\nwas not till some months after her marriage that they\\nwere shown to her husband. He at once pronounced\\nthem the finest sonnets written in any language since\\nShakespeare. They embody Mrs. Browning s best work,\\nand rank in the very forefront of English love poems.\\nThe first of the series is regarded by Stedman as the best\\nsonnet in our language\\nI thought once how Theocritus had sung\\nOf the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,\\nWho each one in a gracious hand appears\\nTo bear a gift for mortals, old or young", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0672.jp2"}, "671": {"fulltext": "ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. t^JJ\\nAnd, as I mused it in his antique tongue,\\nI saw in gradual vision, thro my tears.\\nThe sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,\\nThose of my own life, who by turns had flung\\nA shadow across me. Straightway I was ware,\\nSo weeping, how a mystic shape did move\\nBehind me, and drew me backward by the hair\\nAnd a voice said in mastery, while I strove,\\nGuess now who holds thee Death, I said.\\nBut then\\nThe silver answer rang, Not Death, but Love.\\nAfter spending a few months in Pisa, the poet pair,\\nin 1847, took up their residence in Florence, where they\\nrented, and tastefully furnished, rooms in the Casa Guidi.\\nThough they were frequently on the wing, especially in\\nthe hot summer months, they looked upon the City of\\nFlowers as their home. Their days passed in quiet hap-\\npiness. I can t make Robert go out a single evening,\\nMrs. Browning wrote, not even to a concert, nor to hear\\na play of Alfieri s, yet we fill up our days with books and\\nmusic (and a little writing has its share), and wonder at\\nthe clock for galloping.\\nIn 185 1 Mrs. Browning published her Casa Guidi\\nWindows, a poem in two parts, in which she gives her\\nimpressions of contemporary political events in Italy. As\\na thoughtful woman of wide sympathies, her interest ex-\\ntended beyond the narrow confines of her household,\\nthough the advent of a son early in 1849 had awakened a\\nwealth of maternal affection. Like her husband, she was\\nstrongly democratic in her sympathies and ardently\\nlonged for the freedom of her adopted country. The deep\\ninterest with which she followed the rapid succession of\\n2P", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0673.jp2"}, "672": {"fulltext": "5/8 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nevents at this critical period, is shown in her letters. The\\nfirst part of Casa Guidi Windows, which was written in\\n1848, gives expression to her hopes and aspirations. She\\nbravely urges the struggle for liberty\\nThe world shows nothing lost\\nTherefore not blood. Above or underneath,\\nWhat matter, brothers, if ye keep your post\\nOn duty s side As sword returns to sheath.\\nSo dust to grave but souls find place in heaven.\\nHeroic daring is the true success.\\nThe eucharistic bread requires no leaven\\nAnd, though your ends were hopeless, we should bless\\nYour cause as holy. Strive and having striven,\\nTake for God s recompense that righteousness.\\nThe second part of Casa Guidi Windows is filled with\\ndisappointment over the failure of the Italian struggle for\\nliberty. Mrs. Browning did not belong to the timid souls\\nthat love peace at any price\\nI love no peace which is not fellowship,\\nAnd which includes not mercy. I could have\\nRather the raking of the guns across\\nThe world, and shrieks against heaven s architrave\\nRather the struggle in the slippery fosse\\nOf dying men and horses, and the wave\\nBlood-bubbHng.\\nBut in her disappointment over actual results, the poet\\ndid not lose hope. She held that an aspiring people can-\\nnot be permanently kept down, and that, therefore, the\\nindependence of Italy was only a question of time. The\\npoem closes in this hope, which was realized only a few\\nyears later", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0674.jp2"}, "673": {"fulltext": "ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. 579\\nWe will trust God. The blank interstices\\nMen take for ruins, he will build into\\nWith pillared marbles rare, or knit across\\nWith generous arches, till the fane s complete.\\nIn 1851, the year Casa Guidi Windows appeared,\\nthe Brownings spent some months in England and\\nFrance. In both London and Paris they met the most\\ndistinguished literary people of the day. From their\\napartments on the Avenue des Champs Elysees in Paris,\\nthey witnessed some of the exciting scenes of the cele-\\nbrated coup d etat of Louis Napoleon. Unlike her hus-\\nband, Mrs. Browning had unbounded confidence in his\\nability, integrity, and patriotism.\\nAt this period Mrs. Browning became deeply interested\\nin spiritualism. She attended spiritualistic seances and was\\ndeeply impressed by a sense of mystery. She attached\\nmore importance to the fact of spiritualistic revelations\\nthan to the matter of them, which she recognized as often\\ntrivial or false. They seemed to give, what her soul\\ngreatly longed for, an indisputable evidence of individual\\nimmortality. Her husband did not share her belief and\\nspiritualism is the only subject on which they ever had\\nany serious disagreement. Her letters of this period con-\\ntain a good deal about spiritualism and whatever may be\\nthought of her credulity, we must admire the courage with\\nwhich she defended her convictions and championed an\\nunpopular belief.\\nIn 1855 the Brownings made a second visit to England\\nand France, carrying with them a considerable body of\\nmanuscript. During their stay in London we get inter-\\nesting glimpses of Tennyson, Ruskin, Carlyle, and others.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0675.jp2"}, "674": {"fulltext": "580 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\n**One of the pleasantest things, wrote Mrs. Browning,\\nwhich has happened to us here is the coming down on us\\nof the Laureate, who, being in London for three or four\\ndays from the Isle of Wight, spent two of them with us,\\nsmoked with us, opened his heart to us (and the second bot-\\ntle of port), and ended by reading Maud through from\\nend to end, and going away at half-past two in the morning.\\nIf I had had a heart to spare, certainly he would have won\\nmine. He is captivating with his frankness, confiding-\\nness, and unexampled naivete Think of his stopping in\\nMaud every now and then There s a wonderful touch\\nThat s very tender. How beautiful that is Yes, and\\nit ivas wonderful, tender, beautiful, and he read exqui-\\nsitely in a voice like an organ, rather music than speech.\\nDuring her stay in London Mrs. Browning completed\\nher longest and, after the Sonnets from the Portuguese,\\nher best poem, Aurora Leigh. It is a novel in verse;\\nbut it moves on a high plane of thought and feeling. It\\nwas published in 1856; and so rapid was its sale that a\\nsecond edition was called for in a fortnight. Beyond\\nany other of her works Aurora Leigh presents her\\nthoughts on art and life. She had a high conception of\\nthe poet s office. She calls poets\\nThe only truth-tellers now left to God,\\nThe only speakers of essential truth,\\nOpposed to relative, comparative,\\nAnd temporal truths the only holders by\\nHis sun-skirts, through conventional gray glooms\\nThe only teachers who instruct mankind,\\nFrom just a shadow on a charnel-wall,\\nTo find man s veritable stature out.\\nErect, sublime the measure of a man.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0676.jp2"}, "675": {"fulltext": "ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. 58 1\\nHere is her conception of art\\nWhat is art\\nBut life upon the larger scale, the higher,\\nWhen, graduating up in a spiral line\\nOf still expanding and ascending gyres,\\nIt pushes toward the intense significance\\nOf all things, hungry for the Infinite?\\nArt s life and when we live, we suffer and toil.\\nShe had no sympathy with what has since become the\\nnaturalistic school of writing\\nNatural things\\nAnd spiritual, who separates these two\\nIn art, in morals, or the social drift,\\nTears up the bond of nature, and brings death,\\nPaints futile pictures, writes unreal verse.\\nLeads vulgar days, deals ignorantly with men.\\nIs wrong, in short, at all points.\\nThese extracts must suffice to illustrate the thought and\\nmanner of the poem. The story itself is unconventional,\\nbut somehow the leading characters and incidents fail to\\nawaken anything like breathless interest.\\nThe year Aurora Leigh was published, the Brownings\\nreturned to Italy. In spite of her gradually failing health,\\nMrs. Browning took an intense interest in the political\\nmovements of 1859, when, through the aid of Louis Napo-\\nleon, Victor Emmanuel succeeded in driving the Austrians\\nfrom Italy and in effecting the union and independence of\\nthe country. In i860 she published, in England, a small\\nvolume entitled Poems before Congress, in which she\\npresented various incidents and phases of the Italian ques-\\ntion. Two of the poems, Napoleon III. in Italy and\\nItaly and the World, contain exalted passages", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0677.jp2"}, "676": {"fulltext": "582 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThe soul of a high intent, be it known,\\nCan die no more than any soul\\nWhich God keeps by him under the throne\\nAnd this, at whatever interim.\\nShall live, and be consummated\\nInto the being of deeds made whole.\\nCourage, courage! happy is he\\nOf whom (himself among the dead\\nAnd silent) this word shall be said\\nThat he might have had the world with him,\\nBut chose to side with suffering men,\\nAnd had the world against him when\\nHe came to deliver Italy.\\nEmperor\\nEvermore.\\nA Curse for a Nation is a severe arraignment of the\\nAmerican people for their toleration of slavery. Singularly\\nenough, on its appearance it was applied to England and\\ndenounced as unpatriotic. Mrs. Browning received all the\\nadverse criticism of the Poems before Congress with\\nbecoming equanimity. She had not written them for glory.\\nIn printing the poems, she wrote to the editor of the\\nAthenceimi, I did not expect to help my reputation in\\nEngland, but simply to deliver my soul, to get relief to my\\nconscience and heart, which comes from a pent-up word\\nspoken or a tear shed. Whatever I may have ever written\\nof the least worth, has represented a conviction in me,\\nsomething in me felt as truth.\\nThe lung trouble from which Mrs. Browning had long\\nsuffered reached its culmination in Casa Guidi, June 29,\\n1 86 1. Mr. Browning has given a touching account of the\\nlast moments of her life She smiled as I proposed to", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0678.jp2"}, "677": {"fulltext": "ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. 583\\nbathe her feet, Well, you arc determined to make an\\nexaggerated case of it Then came what my heart will\\nkeep till I see her again and longer the most perfect\\nexpression of her love to me within my whole knowledge\\nof her. Always smilingly, happily, and with a face like a\\ngirl s, and in a few minutes she died in my arms, her head\\non my cheek. These incidents so sustain me that I tell\\nthem to her beloved ones as their right there was no\\nlingering nor acute pain nor consciousness of separation,\\nbut God took her to Himself as you would lift a sleeping\\nchild from a dark, uneasy bed into your arms and the\\nlight. Thank God She was buried in Florence, the\\ncity she loved so well.\\nA study of her life shows that she was one of the\\nnoblest of women. She is to be numbered with those\\nchoice spirits who show us by example how excellent a\\nthing life may be made. In her delicate frame and gentle\\nways there dwelt heroic qualities of mind and heart. She\\nwas the friend of truth and humanity. She did not trim\\nher utterance to suit popular feeling. To her truth was\\nsacred and whatever message the muse brought her, she\\nuttered fearlessly. Her works breathe an unwavering\\ntrust in God and immortality.\\nHer poetry is the sincere utterance of her soul. The\\nnobility of her nature and the extent and refinement of\\nher culture lift it above the commonplace in thought and\\nexpression. Conforming her practice to her theory, she\\nlet the spirit of each piece determine its form. She han-\\ndles with ease difficult stanzaic forms. She was a patient,\\nconscientious worker; and her defective rhymes, which\\ncritics have magnified, were less the result of carelessness", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0679.jp2"}, "678": {"fulltext": "584 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nthan of an unfortunate theory, which was to give greater\\nfreedom to EngHsh versification. In her earlier poems\\nthere is, perhaps, a measure of diffuseness and through-\\nout her literary career she remained romantic rather than\\nclassic in her genius and art. But in spite of all defects,\\nshe justly merits Stedman s eulogy as the most inspired\\nwoman of all who have composed in ancient or modern\\ntongues, or flourished in any land or time.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0680.jp2"}, "679": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0681.jp2"}, "680": {"fulltext": "Photograph after the painting by G. F. Watt*-\\nfkh^ Ihhr?i;m4i/^ r", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0682.jp2"}, "681": {"fulltext": "ROBERT BROWNING. 585\\nROBERT BROWNING.\\nRobert Browning was strikingly original in his poetry\\nand paid the penalty of originality. He developed a new\\nvein in EngUsh literature; he set himself to explore the\\nmysterious workings of the soul. He descended to greater\\ndepths than our poetical literature had before reached.\\nFinding the conventional style of poetry unsuited to his\\npurpose, he invented new forms. He devised the dra-\\nmatic monologue, in which various states of the soul, in\\nrelation to outward circumstances, are powerfully por-\\ntrayed. But this departure from conventional form did\\nnot at once find popular favor. Indeed, the public seemed\\nfor a time to resent this innovation and so, like many\\nother great original characters, he was slow in gaining\\nrecognition. Almost a half century of abundant labors\\nelapsed before he reached what not a few regard as a\\nforemost place among English poets.\\nBrowning s poetry is not easy reading. Say what en-\\nthusiastic disciples may, he is often obscure. Scarcely\\nany of his poems yield up the fulness of their treasures\\nbefore a third reading. There is a rapidity of thought and\\nviolence of transition that frequently make him difficult to\\nfollow. His unnatural omission of the relative pronoun\\nand of the sign of the infinitive often make it hard to de-\\ntermine the grammatical relations of his words, and many\\nof his allusions are beyond the range of even highly culti-", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0683.jp2"}, "682": {"fulltext": "586 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nvated people. In many of his more important pieces he\\ncannot be understood without study, and often prolonged\\nand severe study. But after we have once become famil-\\niar with his peculiarities of method and style, much of\\nwhat was before regarded as obscure becomes perfectly\\nclear.\\nThe work of a great author has more in it than his con-\\nscious thought and emotion. It stands in definite relation\\nto his era. No one can wholly divorce himself from the\\nperiod in which he lives. Inevitably we partake of the\\nculture, the manners, and the tendencies of our time.\\nA great writer, and particularly a great poet, is apt, above\\nall other men, to be sensitive to his environment, and thus\\nbecomes, to a greater or less degree, an incarnation of the\\nspirit of his age. Without intending to do so, Dante\\ngives us a picture of the spirit and thought of his day.\\nThe Greek dramatists unconsciously exhibit the culture\\nand beliefs of the Age of Pericles. And in like manner,\\nin the works of Browning and Tennyson, we see the\\nbreadth of culture, the spirit of inquiry, the wrestling of\\nbeliefs, and the introspective habits of the latter part of\\nthe nineteenth century.\\nRobert Browning was born at Camberwell, a suburb of\\nLondon, May 7, 1812. His father was a man of vigorous\\nconstitution and scholarly taste and for rare books he\\nhad, it is said, the scent of a hound and the snap of a\\nbulldog. With a passion for reading, he was strangely\\nindifferent to what are known as creature comforts\\nand his daughter declared that the announcement There\\nwill be no dinner to-day, would only have elicited the\\nplacid reply, All right, my dear, it is of no consequence.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0684.jp2"}, "683": {"fulltext": "ROBERT BROWNING. 587\\nBrowning s mother was described by Carlyle as the true\\ntype of a Scottish gentlewoman and another said that\\nshe had no need to go to heaven, because she made it\\nwherever she was. But she transmitted to her son a ner-\\nvous constitution which, however helpful to his poetic\\nsensibilities, added to his physical discomfort in the latter\\nyears of his life.\\nAs a child Browning was remarkably active, restless,\\nprecocious. To calm his restlessness, his mother was\\naccustomed to tell him stories, and in this manner he was\\nmade famiUar with the leading characters and incidents\\nof the Bible, and his religious nature was more than\\nusually developed. He was sent to a neighborhood school,\\nwhere he easily outstripped his companions. He was ex-\\ntremely fond of reading, and found in his father s large\\nlibrary ample opportunity to gratify his tastes. Among\\nthe poets he especially admired Byron and at the age of\\ntwelve he is said to have written a volume of poems, which\\nShowed the influence of his master.\\nHis youthful period was one of singular unrest. For\\na time he passed under the influence of Shelley and\\nimbibed some of the radical tenets of Queen Mab,\\nInstead of attending one of the great public schools, he\\nstudied at home under private instructors. He acquired\\na good knowledge of French, and enriched his store of\\ninformation by copious miscellaneous reading. For a\\nshort time he attended London University, but omitted\\nlogic and mathematics from his course of study. He\\ngave himself seriously to the study of music, in which, as\\nis apparent from his works, he made unusual attainments.\\nIn his eighteenth year he determined to adopt poetry as", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0685.jp2"}, "684": {"fulltext": "588 ENGLISH LITERATURE,\\nhis vocation, a choice which was wilHngly acquiesced in\\nby his father. As a preliminary step to this calUng, he\\nread and digested the whole of Johnson s Dictionary\\na fact that in a measure explains his almost unequalled\\nmastery of the resources of our language.\\nIn 1833 Browning published his first poem Pauline.\\nThough in after years he spoke of it slightingly, it was a\\nremarkable production for a young man who had not yet\\nattained his majority. To a few discerning readers, among\\nthem John Stuart Mill, it gave promise of great things.\\nBoth in its melody and imagery it contains a perceptible\\necho of Shelley but at the same time it reveals not a few\\nof the author s distinguishing characteristics. The poem\\nat first appeared anonymously and it is a remarkable\\ntribute to its excellence that D. G. Rossetti, meeting with\\nit the first time in the British Museum, made a full copy\\nof it. The poem is largely autobiographical and contains\\nmany fine passages. The following lines reveal the poet s\\npassion for music\\nFor music (which is earnest of a heaven,\\nSeeing we know emotions strange by it,\\nNot else to be revealed) is as a voice,\\nA low voice calling fancy, as a friend,\\nTo the green woods in the gay summer time\\nAnd she fills all the way with dancing shapes\\nWhich have made painters pale, and they go on\\nWhile stars look at them and winds call to them\\nAs they leave life s path for the twilight world\\nWhere the dead gather.\\nThere are but scant records of the poet s fife at this\\nperiod. In 1834 he went with the Russian consul-gen-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0686.jp2"}, "685": {"fulltext": "ROBERT BROWNING. 589\\neral, who had taken a great liking to him, to St. Peters-\\nburg, where he spent three months. The following year\\nhe published his poem Paracelsus, which shows a marked\\nadvance in maturity of thought and style as compared\\nwith Pauline. It is a free, imaginative treatment of\\nthe historic Paracelsus, who flourished as a famous alche-\\nmist and physician at the beginning of the sixteenth cen-\\ntury. Somewhat like Goethe s Faust, the poem presents\\nto us the eager aspirations, the daring efforts, and the ulti-\\nmate failure of a soul in the pursuit of superhuman knowl-\\nedge. In the preface to the first edition, the author states\\nthe fundamental principle of his dramatic pieces. In-\\nstead of having recourse, he says, to an external ma-\\nchinery of incidents to create and evolve the crisis I desire\\nto produce, I have ventured to display somewhat minutely\\nthe mood itself in its rise and progress, and have suffered\\nthe agency by which it is influenced and determined, to be\\ngenerally discernible in its effects alone, and subordinate\\nthroughout, if not altogether excluded. This principle is\\nso pervasive in Browning s poetry that it should be clearly\\nunderstood.\\nBrowning was an idealist. In a scientific and materi-\\nalistic age, he proclaimed the fact and worth of intuitive\\nknowledge. He placed the seer above the investigator.\\nHis idealism is presented in a beautiful passage in Para-\\ncelsus\\nTruth is within ourselves; it takes no rise\\nFrom outward thinsjs, whatever you may believe.\\nThere is an inmost centre in us all,\\nWhere truth abides in fulness and around,\\nWall upon wall, the gross flesh hems it in,", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0687.jp2"}, "686": {"fulltext": "590 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThis perfect, clear perception which is truth,\\nA baffling and perverting carnal mesh\\nBlinds it, and makes all error and, to kfiow.\\nRather consists in opening out a way\\nWhence the imprisoned splendor may escape,\\nThan in effecting entry for a light\\nSupposed to be without. Watch narrowly\\nThe demonstration of a truth, its birth.\\nAnd you trace back the effluence to its spring\\nAnd source within us where broods radiance vast,\\nTo be elicited ray by ray, as chance\\nShall favor.\\nThough Paracelsus was coldly received by the public,\\nit attracted the attention of a select few and introduced\\nthe poet to a distinguished literary circle. Among his\\nacquaintances at this period were Leigh Hunt, Barry Corn-\\nwall, Monckton Milnes, Dickens, Landor, and Wordsworth.\\nBut no one exerted a more important influence on him\\nthan the popular actor Macready, who had been greatly\\nimpressed by Paracelsus. Write a play, Browning,\\nsaid the actor one day, after dining with the poet, and keep\\nme from going to America. The result was Strafford,\\nthe first of three dramas that were successfully acted.\\nThe others were A Blot in the Scutcheon and Co-\\nlombe s Birthday. All are interesting but Browning\\nwas too metaphysical for a very successful playwright.\\nIn an essay on Shelley, Browning divided poets into\\ntwo classes the objective and the subjective. The ob-\\njective poets are chiefly concerned with the forms and\\ncolors of nature or the acts and outward experiences of\\nmen. Description is their prevailing mode. Or to use\\nBrowning s words, the objective poet is one whose en-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0688.jp2"}, "687": {"fulltext": "ROBERT BROWNING. 59 1\\ndeavor has been to reproduce things external (whether the\\nphenomena of the scenic universe or the manifested action\\nof human heart and brain), with an immediate reference\\nin every case to the common eye and apprehension of his\\nfellow-men, assumed capable of receiving and profiting by\\nthis reproduction. On the other hand, the subjective\\npoet is chiefly concerned with the life of the soul. He\\nstruggles for the attainment of new and higher truth. To\\nhim spiritual realities seem of highest worth. Or to quote\\nBrowning s own explanation, the subjective poet has to do\\nnot with the combinations of humanity in action, but\\nwith the primal elements of humanity and he digs where\\nhe stands, preferring to seek them in his own soul as the\\nnearest reflex of the absolute mind, according to the inti-\\nmations of which he desires to perceive and speak. He\\nis himself a preeminently subjective poet, who takes as his\\nstage\\nThe soul itself,\\nIts shifting fancies and celestial lights,\\nWith all its grand orchestral silences\\nTo keep the pauses of its rhythmic sounds.\\nIn 1838 Browning visited the principal cities of Italy,\\na country which he was afterward to make his home for\\nmany years. On the voyage thither he wrote his most\\nstirring lyric, How They Brought the Good News from\\nGhent to Aix. The poem has no historical foundation.\\nI wrote it, the poet says, under the bulwark of a ves-\\nsel, off the African coast, after I had been at sea long\\nenough to appreciate even the fancy of a gallop on the\\nback of a certain good horse York, then in my stable at\\nhome.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0689.jp2"}, "688": {"fulltext": "592 ENGLISH LITERATURE,\\nIn 1840 appeared Sordello, a poem of six thousand\\nlines, on which the poet had been working for several\\nyears. It illustrates his fondness for mediaeval themes\\nand though he made elaborate researches to furnish him a\\nbackground, the principal interest of the poem is in the\\ndevelopment of soul life. It presents Browning s pecul-\\niarities his psychological analysis, his rapid movement\\nof thought, and his sudden transitions in their most\\nexaggerated form. It is obscure to an unusual degree\\nand never can be popular beyond a very narrow circle.\\nIt has been variously judged by distinguished critics. Sted-\\nman pronounces it a fault throughout an unattrac-\\ntive prodigy, while Gosse professes to be able to find a\\nthousand reasons why Sordello ought to be one of the\\nmost readable of books. The great majority of readers\\nwill agree with Stedman, and regret that the author s at-\\ntempt to rewrite it in a more intelligible manner was a\\nfailure.\\nWith Sordello the poet completed the first stage of\\nhis development. Up to this time his work had been a\\nreflection of his own experience. In some measure Para-\\ncelsus and Sordello stood for Browning. But with\\nthe Bells and Pomegranates series, which appeared\\nbetween 1841 and 1846, he entered into a broader sympa-\\nthy with human life. He outgrew the trammels of self.\\nBells and Pomegranates, a title signifying an alterna-\\ntion of poetry with thought, contains some of his choicest\\nproductions. The first of the series is the beautiful drama\\nof Pippa Passes, which consists of four scenes, with\\nprologue, interludes, and epilogue. Its heroine is a little\\nblack-eyed, pretty, singing Felippa, gay silk-winding girl,", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0690.jp2"}, "689": {"fulltext": "ROBERT BROWNING. 593\\nwhose artless singing on a holiday marks a turning-point\\nin the troubled lives of those whom she fondly imagines to\\nbe Asolo s four happiest ones.\\nThere is no other poem in all Browning s works that\\nbetter illustrates his dramatic monologue than My Last\\nDuchess. For this reason, as well as for its artistic ex-\\ncellence, it deserves special attention. The speaker is a\\nnobleman of aristocratic pride and high culture, but at the\\nsame time of a cold and selfish nature. He was a con-\\nnoisseur in art. He had married a young and beautiful\\nlady, whose love and cheerfulness filled the palace with\\nsunshine\\nShe had\\nA heart how shall I say? too easily made glad,\\nToo easily impressed she liked whatever\\nShe looked on, and her looks went everywhere.\\nThe proud and unfeeling duke looked on this sweet\\nlight-heartedness as unbecoming her station and, accord-\\ningly, he commanded her to assume an artificial and\\nhaughty dignity. The result was, that joy, and hope,\\nand love, were crushed out of her life, and she died\\nof a broken heart\\nOh, sir, she smiled, no doubt,\\nWhene er I passed her but who passed without\\nMuch the same smile? This grew I gave command\\nThen all smiles stopped together. There she stands\\nAs if alive.\\nThe duke has entered into negotiations for the daughter\\nof a count and has received the latter s agent to settle the\\ndetails of dowry. While showing him through the palace,\\n2Q", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0691.jp2"}, "690": {"fulltext": "594 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nthe duke stops before the picture of his last wife, and here\\nthe poem begins\\nThat s my last duchess painted on the wall,\\nLooking as if she were alive.\\nThe poem is a tragedy in sixty lines but in place of ex-\\nternal actions, we have a revelation of character and states\\nof the soul.\\nSome of Browning s fundamental ideas are found in\\nBells and Pomegranates. He looked upon human life\\nas a struggle, in which the soul is to climb upwards,\\nthrough successive attainments, toward divine perfection.\\nIn his drama Luria, he says\\nHow inexhaustibly the spirit grows!\\nOne object, she seemed erewhile born to reach\\nWith her whole energies and die content,\\nSo like a wall at the world s edge it stood,\\nWith nought beyond to live for, is that reached?\\nAlready are new undreamed energies\\nOutgrowing under, and extending farther\\nTo a new object; there s another world!\\nThis same idea of individual progress is presented more\\nfully in a work of later date, *A Death in the Desert\\nI say that man was made to grow, not stop\\nThat help, he needed once, and needs no more,\\nHaving grown but an inch by, is withdrawn\\nFor he hath new needs, and new helps to these.\\nThis imports. solely, man should mount on each\\nNew height in view the help whereby he mounts,\\nThe ladder-rung his foot has left, may fall.\\nSince all things suffer change save God the Truth.\\nAmong the other pieces of the Bells and Pomegran-\\nates series which deserve mention, are The Pied Piper", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0692.jp2"}, "691": {"fulltext": "ROBERT BROWNING. 595\\nof Hamlin, written to amuse the little son of the actor\\nMacready, and Saul, which ranks high among Brown-\\ning s poems.\\nIn 1846 Browning married Miss Elizabeth Barrett, to\\nwhom he had been drawn by her poetic gifts. She was\\nan invalid and his senior by six years. Owing to antici-\\npated opposition on both sides, the marriage was secret\\nand shortly after the ceremony the happy couple started\\nto Italy, where, with short intervals, they lived till the\\ndeath of Mrs. Browning in 1861. There was deep intel-\\nlectual and spiritual sympathy between them and with\\nself-sacrifice on his part, and resignation on hers, the\\nunion, in spite of her continued invalid condition, was one\\nof rare beauty and happiness.\\nThe first three years of Browning s married life did not\\nstimulate his literary activity. His mind seems to have\\nfound satisfaction in the society of his wife and in the nat-\\nural and artistic beauties of Italy. It was not till 1850 that\\nhis next work appeared, Christmas Eve and Easter Day.\\nIt is noteworthy for its direct discussion of Christianity.\\nThe poet believed that nature bears testimony, not only\\nto the power, but also to the love of God. In Christmas\\nEve he says\\nIn youth I looked to these very skies,\\nAnd probing their immensities,\\nI found God there, his visible power\\nYet felt in my heart, amid all its sense\\nOf the power, an equal evidence\\nThat his love, there too, was the nobler dower.\\nFor the loving worm within his clod\\nWere diviner than a loveless god\\nAmid his worlds, I will dare to say.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0693.jp2"}, "692": {"fulltext": "59^ ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nIn 1855 appeared Men and Women in two volumes,\\na work that, upon the whole, represents the highest achieve-\\nment of Browning s genius. Evelyn Hope, Fra Lippo\\nLippi, By the Fireside, Strange Medical Experiences\\nof Karshish, The Last Ride Together, Bishop Blou-\\ngram s Apology, Andrea del Sarto, Old Pictures in\\nFlorence, In a Balcony, Cleon, and others are nota-\\nble poems. In their variety and depth they reveal the many-\\nsidedness of the poet s gifts. In several of these poems\\nwe have Browning s views of art. He does not believe in\\nthe heresy of art for art s sake. He recognizes the all-\\npervasive presence of Deity in nature and it is the office\\nof art to lead us toward the fulness of divine truth and\\nbeauty. The artist should have clearer vision than other\\nmen, and reveal to us the beauty that would otherwise pass\\nunnoticed. Mere skill in craftsmanship is not enough to\\nconstitute a great artist; he must also have the uplifting\\npower of a lofty purpose\\nAh, but a man s reach should exceed his grasp,\\nOr what s heaven for?\\nThese are the truths impressively presented in Andrea\\ndel Sarto, the faultless painter. He was a master of tech-\\nnique, but was lacking in loftiness of aim. He recognized\\nin Angelo and Rafael a truer light of God and address-\\ning his unsympathetic and worldly-minded wife, he says\\nsadly and half reproachfully\\nHad the mouth there urged\\nGod and the glory! never care for gain.\\nThe present by the future, what is that\\nLive for fame, side by side with Agnolo!\\nRafael is waiting up to God, all three\\nI might have done it for you.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0694.jp2"}, "693": {"fulltext": "ROBERT BROWNING. 597\\nBrowning s views of love were far removed from all\\ncarnal taint or weak sentimentalism. With him love is\\na deep, strong passion, which, whether its object is at-\\ntained or not, still brings its reward in its uplifting effect\\nupon the soul. Thus, the discarded lover in The Last\\nRide is still able to say\\nMy whole heart rises up to bless\\nYour name in pride and thankfulness.\\nThis deep and divine passion, so Browning maintained,\\nmight sometimes set aside or even laugh at the convention-\\nalities of society. This is the meaning of the short poem,\\nRespectability. But to say that he was tolerant of\\nwhat is called intrigue, as Stedman has done, is to mis-\\napprehend the poet s meaning. It is lust, and not love in\\nBrowning s deep sense, that lies at the basis of a common\\nintrigue. In a Balcony presents love as the supreme\\nblessing of life\\nThere is no good of life but love but love!\\nWhat else looks good, is some shade flung from love;\\nLove yields it, gives it worth.\\nIn Italy Browning made his home in Florence, the\\nQueen of Italy, as Mrs. Browning called it but he\\nremained there only a few months of each year, usually\\nspending a part of his summers and winters elsewhere.\\nHe had a high appreciation of his wife s poetic gifts, and\\nto a friend he once said, She has genius I am only a\\npainstaking fellow. When she died at Florence in 1861,\\nhis sorrow was inconsolable. I want her, I want her,\\nwas the simple cry that continually welled up from his", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0695.jp2"}, "694": {"fulltext": "598 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ndesolate heart. Shortly after her death he went to Lon-\\ndon, which was to be henceforth his home. Not wishing to\\nsubject his son to the ordeal of an English pubHc school,\\nhe undertook the labor of fitting him for the University.\\nIn 1864 he published Dramatis Personae, which con-\\ntains several poems of marked excellence. Among these\\nare Abt Vogler, Rabbi Ben Ezra, and A Death in\\nthe Desert. In the first we find an expression of the poet s\\nbelief that all the good we hope or dream in this life the\\nideals we cherish will hereafter be realized. On the\\nearth the broken arcs in the heaven a perfect round\\nAll we have willed or hoped or dreamed of good, shall exist;\\nNot its semblance, but itself; no beauty nor good nor power,\\nWhose voice has gone forth, but each survives for the melodist,\\nWhen eternity affirms the conception of an hour.\\nThe high that proved too high, the heroic for earth too hard.\\nThe passion that left the ground to lose itself in the sky,\\nAre music sent up to God by the lover and the bard\\nEnough that he heard it once we shall hear it by and by.\\nA Death in the Desert is notable as the only poem\\nin which Browning deals directly with historic Christianity.\\nThe poem seems to have been evoked by Renan s Vie de\\nJesus, which appeared in 1863. The poet holds that\\nChristianity ultimately depends, not on historic proofs or\\nmiracles, but on its self-evidencing power. It satisfies the\\nheart and solves the mysteries of life and in these facts\\nwe find the guarantee of its truth\\nI say, the acknowledgment of God in Christ\\nAccepted by thy reason, solves for thee\\nAll questions in the earth and out of it.\\nAnd has so far advanced thee to be wise.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0696.jp2"}, "695": {"fulltext": "ROBERT BROWNING. 599\\nWouldst thou unprove this to re-prove the proved?\\nIn Hfe s mere minute, with power to use that proof,\\nLeave knowledge and revert to how it sprung?\\nThou hast it use it and forthwith, or die\\nThe fame of Browning was now well established. A\\nyounger generation, untrammelled by conventional preju-\\ndices, found delight and profit in his works. In 1867 he\\nwas honored by Oxford with the degree of A.M., and a\\nfew months later he was made honorary fellow of Balliol\\nCollege. In 1868 appeared The Ring and the Book,\\na poem of twenty-one thousand lines. It has been pro-\\nnounced the most precious and profound spiritual treasure\\nthat England has produced since the days of Shake-\\nspeare. While it is not necessary to accept this enthusi-\\nastic estimate, it is unquestionably a great poem. Of its\\ntwelve long cantos, Pompilia and the Pope are the\\nbest the former is a simple narrative of the tragedy, the\\nlatter a fine soliloquy.\\nThe remaining works of Browning can be barely more\\nthan mentioned. Some of them are elaborate composi-\\ntions, but neither in matter nor in form do they add any-\\nthing to the poet s fame. After The Ring and the\\nBook he entered upon his third period of development,\\nwhich is characterized by reflective rather than imagina-\\ntive elements. Almost every year saw a new work issue\\nfrom the press but while we must admire the poet s un-\\nabated intellectual power, we miss the creative imagination\\nthat gave vitality and beauty to his earlier productions.\\nBrowning was passionately fond of the Greek language\\nand literature, and in the period under consideration he\\nmade three transcripts from the Greek tragedians. These", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0697.jp2"}, "696": {"fulltext": "600 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nwere Balaustion s Adventure, containing a version of\\nthe Alcestis of Euripides, Aristophanes Apology,\\ncontaining the Herakles of Euripides, and The Aga-\\nmemnon of ^schylus. They reach a high degree of\\nexcellence, and in the first two the dramas of Euripides\\nreceive an additional interest from their setting. It is\\nremarkable that Browning, with his great fondness for\\nGreek literature, refused to regard even its best writers\\nas models of style.\\nIn Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, a thin disguise for\\nNapoleon III., we have a defence of the policy of expe-\\ndiency. This poem illustrates a peculiarity of Browning s\\nmethod. In defending a principle or course of action\\nwhich the poet at heart regards as false, the hero of the\\npiece is made to present truths of the weightiest import.\\nThis is true in Bishop Blougram s Apology, and espe-\\ncially in Fifine at the Fair. In the latter poem, while\\ndefending inconstancy in love, the speaker deals with some\\nof the deepest problems of philosophy and life. Take this\\npassage, for example\\nI search but cannot see\\nWhat purpose serves the soul that strives, or world it tries\\nConclusions with, unless the fruit of victories\\nStay, one and all, stored up and guaranteed its own\\nForever, by some mode whereby shall be made known\\nThe gain of every life. Death reads the title clear\\nWhat each soul for itself conquered from out things here.\\nThe poem La Saisiaz, which was inspired by the\\ndeath of a friend, contains Browning s most elaborate dis-\\ncussion of immortality. While conscious of the weakness\\nof the usual logical proofs, he accepts the fact, as did", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0698.jp2"}, "697": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0699.jp2"}, "698": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0700.jp2"}, "699": {"fulltext": "ROBERT BROWNING. 60I\\nTennyson, on the evidence of the heart. Ferishtah s\\nFancies is another poem that contains interesting pas-\\nsages and valuable lessons. It embodies the mature wis-\\ndom of his later years.\\nIn its essential features the character of Browning\\nmight be inferred from the preceding survey of his life\\nand writings. His poetry was the honest expression of\\nhis thought and feeling. In the unfriendly reception his\\nworks long met with, he showed the strength of conscious\\ngenius. With something of the sublime confidence of\\nWordsworth, he pitied the ignorance of his critics and\\ncounted on future recognition. As he grew older, he had\\na large circle of devoted friends he was particularly\\ndrawn to noble women, who repaid him in admiration and\\naffection. Though of a modest, retiring nature so much\\nso that he could never make a public speech he was\\noften a brilliant talker. He bestowed much labor on the\\nrevision of his poems. People accuse me, he said, of\\nnot taking pains I take nothing but pains. In his later\\nyears he worked regularly, and counted that day as lost\\nin which he had not written something. In his political\\nand social views he was an avowed liberal and sympa-\\nthized especially with the movement for the emancipation\\nof women. His last years brought increasing physical\\ninfirmity, and he died at the home of his son in Venice,\\nDec. 12, 1889. A few days later, his body was buried\\nin the Poets Corner of Westminster Abbey.\\nLike Tennyson, Browning was a great teacher, a prophet\\nfor his people. He taught the reality of invisible things.\\nThe age needed his message. For many years there has\\nbeen a strong drift in the direction of what is visible and", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0701.jp2"}, "700": {"fulltext": "602 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nperishable. To many life has seemed a hard and hope-\\nless struggle a brief period of toil and suffering, which\\nends at last in darkness. In the midst of these wrong\\nand depressing tendencies, Browning appeared with a voice\\nof courage and hope. He preached God, and righteous-\\nness, and immortality, not in the language of cant, but\\nwith the freshness and vigor of one conscious of a divine\\nmission.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0702.jp2"}, "701": {"fulltext": "I\\nk", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0703.jp2"}, "702": {"fulltext": "At the agt- ol ru. Etched\\nfrom life by Paul Rujou. Cujo-\\nCo., New York, Loudou, and 1\\nly t irUtrick Keppel", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0704.jp2"}, "703": {"fulltext": "ALFRED TENNYSON. 60\\nALFRED TENNYSON.\\nFor the greater part of the Victorian period Alfred\\nTennyson stood at the head of Enghsh poetry. His ex-\\ntraordinary poetic genius was supported by broad scholar-\\nship. He absorbed the deepest and best thought of his\\nage and instead of mere passing fancies, his poetry em-\\nbodies a depth of thought and feeling that gives it inex-\\nhaustible richness. Viewed from an artistic standpoint,\\nhis work is exquisite. He surpassed Pope in perfection\\nof form he equalled Wordsworth in natural expression\\nhe excelled both Scott and Byron in romantic narrative\\nand he wrote the only great epic poem since the days\\nof Milton.\\nFew poets have been more fortunate than Tennyson.\\nHis life was one of easy competence. In the retirement\\noi a cultivated home, and in a narrow circle of congenial\\nfriends, he steadily pursued his vocation. Never did a\\npoet consecrate himself more entirely to his art. He\\nwrote no prose. He did not entangle himself in business,\\nwhich has fettered many a brilliant genius. He encumbered\\nhimself with no public office, by which his poetic labors\\nmight have been broken. His career, like an English river,\\nquietly flowed on among fertile hills and blooming meadows.\\nFrom his boyhood, his son tells us, he had felt the\\nmagic of Merlin that spirit of poetry which bade him\\nknow his power and follow throughout his work a pure\\nand high ideal, with a simple and single devotedness and", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0705.jp2"}, "704": {"fulltext": "604 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\na desire to ennoble the life of the world, and which helped\\nhim through doubts and difficulties to endure as seeing\\nHim who is invisible. In Merlin and the Gleam, the\\npoet has given us his literary history.\\nThe principal events in the life of Tennyson are the\\npublication of his successive volumes. He was born at\\nSomersby, in Lincolnshire, in 1 809, the son of a clergyman,\\nand the third of twelve children. It was a gifted family,\\nwhich Leigh Hunt called a nest of nightingales. After\\na careful training in the parsonage under his father, Alfred\\nwas sent, with two brothers, to Trinity College, Cambridge.\\nHis appearance was impressive, indicating at the same\\ntime strength and refinement. He was genial, joyous, and\\nfull of humor, though suffering at intervals from despond-\\nency. He was a diligent student, with a taste not only for\\nthe classics, but also for natural science. He took a lively\\ninterest in the political questions of the day, and, while\\nopposed to radical or revolutionary measures, was an advo-\\ncate of freedom. In In Memoriam there is a pleasing\\nreminiscence of his college days, beginning\\nI passed beside the reverend walls\\nIn which of old I wore the gown\\nI roved at random thro the town,\\nAnd saw the tumult of the halls\\nAnd heard once more in College fanes\\nThe storm their high-built organs make,\\nAnd thunder music, rolling, shake\\nThe prophets blazoned on the panes.\\nThe bent of his mind early showed itself and in 1827,\\nin connection with his brother Charles, he sent forth, as\\nyet an undergraduate, a volume entitled Poems, by Two", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0706.jp2"}, "705": {"fulltext": "ALFRED TENNYSON. 605\\nBrothers. As in the case of Byron, this first volume\\ngave no token of genius. The poetry was correct but\\nunreadably dull.\\nIn 1829, in competition with Arthur Hallam, Tennyson\\nwon a medal for his prize poem on the subject of Tim-\\nbuctoo. This work contained some faint intimations of\\nhis latent powers. His literary career really opened in\\n1830 with a volume of Poems, Chiefly Lyrical. With\\nmuch that was faulty and immature suppressed by the\\nauthor in subsequent editions of his works this volume\\nannounced the presence of a genuine poet. He did not,\\nhowever, receive the recognition he deserved. Christopher\\nNorth, in Blackwood s Magazine^ mingled censure and\\npraise his censure being of the positive kind then in\\nvogue. The poet resented the criticism and in a volume\\npublished a little later, we find the following reply\\nYou did late review my lays,\\nCrusty Christopher\\nYou did mingle blame and praise,\\nRusty Christopher;\\nWhen I learnt from whom it came,\\nI forgave you all the blame,\\nMusty Christopher;\\nI could not forgive the praise.\\nFusty Christopher.\\nAmong the pleasing lyrics in this volume are Lilian,\\nRecollections of the Arabian Nights, and especially\\nMariana\\nThe sparrow s chirrup on the roof,\\nThe clock slow ticking, and the sound\\nWhich to the wooing wind aloof\\nThe poplar made, did all confound", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0707.jp2"}, "706": {"fulltext": "606 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nHer sense but most she loathed the hour\\nWhen the thick-moted sunbeam lay\\nAthwart the chambers, and the day\\nWas sloping toward his western bower.\\nThen said she, I am very dreary,\\nHe will not come, she said\\nShe wept, I am aweary, aweary,\\nO God, that I were dead!\\nIn The Poet Tennyson lays down his conception of\\nthe poetic character. The poet is preeminently a seer,\\nwhose message of truth, flying over the earth, brings free-\\ndom and wisdom to men\\nThe poet in a golden clime was born.\\nWith golden stars above\\nDowered with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn,\\nThe love of love.\\nHe saw thro life and death, thro good and ill,\\nHe saw thro his own soul.\\nThe marvel of the everlasting will\\nAn open scroll.\\nAt this period the poet s muse was very active. In\\n1832 appeared another volume, which exhibited more\\nfully his poetic gifts and made a notable contribution to\\nEnglish verse. He easily took his place at the head of\\nthe younger race of singers. His lyrical power, his\\nmastery of musical rhythm, his charm of felicitous expres-\\nsion, and his exquisite handling of form and color are\\neverywhere apparent. His breadth of sympathy is shown\\nby his successful treatment of ancient, mediaeval, and\\nmodern themes. The May Queen, with its tender\\npathos, at once touched the popular heart. In Lady", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0708.jp2"}, "707": {"fulltext": "ALFRED TENNYSON. 607\\nClara Vere de Vere the nobility of character is presented\\nin proud contrast with the nobility of birth\\nHowe er it be, it seems to me,\\nTis only noble to be good.\\nKind hearts are more than coronets.\\nAnd simple faith than Norman blood.\\nIn The Lotus Eaters, how exquisitely the sound is\\nwedded to the sense\\nIn the afternoon they came unto a land.\\nIn which it always seemed afternoon.\\nAll round the coast the languid air did swoon,\\nBreathing like one that hath a weary dream.\\nFull-faced above the valley stood the moon\\nAnd like a downward smoke, the slender stream\\nAlong the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.\\nThis volume of 1832 introduces us to one of the funda-\\nmental elements of Tennyson s poetry. It is the blessed-\\nness of love in all its simple, everyday forms. He teaches\\nus that the human heart was made for love and when-\\never, for any reason, love is shut out of Hfe, indescribable\\nloneliness and sorrow are the inevitable result. This is\\nthe truth presented in The Palace of Art, an allegory\\nwrought out with exceeding care\\nAnd he that shuts Love out, in turn shall be\\nShut out from Love, and on her threshold lie\\nHowling in outer darkness. Not for this\\nWas common clay ta^en from the common earth,\\nMoulded by God, and tempered with the tears\\nOf angels to the perfect shape of man.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0709.jp2"}, "708": {"fulltext": "6o8 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThe uplifting and sanctifying power of Love is beau-\\ntifully expressed in the Idyls of the King\\nIndeed I know\\nOf no more subtle master under heaven\\nThan is the maiden passion for a maid,\\nNot only to keep down the base in man,\\nBut teach high thought and amiable words,\\nAnd courtliness and the desire. of fame.\\nAnd love of truth, and all that makes a man.\\nFor the next ten years Tennyson published nothing\\nexcept a few pieces in periodicals. Perhaps he had been\\ndiscouraged by the want of appreciation on the part of\\nprofessional critics. But he was by no means driven\\nfrom his art\\nThe hght retreated,\\nThe landskip darkened,\\nThe melody deadened.\\nThe Master whispered\\nFollow the Gleam.\\nThis intervening period he devoted to diHgent study,\\nenlarging his intellectual range and perfecting himself\\nin artistic expression. History, science, language, the-\\nology all were assiduously pursued. He was a care-\\nful student of English poetry. He admired Wordsworth,\\nwhom he called the dear old fellow. He had a strong\\nappreciation of the elevation and power of Milton, and\\nthought that Lycidas was a test of any reader s\\npoetic instinct. He believed that Keats, with his high\\nspiritual vision, would have been, if he had lived, the\\ngreatest of us all. Shakespeare s sonnets seemed to\\nhim scarcely inferior to his dramas. This long interim", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0710.jp2"}, "709": {"fulltext": "ALFRED TENNYSON. 609\\nwas one of congenial labor and happiness, and the future\\nseemed full of promise\\nHope, a poising eagle, burnt\\nAbove the unrisen morrow.\\nFrom time to time he went to London, where he de-\\nlighted in the central war. He loved to walk in the\\nbusiest streets, to look at the city from the bridges of the\\nThames, and to stroll into the Abbey and St. Paul s. He\\nbelonged to the Sterling Club, and among the prominent\\nliterary men he met were Carlyle, Rogers, Thackeray,\\nDickens, Leigh Hunt, Thomas Campbell. As at college,\\nhe showed an eager interest in the scientific and economic\\nquestions of the day. His talk turned chiefly on politics,\\nphilosophy, and religion. His face was turned to the\\nfuture,\\nYearning for the large excitement that the coming years would yield,\\nEager-hearted as a boy when first he leaves his father s field.\\nCarlyle gives the following etching of him at this period\\nOne of the finest-looking men in the world. A great\\nshock of rough dusky hair bright, laughing, hazel eyes\\nmassive aquiline face, most massive yet most delicate of\\nsallow brown complexion, almost Indian-looking, clothes\\ncynically loose, free and easy, smokes infinite tobacco.\\nHis voice is musical, metallic, fit for loud laughter and\\npiercing wail, and all that may lie between speech and\\nspeculation free and plenteous I do not meet in these\\nlate decades such company over a pipe we shall see what\\nhe will grow to.\\nTennyson ripened into maturity, and in 1842 appeared\\n2 R", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0711.jp2"}, "710": {"fulltext": "6iO ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\na new volume, in which are found many of his choicest\\npieces. He was no longer simply a master of delicaj:e\\nfancy and lyrical harmony he had become also a thinker\\nand teacher. Here appears his first work in connection\\nwith the legend of Arthur and the Round *Table. Milton\\nand Dryden had both thought of the Arthurian cycle as\\nthe subject of an epic poem. It was reserved for Tenny-\\nson to realize the idea and so well has he done his work\\nthat we may congratulate ourselves that the older poets\\nleft the field unoccupied. Listen to the forceful beginning\\nof the Morte d Arthur\\nSo all day long the noise of battle rolled\\nAmong the mountains by the winter sea.\\nWhere can we find a more graphic touch than the de-\\nscription of the flinging of Arthur s sword\\nThe great bj-and\\nMade lightnings in the splendor of the moon,\\nAnd flashing round and round, and whirrd in an arch,\\nShot like a streamer of the northern morn,\\nSeen where the moving isles of winter shock\\nBy night, with noises of the northern sea.\\nHere is a picture from .The Gardener s Daughter\\nFor up the porch there grew an Eastern rose.\\nThat flowering high, the last night s gale had caught,\\nAnd blow^n across the walk. One arm aloft\\nGowned in pure white that fitted to the shape\\nHolding the bush, to fix it back, she stood.\\nA single stream of all her soft, brown hair\\nPour d on one side the shadow of the flowers\\nStole all the golden gloss, and, wavering", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0712.jp2"}, "711": {"fulltext": "h\\nALFRED TENNYSON. 6ll\\nLovingly lower, trembled on her waist\\nAh, happy shade and still went wavering down,\\nBut, ere it touched a foot that might have danced\\nThe greensward into greener circles, dipt,\\nAnd mixed with shadows of the common ground\\nBut the full day dwelt on her brows, and sunn d\\nHer violet eyes, and all her Hebe bloom,\\nAnd doubled his warmth against her lips.\\nAnd on the bounteous wave of such a breast\\nAs never pencil drew. Half light, half shade,\\nShe stood, a sight to make an old man young.\\nDora has the charm of a Hebrew idyl a poem that\\ncan hardly be read without tears. Locksley Hall, a\\nstory of disappointed love, is known to all, and many of\\nits lines have passed into daily use\\nIn the spring a livelier iris changes on the burnished dove\\nIn the spring a young man s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.\\nYet I doubt not through the ages one increasing purpose runs.\\nAnd the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns.\\nGodiva is a story of heroic self-sacrifice, with many\\nan exquisite passage. As the heroine returned to the\\npalace,\\nAll at once.\\nWith twelve great shocks of sound, the shameless noon\\nWas clashed and hammered from a hundred towers.\\nAlmost every poem deserves particular mention. Ed-\\nward Gray and Lady Clare are delightful ballads in\\nthe old style. Ulysses is a strong treatment of a clas-\\nsic theme. In The Two Voices, St. Simeon Stylites,\\nand The Vision of Sin the poet enters the domain of", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0713.jp2"}, "712": {"fulltext": "6l2 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ntheology. The little song called Farewell gives expres-\\nsion to a feeling of sadness that has arisen in every sensi-\\ntive bosom\\nFlow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,\\nThy tribute wave deliver\\nNo more by thee my steps shall be,\\nForever and forever.\\nThe burdening sense of loss on the death of a loved one\\nnever had stronger expression than in the little poem begin-\\nning, Break, break, break\\nAnd the stately ships go on\\nTo their haven under the hill\\nBut oh, for the touch of a vanished hand,\\nAnd the sound of a voice that is still.\\nThis volume placed Tennyson in the forefront of English\\npoets. What is the secret of his charm Apart from the\\nexquisite finish of his poetry, in which, perhaps, he has\\nnever been excelled, his productions show the indefinable\\nbut manifest touch of genius. In thought, imagination,\\nand expression he soars far beyond the reach of common\\nsingers. But more than that his poetry is the honest\\nutterance of a sincere and noble nature. There is nothing\\nfactitious he gives faithful utterance to the truth and\\nbeauty he discovers in nature and human life. Unlike the\\nproductions of Browning, Tennyson s poetry is character-\\nized by a chaste simplicity and clearness. In place of deal-\\ning with the violent and tragic passions of life, he confines\\nhimself within the boundaries of ordinary experience to\\nthe great primal affections and interests which he invests\\nwith the beauty or pathos of a highly gifted nature. It is", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0714.jp2"}, "713": {"fulltext": "ALFRED TENNYSON. 613\\nthese facts that have given him so strong a hold upon the\\npopular heart.\\nIn 1847 appeared The Princess. The author called it\\nA Medley and such it is, composed of mediaeval and\\nmodern elements. Half jest, and half earnest, it yet reaches\\na serious solution of the vexed problem of woman s educa-\\ntion\\nFor woman is not undeveloped man,\\nBut diverse could we make her as the man,\\nSweet love were slain his dearest bond is this,\\nNot like to like, but like in difference.\\nYet in the long years must they liker grow\\nThe man be more of woman, she of man\\nHe gain in sweetness and in moral height.\\nNor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world\\nShe mental breadth, nor fail in childward care,\\nNor lose the childlike in the larger mind\\nTill at the last she set herself to man.\\nLike perfect music unto noble words.\\nThe romantic story is delightfully told and the songs\\ninterspersed among the several parts are, perhaps, the fin-\\nest in our language. Where can we match the Bugle\\nSong\\nThe splendor falls on castle walls\\nAnd snowy summits old in story\\nThe long light shakes across the lakes.\\nAnd the wild cataract leaps in glory.\\nBlow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying.\\nBlow, bugle answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.\\nThe sympathies of Tennyson were largely conservative,\\nespecially as he grew older. The lawlessness of Shelley\\nand Byron was intolerable to him. He indeed recog-", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0715.jp2"}, "714": {"fulltext": "6 14 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nnized the existing evils of society, but he looked for a\\nremedy, not through any radical break with the estab-\\nlished order of society, but in its gradual development into\\nbetter things. Except the question of woman s place in\\nthe social order, he does not deal fully and progressively\\nwith any of the problems connected with the democratic\\nmovement of the age. He had no sympathy with the\\nFrench Revolution, and Paris seemed to him\\nThe red fool-fury of the Seine.\\nHe had no confidence in democracy in its present\\nstate of ignorance. I do not the least mind, he said,\\nif England, when the people are less ignorant and\\nmore experienced in self-government, eventually becomes\\na democracy. But violent, selfish, unreasoning democracy\\nwould bring expensive bureaucracy and the iron rule of a\\nCromwell.\\nIn 1850 appeared In Memoriam, the best elegiac\\npoem ever written, and one that will perhaps never have\\na rival. It is written in memory of Arthur Hallam, a\\nbosom friend of Tennyson s and a young man of rich gifts\\nof mind and heart. A bright career seemed open to him\\nbut while travelling in Germany for his health, he sud-\\ndenly died at Vienna, in 1833. The poet s heart was\\nwrung with grief and under the weight of bereavement,\\nhe set himself resolutely to a consideration of the great\\nmysteries of life, death, God, providence, eternal life. He\\ndoes not deal with these subjects like a theologian or phi-\\nlosopher but rising above the plane of the understand-\\ning, he finds his answers in the cravings of the heart and\\nthe intuitions of the spirit.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0716.jp2"}, "715": {"fulltext": "ALFRED TENNYSON. 615\\nNo other poem is so filled with the thought and feeling\\npeculiar to our age. It rejects the seductive materialism\\nof recent scientific thought it is larger and less dogmatic\\nthan our creeds. With reverent heart the poet finds com-\\nfort at last in the strong Son of God\\nThou wilt not leave us in the dust\\nThou madest man, he knows not why\\nHe thinks he was not made to die\\nAnd thou hast made him thou art just.\\nThou seemest human and divine.\\nThe highest, holiest manhood, thou\\nOur wills are ours, we know not how\\nOur wills are ours, to make them thine.\\nOur little systems have their day\\nThey have their day and cease to be\\nThey are but broken lights of thee,\\nAnd thou, O Lord, art more than they.\\nWe have but faith we cannot know\\nFor knowledge is of things we see\\nAnd yet we trust it comes from thee,\\nA beam in darkness let it grow.\\nTennyson s love of nature, which was scarcely inferior\\nto that of Wordsworth, was associated with the pervading\\npresence.of God. Everywhere throughout the universe,\\nto quote from his son s Memoir, he saw the glory and\\ngreatness of God, and the science of nature was particu-\\nlarly dear to him. Every new fact which came within his\\nrange was carefully weighed. As he exulted in the wilder\\naspects of nature and revelled in the thunderstorm, so\\nhe felt a joy in her orderliness; he felt a rest in her stead-", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0717.jp2"}, "716": {"fulltext": "6l6 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nfastness, patient progress, and hopefulness. The human\\nsoul, which mysteriously comes from the universal being\\nof God draws from out the boundless deep returns\\nto Him in death, and thus becomes more intimately a part\\nof nature. In this belief Tennyson sings of his departed\\nfriend in words of deep mystic beauty\\nThy voice is on the rolling air\\nI hear thee where the waters run\\nThou standest in the rising sun,\\nAnd in the setting thou art fair.\\nWhat art thou then I cannot guess\\nBut tho I seem in star and flower\\nTo feel thee some diffusive power,\\nI do not therefore love thee less\\nMy love involves the love before\\nMy love is vaster passion now\\nTho mixed with God and nature thou,\\nI seem to love thee more and more.\\nFar off thou art, but ever nigh\\nI have thee still, and I rejoice\\nI prosper, circled with thy voice\\nI shall not lose thee tho I die.\\nThe year In Memoriam appeared, Tennyson was mar-\\nried to Miss Emily Sellwood, to whom he had long been\\nattached. He found in her a worthy helpmate, upon\\nwhose judgment he came to rely more and more. He\\nwas proud of her intellect and freely discussed with her\\nhis various literary projects. Through her gentle fore-\\nthought and care, he was shielded from interruption and\\nthe burden of correspondence and in seasons of depres-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0718.jp2"}, "717": {"fulltext": "I\\nI", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0719.jp2"}, "718": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0720.jp2"}, "719": {"fulltext": "ALFRED TENNYSON. 617\\nsion and sorrow, he was sustained and comforted by her\\ncheerful courage and tender sympathy. Their union sug-\\ngests his perfect music set to noble words.\\nThis same happy year of 1850, Tennyson succeeded\\nWordsworth as poet laureate. After his marriage he lived\\nfirst at Twickenham, which he has made doubly classic.\\nThe latter part of his life he lived at Farringford, Isle of\\nWight, and at his summer residence Aldworth in Surrey.\\nHe gathered about him a select circle of friends, who\\nesteemed him as a man as highly as they admired him\\nas a poet. He was fond of reading his poetry to appre-\\nciative hearers. In the prelude to the Morte d Arthur,\\nhe has described his manner\\nThe poet little urged,\\nBut with some prelude of disparagement,\\nRead, mouthing out his hollow oe and s,\\nDeep-chested music.\\nIn 1855 appeared Maud, and Other Poems. The\\nprincipal poem in this volume has much divided critical\\nopinion, but it is safe to say that it falls below his usual\\nhigh achievement. The meaning of the poem, as ex-\\nplained by the poet himself, is the reclaiming power of\\nlove It is the story of a man who has a morbid nature,\\nwith a touch of inherited insanity, and very selfish. The\\npoem is to show what love does for him. The war is only\\nan episode. Vou must remember that it is not I myself\\nspeaking. It is this man with the strain of madness in\\nhis blood, and the memory of a great trouble and wrong\\nthat has put him out with the world.\\n1 Century Magazine, February, 1 893.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0721.jp2"}, "720": {"fulltext": "6l8 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThe Brook is a charming idyl, containing a delicious,\\nrippling inter-lyric\\nI come from haunts of coot and hern,\\nI make a sudden sally,\\nAnd sparkle out among the fern.\\nTo bicker down a valley.\\nWhatever doubts touching the poet s genius may have\\nbeen started by Maud, they were forever cleared away\\nin 1859 by the appearance of the Idyls of the King.\\nThese poems were received with enthusiasm. Consisting\\nat first of only four Enid, Vivien, Elaine, and Guinevere\\nthe poet afterward wrought in the same field, until his\\nten idyls constitute a great epic poem. Nave and tran-\\nsept, aisle after aisle, to use the language of Stedman,\\nthe Gothic minster has extended, until, with the addition\\nof a cloister here and a chapel yonder, the structure\\nstands complete. These Idyls belong to the moun-\\ntain summits of song. Brave knights, lovely women,\\nmediaeval splendor, undying devotion, and heart-breaking\\ntragedies are all portrayed with the richest poetic art and\\nfeeling. Unlike the Iliad or Paradise Lost, which\\nappeal to us largely through their grandeur, the Idyls\\nof the King possess a deep human interest. They arouse\\nour sympathies. We weep for Elaine the lily maid of\\nAstolat, the victim of a hopeless love for Lancelot. How\\nworthy of his praise\\nFair she was, my King,\\nPure, as you ever wish your knights to be.\\nTo doubt her fairness were to want an eye.\\nTo doubt her pureness were to want a heart\\nYea, to be loved, if what is worthy love\\nCould bind him, but free love will not be bound.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0722.jp2"}, "721": {"fulltext": "ALFRED TENNYSON. 619\\nThe agonies of Arthur and Guinevere at Almesbury go\\nto the heart\\nLo I forgive thee, as Eternal God\\nForgives do thou for thine own soul the rest.\\nBut how to take last leave of all I loved? j\\ngolden hair, with which I used to play,\\nNot knowing! O imperial-moulded form,\\nAnd beauty such as never woman wore,\\nUntil it came a kingdom s curse with thee. 1\\n1 cannot touch thy lips, they are not mine,\\nBut Lancelot s they never were the King s. 1\\nI\\nMy love thro flesh hath wrought into my life\\nSo far, that my doom is, I love thee still.\\nLet no man dream but that I love thee still.\\ni\\nPerchance, and so thou purify thy soul.\\nAnd so thou lean on our fair father Christ,\\nHereafter in that world where all are pure, i\\nWe two may meet before high God, and thou J\\nWilt spring to me, and claim me thine, and know\\nI am thine husband not a smaller soul,\\nNor Lancelot, nor another. Leave me that,\\nI charge thee, my last hope.\\nHow beautiful the words of Arthur, as he seeks in his\\nlast moments to comfort the lonely and grief-stricken Sir\\nBedivere\\nThe old order changeth, yielding place to new, i\\nAnd God fulfils himself in manv ways, I\\nLest one good custom should corrupt the world.\\nComfort thyself: what comfort is in me?\\nI have lived my life, and that which I have done\\nMay he within himself make pure! but thou,\\nIf thou shouldst never see my face again,\\nPray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0723.jp2"}, "722": {"fulltext": "620 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThan this world dreams of.\\nI am going a long way\\nWith these thou seest if indeed I go\\n(For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)\\nTo the island valley of Avilion\\nWhere falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,\\nNor ever wind blows loudly but it lies\\nDeep-meadowVl, happy, fair with orchard lawns\\nAnd bowery hollows crow^n d with summer sea.\\nIn 1864 appeared Enoch Arden, a work of great\\nbeauty. It depicts with deep pathos the heroism to be\\nfound in humble life. Beauty, pathos, heroism these\\nare qualities that give it high rank, and have made it per-\\nhaps the most popular of all Tennyson s writings. Human\\nnature is portrayed at its best and like all our author s\\npoetry, Enoch Arden unconsciously begets faith in man\\nand makes us hopeful of the future of our race.\\nOf Tennyson s other works we cannot speak. It is\\nenough to say that they add nothing to his fame.\\nThe quiet beauty of his death formed a fitting close to\\nhis long and uneventful career. On the evening of the\\n6th of October, 1892, the soul of the great poet passed\\naway. The prayer he had breathed two years before in\\nthe little poem, Crossing the Bar, was answered\\nSunset and evening star,\\nAnd one clear call for me\\nAnd may there be no moaning of the bar\\nWhen I put out to sea.\\nBut such a tide as moving seems asleep,\\nToo full for sound and foam.\\nWhen that which drew from out the boundless deep\\nTurns again home.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0724.jp2"}, "723": {"fulltext": "ALFRED TENNYSON, 621\\nTwilight and evening bell,\\nAnd after that the dark!\\nAnd may there be no sadness of farewell\\nWhen I embark.\\nFor tho from out our bourn of Time and Place\\nThe flood may bear me far,\\nI hope to see my Pilot face to face\\nWhen I have crossed the bar.\\nHe was entombed by the side of Chaucer in Westmin-\\nster Abbey, while two continents lamented his death.\\nWhatever changes of taste or fashion may hereafter\\ncome in poetry, surely we are justified in believing that\\nTennyson will continue to hold a high rank. His work\\nis too true in thought, feeling, and execution to pass away.\\nIt will abide as a perpetual source of pleasure and strength.\\nWhile tenderly sensitive to beauty, he possessed profound\\nethical feehng and spiritual insight. Keenly sympathetic\\nwith the restless search after truth characteristic of our\\ntime, he avoided its vagaries and dangers, and continued\\na trustworthy teacher, inspiring confidence in man, hope\\nin the future, and faith in God. In the words of Longfel-\\nlow s beautiful sonnet\\nNot of the howling dervishes of song,\\nWho craze the brain with their delirious dance,\\nArt thou, O sweet historian of the heart!\\nTherefore to thee the laurel leaves belong.\\nTo thee our love and our allegiance,\\nFor thy allegiance to the poet s art.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0725.jp2"}, "724": {"fulltext": "622 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nTHOMAS CARLYLE.\\nThere are three Scotchmen who have reflected great\\nglory on their native land by brilliant literary achieve-\\nment. Utterly unlike in temperament and character, they\\nhave each stood at the head of an important department\\nof literature. No one will question the position of Burns\\nas chief of popular lyrists. Scott is supreme in historical\\nromance. And Carlyle 1 He is the thinker, moralist,\\npreacher, who forced an unwilling generation to hear and\\nheed his trumpet-toned message.\\nAs in the case of many other great writers, Carlyle s\\noutward life presents nothing remarkable. His biography\\nis chiefly subjective. He was not high-born he filled no\\nprominent civic position; he was not an active leader in\\nany of the great movements of his day. He was, rather,\\na voice in the wilderness. His life stands in striking con-\\ntrast with that of Macaulay. While Macaulay was a man\\nof affairs, and attained distinction as an orator, legislator,\\nand cabinet minister, Carlyle was a recluse student, and\\nrose to prominence by his power as a man of letters.\\nOur study is to be, not so much a record of outward facts,\\nas the development of a strong personality.\\nCarlyle had strong faith in the principle of heredity.\\nIn his famous Edinburgh address, he says There is a\\ngreat deal more in genealogy than is generally believed\\nat present. I never heard tell of any clever man that\\ncame of entirely stupid people. In his own biographi-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0726.jp2"}, "725": {"fulltext": "Photograph after the painting by G. F. Watts.\\n/iv r^ viC^ V^CrkjL^", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0727.jp2"}, "726": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0728.jp2"}, "727": {"fulltext": "THOMAS CARLYLE. 623\\ncal writings he gives prominence to ancestry and in\\nhis Reminiscences, he pays an affectionate tribute to\\nhis parents, from whom, as he points out, he inherited his\\nleading physical and mental characteristics. Along with\\nextraordinary mental vigor, his father, who was a mason,\\nspoke in a style bold, glowing, and picturesque. His\\nmother possessed the sturdy sense and forceful uprightness\\nthat made her a worthy companion of her husband. They\\nlived in humble circumstances at Ecclefechan, Scotland,\\nwhere their gifted son was born Dec. 4, 1795.\\nIn Sartor Resartus we have an interesting autobi-\\nographical account of his school days. At the age of\\nten he was sent to school at Annan, where his sensitive\\nnature exposed him to petty persecutions from his play-\\nmates. He was nicknamed Tom the Tearful. Yet he\\ndid not always meekly submit to his tormentors. At\\nrare intervals did the young soul burst forth into fire-eyed\\nrage, and, with a stormfulness under which the boldest\\nquailed, assert that he too had rights of man, or at least\\nof manikin.\\nIn after years the training he received at Annan\\nappeared to him exceedingly mechanical. Though he\\nmade good attainments in Latin, French, and especially\\nmathematics, he characterized his teachers as hide-bound\\npedants and mechanical gerund-grinders. In Sar-\\ntor the school itself bears the suggestive German name\\nof Hinterschlag Gymnasium. The Hinterschlag pro-\\nfessors, he says, knew syntax enough; and of the\\nhuman soul thus much that it had a faculty called\\nmemory, and could be acted on through the muscular\\nintegument by appliance of birch rods.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0729.jp2"}, "728": {"fulltext": "624 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nIt was the wish of his father that he should study for\\nthe ministry; and, accordingly, in 1809, he was sent to the\\nUniversity of Edinburgh. He made the journey of nearly\\na hundred miles on foot. Not many details of his. univer-\\nsity career have been preserved. He studied diligently,\\nlived in comparative seclusion, and devoted a considera-\\nble part of his time to miscellaneous reading. From\\nthe chaos of the library he fished up more books per-\\nhaps than had been known to the keepers thereof. The\\nfoundation of a literary life was hereby laid. Like\\nBacon, Milton, and a few other illustrious English au-\\nthors, he found fault with the subjects of study and\\nmethods of instruction. In the autobiographical part of\\nSartor, he says, with humorous exaggeration It is\\nmy painful duty to say that, out of England and Spain,\\nours was the worst of all hitherto discovered universities.\\nHe completed his studies in 1814; and while none of his\\nprofessors seem to have discovered his ability, his intimate\\nassociates, with greater discernment, foretold his future\\neminence.\\nAfter leaving the university, Carlyle taught for two\\nyears at Annan, and afterward, for the same length of\\ntime, at Kirkcaldy. He was faithful in his pedagogical\\nlabors but because he preferred his books to the visita-\\ntion of his patrons, he acquired a reputation for unsoci-\\nability. But pedagogy was not his vocation. His native\\ndislike to teaching soon grew into a settled abhorrence.\\nAt the end, to use his own words, my solitary, des-\\nperate conclusion was fixed that I, for my own part,\\nwould prefer to perish in the ditch, if necessary, rather\\nthan continue living by such a trade, and peremptorily", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0730.jp2"}, "729": {"fulltext": "THOMAS CARLYLE. 625\\ngave it up accordingly. At Kirkcaldy he had his first\\nromance, which appears in idealized form in Sartor.\\nCarlyle had not yet found his work. His inabiUty to\\nsubscribe the creeds of the church led him to give up\\nthe ministry. In 181 8 he went to Edinburgh, where he\\ntaught a few private pupils and, at the same time, studied\\nlaw. Dyspepsia, which remained a plague throughout\\nlife, began to torment him, and to tinge his thought\\nwith gloom. He fell into a state of doubt and unbelief,\\nwhich in Sartor he describes as The Everlasting No.\\nWe see him quite shut out from hope; looking, not\\ninto the golden orient, but vaguely, all around, into a dim,\\ncopper firmament, pregnant with earthquake and tornado.\\nIn his gloom and discouragement, he thought for a time,\\nas did Burns, Coleridge, and Southey, of emigrating to\\nAmerica.\\nFrom this state of doubt and unbelief, which he calls\\nhis temptation in the wilderness, he finally passed into\\na permanent condition of faith. This is The Ever-\\nlasting Yea, wherein whoso walks and works, it is\\nwell with him. This experience, which was a kind\\nof regeneration, was the great turning-point in Carlyle s\\nlife. It made him henceforth a positive force for truth\\nand righteousness. Nature seemed to him as the vesture\\nof God- life was filled with significance; duty became\\nsacred; and an infinite love and pity took possession of\\nhis heart. He now had his divine commission as teacher\\nand with the courage and fidelity of a Hebrew prophet,\\nhe delivered his message.\\nHe gave up the study of law; and after a series of\\ntentative efforts, not unattended with discouragements,\\n2S", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0731.jp2"}, "730": {"fulltext": "626 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nhe finally embarked upon the literary career, for which\\nnature evidently intended him. His first work was the\\ncontribution of sixteen articles, mostly biographical, to the\\nEdinburgh Encyclopaedia. He translated Legendre s\\nGeometry from the French a task in which his su-\\nperior mathematical gifts stood him in great stead. But\\nfar more important was his work in German, the influence\\nof which on his style, his thought, and the intellectual\\nlife of England can hardly be overestimated. He made\\nhimself the best German scholar in the British Isles and\\ndid more than any other writer to acquaint the English\\npeople with the treasures of German literature. He made\\ntranslations from Fouque, Tieck, Hoffman, Richter, Schil-\\nler, and, above all, Goethe. His Life of Schiller ap-\\npeared in 1823 and Goethe s Wilhelm Meister in 1824.\\nDuring these years he was tutor to Charles Buller (after-\\nward a distinguished member of Parliament) at a salary\\nof two hundred pounds.\\nWhile sarcastic and ungenerous to most of his great\\ncontemporaries, Carlyle recognized in Goethe his one\\ngreat master. He spoke of Lamb as an emblem of\\nimbecility. To him poor Shelley always was a kind of\\nghastly object, colorless, pallid, without health, or warmth,\\nor vigor. Macaulay was a sophistical, rhetorical, ambi-\\ntious young man of talent. He described Coleridge, to\\nwhom he devoted a famous chapter in the Life of Ster-\\nling, as a puffy, anxious, obstructed-looking, fattish old\\nman, who hobbled about and talked with a kind of\\nsolemn emphasis on matters which were of no interest.\\nBut Goethe, whom he always speaks of with reverence,\\nseemed to him the most notable literary man that had", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0732.jp2"}, "731": {"fulltext": "THOMAS CARLYLE. 627\\nappeared in a hundred years. In Sartor he inquires:\\nKnowest thou no prophet, even in the vesture, environ-\\nment, and dialect of this age None to whom the god-\\nlike had revealed itself, through all meanest and highest\\nforms of the common and by him been again propheti-\\ncally revealed in whose inspired melody, even in these\\nrag-gathering and rag-burning days, man s life again\\nbegins, were it but far off, to be divine Knowest thou\\nnone such I know him, and name him Goethe.\\nIn 1826, after a courtship which lasted through several\\nyears and which was not free from storms, Carlyle married\\nJane Baillie Welsh, a woman who, above him in birth,\\nwas scarcely his inferior in intellect. Though there was\\ngenuine affection on both sides, the union was not ideally\\nhappy. With all her charming graces Jeannie had a\\nsharp tongue and in sarcasm she was a match for her\\ngifted husband. Occasion was not lacking. With an\\nintense devotion to his work, Carlyle sacrificed his friends\\nas completely as himself. The koneymoon was scarcely\\nover till he buried himself in his studies and throughout\\nthe forty years of his married life he in a large meas-\\nure sacrificed domestic comfort and companionship to his\\nliterary pursuits and ambitions. Patience was not one of\\nJeannie s virtues, and it is significant that she wrote to\\na young friend, My dear, whatever you do, never marry\\na man of genius. But in spite of all discord and com-\\nplaints, she exhibited a beautiful devotion and when she\\ndied in 1866, she was not undeserving of the noble tribute\\nher grief-stricken husband paid her My noble one I\\nsay deliberately her part in the stern battle, and except\\nmyself none knows how stern, was brighter and braver", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0733.jp2"}, "732": {"fulltext": "628 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nthan my own. Thanks, darhng, for your shining words\\nand acts, which were continual in my eyes, and in no\\nother mortal s. Worthless I was of your divinity, wrapt\\nin your perpetual love of me and pride in me, in defiance\\nof all men and things. Oh, was it not beautiful\\nAfter his marriage Carlyle took up his residence for a\\ntime in Edinburgh, where he enjoyed the friendship of\\nSir William Hamilton, Sir David Brewster, De Quincey,\\nwhose unfavorable review of Wilhelm Meister had\\nbeen forgiven, and, above all, of Jeffrey, who took a deep\\ninterest in the struggling author. Jeffrey opened to him\\nthe Edinburgh Review^ in which appeared in 1827 Rich-\\nter and The State of German Literature. These\\nwere the first of a splendid series of historical and critical\\nreviews, which came out in the leading periodicals of the\\nday, and which made him, with the possible exception of\\nMacaulay, the foremost essayist of the century. He toiled\\ntremendously at the tasks he undertook and his essays\\nare characterized by exhaustive research, deep philosophi-\\ncal insight, rare independence of judgment, and a passion-\\nate energy of expression. Among the essays especially\\nnoteworthy, if a distinction may be made where all attain\\na high degree of excellence, are Goethe, Burns,\\nVoltaire, Signs of the Times, Novalis, Character-\\nistics, Boswell s Life of Johnson, and Sir Walter\\nScott.\\nIn 1828 Carlyle rhoved to Craigenputtoch, the Hill of\\nthe Hawks, where the next six years of his life were\\nspent in great seclusion. Craigenputtoch was a remote\\nfarm in Dumfriesshire, of which the best that can be said\\nis, that it was not the dreariest spot in the British domin-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0734.jp2"}, "733": {"fulltext": "THOMAS CARLYLE. 629\\nions. It was here that in 1831 he wrote Sartor Re-\\nsartus The Tailor Patched. It is the first book in\\nwhich his strong personaUty found complete expression.\\nUnder the character of Teufelsdroeckh, he pours forth,\\nsometimes in the highest form of prose-poetry, his deepest\\nthoughts on individual and social life. While it might be\\nstyled a treatise on things in general, its one great purpose\\nis to teach the important lesson of discriminating between*\\nappearances and realities. It is echoed in Tennyson and\\nEmerson. Though Carlyle afterward modified some of\\nhis views, Sartor contains substantially the great pro-\\nphetic message he had for the world.\\nAs his wife finished reading the last pages, she said, It\\nis a work of genius, dear. Her judgment, which rarely\\nerred in literary matters, has been abundantly sustained.\\nCarlyle had done his best and naturally regarded the\\nresult with favor. But the London publishers were slow\\nto discover its merits. Its daring originality shocked the\\nconventional taste of the time, and, to the great chagrin\\nof the author, he could not get it pubHshed for two years.\\nWhen at length it appeared serially in Fraser s Magazine^\\nit was almost universally decried for what was called its\\nobscure and barbarous style. There were only two people,\\nCarlyle said, who found in it anything worth reading,\\nEmerson and an Irish priest. But he lived to see a\\nchange one of the most remarkable in the annals of\\nEnglish literature. Before his death Sartor Resartus\\nhad become one of the most popular and most influential\\nbooks of the century. It is noteworthy that its excellence\\nwas first recognized in America.\\nMuch has been said about Carlyle s style, which first", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0735.jp2"}, "734": {"fulltext": "630 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nappears in its fully developed form in Sartor. Sterling,\\nin an interesting letter quoted by Carlyle himself, points\\nout its leading peculiarities, its barbarous words, its abuse\\nof compounds, its license of invention, and its German\\nconstructions. Certainly it is different from that of any\\nother English writer, and has justly called for the designa-\\ntion Carlylese. But whatever may be its peculiarities,\\nthere can be no doubt that it was his natural method of\\nutterance and that it was an instrument of tremendous\\npower. It originated, as Froude tells us, in the old farm-\\nhouse at Annandale. The humor of it came from his\\nmother. The form was his father s common mode of\\nspeech, and had been adopted by himself for its brevity\\nand emphasis. Its rugged form- its nodulosities and\\nangularities was exactly suited to his rugged char-\\nacter. Its words sometimes fairly shriek from the pages.\\nIt is exceedingly concrete (Carlyle hated abstractions), and\\nabounds in remote allusions, from which arises its princi-\\npal obscurity. We may apply to him his description of\\nthe style of Teuf elsdroeckh a passage that will serve at\\nthe same time as an illustration Occasionally we find\\nconsummate vigor, a true inspiration his burning thoughts\\nstep forth in fit burning words, like so many full-formed\\nMinervas, issuing amid flame and splendor from Jove s\\nhead a rich idiomatic diction, picturesque allusions, fiery\\npoetic emphasis, or quaint tricksy turns all the graces\\nand terrors of a wild imagination, wedded to the clearest\\nintellect, alternate in beautiful vicissitude. Were it not\\nthat sheer sleeping and soporific passages, circumlocutions,\\nrepetitions, touches even of pure doting jargon, so often\\nintervene On the whole. Professor Teuf elsdroeckh is not", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0736.jp2"}, "735": {"fulltext": "THOMAS CARLYLE. 63 1\\na cultivated writer. Of his sentences perhaps not more\\nthan nine-tenths stand straight on their legs the remain-\\nder are in quite angular attitudes, buttressed up by props\\nof parentheses and dashes, and ever with this or the other\\ntagrag hanging from them a few even sprawl out help-\\nlessly on all sides, quite broken-backed and dismembered.\\nIn 1834 Carlyle left the dreary farm of Craigenputtoch\\nto live in London. His limited means enforced the strict-\\nest economy but his modest home became a centre for the\\ngathering of the best literary talent of the metropolis. The\\nfirst years of his London residence, from 1834 to 1837, he de-\\nvoted to the French Revolution, a subject that had long\\noccupied his attention. It is less a history than prose epic.\\nIn place of conventional details, it abounds in graphic pic-\\ntures, tragic incidents, and tumultuous feeling. It lacks only\\nmetrical form to take rank with the Iliad. Carlyle was\\na preacher rather than artist. The French Revolution\\nwas written to impress upon his age, which he believed to\\nbe full of shams, hypocrisies, and injustice, his great funda-\\nmental principle that God governs this universe in justice,\\nand that all wrong-doing will, sooner or later, be followed\\nby retribution. The first volume, the manuscript of which\\nhad been accidentally destroyed while in the hands of John\\nStuart Mill, was rewritten with heroic spirit. What they\\nwill do with this book, he said to his wife, none knows,\\nmy lass but they have not had for two hundred years any\\nbook that came more truly from a man s very heart, and\\nso let them trample it under foot and hoof as they see best.\\nThey will not trample that, she answered cheerily, and\\nshe was right. While its unsparing independence of spirit\\ndispleased various classes and parties, its unmistakable", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0737.jp2"}, "736": {"fulltext": "632 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nfreshness and power were immediately recognized. It\\nplaced Carlyle s reputation as a writer upon a solid foun-\\ndation. Dickens carried it with him in his travels Thack-\\neray gave it an enthusiastic review Southey read it no\\nfewer than six times.\\nBut the French Revolution, while adding immensely\\nto his fame, did not at once replenish his purse. Through\\nthe kindly solicitation of some friends, among whom was\\nHarriet Martineau, he was induced to deliver a course of\\nlectures. His reputation made it easy to secure a select\\nand intelligent audience at a pound apiece. Without the\\ngraces of an accomplished orator, his wide range of knowl-\\nedge and rare command of language made him a speaker\\nof impressive power. His voice was harsh his gestures\\nwere abrupt and angular and, worst of all, he had the\\nhabit of distorting his features as if suffering great physi-\\ncal pain.\\nIn all he delivered four courses of lectures, which brought\\nhim the comfortable sum of eight hundred pounds, and re-\\nlieved his domestic needs. He delivered his last and best\\ncourse in 1840 on Heroes and Hero- Worship. These lec-\\ntures were shortly afterward published in book form, and\\nmake one of his most interesting volumes. Its underlying\\nprinciple is the belief that all human progress is due to the\\nsmall number of supremely gifted men, whom God sends\\ninto the world at favored epochs.\\nHis next notable work, Past and Present, had a politi-\\ncal aim. It was inspired by the disturbances of 1842\\na period of financial depression and social unrest. The\\nodious Corn Laws had made bread dear; and while the\\nnoble and the wealthy were living in ease and extrava-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0738.jp2"}, "737": {"fulltext": "THOMAS CARLYLE. 633\\ngance, thousands of workingmen, without employment,\\nwere on the point of starvation. The social condition of\\nEngland in a measure exhibited the evils which had .pre-\\ncipitated the French Revolution. Carlyle was filled with\\nindignation and alarm. We seem to me near the anar-\\nchies, he wrote to his wife. It was these circumstances\\nthat called forth the burning words of Past and Pres-\\nent once more a mighty plea for truth, duty, justice.\\nFoolish men imagine, he exclaimed, that because\\njudgment for an evil thing is delayed, there is no justice\\nbut an accidental one, here below. Judgment for an evil\\nthing is many times delayed some day or two, some cen-\\ntury or two, but it is sure as life, it is sure as death In\\nthe centre of the world-whirlwind, verily now as in the\\noldest days, dwells and speaks a God. The great soul of\\nthe world \\\\s Just. It sold rapidly, and exerted no small\\ninfluence, not only on the thought of the time, but also\\non subsequent legislation.\\nIn 1845 appeared Cromwell s Letters and Speeches,\\nwhich had cost Carlyle five years of tedious and painful\\ntoil, and which is regarded by Froude as the most im-\\nportant contribution to English history made in this cen-\\ntury. To Carlyle the great Protector was a hero, whose\\nsincerity and truth deserved to be held up as an impres-\\nsive lesson in an age when conviction and veracity were\\ngiving place to hollow cant and formulism. It perma-\\nnently, rescued the name of Cromwell from the obloquy\\nwhich political and ecclesiastical conservatism had heaped\\nupon it. With his own right hand, alone and by a\\nsingle stroke, says Frederic Harrison, he completely\\nreversed the judgment of the English nation about their", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0739.jp2"}, "738": {"fulltext": "634 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ngreatest man. The whole weight of church, monarchy,\\naristocracy, fashion, literature, and wit had for two centu-\\nries combined to falsify history and distort the character\\nof the noblest of English statesmen. And a simple man\\nof letters, by one book, at once and forever reversed this\\nsentence, silenced the allied forces of calumny and ran-\\ncour, and placed Oliver for all future time as the greatest\\nhero of the Protestant movement.\\nMany interesting details of Carlyle s life at this period\\nhis friendships with the noble and the great, his journeys\\nat home and abroad, the eloquent appeals of his political\\npamphlets are necessarily passed over. He produced\\none more monumental work, Frederick the Great. The\\nmost elaborate of all his works, it cost him thirteen years\\nof almost incredible toil. During this period he withdrew\\nalmost entirely from society, and, on the best authority,\\nmade entire devastation of any satisfactory semblance of\\nhome life or home happiness. The first two volumes\\nappeared in 1858, the third in 1862, the fourth in 1864,\\nand the last two in 1865. Of all his works this had the\\nswiftest success, three editions being quickly exhausted.\\nIt was at once translated into German, and in Germany it\\nmet with the warmest appreciation. Henceforth there\\nwas no one to challenge Carlyle s right to a place among\\nthe greatest of English writers.\\nAfter a long struggle against poverty, indifference,\\nneglect, depreciation, Carlyle finally achieved a permanent\\ntriumph. Even former opponents now recognized his\\nworth. Scotland, which had long been indifferent or hos-\\ntile to her gifted son, hastened to do him honor. In 1865\\nhe was elected over Disraeli to succeed Gladstone as", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0740.jp2"}, "739": {"fulltext": "THOMAS CARLYLE. 635\\nrector of Edinburgh University, and the following year\\nhe delivered his Inaugural Address, which was enthusi-\\nastically received, not only by the students, but also by\\nthe people of Great Britain. As Tyndall telegraphed\\nMrs. Carlyle, who was specially solicitous about her hus-\\nband s success, it was a perfect triumph. But alas!\\nthe satisfaction of it all was to be of short duration.\\nThree weeks later, while Carlyle was still in Scotland, he\\nreceived a telegram announcing the sudden death of his\\nwife. He never recovered from the blow.\\nThe closing years of his life were like a clouded even-\\ning sky, which, with deepening gloom, shows now and\\nthen a momentary rift of sunshine. His bereavement, at\\none fell stroke, stripped him of his Titanic strength. He\\nundertook no other great work. Though he had the\\nsustaining affection of admiring friends and disciples, he\\ncame to feel more and more, as death took away one after\\nanother of those who had been dear to him, that he was\\na lonely wanderer in the world. His one expensive\\nluxury was charity for in spite of the sternness of his\\nmanner, and the harshness of some of his teaching, he\\nhad a kindly heart. The poor and helpless never ap-\\npealed to him in vain. In the period of deep depression\\nfollowing the death of his wife, he wrote his Reminis-\\ncences, a pathetic record of supreme affection and in-\\neradicable remorse. What a depth of penitence is to be\\nfound in the following admonition, evidently based on the\\nrecognition of his own irremediable mistakes Cherish\\nwhat is dearest while you have it near you, and wait not\\ntill it is far away. Blind and deaf that we are oh, think,\\nif thou yet love anybody living, wait not till death sweep", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0741.jp2"}, "740": {"fulltext": "636 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ndown the paltry little dust clouds and dissonances of the\\nmoment, and all be at last so mournfully clear and beauti-\\nful, when it is too late Though his physical strength\\ngradually faded away, his mind retained its native vigor\\nto the last. He died Feb. 4, 1881 and, as he had de-\\nsired, his body was laid to rest in the rural churchyard\\nat Ecclefechan.\\nAnd now, what of the man and his message That\\nhe had his weaknesses and limitations, has already been\\nmade apparent; but that he was a blatant impostor or\\na shallow dogmatist, is what no unprejudiced mind will\\nbelieve. The foundation of his character was a rugged\\nhonesty an unselfish love of truth. Throughout his\\nlife, in spite of dyspeptic irritability and violence, he was\\na bold assailant of wrong and a fearless champion of\\ntruth and righteousness. With the courage of a Hebrew\\nprophet, he resolutely put aside every selfish consideration\\nin the faithful proclamation of his message. In all his\\nwritings he labored in the utmost sincerity.\\nCarlyle was a profoundly religious man. Though he\\ncould not accept any of the existing ecclesiastical creeds,\\nhe recognized the existence of a personal, omnipresent\\nDeity, and reverenced his revelation in nature and history.\\nHis religion lay at the basis of his sincerity. He had no\\ntolerance for materialism or scepticism. No nation, he\\nsaid in his Inaugural Address, which did not contem-\\nplate this wonderful universe with an awe-stricken and\\nreverential belief that there was a great unknown, om-\\nnipotent, and all-wise and all-just Being, superintending\\nall men in it, and all interests in it no nation ever came\\nto very much, nor did any man either, who forgot that.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0742.jp2"}, "741": {"fulltext": "CARLYLE S MONUMENT.\\nCheyne Row.\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0\u00e2\u0080\u00a2\u00e2\u0096\u00a0i\\nDead, who had served his time.\\nWas one of the people s kings,\\nHad labour d in lifting them out of the slime,\\nAnd showing them souls have wings.\\nTennyson.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0743.jp2"}, "742": {"fulltext": "^1", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0744.jp2"}, "743": {"fulltext": "THOMAS CARLYLE. 637\\nIf a man did forget that, he forgot the most important\\npart of his mission in this world. His experience led\\nhim to accept the truth of a special Providence and of\\nimmortality he wrote, The possibility, nay, in some way,\\nthe certainty of permanent existence daily grows plainer\\nto me.\\nHe held, more or less consistently, to a mystical or\\ntranscendental philosophy of nature. All visible things,\\nhe says in Sartor, are emblems what thou seest is\\nnot there on its own account strictly taken, is not there\\nat all matter exists only spiritually, and to represent\\nsome idea, and body it forth. This is the key to much\\nof his teaching. To him natural law was the immediate\\nmanifestation of the Divine will and whoever, therefore,\\nin any way contravenes natural law, thereby sets himself\\nin opposition to God. He believed God to be just and\\nfrom this fact he deduced his famous maxim, which has\\nsometimes been misunderstood, that Might is right or,\\nin other words, that power springs from righteousness.\\nWrong is essentially weak because God is against it.\\nDeep in the heart of the noble man, he says, it lies\\nforever legible, that as an invisible just God made him, so\\nwill and must God s justice and this only, were it never\\nso invisible, ultimately prosper in all controversies and\\nenterprises and battles whatsoever.\\nThis mystical or transcendental way of looking at\\nthe world explains the peculiarity of his political views.\\nHe had a deep sense of the individual worth of man.\\nHe adopted the words of Chrysostom, The true She-\\nkinah is man. His fiercest polemics are against the\\noppressio of the laboring classes. But with all his sym-", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0745.jp2"}, "744": {"fulltext": "638 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\npathy for the common people, he felt a deep distrust of\\ntheir power to govern themselves. He loved, but he did\\nnot trust mankind. While intensely democratic in hu-\\nmanitarian sentiment, he was aggressively aristocratic in\\nhis governmental theories. He held that only the best\\nand ablest men should rule a class not likely to be\\nchosen, as he thought, by popular vote. This aristo-\\ncratic tendency, which is against the irresistible demo-\\ncratic movement of the time, has largely discredited his\\npolitical teachings.\\nIn its essential features, Carlyle s was a great life. No\\nother writer left a deeper impress on the Victorian Age.\\nIn spite of weaknesses and errors, the weight of his life\\nwas on the side of righteousness. As he quaintly wrote\\nin one of his letters, I ve had but one thing to say from\\nbeginnin to end o my books, and that was, that there s\\nno other reliance for this world or any other but just the\\nTruth, and that if men did not want to be damned to all\\neternity, they had best give up lyin and all kinds o false-\\nhood that the world was far gone already through lyin\\nand that there s no hope for it, save just so far as men find\\nout and believe the Truth, and match their lives to it.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0746.jp2"}, "745": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0747.jp2"}, "746": {"fulltext": "Hollyer, photograph after painting by G. F. Watts.\\n/^iPs", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0748.jp2"}, "747": {"fulltext": "MATTHEW ARNOLD. 639\\nMATTHEW ARNOLD.\\nIn deference to his express wish, Matthew Arnold has\\nnot been made the subject of a biography. The wish,\\nno doubt, grew out of a deHcate aversion to unnecessary\\npubUcity. There is nothing in the general tenor, or par-\\nticular circumstances of his life, of which he might feel\\nashamed. All that we are able to learn of him is of\\ngood report and whatever may be his fame as a poet and\\ncritic, he deserves still higher admiration for his genuine\\nworth as a man.\\nThe nearest approach to a biography is a collection of\\ntwo volumes of his Letters. They were written principally\\nto members of his own family, and were evidently never\\nintended for publication. They are written with natural\\nsimplicity, and reveal to us a laborious, cultivated, kind-\\nhearted man. It is not the apostle of culture that\\nspeaks in them, but the diligent school inspector, and the\\naffectionate son, husband, father, and friend. We hear\\nless about sweetness and light than about commonplace\\ninterests and duties. In the words of the editor of the\\nLetters, who knew him well, Nature had given him a\\nsunny temper, quick sympathy, and inexhaustible fun.\\nBut something more than nature must have gone to make\\nhis constant unselfishness, his manly endurance of adverse\\nfate, his buoyancy in breasting difficulties, his unremitting\\nsolicitude for the welfare and enjoyment of those who", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0749.jp2"}, "748": {"fulltext": "640 ENGLISH^ LITERATURE.\\nstood nearest to his heart. Self-denial was the law of his\\nlife, yet the word never crossed his lips.\\nMatthew Arnold was born at Laleham, in the valley\\nof the Thames, Dec. 24, 1822. He was the eldest son\\nof Dr. Thomas Arnold, the historian of Rome and the\\nfamous head-master of Rugby. It is not necessary,\\nsaid the great master once in administering discipline,\\nthat this should be a school of three hundred, or one\\nhundred, or fifty boys, but it is necessary that it should be\\na school of Christian gentlemen. Matthew Arnold re-\\nvered the memory of his father, and in one of his letters\\npays him this tribute: This is just what makes him\\ngreat that he* was not only a good man, saving his\\nown soul by righteousness, but that he carried so many\\nothers with him in his hand, and saved them, if they\\nwould let him, along with himself.\\nArnold s mother, who lived to enjoy her son s rising\\nfame, was a woman of marked excellence of mind and\\ncharacter. She kept in touch with the expanding knowl-\\nedge of the century. When she died, in 1873, he wrote to\\na friend She had a clearness and fairness of mind, an\\ninterest in things, and a power of appreciating what might\\nnot be in her own line, which was very remarkable, and\\nwhich remained with her to the very end of her life. A\\nlarge part of his published correspondence consists of\\nletters to his mother. Well might he say to her in one of\\nthem, The more I see of the world, the more I feel\\nthankful for the bringing up we had, so unworldly, so\\nsound, so pure.\\nWe have only meagre details of his childhood. In 1836\\nhe entered Winchester College, where his cleverness as a", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0750.jp2"}, "749": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0096\u00a0o\\nu\\nc\\n43\\na\\nj=\\n1\\ntA\\n5\\n3\\n-o\\nin\\nM\\nc\\nHe", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0751.jp2"}, "750": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0752.jp2"}, "751": {"fulltext": "MATTHEW ARNOLD. 64 1\\nstudent secured him exemption from the humiliation and\\ncruelties of fagging. A year later he entered Rugby, and\\nin 1840 he won a school prize with his first published\\npoem, Alaric at Rome. The glimpses we get of his\\nschool life indicate that he was a student of unusual dili-\\ngence and promise.\\nIn 1 84 1 he entered Balliol College, Oxford, where he\\ndistinguished himself by the extent and accuracy of his\\nattainments. In 1842 he won a scholarship, and the year\\nfollowing he gained the Newdigate prize with his poem\\non Cromwell. Though in later years he criticised Ox-\\nford, he always retained a tenderness for it, with all its\\nfaults loving it still. Beautiful city he exclaims in the\\npreface to his Essays on Criticism, so venerable, so\\nlovely, so unravaged by the fierce intellectual life of our\\ncentury, so serene\\nThere are our young barbarians all at play\\nAnd yet, steeped in sentiment as she lies, spreading her\\ngardens to the moonlight, and whispering from her towers\\nthe last enchantments of the Middle Ages, who will deny\\nthat Oxford, by her ineffable charm, keeps ever calHng us\\nnearer to the true goal of all of us, to the ideal, to perfec-\\ntion, to beauty, in a word, which is only truth seen from\\nanother side nearer, perhaps, than all the science of\\nTubingen.\\nHe graduated at Balliol College in 1844, and the follow-\\ning year became a fellow of Oriel. He taught Latin and\\nGreek for a short time at Rugby and in 1847 became\\nprivate secretary to Lord Lansdowne. His published let-\\nters begin the following year, and enable us, from that\\n2 T", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0753.jp2"}, "752": {"fulltext": "642 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ntime on, to follow pretty fully his movements and his\\nthoughts. He took a lively interest in the social and po-\\nlitical changes going on in Europe in 1848, and lamented\\nthe narrowness and insensibility of England in the pres-\\nence of democratic ideas on the Continent.\\nFor the first time we get a glimpse of his reading and\\nfavorite authors. He lived with the masters of thought.\\nHe cared but little for the literature of the day, which to\\nhim was not bracing or edifying in the least. His es-\\ntimate of contemporaries was generally under the mark.\\nAmong the authors he read at this period were Bacon,\\nPindar, Sophocles, Milton, Thomas a Kempis, and Eccle-\\nsiasticus. But the two writers who exercised a great and\\npermanent influence upon him were Goethe and Words-\\nworth. In a letter written in 1848, he says I have been\\nreturning to Goethe s Life, and think higher of him than\\never. His thorough sincerity writing about nothing that\\nhe had not experienced is in modern literature almost\\nunrivalled. Wordsworth resembles him in this respect\\nbut the difference between the range of their two experi-\\nences is immense, and not in the Englishman s favor. In\\na poem dating from this time, we find another reference\\nto these same great authors\\nToo fast we live, too much are tried,\\nToo harassed, to attain\\nWordsworth s sweet calm, or Goethe s wide\\nAnd luminous view to gain.\\nIn 1 85 1 Arnold was appointed inspector of schools. It\\nwould be a mistake to think of him solely as a literary\\nman. For thirty-five years he gave himself diligently to", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0754.jp2"}, "753": {"fulltext": "MATTHEW ARNOLD. 643\\neducational labors, which were often exacting and distaste-\\nful. He felt hampered by them, as he believed that his\\nprincipal mission was literature. He frequently com-\\nplained of the tedious routine of examining teachers and\\npapers. He made several trips to the Continent to exam-\\nine the schools and methods of instruction in France and\\nGermany, and his careful, elaborate reports are valuable\\neducational documents. His conception of the end of\\neducation was personal worth rather than practical effi-\\nciency. Soberness, righteousness, and wisdom I can-\\nnot consider that, he says, a bad description of the aim\\nof education, and of the motives which should govern us\\nin the choice of studies, whether we are preparing our-\\nselves for a hereditary seat in the English House of Lords\\nor for the pork trade in Chicago.\\nArnold was married the year of his appointment as\\nschool inspector, and his domestic life was peculiarly\\nhappy. His published correspondence contains numerous\\nletters to his wife. He loved children and entered heartily\\ninto their enjoyments. As we think of him, says the\\neditor of his Letters, endearing traits of character come\\ncrowding on the memory, his merry interest in his\\nfriends concerns his love of children his kindness to\\nanimals his absolute freedom from bitterness, rancor, and\\nenvy his unstinted admiration of beauty and cleverness\\nhis childlike pleasure in his own performances\\nDid I say that How good that was He was\\npreeminently a good man gentle, generous, enduring,\\nlaborious a devoted husband, a most tender father, and\\nunfailing friend.\\nHis literary career began in 1849 with The Strayed", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0755.jp2"}, "754": {"fulltext": "644 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nReveller, and Other Poems, which was followed three\\nyears later by Empedocles on Etna, and Other Poems.\\nIn 1853 he published a volume of Poems, made up\\nprincipally from his previous works. He had a high\\nconception of the nature of poetry, which he defined\\nas a criticism of Hfe under the conditions fixed for\\nsuch criticism by the laws of poetic truth and poetic\\nbeauty. He did not believe, as Macaulay and Nordau\\nhave held, that poetry would disappear with the full\\nmaturity of our race. On the contrary, he maintained\\nthat the future of poetry is immense, because in poetry,\\nwhere it is worthy of its high destinies, our race, as time\\ngoes on, will find an ever surer and surer stay. While\\ninsisting on beauty of form, he laid particular stress on\\ntruth and value of substance. In one of his sonnets he\\nsays that the poet s muse should be\\nYoung, gay,\\nRadiant, adorned outside a hidden ground\\nOf thought and of austerity within.\\nIn his poems Arnold endeavored to keep his practice\\nin line with his principles. By a careful and constant\\nperusal of Greek poetry, he largely imbibed its spirit\\nand to some extent followed its models. In the preface\\nto the volume of 1853 he says: In the sincere endeavor\\nto learn and practise, amid the bewildering confusion\\nof our times, what is sound and true in poetical art, I\\nseemed to myself to find the only sure guidance, the only\\nsolid poetry, among the ancients. In a later edition he\\ncriticises the vagaries of modern literature as fantastic,\\nand wanting in sanity. Sanity, he says, that is the", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0756.jp2"}, "755": {"fulltext": "MATTHEW ARNOLD. 645\\ngreat virtue of the ancient literature the want of that\\nis the great defect of the modern, in spite of its variety\\nand power.\\nWe cannot assign him a very high rank as a poet\\nconsiderably lower, indeed, than he imagined he deserved.\\nMy poems represent, on the whole, he frankly said in\\none of his letters, the main movement of mind of the\\nlast quarter of a century, and thus they will probably\\nhave their day as people become conscious to themselves\\nof what that movement of mind is, and interested in the\\nliterary productions which reflect it. It might be fairly\\nurged that I have less poetical sentiment than Tennyson,\\nand less intellectual vigor and abundance than Browning;\\nyet, because I have more of a fusion of the two than\\neither of them, and have more regularly appHed that\\nfusion to the main line of modern development, I am\\nlikely enough to have my turn, as they have had theirs.\\nHis poems are lacking in the q.uality of spontaneity or in-\\nevitableness. Few of them have the stamp of melodious\\nperfection. They frequently exhibit subtlety of thought\\nand delicacy of feeling; but the conscious, restrained\\neffort is nearly always discernible. His narrative poems,\\nparticularly Sohrab and Rustum and Balder, reflect,\\nin their clearness and dignity of style, the poet s studies\\nin Homer. Both are admirable poems. The closing\\nparagraph of the former, a few lines of which follow,\\nhas been justly admired:\\nFor many a league\\nThe shorn and parcelled Oxus strains along\\nThrough beds of sand and matted rushy isles,\\nOxus, forgetting the bright speed he had", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0757.jp2"}, "756": {"fulltext": "646 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nIn his high mountain cradle in Pamere,\\nA foiled circuitous wanderer, till at last\\nThe longed-for dash of waves is heard, and wide\\nHis luminous home of waters opens, bright\\nAnd tranquil, from whose floor the new-bathed stars\\nEmerge, and shine upon the Aral sea.\\nIn Resignation Arnold gives expression to his con-\\nception of the poetic character\\nDeeper the poet feels but he\\nBreathes, when he will, immortal air.\\nIn the day s life, whose iron round\\nHems us all in, he is not bound;\\nHe leaves his kind, overleaps their pen.\\nAnd flees the common life of men.\\nHe escapes thence, but we abide.\\nNot deep the poet sees, but wide.\\nThe prevailing tone of his poetry is sad. He had a\\nstrong sense of fate and sbrrow in human life. In the lit-\\ntle poem A Question, the sad and tragic side of life finds\\nbeautiful expression\\nJoy comes and goes, hope ebbs and flows\\nLike the wave\\nChange doth unknit the tranquil strength of men.\\nLove lends life a little grace,\\nA few sad smiles and then\\nBoth are laid in one cold place,\\nIn the grave.\\nThe poet felt keenly the unsettled conditions and beliefs\\nof our epoch of change and transition. In The Future,\\na poem that treats of the destiny of man, we read", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0758.jp2"}, "757": {"fulltext": "MATTHEW ARNOLD. 647\\nThis tract which the river of Time\\nNow flows through with us, is the plain.\\nGone is the cahii of its earher shore.\\nBordered by cities, and hoarse\\nWith a thousand cries is its stream.\\nAnd we on its breast, our minds\\nAre confused as the sounds which we hear,\\nClianging and short as the sights which we see.\\nWe find a similar strain in The Grande Chartreuse\\nAchilles ponders in his tent,\\nThe kings of modern thought are dumb\\nSilent they are, though not content,\\nAnd wait to see the future come.\\nThey have the grief men had of yore,\\nBut they contend and cry no more.\\nIn Arnold s poems there are but few of those felicitous\\nphrases or passages that become popular quotations. In\\naddition to the poems already mentioned, the following are\\nworthy of note Stagirius, Human Life, In Utrum-\\nque Paratus, Dover Beach, Lines Written in Ken-\\nsington Gardens, The Scholar Gypsy, Memorial\\nVerses, and Obermann.\\nArnold s poetry, though never widely popular, early\\nestablished his reputation as a poet; and in 1857 he was\\nelected Professor of Poetry at Oxford a position he held\\nfor ten years. His lectures there, in which he first appears\\nas a critic, were received with favor. In 1861 appeared\\nhis work On Translating Homer, an admirable piece of\\nsuggestive criticism. He pointed out as the four chief char-\\nacteristics of the Greek poet his rapidity, his directness of\\nthought and expression, his simplicity of matter and ideas,", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0759.jp2"}, "758": {"fulltext": "648 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nand his nobleness of manner. These quaHties the transla-\\ntor, he maintains, ought to reproduce. The leading Eng-\\nlish translations are tested by these principles and found\\nwanting. Many illustrative passages make the discussion\\nclear and convincing. Cowper renders him ill because\\nhe is slow in his movement and elaborate in his style\\nPope renders him ill because he is artificial both in his style\\nand in his words Chapman renders him ill because he is\\nfantastic in his ideas Mr. Newman renders him ill because\\nhe is odd in his words and ignoble in his manner.\\nArnold holds that hexameter is the best metre for\\nrendering Homer. The prejudices at present existing\\nagainst hexameter will sooner or later pass away. He is not\\nsatisfied with precept alone and to illustrate his critical\\nprinciples he translates several passages himself. The ad-\\ndress of Zeus to the horses of Achilles, Pope renders in the\\nfollowing manner, which Arnold condemns as artificial\\nNor Jove disdained to cast a pitying look\\nWhile thus relenting to the steeds he spoke\\nUnhappy coursers of immortal strain!\\nExempt from age and deathless now in vain\\nDid we your race on mortal man bestow\\nOnly, alas to share in mortal woe?\\nThis passage Arnold turns into hexameter more literally\\nas follows\\nAnd with pity the son of Saturn saw them bewailing,\\nAnd he shook his head, and thus addressed his own bosom\\nAh, unhappy pair, to Peleus why did we give you.\\nTo a mortal? but ye are without old age and immortal.\\nWas it that ye, with man, might have your thousands of sorrows?\\nFor than man, indeed, there breathes no wretcheder creature,\\nOf all living things, that on earth are breathing and moving.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0760.jp2"}, "759": {"fulltext": "MATTHEW ARNOLD. 649\\nArnold always bore adverse criticism with equanimity\\nand good humor. His views on translating Homer were\\nattacked in the Saturday Review and writing to his\\nmother about the article, he says When first I read a\\nthing of this kind, I am annoyed then I think how\\ncertainly in two or three days the effect of it upon me\\nwill have wholly passed off; then I begin to think of the\\nopenings it gives for observations in answer, and from\\nthat moment, when a free activity of the spirit is restored,\\nmy gayety and good spirits return, and the article is\\nsimply an object of interest to me. To be able to feel\\nthus, one must not have committed oneself on subjects\\nfor which one has no vocation, but must be on ground\\nwhere one feels at home and secure that is the great\\nsecret of good humor.\\nIn 1865 appeared his Essays in Criticism, a volume\\nchiefly noted for its first chapter on the function of criti-\\ncism. Arnold was more than a mere literary artist;\\nbeneath all his writings, however urbane in manner,\\nthere is a serious purpose. He made criticism mean much\\nmore than the inglorious art of finding fault or of dis-\\nplaying the critic s learning. Its business is, he says,\\nsimply to know the best that is known and thought in\\nthe world, and by in its turn making this known, to create\\na current of true and fresh ideas. Or, as he more briefly\\ndefines it elsewhere, criticism is a disinterested endeavor\\nto learn and propagate the best that is known and thought\\nin the world. This places criticism on a high plane,\\nand makes of the competent critic an inspiring teacher\\nand guide.\\nArnold was a true patriot. Though he recognized the", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0761.jp2"}, "760": {"fulltext": "650 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nsuperiority of the French in ideas, and of the Germans in\\nlearning, his heart was always with his own people. But\\nhe recognized their faults, their narrowness, their inac-\\ncessibility to new ideas, and their absorbing interest in\\nmaterial things. He described his literary work as an\\neffort to pull out a few more stops in that powerful\\nbut at present somewhat narrow-toned organ, the mod-\\nern Englishman. He sought to promote in England a\\nhigher type of civilization a type that rises above sor-\\ndid, material interests into the region of ideas. Man\\nis civilized, he said, when the whole body of society\\ncomes to live with a life worthy to be called humajie, and\\ncorresponding to man s true aspirations and powers.\\nIn promoting his purpose he did not use the methods\\nof a stern, logical thinker. He frequently referred, with\\nplayful, ironic self-depreciation, to Frederic Harrison s\\ncriticism that he was without a philosophy with coherent,\\ninterdependent, subordinate, and derivative principles. It\\nwas not in his nature to dispute very obstinately in behalf\\nof his opinions. He followed a hghter, Hterary method,\\nwhich gently tries to approach truth on one side after\\nanother. He who will do nothing but fight impetuously\\ntoward the Goddess, he said, on his own, one, favorite,\\nparticular line, is inevitably destined to run his head into\\nthe folds of the black robe in which she is wrapped.\\nThe volume entitled Culture and Anarchy, which was\\npublished in 1869, is one of his most characteristic works.\\nIt furnished most of the words culture, sweetness\\nand light, Philistine, Barbarian, Hebraism and\\nHellenism with which his name and message are\\nassociated. To understand these terms, as he used them,", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0762.jp2"}, "761": {"fulltext": "MATTHEW ARNOLD. 65 I\\nis to possess, in large measure, the secret of Arnold.\\nThey embody the ideas that are constantly recurring in\\nhis works.\\nWhat does he mean by culture Not a smattering, as\\nMr. Bright declared, of Latin and Greek, nor an empty\\nbook-learning that unfits a man for the commonplace\\nduties of life. Arnold used the word culture in a noble\\nsense. He defined it as a pursuit of our total perfec-\\ntion by means of getting to know, on all matters that most\\nconcern us, the best which has been thought and said in\\nthe world. The aim of culture is sweetness and light,\\nwhich are identified with reason and the will of God.\\nTo the great middle class of England Arnold applied\\nthe German term Philistine, by which he meant a strong,\\nstolid, unenlightened opponent of the children of light.\\nTo the nobility he gave the name Barbarian, by which he\\nmeant to indicate, in spite of outward graces, the lack of\\nreal refinement of soul. Philistine, he says, gives the\\nnotion of something particularly stiff-necked and perverse\\nin the resistance to light and its children and therein it\\nspecially suits our middle class, who not only do not pur-\\nsue sweetness and Hght, but who even prefer to them that\\nsort of machinery of business, chapels, tea meetings, and\\naddresses from Mr. Murphy, which makes up the dismal\\nand illiberal life on which I have so often touched. But\\nthe aristocratic class has actually, in its well-known polite-\\nness, a kind of image or shadow of sweetness and as for\\nlight, if it does not pursue light, it is not that it perversely\\ncherishes some dismal and illiberal existence in preference\\nto light, but it is lured off from following light by those\\nmighty and eternal seducers of our race which weave", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0763.jp2"}, "762": {"fulltext": "652 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nfor this class their most irresistible charms, by worldly-\\nsplendor, security, power and pleasure. Keeping this\\nin view, I have in my own mind often indulged myself\\nwith the fancy of employing, in order to designate our\\naristocratic class, the name of TJie Bcwbariansr\\nTwo great tendencies in human life he designated as\\nHellenism and Hebraism. Both aim at human perfec-\\ntion, but along different paths. Hellenism lays stress on\\nintellectual culture Hebraism on moral culture, The\\nuppermost idea with Hellenism, he says, is to see things\\nas they really are the uppermost idea with Hebraism is\\nconduct and obedience. These tendencies are not exclu-\\nsive of each other,, though a severe conflict is now going\\non between them. Hebraism at its best, he says, is\\nbeauty and charm Hellenism at its best is also beauty\\nand charm. As such they can unite. Both are emi-\\nnently humane, and for complete human perfection both\\nare required the first being the perfection of that side\\nin us which is moral and acts the second, of that side in\\nus which is intelligential and perceives and knows.\\nArnold was at heart deeply religious. Though in his\\nwritings on religion St. Paul and Protestantism (1870),\\nLiterature and Dogma (1873), and God and the Bible\\n(1875) he strongly assailed some current theological\\nteachings, he firmly believed in God and the moral gov-\\nernment of the world. He stoutly resisted the encroach-\\nments of materialism and unbelief. His definition of God\\nas the enduring power, not ourselves, which makes for\\nrighteousness, is well-known. Religion he defines as\\nthat which binds and holds us to the practice of right-\\neousness. He places much stress on what he calls the", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0764.jp2"}, "763": {"fulltext": "MATTHEW ARNOLD. 653\\nsecret and method of Jesus, that is, inward piety and\\nsweet reasonableness.\\nThough he rejected the miraculous element of the New\\nTestament, he upheld the moral teachings of Christ. He\\ndefended St. Paul against Renan. In Christ and his teach-\\nings he found the permanent ideal of humanity. Jesus\\nChrist and his precepts, he said, are found to hit the\\nmoral experience of mankind, to hit it in the critical\\npoints, to hit it lastingly and, when doubts are thrown\\nupon their hitting it, then to come out stronger than ever.\\nIn the presence of growing disbelief, he said I believe\\nthat Christianity will survive because of its natural truth.\\nThose w^ho fancied that they had done with it, those who\\nhad thrown it aside because what was presented to them\\nunder its name was so unreceivable, will have to return\\nto it again and learn it better. And over against the\\npessimism of Schopenhauer, he avows his conviction that\\nhuman life is a blessing and a benefit, and constantly\\nimprovable, because in self-renouncement is a fount of\\njoy, springing up into everlasting life.\\nIn the fall of 1883 Arnold visited America and spent\\nsome months in lecturing in the principal cities. He was\\ncordially received, and his letters show a warm apprecia-\\ntion of American life and American character. He was\\nstruck with the universal enjoyment and good nature.\\nBut he missed the English love of quiet and criticised the\\ngeneral restlessness and love of publicity. It is very\\nfatiguing, he wrote I thank God, it only confirms me\\nin the desire to hide my life, as the Greek philosopher\\nrecommended, as much as possible. The lectures he\\ndelivered, three in number, are contained in the volume", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0765.jp2"}, "764": {"fulltext": "654 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nentitled Discourses in America. They are, for the most\\npart, restatements in refined, popular form of the critical\\nand social teachings found in his other writings. The\\nmost interesting of the lectures is the one on Emerson,\\nin the opening pages of which his style reaches the high-\\nest point of lyrical beauty and eloquence. It must be\\nsaid, however, that he does the transcendental poet and\\nphilosopher scant justice. He thought well of these Dis-\\ncourses in America, and said, shortly before his death,\\nthat it was the book by which, of all his prose writings,\\nhe should most wish to be remembered.\\nThere is not space to speak of Arnold s other writ-\\nings, the most interesting of which is a second series of\\nEssays in Criticism, published in 1888. It contains a\\nvaluable chapter on The Study of Poetry and criti-\\ncal reviews of Milton, Gray, Keats, Wordsworth, Byron,\\nShelley, and others. He had now well-nigh reached the\\nallotted age of man, and March 15, 1888, he suddenly died\\nat Liverpool, whither he had gone to welcome his daugh-\\nter on her arrival from America. To have known him,\\nsays a friend, to have loved him, to have had a place in\\nhis regard, is\\nPart of our life s unalterable good.\\nAs we review the leading points in Arnold s criticism,\\non which his fame must chiefly rest, we are impressed\\nwith his limitations. His attainments were neither of the\\nwidest nor profoundest. What, then, has been the secret\\nof his popularity First of all his style, though a little\\ntoo self-conscious and overrefined, is winning and lucid.\\nThere is never any difficulty in understanding what he is", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0766.jp2"}, "765": {"fulltext": "MATTHEW ARNOLD, 655\\ndriving at, and he labels his principal points with a telling\\nword or phrase. Besides this, he preserved at all times\\nan unruffled sweetness of temper. Even in his most re-\\nfined cruelty he exhibits a charming urbanity. But most\\nof all, he had a real message to the Enghsh people. He\\nearnestly exhorted them to mingle with the pursuit of gain\\nthe sweetness and Hght of genuine culture. The self-con-\\nfidence or dogmatism often apparent in his manner did\\nnot rise from an offensive egotism. The explanation is to\\nbe found in his preface to St. Paul and Protestantism.\\nIn what he wrote he believed himself to be an organ for\\nthat mighty collective tendency which we call the spirit\\nof the age. Whoever looks upon himself in this light,\\nnecessarily speaks as one having authority.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0767.jp2"}, "766": {"fulltext": "656 ENGLISH LITERATURE,\\nJOHN RUSKIN.\\nThe restless genius of John Ruskin has led him into\\nmany fields of thought. He has been an artist, art critic,\\nauthor, moralist, sociologist, reformer. He has not been\\nequally great in all these spheres of activity, but he has\\neverywhere been animated by the same valiant and unself-\\nish love of truth. His opinions are not always safe or\\nconsistent, and many of his social ideas are strangely im-\\npracticable but whatever he has said or advocated, has\\ncome from the depths of a heroic sincerity.\\nIn their ardor for truth and righteousness there was a\\nwarm sympathy between Ruskin and Carlyle. Their ad-\\nmiration was mutual. Ruskin called Carlyle master and\\nCarlyle in return lauds Ruskin s divine ardor against un-\\nrighteousness. In a letter to Emerson, the sage of Chelsea\\nwrites There is nothing going on among us as notable\\nto me as those fierce Hghtning bolts Ruskin is copiously\\nand desperately pouring into the black world of anarchy\\nall around him. No other man in England that I meet\\nhas in him the divine rage against iniquity, falsity, and\\nbaseness that Ruskin has, and that every man ought to\\nhave. Yet there is a marked difference between these\\ntwo great teachers. The feminine tenderness and inex-\\ntinguishable hopefulness of Ruskin stand in marked con-\\ntrast with the viking fierceness and intolerant pessimism\\nof Carlyle.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0768.jp2"}, "767": {"fulltext": "Photograph from life.\\nr^", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0769.jp2"}, "768": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0770.jp2"}, "769": {"fulltext": "JOHN RUSK IN. ^cj\\nJohn Ruskin was born in London, Feb. 8, 1819. His\\ndeath occurred at Brantwood, Jan. 20, 1900. His father,\\na wine-merchant, united to a sound, practical judgment an\\nunusual artistic and literary taste. He painted in water-\\ncolors and after the business cares of the day were over,\\nhe was accustomed to read aloud to the family the stand-\\nard English authors. The legend on his tomb says\\nHe was an entirely honest merchant, and his memory\\nis to all who keep it dear and helpful. His son,\\nwhom he loved to the uttermost, and taught to speak the\\ntruth, says this of him. Ruskin s mother was a pious,\\npractical, aspiring woman, who ruled her household with\\ndiligent strictness. Both parents were Scotch and trans-\\nmitted to their son the courage and enthusiasm character-\\nistic of the Celtic temperament.\\nRuskin s early training lacked sympathy and tender-\\nness. He was denied the usual playthings of children\\nand thrown almost entirely on his own resources for\\namusement. Thus he learned to observe closely the\\nthings about him, the pattern of the carpet, the scenes\\nfrom the window, the forms of flower and leaf in the\\ngarden. His father and mother seemed to stand at a\\nvast distance above him, like the forces of nature. When\\nhe was seven years old, as he tells us, he was, in large\\nmeasure, mentally independent of his parents, and\\nbegan to lead a very small, perky, contented, conceited,\\nCock-Robinson-Crusoe sort of life.\\nThe moral sense of Ruskin was acute and strong. His\\nparents intended him for the church. It was a matter\\nof deep regret to his father that he turned aside to art\\nand authorship. When a friend once remarked that an\\n2 N", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0771.jp2"}, "770": {"fulltext": "658 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\namiable clergyman had thus been lost, his father replied\\nwith tears in his eyes, Yes, he would have been a\\nbishop. As frequently happens, he was encouraged to\\npreach as a child. One of his sermons has been handed\\ndown, and is remarkable as containing the substance of\\na large part of his subsequent teaching People, be\\ndood. If you are dood, Dod will love you. If you are\\nnot dood, Dod will not love you. People, be dood.\\nThis sermon he mentions in his autobiography as ex-\\nemplary in brevity and in doctrine.\\nHis mother held him inexorably to a long and careful\\nstudy of the Bible. This training, though often painful\\nto him at the time, he regarded late in life as the most\\nprecious part of his education. My mother forced me,\\nhe says in Praeterita, by steady daily toil, to learn\\nlong chapters of the Bible by heart as well as to read\\nit every syllable through aloud, hard names and all, from\\nGenesis to the Apocalypse, about once a year and to that\\ndiscipline patient, accurate, and resolute I owe, not\\nonly a knowledge of the book, which I find occasionally\\nserviceable, but much of my general power of taking pains,\\nand the best part of my taste in literature. No other\\nrecent writer has made so many references to biblical\\nincident and so many applications of biblical truth.\\nRuskin s childhood travels were an important influence\\nin his early development. His father travelled for orders\\ntwo or three months every summer. Accompanied by\\nhis wife and son, he travelled leisurely in his post-chaise,\\nand lost no opportunity to visit places of interest. In\\nthis way the young Ruskin, before he had reached his\\nteens, had become acquainted with the towns, country-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0772.jp2"}, "771": {"fulltext": "JOHN RUSKIN. 659\\nseats, and natural scenery of nearly all England, Wales,\\nand the lowlands of Scotland. With powers of observa-\\ntion keenly active, he laid up considerable stores of infor-\\nmation, and in his diaries began to exercise himself in\\naccurate and brilliant description, which not a few regard\\nas the greatest merit of his subsequent writings.\\nThe thirst of authorship laid hold of Ruskin with un-\\nusual violence. He was encouraged in composition by\\nhis parents, who paid him at the rate of a penny for\\ntwenty lines. Nourished on Scott and Pope, to whom he\\nhas always remained loyal, he wrote both prose and poe-\\ntry with equal facility. Before he was ten years of age,\\nhe wrote several volumes, illustrating them with appropri-\\nate drawings. His poetry, ambitious in scope and style,\\nclearly shows the influence of Pope. Though he contin-\\nued to write verse for many years, he was not a poet, and\\nfinally perceived, to use his own words, that he could\\nexpress nothing rightly in that manner.\\nWithout attending school, Ruskin s education was going\\non apace. He was taught Latin, Greek, French, and\\nmathematics by excellent private tutors. He took lessons\\nin drawing, in which he made astonishing progress. On\\nhis thirteenth birthday he received a copy of Rogers s\\nItaly, which had been illustrated by Turner. This gift,\\nas he thought, determined the main tenor of his life.\\nFilled with admiration of Turner s drawings, he accepted\\nthem as exclusive models. Then followed a family trip\\nto the Continent, during which France, Germany, Switzer-\\nland, and Italy were visited. Everywhere the ardent young\\nartist was busy with pen and pencil, accumulating materials\\nfor a work which, in a few years, would startle the cultured", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0773.jp2"}, "772": {"fulltext": "660 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ncircles of England, and exert no small influence on the\\ntaste a,nd art of the English people.\\nRuskin passionately loved the mountains. As a boy of\\nfourteen he wrote\\nThere is a thrill of strange delight\\nThat passes quivering o er me.\\nWhen blue hills rise upon the sight,\\nLike summer clouds before me.\\nAt Schaffhausen he was thrilled with his first view of\\nthe Alps, to the forms and structure of which he subse-\\nquently devoted so much fond and patient study. The\\nimpression of this first view was never forgotten, and in\\nhis autobiography the scene is vividly recalled. The\\nAlps, he says, were clear as crystal, sharp in the pure\\nhorizon sky, and already tinged with rose by the sinking\\nsun. Infinitely beyond all that we had ever thought or\\ndreamed the seen walls of lost Eden could not have\\nbeen more beautiful to us not more awful, round heaven,\\nthe walls of sacred Death. This sight of the Alps was\\na new revelation to him of the beauty of the earth, the\\nproclamation of which he joyfully recognized as a part\\nof his mission to men.\\nRuskin was a worshipper of nature. Every natural\\nobject had a peculiar charm for him. With equal delight\\nhe studied the graceful curvings of the blades of grass,\\nthe terrific approach and passing of the storm, and the\\ntumultuous sublimity of the surging ocean. No other\\nwriter has had a richer insight into the hidden beauties\\nof nature, or pointed out its charms in diviner language.\\nUnlike Carlyle, who esteemed the world a waste without", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0774.jp2"}, "773": {"fulltext": "JOHN RUSK IN. 66 1\\nhuman affection, he found a genuine and satisfying com-\\npanionship in mountain, wood, and stream. These were\\nto him sources of perpetual inspiration and instruction\\nthe Hght of all that he rightly learned.\\nIn 1836 he matriculated at Christ Church, Oxford, as a\\ngentleman-commoner. His genius and amiability won\\nhim the respect of his aristocratic associates, several of\\nwhom afterward became quite distinguished. His moral\\nlife was innocently exemplary for, as he records, he had\\nnever touched a card, looked upon dice with horror, and\\nhad no taste for hunting or racing. The historic buildings\\ninterested him. The ancient languages, in which he\\nnever attained scholarly proficiency, he studied, not for\\ntheir grammar, but their literature. He became quite\\nproficient in mathematics and interested himself in natural\\nscience, to which the university was just beginning to\\naccord some recognition. His skill in English composition\\nearly made itself recognized, and, after two unsuccessful\\nefforts, he won the prize in poetry.\\nIn his autobiography he gives an amusing account of\\nan essay which he was appointed to read before the body\\nof students. The incident throws light on the university\\nlife of the time. He was an excellent reader and ac-\\nquitted himself to his entire satisfaction. He descended\\nfrom the rostrum to receive, as he confidently expected,\\nthe thanks of the gentlemen-commoners, whom he felt he\\nhad so creditably represented. But he was cruelly unde-\\nceived. Not in envy, truly, he says, but in fiery\\ndisdain, varied in expression through every form and\\nmanner of English language, they explained to me that\\nI had committed grossest /ese majeste against the order", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0775.jp2"}, "774": {"fulltext": "662 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nof gentlemen-commoners; that no gentleman-commoner s\\nessay ought ever to contain more than twelve lines, with\\nfour words in each and that, even indulging to my folly,\\nand conceit, and want of savoir-faire, the impropriety of\\nwriting an essay with any meaning in it, like vulgar\\nstudents, the thoughtlessness and audacity of writing\\none that would take at least a quarter of an hour to read,\\nand then reading it all, might for this once be forgiven\\nto such a- greenhorn, but that Coventry wasn t the word\\nfor the place I should be sent to if ever I did such a thing\\nagain.\\nThough some of his previous writings had found their\\nway into print, Ruskin s literary career properly began,\\nwhile an undergraduate at Oxford, with The Poetry of\\nArchitecture. It consisted of a series of articles con-\\ntributed to Loudon s ArcJiitectural Magazine under the\\nnoni de phinie of Kata Phusin according to nature\\nwhich indicates their standpoint. It is a discussion of\\ncottage and villa architecture in England, France, Switzer-\\nland, and Italy, for which his frequent journeys and well-\\nfilled sketch-books supplied abundant materials. He\\nregarded architecture in England as at a low ebb. The\\nwork, certainly a remarkable production for an under-\\ngraduate, exhibited in no small degree the tone and\\nprinciples of his later works on the same subject.\\nIn 1842, after finishing his course at the university,\\nand making another studious tour on the Continent,\\nRuskin began his career as a critic of art. His\\nattainments were extraordinary for a young man of\\ntwenty-three. Stimulated by Carlyle s Heroes and\\nHero- Worship, he was ready to attempt a noteworthy", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0776.jp2"}, "775": {"fulltext": "JOHN RUSK IN. 66 T,\\nachievement in art. An occasion was not lacking.\\nTurner had been attacked as untrue to nature and\\nwith a truly chivalrous spirit, the young enthusiast\\nchampioned the cause of his master. The result was\\nthe Modern Painters, the first volume of which ap-\\npeared early in 1843.\\nThe work created a storm. It boldly attacked popular\\nfavorites it set at defiance the conventional principles of\\nart it preached fidelity to nature, not only in its outward\\nforms, but in its invisible spirit. It was confident and\\nintolerant in tone. Yet it was written with such fulness\\nof knowledge and such eloquence of description that, in\\nspite of its iconoclastic audacity, it was widely read. It\\nwas attacked, but not refuted. Before the fifth and last\\nvolume appeared, seventeen years later, the Modern\\nPainters had profoundly influenced popular taste, in\\nlarge measure hushed the hostile criticism of Turner, and\\nin fact created a new era in the art criticism of England.\\nRuskin s knowledge of art broadened and deepened.\\nOther trips to the Continent gave him an opportunity to\\nwalk with Nature among the Alps. In Italy he be-\\ncame enamoured of Christian art and studied some of the\\nold masters, particularly Angelico and Tintoret, with,\\nabsorbing enthusiasm. He was always discovering some\\ngreat, forgotten artist. During the winter of 1845 he\\nwrote the second volume of Modern Painters, to ex-\\npound the nature of beauty, and to explain the old Flor-\\nentine and Venetian schools of painting. Though the\\nmost philosophical of all his writings, it abounds in beau-\\ntiful passages. On its publication Sydney Smith set the\\npace for the critical world by pronouncing it a work of", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0777.jp2"}, "776": {"fulltext": "664 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ntranscendent talent, presenting the most original views\\nin the most eloquent and powerful language, which would\\nwork a complete revolution in the world of taste.\\nThe work of composition was not to him, as to Carlyle,\\na painful drudgery. He went to his work with well-filled\\nnote-books and well-defined ideas. My literary work,\\nhe tells us, was always done as quietly and methodically\\nas a piece of tapestry. I knew exactly what I had got to\\nsay, put the words firmly in their places like so many\\nstitches, hemmed the edges of thapters round with what\\nseemed to me graceful flourishes, touched them finally\\nwith my cunningest points of color, and read the work to\\npapa and mamma at breakfast the next morning, as a girl\\nshows her sampler. Tears of joy on the cheeks of the\\nold people were his usual reward.\\nRuskin was accustomed to say playfully, yet half seri-\\nously, that Saturn presided at his birth. Certainly an\\nuntoward influence dominated his love affairs and domes-\\ntic relations. His youth was not without its romance,\\nwhich ended in disappointment and illness. In 1848 he\\nmarried a beautiful Scotch maiden, for whom, some years\\npreviously, he had written the fairy tale The King of\\nthe Golden River. Unfortunately there was no deep\\naffection on either side and after a half-dozen discordant\\nand unhappy years she left him. Though the tongue of\\nscandal was not silent, his high-bred delicacy has never\\nallowed him to write a word in defence of himself or in\\ncensure of others.\\nThe year following his ill-starred marriage appeared one\\nof his most popular works, The Seven Lamps of Archi-\\ntecture. It points out the close relation between morality", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0778.jp2"}, "777": {"fulltext": "JOHN RUSK IN. 665\\nand art, and is a noble plea for sincerity and truth. How-\\never mean or inconsiderable the act, he says, there is\\nsomething in the well doing of it which has fellowship\\nwith the noblest forms of manly virtue and the truth,\\ndecision, and temperance, which we reverently regard as\\nhonorable conditions of the spiritual being, have a repre-\\nsentative or derivative influence over the works of the\\nhand, the movements of the frame, and the action of the\\nintellect. Though extreme sometimes in the application\\nof his principles, he is always admirable in his zeal for\\ntruth.\\nThe following years were very busy and fruitful. Grieved\\nat the divided condition of Protestantism, he wrote his\\nNotes on the Construction of Sheepf olds (not a few\\nprosaic farmers bought it under a misapprehension), in\\nwhich he made a plea for greater toleration and unity in\\nreligion. He espoused the cause of the new school of\\npainters Hunt, Millais, Collins, Rossetti who broke\\naway from conventionalism to return to nature. His pen\\nnow carried with it great weight. In the face of the ridi-\\ncule heaped on the new school, he wrote a pamphlet entitled\\nPre-Raphaelitism. For several years he was regarded\\nas the leader of the Pre-Raphaelites. But the principal\\nwork of this period was The Stones of Venice, the first\\nvolume of which appeared in 1851 and the two remain-\\ning volumes in 1853. The purpose of the book, for which\\nhe had made laborious studies in Venice, was to trace the\\nrelation between the architecture and the social and reli-\\ngious life of a people. The principle is enunciated and\\nit runs through a large part of our author s writings that\\nall art is great, and good, and true, only so far as it is", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0779.jp2"}, "778": {"fulltext": "666 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ndistinctively the work of manhood in its entire and highest\\nsense.\\nAfter completing The Stones of Venice, Ruskin en-\\ntered a new field, to which we owe some of his most\\ncharming works. He became a popular lecturer. In the\\nfall of 1853 he delivered a course of lectures before the\\nPhilosophical Society of Edinburgh on. Architecture and\\nPainting. The lectures present in brief, popular form\\nthe views more fully expounded in his previous works.\\nHe interspersed the reading of his carefully prepared\\nmanuscript with extemporaneous comment in colloquial\\nform the two styles standing in somewhat violent\\ncontrast.\\nThe year i860 marks an important change in Ruskin s\\nwritings. With the fifth volume of Modern Painters\\nfinished this year, he closed his series of great works\\ndevoted to art. Now, at the age of forty, life assumed for\\nhim a deeper meaning. His horizon greatly broadened\\nand in place of an artist and critic, he became an ethical\\nteacher and social reformer. Henceforth his great re-\\nsources of artistic knowledge were used chiefly to illus-\\ntrate and enforce moral lessons. His sense of evil\\ndeepened, and with prophetic fervor he inveighed against\\nevery form of iniquity.\\nIn i860 he wrote four essays on political economy,\\nwhich were pubHshed in the Cornhill Magazine. They\\nare entitled Unto this Last. Though violently repro-\\nbated at the time Thackeray had to cut the series short\\nthey were regarded by their author as the truest,\\nrightest-worded, and most serviceable things that he had\\nwritten. They contain in brief compass Ruskin s views", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0780.jp2"}, "779": {"fulltext": "JOHN RUSK IN. 667\\non social science. Munera Pulveris, written a year\\nlater, is only a more expanded treatment of the same sub-\\nject. He defines political economy as the science which\\nteaches nations to desire and labor for the things that lead\\nto life, and which teaches them to scorn and destroy the\\nthings that lead to destruction. The highest form of\\nwealth consists, not in accumulating houses and lands, but\\nin producing as many as possible full-breathed, bright-\\neyed, and happy-hearted human creatures.\\nThe most popular of all Ruskin s works is Sesame\\nand Lilies, pubhshed in 1864. It consists of three lec-\\ntures on reading, woman s education, and the mystery of\\nlife. These lectures were written with great eafnestness,\\nand are filled with sage counsel and noble thought. In\\nthem Ruskin gave of his best. In the last, which is per-\\nvaded by a pathetic sadness, he declares the purpose of\\nlife to be service. The greatest of all the mysteries of\\nlife, and the most terrible, he says, is the corruption\\nof even the sincerest religion, which is not founded on\\nrational, effective, humble, and helpful action. Helpful\\naction, observe for there is just one law, which obeyed,\\nkeeps all religions pure forgotten, makes them all false.\\nWhenever in any religious faith, dark or bright, we allow\\nour minds to dwell upon the points in which we differ\\nfrom other people, we are wrong, and in the devil s\\npower.\\nAnother deservedly popular work, which appeared the\\nyear after Sesame and Lilies, is The Crown of Wild\\nOlive. It is likewise made up of lectures, which treat\\nof work, traffic, and war. Two years later appeared\\nTime and Tide, a series of twenty-five letters to a work-", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0781.jp2"}, "780": {"fulltext": "66S ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\ningman, in which Ruskin expressed his views fully and\\nfearlessly on a variety of subjects cooperation, content-\\nment, pleasure, education, marriage that he thought\\nmight be helpful to the laboring classes of England. It\\nshould not be passed over by any one who would under-\\nstand his social and ethical views. It sets forth an ideal\\nstate of society, which must wait yet a long time for reali-\\nzation.\\nRuskin was an educational reformer. Many views ad-\\nvocated by him three or four decades ago have since been\\nadopted in the schools of England and America. He\\nfavored popular education and emphasized the importance\\nof physical training. He argued for a closer relation be-\\ntween the courses of study and the duties of practical life.\\nHe attached chief importance to the ethical element of\\neducation, which he defined as the leading human souls\\nto what is best, and making what is best out of them. He\\nfavored the higher education of women, and pronounced\\nit foolishly wrong to think of her only as the shadow\\nand attendant image of her lord, owing him a thoughtless\\nand servile obedience, and supported altogether in her\\nweakness by the preeminence of his fortitude.\\nThe career of our author cannot be followed further in\\ndetail. As long as his health permitted, he continued to\\nlead the same laborious life. He gave much time to bot-\\nany and geology. Almost every year he delivered lectures\\nenough to make a volume. In 1869 he was elected Slade\\nProfessor of Fine Arts at Oxford, a position to which,\\nduring the three terms of his incumbency, he devoted\\nmuch conscientious labor. His first course was entitled\\nLectures on Art, in which, among other things, he dis-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0782.jp2"}, "781": {"fulltext": "e\\nO __ 3\\nG\\ni; s\\no\\nen", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0783.jp2"}, "782": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0784.jp2"}, "783": {"fulltext": "JOHN RUSK IN. 669\\ncusses the relation of art to religion, to morals, and to use.\\nThis work is noteworthy as presenting his matured views\\nin careful academic form. Other courses are called\\nAratra Pentelici and **The Pleasures of England.\\nIn 1 87 1 Ruskin purchased a property in the Lake Dis-\\ntrict, known as Brantwood, and picturesquely situated on\\nConiston Water. He fitted it up tastefully and lived there\\nuntil his death. On its walls may be seen choice engrav-\\nings and paintings, a Diirer, two or three old Venetian\\nheads, and Hunts, Prouts, and Turners in abundance.\\nHere he wrote Praeterita, an autobiography that brings\\nbefore us the earlier part of his life with wonderful vivid-\\nness. His last years, so full of varied and important\\ninterests, have been clouded by repeated attacks of mental\\ndisease. At last the giant has been forced to yield the\\nzealous prophet to hush his voice and, soothed by the\\ntenderness that reverent love inspires, he has answered\\nhis summons hom.e.\\nIn forming an estimate of his work, it must be admitted\\nthat Ruskin had too much ardor to be a judicious critic.\\nHe has sometimes allowed his affections or his prejudices\\nto sway his judgment; he has sometimes taken extreme\\nand untenable positions. His vivid imagination has\\nshowed only what he wanted to see. While holding\\nmany advanced or radical ideas, he has been essentially\\na Tory and conservative. He had a romantic sympathy\\nwith the Middle Ages. He had an unreasonable preju-\\ndice against America; and his love of art and nature made\\nhim unfriendly to the commercial and manufacturing\\ndevelopments of the century.\\nHe had no small share of the eccentricity of genius.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0785.jp2"}, "784": {"fulltext": "6/0 ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nThis fact is seen, not only in the impracticable character\\nof some of his social reforms, but also in the singular\\nfreaks in which he sometimes indulged. While a pro-\\nfessor of fine arts at Oxford he took lessons in stone-break-\\ning, and then went with his students to mend a piece of\\nmuddy road. But the quite happiest bit of manual work\\nI ever did, he tells us in Praeterita, was for my\\nmother in the old inn at Sixt, where she alleged the stone\\nstaircase to have become unpleasantly dirty since last\\nyear. Nobody in the inn appearing to think it possible\\nto wash it, I brought the necessary buckets of water from\\nthe yard myself, poured them into beautiful image of\\nVersailles water-works down the fifteen or twenty steps\\nof the great staircase, and with the strongest broom I\\ncould find cleaned every step into its corners. It was\\nquite lovely work to dash the water and drive the mud\\nfrom each, with accumulating splash, down to the next\\none.\\nBut whatever faults or limitations may be discovered in\\nRuskin, he stands as one of the great figures of English\\nliterature in the Victorian Age. His rich gifts were\\nunselfishly devoted, in many ways, to the uplifting and\\nadvancement of his fellow-men. Nearly the whole of his\\ninherited fortune of a million dollars was spent in benevo-\\nlent enterprises and in charity. In a style unsurpassed\\nin richness of diction and eloquence of form, he bravely\\nupheld what he regarded as truth, not only in art, but also\\nin the lives of men.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0786.jp2"}, "785": {"fulltext": "I\\nI\\nI", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0787.jp2"}, "786": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0788.jp2"}, "787": {"fulltext": "INDEX TO MAR\\nAuthor.\\nAddison\\nArnold, Matthew\\nBacon\\nBronte\\nBrowning, E. B.\\nBrowning, Robert\\nBunyan\\nBurns\\nByron\\nCarlyle\\nChaucer\\nColeridge\\nCowper\\nDe Quincey\\nDickens\\nDryden\\nEliot\\nGibbon\\nGoldsmith\\nJohnson, Samuel\\nMacaulay\\nMilton\\nPope\\nRuskin\\nScott\\nShakespeare\\nShelley\\nSpenser\\nSwift\\nTennyson\\nThackeray\\nWordsworth\\nBirthplace (b).\\nMilston.\\nLaleham.\\nLondon.\\nThornton.\\nDurham.\\nLondon.\\nElstow.\\nAyr.\\nLondon.\\nLandport.\\nAldwinkle.\\nNuneaton.\\nPutney.\\nPallas, Ireland.\\nLichfield.\\nRothley Temple.\\nLondon.\\nLondon.\\nLondon.\\nG-\\nI-\\nI\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nF\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nG-\\nI-i\\nI\u00e2\u0080\u0094 I\\nC-\\nI\u00e2\u0080\u0094 I\\nEcclefechan. E\\nLondon. I\\nOttery St. Mary D\\nGreat Berkhamp\\ntonstead.\\nManchester. F\\nI-\\nH-\\nI-\\nG-\\n7\\n-13\\n9\\n9\\nAbiding-Place while\\nWriting (1).\\nLondon.\\nHarrow.\\nSt. Albans.\\nHaworth.\\nLondon.\\nFlorence, Italy,\\nf London.\\nI Florence, Italy.\\nBedford.\\n{Ayrshire.\\nEdinburgh.\\nDumfries.\\nI-ii\\nH-ii\\nI-ii\\nF- 6\\nI-:\\nNewstead Abbey G\u00e2\u0080\u0094 8\\nSwitzerland and Italy.\\nLondon.\\nLondon.\\nKeswick.\\nI\u00e2\u0080\u0094 II\\nI\u00e2\u0080\u0094 II\\nE-4\\nI\u00e2\u0080\u0094 It\\nG-\\nH-\\nI-\\nI-\\nEdinburgh. E-\\nStratford-on-Avon. G\\nField Place.\\nLondon.\\nDublin, Ireland.\\nSomersby.\\nCalcutta, India.\\nCockermouth.\\n\u00e2\u0080\u009413\\nI\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nE-4\\nH\u00e2\u0080\u0094 ID\\nE-\\nE-\\nI\u00e2\u0080\u0094 II\\nI-II\\nI-II\\n-:l\\nOlney.\\nGrasmere.\\nEdinburgh.\\nLondon.\\nLondon.\\nLondon.\\n{London. I-\\nLausanne, Switzer\\nland.\\nLondon. I 11\\nLondon. I 11\\nLondon. I 11\\nf Horton. H\u00e2\u0080\u0094 11\\nI London. I 11 j\\nf London. I\\nI Twickenham. I\\nf London. I 11\\nI Brantwood. E 5 j\\nAbbotsford. E\u00e2\u0080\u0094 2\\nLondon. I 11\\nj Bishopsgate. I 12\\nSwitzerland and Italy.\\nLondon. I\\nf London. I -11\\nI Dublin, Ireland.\\nf Farringford.\\nI Aldworth.\\nLondon,\\nf Grasmere.\\nI Rydal Mount.\\nG-13\\nH-12\\nI-]\\nE-4\\nE-4\\nPlace of De.\\\\th (d).\\nLondon.\\nLiverpool.\\nLondon.\\nHaworth.\\nFlorence, Italy.\\nVenice, Italy.\\nLondon.\\nDumfries.\\nI-II\\nE-7\\nI-II\\nF\u00e2\u0080\u0094 6\\nI-II\\nD- 3\\nMissolonghi, Greece.\\nLondo\u00c2\u00ab. I II\\nLondon. I n\\nLondon. I n\\nEast Dereham.\\nEdinburgh.\\nGadshill.\\nLondon.\\nLondon.\\nJ- 9\\nE\u00e2\u0080\u0094 I\\nJ-12\\nI\u00e2\u0080\u0094 II\\nI\u00e2\u0080\u0094 II\\nI\u00e2\u0080\u0094 II\\nI-II\\nI-II\\nI-II\\nI\u00e2\u0080\u0094 II\\nI-II\\nE-s\\nE\u00e2\u0080\u0094 2\\nStratford-on-Avon. G 10\\nBay of Spezia, Italy.\\nLondon I 11\\nDublin, Ireland.\\nAldworth. H\u00e2\u0080\u0094 12\\nLondon. I n\\nRydal Mount. E\u00e2\u0080\u0094 4\\nLondon.\\nLondon.\\nLondon.\\nLondon.\\nLondon.\\nTwickenham.\\nBrantwood.\\nAbbotsford.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0789.jp2"}, "788": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3457", "width": "2524", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0790.jp2"}, "789": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0791.jp2"}, "790": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0792.jp2"}, "791": {"fulltext": "APPENDIX.\\nBOOKS OF REFERENCE.\\nA BRIEF list of works of reference, including important review and\\nmagazine articles, is here appended for the general and special study of\\nEnglish literature. The list is longer than any one, except a specialist,\\nis likely to need. The emphasis of study should be placed, not on what\\ncritics have said about an author, but on what the author himself has\\nwritten. A good biography or two, with several review articles, will\\nusually be found sufficient to place the student in a position for the\\nserious study of a great writer. Elaborate lists of reference will be\\nfound in Welsh s English Masterpiece Course, and in Poole s\\nIndex.\\nGeneral Works.\\nGreen s History of the English People.\\nMacaulay s History of England.\\nTurner s History of the Anglo-Saxons.\\nPalgrave s History of the Anglo-Saxons.\\nConybeare s Illustrations of Anglo-Saxon Poetry.\\nCorson s Handbook of Anglo-Saxon and Early English.\\nMarsh s Origin and History of the English Language.\\nLounsbury s History of the English Language.\\nWarton s History of English Poetry.\\nPercy s Reliques of Ancient English Poetry.\\nBrooke s History of Early English Literature.\\nMorley s English Writers.\\nTaine s Enghsh Literature.\\nMorley s English Men of Letters.\\nRobertson s Great Writers.\\nBascom s Philosophy of English Literature.\\nEncyclopedia Britannica.\\n671", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0793.jp2"}, "792": {"fulltext": "6/2 APPENDIX.\\nChaucer.\\nSkeat s Works of Chaucer.\\nMorris s Chaucer.\\nLounsbury s Studies in Chaucer.\\nWard s Life of Chaucer (English Men of Letters).\\nLowelPs My Study Windows.\\nEdinbm gh Revieiv^ vol. 3 437 (Sir Walter Scott).\\nAtlantic Monthly., 40: 270 (Lounsbury).\\nLitteWs Living Age., 1 10 738 (Brooke).\\nSpenser.\\nHillard s Spenser s Works.\\nTodd s Spenser s Works.\\nChurch s Life of Spenser (English Men of Letters).\\nWhipple s Literature of the Age of Elizabeth.\\nLowell s Among My Books.\\nEdinburgh Review., 7 203 (Sir Walter Scott).\\nLitteWs Living Age, 141 771 (Dowden). Also 145 814; 164: 579;\\n209: 154.\\nShakespeare.\\nHudson s or Rolfe s Shakespeare.\\nWilder s Life of Shakespeare.\\nDowden s Shakespeare, His Mind and Art.\\nHudson s Shakespeare, His Life, Art, and Characters.\\nKnight s Life of Shakespeare.\\nJameson s (Mrs.) Characteristics of Women.\\nLewes s Women of Shakespeare (Translated from German).\\nUlrici s Shakespeare s Dramatic Art.\\nWinter s Shakespeare s England.\\nColeridge s Lectures and Notes on Shakespeare.\\nWhite s Studies in Shakespeare.\\nCorson s Introduction to the Study of Shakespeare.\\nAtlantic Monthly^ 55 387(Clapp) 3:111 (Lowell).\\nCentujy Magazine., 29 780.\\nLitteWs Living Age, 148 792 165 405 (Dowden).\\nBacon.\\nMontagu s Works of Bacon.\\nCraik s Bacon, His Writings and His Philosophy.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0794.jp2"}, "793": {"fulltext": "APPENDIX. 673\\nNichoFs Francis Bacon His Life and Philosophy.\\nChurch s Life of Bacon (EngUsh Men of Letters).\\nWhately s Bacon s Essays with Annotations.\\nMacaulay s Essay on Bacon.\\nWhipple s Literature of the Age of Elizabeth.\\nNorth American Review^ 56: 59 (Bowen) 93 149 (Giles).\\nLitteWs Living Age, 69 5 15 78 579 139 91.\\nMilton.\\nMasson s Life and Times of Milton.\\nPattison s Life of Milton (English Men of Letters).\\nGarnett s Life of Milton (Great Writers Series).\\nMatthew Arnold s Mixed Essays.\\nChanning s Character and Writings of Milton.\\nJohnson s Lives of the Poets.\\nMacaulay s Essay on Milton.\\nLowell s Among My Books.\\nAddison s Spectator.\\nNorth American Review, 47 56 (Emerson).\\nLitteWs Living Age, 118 643 (Bayne) 125 323 (Pattison).\\nNew Englajidery 42 196 (Himes).\\nCentury Magazine, 14: 53 (M. Arnold).\\nBUNYAN.\\nSouthey s Life of Bunyan.\\nBrown s John Bunyan His Life, Times, and Work.\\nFroude s Life of Bunyan (English Men of Letters).\\nVenable s Life of Bunyan (Great Writers Series).\\nCheever s Lectures on the Life and Times of Bunyan.\\nMacaulay s Essay on Bunyan.\\nNorth American Review, 36 449.\\nLitteWs Living Age, 33 153 171 276 (Gold win Smith).\\nDryden.\\nMitford s Dryden s Works.\\nSaintsbury s Life of Dryden (English Men of Letters).\\nJohnson s Lives of the Poets.\\nMacaulay s Essay on Dryden.\\nLowell s Among My Books.\\nLitteWs Living Age, 45 432 139 579 185 312 (Evans).\\n2X", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0795.jp2"}, "794": {"fulltext": "6/4 APPENDIX,\\nAddison.\\nCourthope s Life of Addison (English Men of Letters).\\nCarruthers s Pope\\\\s Life and Letters.\\nJohnson s Lives of the Poets.\\nDobson s Life of Steele.\\nDe Quincey s Literary Reminiscences.\\nThackeray s English Humorists.\\nMacaulay s Essays.\\nNorth American Review^ 79 90 (Tuckerman) 64 314 (Peabody).\\nCentury Magazme, 26: 703 (Oliphant).\\nLitteWs Living Age, 105 819 170 776.\\nPope.\\nCarruthers s Pope s Life and Letters.\\nStephen s Life of Pope (English Men of Letters).\\nJohnson s Lives of the Poets.\\nThackeray s English Humorists.\\nLowell s My Study Windows.\\nScribner ^s Magazine, 3 533 (Dobson).\\nLittelVs Living Age, 65 330 98 643 (Oliphant) 163 515, 613 184\\n195 (Traill).\\nSwift.\\nOrrery s Life and Writings of Swift.\\nCraik s Life of Swift.\\nScott s Life of Swift.\\nStephen s Life of Swift (English Men of Letters).\\nJohnson s Lives of the Poets.\\nThackeray s English Humorists.\\nMacaulay s Essays.\\nNorth American Review, 106 68 123 170 (Hill).\\nLitteWs Living Age, 45 303 (Masson) 128 5 1 5 104 707 95 369.\\nJohnson.\\nBoswell s Life of Johnson.\\nStephen s Life of Johnson (English Men of Letters).\\nGrant s Samuel Johnson (Great Writers Series).\\nCarlyle s Boswell s Life of Johnson.\\nMacaulay s Essay on Johnson.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0796.jp2"}, "795": {"fulltext": "APPENDIX. 675\\nHarper ^s Magazine, 14: 483 (Macaulay) 82 927 (Besant).\\nEdinburgh Review, 7 436 (Jeffrey).\\nLittelPs Livijig Age, 138 86 (M. Arnold) 138 541 (Cyples) 121\\n91 (Stephen); 164:425 (Birrell) 163:803 (Gosse).\\nGoldsmith.\\nForster s Life and Times of Goldsmith.\\nIrving s Life of Goldsmith.\\nBlack s Life of Goldsmith (English Men of Letters).\\nDobson s Life of Goldsmith (Great Writers Series).\\nMacaulay s Essays.\\nThackeray s English Humorists.\\nNo7 th A7nerican Review, 45 91 (Channing) 8 309 (Dana).\\nLittelVs Living Age, 18 345 (Lytton) 43 531.\\nGibbon.\\nMorison s Life of Gibbon (English Men of Letters).\\nGibbon s Autobiography.\\nAtlantic Monthly, 41 99 (Howells).\\nigth Century, 36: 146 (F. Harrison).\\nLitteWs Living Age, 53 449 (Rogers) 35 4^7 5 203 669 210 416.\\nCOWPER.\\nTaylor s Life of Cowper.\\nWright s Life of WiUiam Cowper.\\nSmith s Life of Cowper (English Men of Letters).\\nNorth American Review, 38 i (Peabody) 44 29 (Channing) 2\\n233 (W. Phillips) 19: 435 (Ware).\\nLittelVs Living Age, no 67 (Forrest) no 376 127 323 86 563\\n72:259; 182:659 (Bailey); 189:546 (Rae); 191:815 (Bailey);\\n204: 195 (Alice Law).\\nBurns.\\nLockhart s Life of Robert Burns.\\nChambers s Life and Works of Robert Burns.\\nShairp s Life of Burns (English Men of Letters).\\nBlackie s Life of Robert Burns (Great Writers Series).\\nCarlyle s Essay on Burns.\\nNorth American Review, 42 66 (Peabody) 143 427 (W. Whitman).", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0797.jp2"}, "796": {"fulltext": "(^16 APPENDIX.\\nLitteWs Living Age 113 3 206: 515 (Price).\\nAtlantic Motithly^ 44: 502 (Shairp) 6: 385 (N. Hawthorne).\\nScott.\\nLockhart s Life of Scott.\\nHutton s Life of Scott (English Men of Letters).\\nYonge s Life of Scott (Great Writers Series).\\nCarlyle s Essay on Scott.\\nIrving s Abbotsford.\\nHunneweirs Lands of Scott.\\nLang s Letters to Dead Authors.\\nNorth American Review^ 32 386 (Peabody) 46 431 (Prescott);\\n87 293 (Brown) 99 580 (H. James, Jr.).\\nigth Century^ 7-941 (Ruskin)\\nLitteWs Livi7ig Age, 110:579 (Stephen); 139:298 (Wedgewood)\\n96: 541 188: 177 (Rae) 205 515.\\nHarper s Magazine, 44: 321 (Conway).\\nAtlantic Monthly, 60 134 69 139.\\nByron.\\nMoore s Life of Byron.\\nNichoFs Life of Byron (English Men of Letters).\\nNoel s Life of Lord Byron (Great Writers Series).\\nArnold s (Matthew) Essays in Criticism.\\nMacaulay s Essays.\\nBayne s Essays in Biography and Criticism.\\nDowden s Studies in Literature.\\nScott s Critical and Miscellaneous Essays.\\nLowell s Among My Books.\\nNo7 th American Review, 31 167 (Peabody) 5 98 (Phillips).\\nEdinburgh Review, 27 277 (Jeffrey).\\nLitteirs Living Age, I i^ii 114:387.\\nWordsworth.\\nKnight s Life of Wordsworth (3 vols.).\\nSymington s Wordsworth, His Life and Works.\\nMyers s Life of Wordsworth (English Men of Letters).\\nColeridge s Works.\\nDe Quincey s Literary Reminiscences.\\nHutton s Essays in Literary Criticism.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0798.jp2"}, "797": {"fulltext": "APPENDIX. 677\\ni\\nLowell s My Study Windows.\\nStephen s Hours in a Library. I\\nLitteWs Living Age, 128 195 (Dowden) 121 323 (Pater) 142 323\\n(M.Arnold); 184 123 (Bromley) 207:336.\\nigth Century, 26: 435 (Minto) 15 583 (Swinburne).\\nAtlantic Monthly, 45 241 (Cranch).\\nNorth Af?ierican Review, 59 352 (Whipple).\\nColeridge. 1\\nI\\nCampbell s Samuel Taylor Coleridge. j\\nTraill s Life of Coleridge (English Men of Letters).\\nCaine s Life of Coleridge (Great Writers Series). i\\nCarlyle s Life of Sterling.\\nDe Ouincey s Literary Reminiscences.\\nColeridge s Biographia Literaria.\\nBayne s Essays in Biography and Criticism. j\\nAtlantic Monthly, 45 843 (Lathrop).\\nEdi7iburgh Review, 28: 488 (Hazlitt).\\nLitteirs Livi7igAge,()Z:s^S\\\\ 111:643; 167 515 164: 557 163 433\\n183 131 (Dowden).\\nShelley.\\nDowden s Life of Shelley.\\nSymond s Life of Shelley (English Men of Letters). i\\nSharp s Life of Shelley (Great Writers Series)\\nShelley s (Mrs.) Shelley Memorials.\\nDe Ouincey s Essays on the Poets. j\\nCalvert s Coleridge, Shelley, and Goethe.\\nRabbe s Shelley the Man and the Poet.\\nMark Twain s Defence of Harriet Shelley in How to Tell a Story,\\nand Other Essays.\\nTrelawny s Records of Shelley, Byron, and the Author.\\nAtlantic Monthly, 70 106, 391 (Scudder) 59 559. j\\nCentury Magazine, 22 622 (Woodberry). .1\\nNorth American Review, 146: 104 (Gannett). 1\\nLittelPs Living Age, 155 387 176: 323 (M. Arnold). I\\nDe Quincey.\\nPage s De Quincey s Life and Writings. i\\nMasson s Life of De Quincey (English Men of Letters). i", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0799.jp2"}, "798": {"fulltext": "6/8 APPENDIX.\\nDe Quincey s Literary Reminiscences.\\nStephen s Hours in a Library.\\nBayne s Essays in Biography and Criticism.\\nJapp s De Quincey Memorials.\\nAtlantic Monthly, 12 345 (Alden) 40 569 (Lathrop).\\nNorth A?nerican Review, 88 113 (Phillips) 74: 425 (Brown).\\nCentury Magazine, 19:853 (Japp).\\nHarper s Monthly, 80 446 (Hogg)\\nLittelVs Living Age, 57 918 68 323, 451 109 278 (Stephen) 170\\n707 (Japp).\\nMacaulay.\\nTrevelyan s Life and Letters of Macaulay.\\nMorison s Life of Macaulay (English Men of Letters).\\nArnold s (M.) Mixed Essays.\\nMcCarthy s History of Our Own Times.\\nHarrison s Early Victorian Literature.\\nBayne s Essays in Biography and Criticism.\\nHarper s Monthly, 53 85, 238 (Stoddard) 58 605 (Lloyd).\\nNorth American Review, 93 418 (C. C. Smith).\\nLittelVs Living Age, 67 387 129 515 129 482 (Morley) 129 805\\n(Stephen); 130: 515 (Gladstone); 149: 195 (Myers).\\nCharlotte Bronte.\\nGaskell s (Mrs.) Life of Charlotte Brontd.\\nBirreirs Charlotte Bronte.\\nHarrison s Early Victorian Literature.\\nN orth American Review, 67 354 (Whipple) 85 293 (Mrs. Sweat).\\nLittelVs Living Age, 53 385, j 54 680 55 385 130 801 (Reid)\\n136 23 (Stephen) 153 368 (Armitt) 184 429 (Walford) 190\\n241, 819 (Williams).\\nThackeray.\\nTrollope s Life of Thackeray (English Men of Letters).\\nMerivale and Marzial s Life of Thackeray (Great Writers Series).\\nFields s Yesterdays with Authors.\\nLanier s The English Novel.\\nMasson s British Novelists.\\nMcCarthy s History of Our Own Times.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0800.jp2"}, "799": {"fulltext": "APPENDIX. 679\\nHarrison s Early Victorian Literature.\\nAtlantic Mojithly, 13 371 (B. Taylor) 60 853.\\nForum, 14: 503 (Mallock).\\nHarper ^s Monthly, 49 533 (Stoddard) 54 256 (Lunt).\\nNorth American Review, JJ 199 (Kirk).\\nLitteirs Living Age, Zo 4.J6 (Dickens); 144:157 (Reed); 178:159\\n(Merivale) 190 44 (Lang) 198 504 (Thackeray).\\nDickens.\\nForster s Life of Charles Dickens.\\nWard s Life of Dickens (English Men of Letters).\\nMarzial s Life of Dickens (Great Writers Series).\\nDavey s Darwin, Carlyle, and Dickens.\\nFields s Yesterdays with Authors.\\nHarrison s Early Victorian Literature.\\nLanier s The English Novel.\\nMcCarthy s History of Our Own Times.\\nAtlantic Monthly, 26: 476, 591 (Putnam) 39: 462 (Whipple).\\nHarper s Monthly, 41 610 (Conway).\\nMnnsey, 10 647 (Hurd).\\nNorth Ame? ican Review, 56 212 (Felton) 69 383 (Whipple).\\nLitteWs Living Age, no 2f 144 3 (Minto) 155 793 (Morris)\\n178 159 (Merivale).\\nGeorge Eliot.\\nCross s George Eliot s Life.\\nBrowning s (Oscar) Life of George Eliot (Great Writers Series).\\nBlind s George Eliot (Famous Women Series).\\nBrown s Ethics of George Eliot.\\nWoolson s (Mrs.) George Eliot and Her Heroines.\\nDowden s Studies in Literature.\\nLanier s The English Novel.\\nHarrison s Early Victorian Literature.\\nAtlantic Monthly, 38 684 (James) 55 668 (James).\\nHarper s Monthly, 62 912 (Paul).\\nNorth American Review, 103 557 (Sedgwick) 124: 31 (Whipple).\\nScribner s Magazine, 8 685 (Wilkinson).\\nLitteWs Living Age, 115 100 (Dowden) 148: 731 (Stephen); 148:\\n651; 149:791 (Simcox) 160:762; 164:533.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0801.jp2"}, "800": {"fulltext": "680 APPENDIX.\\nE. B. Browning.\\nIngram s Elizabeth Barrett Browning.\\nOrr s (Mrs.) Life of Browning.\\nSharp s Life of Browning (Great Writers Series).\\nBayne s Two Great Englishwomen.\\nStedman s Victorian Poets.\\nLowelPs My Study Windows.\\nCorson s Introduction to Browning.\\nAtlafitic Monthly, 8 368 (K. Field).\\nNorth American Review, 85 415 (Everett).\\nScribner s Magazine, J loi (Stedman).\\nLittelVs Living Age, 52 427 155 416; 181 643 204 311 (Corkran).\\nBrowning.\\nOrr s (Mrs.) Life and Letters of Browning.\\nSharp s Life of Browning (Great Writers Series).\\nRitchie s (Mrs.) Records of Tennyson, Ruskin, and Browning.\\nDowden s Studies in Literature.\\nStedman s Victorian Poets.\\nAlexander s Introduction to Browning.\\nCooke s Brownino: Guide-Book.\\nCorson s Introduction to Browning.\\nForster s Four Great Teachers Ruskin, Carlyle, Emerson, and\\nBrowning.\\nBerdoe s Browning s Message to His Time.\\nAtlantic Monthly, 65 243 68 263.\\nScribner s Magazine^ 9: 127 (Stedman).\\nLittelVs Living Age, 122:67 (Orr) 159:771 (Noel); 184:290\\n(Brooke); 184:297 (Traill); 184:372 (Gosse) 184:660 (Hut-\\nton) 190: 563 (Lang).\\nTennyson.\\nTennyson s Lord Tennyson a Memoir.\\nWaugh s Alfred, Lord Tennyson.\\nJenning s Lord Tennyson.\\nBrooke s Tennyson, His Art and Relation to Modern Life.\\nVan Dyke s Poetry of Tennyson.\\nWalter s Tennyson, Poet, Philosopher, Idealist.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0802.jp2"}, "801": {"fulltext": "APPENDIX. 68 1\\nRitchie s (Mrs.) Records of Tennyson, Ruskin, and Browning.\\nDowden s Studies in Literature.\\nBagehot s Literary Studies.\\nStedman s Victorian Poets.\\nWhipple s Essays and Reviews.\\nAtlantic Monthly^ 44 356.\\nCentury Magazine^ 16: 515 (Van Dyke) 20: 502 (Van Dyke). i\\nHarper s Monthly, 68 21 (Ritchie) 86 309 (Fields).\\nNorth Atnericati Review, 90: i (Everett) 133 82 (Stoddard). -I\\nReview of Reviews, 6: 557 (Stead).\\nScrib?ier s Magazine,^: 100, 160 (Stedman).\\nLittelPs Living Age, 63 579; 146 483, 544; 147 786; 195 446-\\n196: 415 (Traill).\\nCarlyle.\\nFroude s Life of Carlyle.\\nNichoPs Life of Carlyle (English Men of Letters).\\nGarnett s Life of Carlyle (Great Writers Series).\\nMasson s Carlyle, Personally and in His Writings.\\nForster s Four Great Teachers Ruskin, Carlyle, Emerson, and\\nBrowning.\\nCarlyle s Reminiscences.\\nMead s The Philosophy of Carlyle.\\nDavey s Darwin, Carlyle, and Dickens. i\\nDowden s Studies in Literature. j\\nHarrison s Early Victorian Literature.\\nNorton s Correspondence of Emerson and Carlyle.\\nAtlantic Monthly, 51 320, 560 55 421 71 287.\\nCentjiry Magazine, 4: 530 (Burroughs).\\nHarper s Monthly, 48 726 (Wilson) 62 888 (Conway).\\nNorth American Review, 102:419 (Lowell); 136:431 (Whipple);\\n140: 9 (F. Harrison). i\\nLiitelVs Living Age, 156 438 (Morrison); 170 259 (Max Miiller);\\n184: 323 (Tyndall); 191 758 (Lecky).\\nMatthew Arnold.\\nRussell s Letters of Matthew Arnold.\\nHutton s Essays, Theological and Literary.\\nShairp s Religion and Culture.\\nAtlantic Monthly, 53 641.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0803.jp2"}, "802": {"fulltext": "682 APPENDIX.\\nCentury Magazine, i 849 (Lang)\\nForum, 20 616.\\nScribner s Magazine, 4:537 (Birrell); 7:463 (Stedman) 18:281\\n(Merriam).\\nLittelVs Living Age, 17 j 545 (Myers); 178 88 (Traill); 182 771\\n(Lord Coleridge); 200:90 (Stephen); 207:771 (Gladstone);\\n208 46 (A. Austin); 209 362 (F. H,arrison).\\nRUSKIN.\\nCollingwood s Life of John Ruskin.\\nMather s Life and Teachings of John Ruskin.\\nRuskin s Praeterita.\\nJapp s Three Great Teachers of Our Time.\\nBayne s Lessons from My Masters.\\nBaillie s Aspects of the Thought and Teaching of John Ruskin.\\nCentury Magazine, 13 357 (Stillman).\\nHarper s Monthly, 80 578 (Ritchie).\\nLittelVs Living Age, 178 50 187 407 198 813 199 131.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0804.jp2"}, "803": {"fulltext": "APPENDIX. 683\\nBOOKS WORTH READING\\nThe following list of books is intended to include a large number of\\nstandard works from the various periods of English literature. All the\\nworks placed in the list, except a few minor poems, are mentioned in\\nthe text, where more or less information concerning them is given. It\\nis hoped that the list will serve as a guide to those who are often at a\\nloss to know what to read or study, and who, for lack of judicious guid-\\nance, waste much time on what is poor or hurtful literature. The works\\nspecially commended to the student are printed in small capitals.\\nMany excellent works in literary biography and criticism have been\\ngiven in the foregoing list of Books of Reference.\\nBeowulf (Earle s, Garnetfs, or HalPs translation).\\nBede s Ecclesiastical History, with Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (Bohn).\\nLandand s Piers the Plowman.\\nGower s Confessio Amantis.\\nChaucer^s Complevnt unto Pite, Truth, Compleynt to his Purs,\\nPrologue, Knight s Tale, Clerk s Tale, Nonne Prestes\\nTale, Wife of Bath s Tale.\\nMore s Utopia.\\nHooker s Ecclesiastical Polity, Book I.\\nSidney s Defense of Poesie.\\nOld English Ballads (Percy s Reliques).\\nBest Elizabethan Plays (Thayer).\\nSpenser^s Shepherd s Calendar, Colin Clout s Come Home Again,\\nMother Hubbard s Tale, Epithalamion, Faery Queene,\\nBook I.\\nBacon s Essays, Advancement of Learning, Novum Organum.\\nShakespeare s King Henry IV., Merry Wives of Windsor,\\nMerchant of Venice, Midsummer Night s Dream, Tam-\\ning of the Shrew, Julius Caesar, Antony and Cleopatra,\\nRomeo and Juliet, Hamlet, Othello, Macbeth,\\nKing Lear, etc.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0805.jp2"}, "804": {"fulltext": "684 APPENDIX.\\nWalton s Complete Angler.\\nTaylor s Holy Living and Dying.\\nBaxter s Saints Everlasting Rest and Reformed Pastor.\\nClarendon s History of the Rebellion.\\nMilton s Comus, L Allegro, -II Penseroso, Lycidas,\\nAreop A GiTiCA. Tractate on Education, Samson Ago-\\nNiSTES, Paradise Lost, Paradise Regained.\\nBunyan s Pilgrim s Progress.\\nEvelyn s Diary.\\nPepys s Diary.\\nLocke s Thoughts Concerning Education and Essay on the Human\\nUnderstanding.\\nDryden s Absalom and Achitophel, Religio Laici, Hind\\nand Panther, Aeneid, Palamon and Arcite, Alexan-\\naER s Feast.\\nAddison s Cato, Hymns, and Spectator.\\nPope s Essay on Criticism, Rape of the Lock, Iliad, Essay\\nON Man, etc.\\nSwift s Battle of the Books, Tale of a Tub, Gulliver s Trav-\\nels, Journal to Stella.\\nSheridan s The Rivals and School for Scandal.\\nBurke s Speeches and Reflections on the Revolution in France.\\nHume s History of England.\\nRobertson s History of Scotland and History of Charles V.\\nGibbon s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire and Auto-\\nbiography.\\nAkenside s Pleasures of the Imagination.\\nGray s Poems, particularly Distant Prospect of Eton Col-\\nlege, Elegy in a Country Church Yard, and Prog-\\nress OF Poesy.\\nCollins s Ode on the Death of Thomson, Ode to Evening, and\\nOde on the Passions.\\nCrabbe s The Village.\\nShenstone s The School-Mistress.\\nWarton s History of English Poetry.\\nPercy s Rehques of Ancient Enghsh Poetry.\\nBoswell s Life of Johnson.\\nSmith s Wealth of Nations.\\nMacpherson s Ossian.\\nBeattie s Minstrel.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0806.jp2"}, "805": {"fulltext": "APPENDIX. 685\\nJohnson^s Vanity of Human Wishes, Rambler, Rasselas, and\\nLives of the Poets.\\nGoldsmith s Traveller, Deserted Village, The Good-\\nNatured Man, She Stoops to Conquer, and Vicar of\\nWakefield.\\nCowper s The Task, Iliad, John Gilpin, Friendship,\\nVerses, My Mother s Picture, The Poplar Field, The\\nShrubbery, The Castaway, and Letters.\\nBurns s Cotter s Saturday Night, Mary Morison, To a\\nMouse, Address to the Deil, Man was Made to Mourn,\\nMountain Daisy, A Man s a Man for a That, On\\nSeeing a Wounded Hare, Tale o Tam O Shanter, To\\nMary in Heaven, Bruce s Address, Epistle to a Young\\nFriend, Address to the Unco Guid, etc.\\nLamb s Tales from Shakespeare and Essays of Elia.\\nLockhart s Life of Burns and Life of Scott.\\nHallam s Middle Ages and Literature of Europe.\\nMitford s History of Greece.\\nJane Austen s Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice,\\nand Emma.\\nJane Porter s Thaddeus of Warsaw and The Scottish Chiefs.\\nMrs. Hemans s Poems.\\nMaria Edgevvorth s Castle Rackrent.\\nCampbell s Pleasures of Hope, Gertrude of Wyoming, O Con-\\nnor s Child, Lochiel s Warning, Battle of the Bakic, Ye\\nMariners of England, Hohenlinden, Soldier s Dream,\\nLast Man, Hallowed Ground, etc.\\nKeats s Endymion, Lamia, Eve of St. Agnes, Hyperion,\\nNightingale, Grecian Urn, and Autumn.\\nSouthey s Life of Nelson, and select poems, particularly Lo-\\nDORE, Well of St. Keyne, Mary the Maid of the\\nInn, March to Moscow, The Scholar, Auld Cloots,\\netc.\\nMoore s Lalla Rookh, Irish Melodies, and Life of Byron.\\nHood s Poems and Up the Rhine.\\nKeble s Christian Year.\\nRogers s Pleasures of Memory.\\nScott s Lay of the Last Minstrel, Marmion, Lady of the\\nLake, Waverley, Old Mortality, Heart of Midlo-\\nthian, Kenilworth, Ivanhoe, Quentin Durward, etc.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0807.jp2"}, "806": {"fulltext": "6S6 APPENDIX.\\nByron s English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, Childe Har-\\nold, Prisoner of Chillon, Giaour, Bride of Abydos,\\nCorsair, Lara, Manfred, The Dream, Fare Thee\\nWell, Vision of Judgment, Hebrew Melodies, etc.\\nWordsworth s We are Seven, Expostulation and Reply, The\\nTables Turned, Tintern Abbey, Lucy Gray, Ruth,\\nNutting, Poet s Epitaph, Michael, The Happy War-\\nrior, My Heart Leaps Up, She Was a Phantom of Delight,\\nTo the Daisy, She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways, Ode\\nTO Duty, Ode on Immortality, The Prelude, The Ex-\\ncursion (extracts), Sonnets.\\nColeridge s Biographia Literaria, Table Talk, ^olian Harp,\\nReflections on Leaving a Place of Retirement, Religious Mus-\\nings, The Destiny of Nations, Ode to France, To William\\nWordsworth, The Nightingale, The Ancient Mariner,\\nLove, Christabel, Ode to Dejection, Hymn before Sun-\\nrise, Wallenstein.\\nShelley s The Lament, Hymn to Intellectual Beauty,\\nAlastor, The Revolt of Islam, JuHan and Maddalo,\\nOde to the West Wind, Prometheus Unbound, The\\nCenci, Ode to Naples, Ode to Liberty, To a Skylark,\\nThe Cloud, Adonais, Defence of Poetry.\\nDe Quincey s Literary Reminiscences, Confessions of an\\nOpium Eater, On Murder Considered as One of the\\nFine Arts, Suspiria de Profundis, The English Mail Coach,\\nRevolt of the Tartars, On War, Style, Joan of Arc,\\nAutobiographical Sketches.\\nBulwers Last Days of Pompeii, My Novel, The Lady of\\nLyons, Richelieu, etc.\\nDisraeli s Vivian Grey, Coningsby, Endymion, etc.\\nKingsley s Hypatia, Westward Ho, Here ward the Wake,\\netc.\\nMarryat s Peter Simple, Mr. Midshipman Easy, etc.\\nTrollope s The Warden; F^ramley Parsonage, Can You For-\\ngive Her, Autobiography, etc.\\nReade s Peg Woffington, It is Never too Late to Mend, The\\nCloister and the Hearth, etc.\\nColUns s The Woman in White, No Name, The Moonstone.\\nStevenson s Treasure Island, Kidnapped, The Master of\\nBallantrae, etc.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0808.jp2"}, "807": {"fulltext": "APPENDIX. 687\\nMrs. Craik s John Halifax, Gentleman, A Life for a Life, etc.\\nLord Lytton s (Owen Meredith) Lucile.\\nMorris s Life and Death of Jason and Earthly Paradise.\\nRossetti s Rose Mary, Blessed Damozel, Ballad of the White\\nShip, The King s Tragedy, etc.\\nSwinburne s Atalanta in Calydon, and shorter poems.\\nArnold s (Edwin) The Light of Asia, The Light of the World, etc.\\nGrote s History of Greece.\\nThirlwall s History of Greece.\\nMilman s Latin Christianity.\\nFroude s History of England, Short Studies on Great Sub-\\njects, Life of Carlyle, Life of Erasmus.\\nFreeman s History of the Norman Conquest.\\nLecky s History of European Morals.\\nGreen s History of the English People.\\nAlison s History of Europe.\\nDarwin s Origin of Species and Descent of Man.\\nSpencer s First Principles, Data of Ethics, The Study* of\\nSociology.\\nHuxley s Lay Sermons and Science, Culture, and Other Essays.\\nMill s Political Economy, Representative Government, Subjec-\\ntion of Women.\\nMiller s My Schools and School-masters, Old Red Sandstone.\\nMacaulay s Lays of Ancient Rome, History of England, and\\nEssays.\\nBronte s The Professor, Jane Eyre, Shirley, Villette.\\nThackeray s Memoirs of Yellowplush, Catharine, Great Hoggarty\\nDiamond, Barry Lyndon, The Lucky Speculator, Novels by\\nEminent Hands, The Book of Snobs, Vanity Fair, Pen-\\nDENNis, Henry Esmond, The Newcomes, English\\nHumorists.\\nDickens s Pickwick, Oliver Twist, Nicholas Nickleby,\\nOld Curiosity Shop, Martin Chuzzlewit, The Christmas\\nCarol, Dombey and Son, David Copperfield, Bleak\\nHouse, Tale of Two Cities, etc.\\nGeorge Eliot s Scenes of Clerical Life, AdAxM Bede, The Mill\\non the Floss, Silas Marner, Romola, Middlemarch,\\nDaniel Deronda.\\nMrs. Browning s Romaunt of Margret, The Poet s Vow, Cowper s\\nGrave, Crowned and Buried, My Heart and I, A Vision of", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0809.jp2"}, "808": {"fulltext": "6S8 APPENDIX.\\nPoets, Wine of Cyprus,^ Prometheus Bound, Rhyme of\\nTHE Duchess May, The Dead Pan, The Sleep, Lady\\nGeraldine s Courtship, Sonnets from the Portuguese,\\nCasa Guidi Windows, Aurora Leigh, Napoleon III. in\\nItaly, Italy and the World, etc.\\nBrowning s Paracelsus, Pippa Passes, My Last Duchess,\\nLaria, A Death in the Desert, The Pied Piper of Hame-\\nJin, How they Brought the Good News from Aix to Ghent,\\nSaul, Christmas Eve and Easter Day, Evelyn Hope, Fra\\nLippo Lippi, By the Fireside, Strange Medical Experi-\\nences OF Karshish, The Last Ride Together, Andrea\\nDEL SARTO, In a Balcony, Cleon, Abt Vogler, Rabbi\\nBen Ezra, Balaustion s Adventure, etc.\\nTennyson s Lilian, Recollections of the Arabian Nights, Mari-\\nana, The Poet, May Queen, Lady Clara Vere de Vere,\\nThe Lotus Eaters, The Palace of Art, Morte d Arthur,\\nThe Gardener s Daughter, Dora, Locksley Hall,\\nEdward Gray, Lady Clare, Ulysses, The Two Voices,\\nSt. Simeon Stylites, The Princess, In Memoriam,\\nMaud, Idyls of the King, Enoch Arden, Merlin and\\nthe Gleam, etc.\\nCarlyle s Life of Schiller, Life of Sterling, Richter, Goethe,\\nBurns, Voltaire, Signs of the Times, Characteristics,\\nBoswell s Life of Johnson, Sir Walter Scott, Sar-\\ntor Resartus, French Revolution, Heroes and Hero-\\nWorship, Past and Present, Cromwell s Letters and\\nSpeeches, Frederick the Great, Inaugural Address,\\nReminiscences.\\nArnold s (Matthew) Sohrab and Rustum, Balder Dead,\\nResignation, A Question, The Future, The Grande\\nChartreuse, Stagirius, Human Life, In Utrumque Para-\\nTUS, Dover Beach, Lines Written in Kensington Gardens,\\nThe Scholar Gypsy, Memorial Verses, On Translating\\nHomer, Essays in Criticism, Culture and Anarchy,\\nEssays in Criticism (second series), Discourses in\\nAmerica.\\nRuskin s Modern Painters, Seven Lamps of Architecture,\\nThe Stones of Venice, Unto this Last, Munera Pulveris,\\nSesame and Lilies, Crown of Wild Olives, Time and\\nTide, Lectures on Art, Praeterita.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0810.jp2"}, "809": {"fulltext": "INDEX.\\nAddison, Josepb, sketch of, 229-239;\\nhumor and cheerfulness, 229 scope\\nof his writing, 229 birth and educa-\\ntion, 230; praised by Boileau and\\nDryden, 230; a Whig, 231; travels,\\n231; Letter to Lord Halifax, 232;\\nfamous hymn, 232 The Campaign,\\n233 political offices, 234 engaged\\non Tatler, 234 Spectator, 234-236\\nCato, 236; relation with Pope and\\nDennis, 237 marriage, 238 prime\\nminister, 239 death, 239; Thackeray s\\ntribute, 239 Pope s satire, 249.\\nAge of Johnson, decadent, 275 transi-\\ntional, 275.\\nAge of Scott, favorable to literature, 371.\\nAkenside, Mark, 273.\\nAlcuin, 9 sketch of, 17, 18.\\nAlfred the Great, 9 sketch of, 28-30.\\nAlison, Sir Archibald, 475.\\nAnglo-Saxons, invasion of, 13 character,\\n13 language, 20, 21 poetry, 22, 27\\nliterature, 23.\\nAnglo-Saxon Chronicle, 31, 40.\\nArabian learning, 36.\\nArnold, Edwin, 474.\\nArnold, Matthew, sketch of, 639-655 no\\nbiography of, 639 his letters, 639\\nbirth and parentage, 640; at Oxford,\\n641 his reading, 642 school inspec-\\ntor, 642 marriage, 643 poems, 644\\nrank as a poet, 645 Sohrab and\\nRustum, 645; Resignation and\\nother poems, 646, 647 Professor of\\nPoetry at Oxford, 647; On Transla-\\nting Homer, 647, 648 feeling under\\nadverse criticism 649 Essays in\\nCriticism., 649; patriotism, 650; his\\nmethod, 650 Culture and Anarchy,\\n650; culture defined, 651 Philistine\\nand Barbarian defined, 651 Hellen-\\nism and Hebraism 652 other volumes,\\n652 religious views, 652, 653 visits\\nAmerica, 653; Essays in Criticism,\\nsecond series, 654; death, 654; cri-\\ntique, 654, 655.\\nArnold, Thomas, 475, 640.\\nAryan language and its branches, 20.\\nAscham, Roger, 67 sketch of, 85-87.\\nAugustine introduces Christianity, 14, 15.\\nAusten, Jane, 368, 376.\\nBacon, Francis, sketch of, 119-135; as a\\nphilosopher, 119; attitude toward an-\\ncients, 119; end of knowledge, 119;\\nBaconian philosophy, 120; parentage,\\n120; fortunate period of birth, 121;\\nprecocity, 121 a the university, 121\\ncriticism of education, 122; on the\\nContinent, 123; studies law, 123; in\\nParliament, 124; as orator, 124 politi-\\ncal disappointments, 124; relation to\\nEssex, 124, 125 Essays, 125 politi-\\ncal preferment, 128; mode of living,\\n128; downfall, 129; Instauratio\\nMagna, 130; Novum Organum,\\n131-133; intellectual greatness, 134;\\nestimate of his work, 135,\\nBaillie, Joanna, 368.\\nBallads, old English, 40; 78-80.\\nBarbauld, Anna Letitia, 368, 376.\\nBattle of Brunanburh, 40.\\nBaxter, Richard, 153, 161.\\nBeattie, James, 279; his Minstrel, 286.\\nBeaumont, Francis, 68, loi on Shake-\\nspeare, 140.\\nBede, 9 sketch of, 18, 19.\\nBeowulf, 9; described, 25-27.\\nBible, English, influence of, 74.\\nBoccaccio, 39; relation to Chaucer, 59,\\n60.\\nBoileau, 199.\\n2Y\\n689", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0811.jp2"}, "810": {"fulltext": "690\\nINDEX.\\nBook of Common Prayer, 74.\\nBoswell, James, 274; and Johnson, 288;\\non Goldsmith, 302.\\nBoyle, Robert, 195.\\nBronte, Charlotte, sketch of, 504-518\\nsmall figure, 504 self-portrayal in her\\nworks, 504; sorrowful life, 505 child-\\nhood, 505; Yorkshire people, 506; at\\nschool, 506 penchant for writing, 507\\nappearance and manner, 507 routine\\nat home, 508 as governess, 508 in\\nBrussels, 509 tries to open school, 509\\nPoems, 510; The Professor, 510;\\nrealism, 511 Jane Eyre, 511-513 a\\nword for women, 513 Shirley, 513\\nsensitive to criticism, 514; critique, 516;\\nmarriage, 516; Thackeray s tribute,\\n517-\\nBrowne, Sir Thomas, 153.\\nBrowning, Elizabeth Barrett, sketch of,\\n568-584; rank, 568 indomitable energy,\\n568; birth and ancestry, 569 childhood\\nstudies, 569; Essay on Mind, 569;\\nGreek scholarship, 570; Prometheus\\nBound, 571 in London, 571 Ro-\\nmaunt of Margret, 571 Poet s Vow,\\n572; Seraphim, and Other Poems,\\n572; invalid condition, 573; two vol-\\numes of poems, 574; secret marriage,\\n576 Sonnets from the Portuguese,\\n576; in Florence, 577; Casa Guidi\\nWindows, 577; in Paris, 579; spirit-\\nualism, 579; Tennyson s visit, 580;\\nAurora Leigh, 580; Poems before\\nCongress, 581 Curse for a Nation,\\n582; death, 582; character, 583; poe-\\ntry, 583.\\nBrowning, Robert, sketch of, 585-602;\\noriginality, 585 obscurity, 585 spirit\\nof the age, 586 birth and parentage,\\n586 childhood, 587 scholarship, 587\\nPauline, 588; love of music, 588;\\nParacelsus, 589 an idealist, 589\\ndramas, 590; a subjective poet, 591\\nHow They Brought the Good News,\\n591; Sordello, 592; Bells and\\nPomegranates, 592; My Last\\nDuchess, 593; fundamental ideas,\\n594; marriage, 595; Christmas Eve\\nand Easter Day, 595; Men and\\nWomen, 596 aim of artist, 596; love,\\n597 death of his wife, 597 Dramatis\\nPersonae, 598 Death in the Desert,\\n598; The Ring and the Book, 599;\\nGreek transcripts, 599, 600; Prince\\nHohenstiel-Schvvangau, 600; La\\nSaisiaz, 600; critique, 601; death,\\n601 a teacher, 601.\\nBrut of Layamon, 41.\\nBulwer, Edward, Lord Lytton, 473.\\nBunyan, John, sketch of, 181-193 meagre\\neducation, 181 a tinker, 181 vicious\\nyouth, 182; in Civil War, 182; rnar-\\nriage, 183 religious experience, 183\\nconversion, 184 as a preacher, 185\\nimprisoned, 186; Pilgrim s Progress,\\n187-189 Holy War, 189, 190 Life\\nand Death of Mr. Badman, 190; style,\\n190; Macaulay on, 191; popularity,\\n192; death and characterization, 193.\\nBurke, Edmund, 273 279-281.\\nBurnet, Gilbert, 195.\\nBurns, Robert, democratic spirit, 286;\\nsketch of, 349-365 rank, 349 tragic\\nhfe, 349 birth and parentage, 350\\nearly reading, 350 first love poem, 350\\nat Kirkoswald, 351 Mary Morison,\\n351; his ambition, 352; at Irvine, 352;\\neffort to reform, 353 at Mossgiel, 354\\nfirst volume, 354 dinners wi a Lord,\\n355 visits Edinburgh, 355 his man-\\nner, 356; independence, 356 drinking\\nrevels, 357; marriage, 358; failure in\\nfarming, 358; sympathy with nature,\\n359; To Mary in Heaven, 360; at\\nDumfries, 360; manner of life, 361;\\ndemocratic sympathies, 361 last days,\\n362; kindly judgment of, 363; estimate\\nand critique, 364, 365.\\nButler, Joseph, 195.\\nButler, Samuel, 196, 210.\\nByron, Lord, sketch of, 397-409; poetry\\nautobiographic, 397 place in literature,\\n397 birth and ancestry, 398 early\\nattachment, 399; at Cambridge, 399;\\nHours of Idleness, 400; English\\nBards and Scotch Reviewers, 400\\ntravels on Continent, 400; Childe\\nHarold s Pilgrimage, 400; The\\nGiaour, Bride of Abydos, etc.,\\n401, 402; appearance, 402; opinion\\nof women, 402 marriage, 403 Fare\\nn", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0812.jp2"}, "811": {"fulltext": "INDEX.\\n691\\nThee Well, 403 leaves England, 404\\ncompletes Childe Harold, 404, 405;\\nPrisoner of Chillon, 405; dramas,\\n406 Don Juan, 406 critique, 407\\ninfluence on the Continent, 407 goes\\nto Greece, 408 death, 408 sadness\\nof his life, 409.\\nCsedmon, 9* 24, 25.\\nCampbell, Thomas, 368, 376.\\nCarew, Thomas, poem of, 163.\\nCarlyle, Thomas, sketch of, 622-638\\nthree famous Scotchmen, 622; con-\\ntrast with Macaulay, 622 his faith in\\nheredity, 622 school days, 623 at\\nuniversity, 624; a teacher, 624; period\\nof gloom, 625 The Everlasting Yea,\\n625 a German scholar, 626 opinion\\nof contemporaries, 626 reverence for\\nGoethe, 627 marriage, 627 articles\\nfor Ed mbu7-gh, 628; Sartor Resar-\\ntus, 629; his style, 630; French\\nRevolution, 631; as lecturer, 632;\\nHeroes and Hero- Worship, 632;\\nPast and Present, 632; Crom-\\nwell s Letters and Speeches, 633;\\nFrederick the Great, 634 Inaugural\\nAddress, 635 closing years, 635 char-\\nacter, 636; transcendentalism, 637 in-\\nfluence, 638.\\nCathedral schools, 37.\\nCaxton, William, 67 71, 72.\\nCelts, II, 12, 13.\\nChapman s Homer, 84.\\nChansons de Geste, 37, 38.\\nCharles I., and his policy, 156; bad ad-\\nvisers, 157; beheaded, 159,\\nCharles H., 198.\\nChatterton, Thomas, his Rowley\\nPoems, 285.\\nChaucer, Geoffrey, 31; sketch of, 49-63;\\npreeminence, 49; scanty details, 50;\\nearliest poem, 50; pubhc offices, 51;\\nliterary bent, 51 disciple of Gower,\\n52 marriage, 52 various poems, 53\\nastrolabe, 54; death, 54; appearance,\\n54; integrity and attainments, 55 love\\nof nature, 56 treatment of women, 57\\nobjectionable passages, 57 prepara-\\ntion for his work, 58 French influence,\\n59; Italian influence, 59; English pe-\\nriod, 59, 60; Canterbury Tales, 60-\\n63 descriptive power, 61, 62 critique,\\n63 diction and versification, 64-66,\\nChristianity introduced by Augustine, 14,\\nIS-\\nClough, Arthur Hugh, 474,\\nCoffee-houses, number of, 205.\\nColeridge, Samuel Taylor, sketch of,\\n425-441; influence of, 425; birth and\\nparentage, 425; precocity, 426; Lamb s\\ndescription, 426 literary training, 427\\nenlists in dragoons, 428 Pantisocracy,\\n428 marriage, 429 Watchman, ^zg\\nfirst volume of poems, 430-432; rela-\\ntions with Wordsworth, 432 Ancient\\nMariner, 433; Love, 434, Chris-\\ntabel, 435; as a preacher, 436; in\\nGermany, 436 translates Wallen-\\nstein, 436; in Lake District, 437 use\\nof opiates, 437 at Malta, 437 as lec-\\nturer, 438 dramas, 438 Biographia\\nLiteraria, 439; three periods, 439;\\npersonal magnetism, 440; death and\\ncharacter, 440.\\nCollier, Jeremy, 195.\\nCollins, Wilkie, 473.\\nCollins, William, 273.\\nCongreve, William, 196; tribute to Dry-\\nden, 227.\\nConquest, Roman, 12.\\nCowley, Abraham, 153, 165.\\nCowper, William, sketch of, 332-348\\nelements of his poetry, 332; sad life,\\n332 birth and parentage, 333 ill-\\ntreatment at school, 334; poetical\\nturn, 334 studies law, 335 in love,\\n335 mental aberration, 336 piety,\\n337 in the Unwin family, 337 at\\nOlney, 338; bad health, 339; Report\\nof an Adjudged Case, 339; lack of\\ninitiative energy, 340; English poets,\\n340 moral satires, 341 and Lady\\nAustin, 342; John Gilpin, 342;\\nThe Task, 343-345; translates\\nHomer, 346 shorter poems, 346, 347\\ndeath, 347 his sincerity, 347.\\nCrabbe, George, 274.\\nCraik, Dinah Maria (Miss Mulock),\\n474.\\nCromwell, Oliver, anecdotes of, 159.\\nCudworth, Ralph, 195.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0813.jp2"}, "812": {"fulltext": "692\\nINDEX.\\nDanes, The, 11.\\nDaniel, Samuel, 67, 97.\\nDante, 39.\\nDarwin, Charles, 475.\\nDeclaration of Independence, 276.\\nDefoe, Daniel, 196, 207, 208.\\nDeism, principles of, 201.\\nDekker, Thomas, 68.\\nDe Quincey, Thomas, sketch of, 459-\\n472; personal characteristics, 459; old\\nfamily, 459 birth and parentage, 460\\nchildhood, 460; love of solitude, 461;\\nunder the influence of his brother,\\n461; at school, 462; classic attain-\\nments, 463 visit to Ireland, 463 at\\nLady Carbery s, 464 runs away, 464\\nat Oxford, 465 opium fiend, 466 in\\nthe Lake District, 466 Confessions,\\n467 article on Goethe, 467 Carlyle s\\netching, 468 Walladmor, 468\\nMurder as a Fine Art, 469 in\\nEdinburgh, 469; style, 470; literature\\nof knowledge and of poiver, 471 his\\ndigressions, 471; preeminently intel-\\nlectual, 472 death, 472.\\nDickens, Charles, sketch of, 535-551\\nparentage, 535 autobiographic ele-\\nments in David Copperfield, 536;\\nearly reading, 536; in blacking ware-\\nhouse, 537 at school, 538 in solici-\\ntor s office, 538 as a reporter, 539\\nSketches by Boz, 540; Pickwick,\\n540; Carlyle s etching, 541 marriage,\\n542; Oliver Twist, 542; Nicholas\\nNickleby, 543; method of work, 543;\\nOld Curiosity Shop, 544 Barnaby\\nRudge, 544; travels, 545; Martin\\nChuzzlewit, 545 Christmas Carol,\\n546; in Italy, 546 Dombey and Son,\\n547 theatrical company, 547 David\\nCopperfield, 548 other novels, 548 as\\na reader, 549 death, 549; critique, 550.\\nDisraeli, Benjamin, Earl of Beaconsfield,\\n473-\\nDobson, Henry Austin, 474.\\nDrama, opposed by ancient church, 97\\norigin of modern, 98 miracle plays,\\n98 moralities, 98 interludes, 99 first\\ncomedy, 99 first tragedy, 99 theatres,\\n99; technique of, 151, 152; decline of,\\nunder Puritan rule, 160.\\nDrayton, Michael, 67, 97,\\nDryden, John, sketch of, 215-228 rank,\\n215 degradation of genius, 215 birth\\nand parentage, 216 at Westminster\\nschool, 216 at Cambridge, 216 He-\\nroic Stanzas and Astraea Redux,\\n217; as dramatist, 217, 218; Annus\\nMirabilis, 219 Absalom and Achito-\\nphel, 219, 220; Religio* Laici, 220,\\n221; translates Boileau, 222; turns\\nCatholic, 222; Hind and Panther,\\n223; Mac Flecknoe, 224; transla-\\ntions, 224 yEneid, 225 versions\\nfrom Chaucer, 225; Alexander s\\nFeast, 226; his prose, 226; as a\\nwriter, 226, 227; Congreve s tribute,\\n227.\\nEdgeworth, Maria, 368, 376.\\nEducation followed Christianity, 16, 17.\\nEdwin calls a council, 16.\\nElement, personal, in literature, 4,\\nEliot, George, sketch of, 552-567;\\npsychologic realist, 552 birth and\\nparentage, 552 fond of reading, 553\\ndomestic training, 553 as a linguist,\\n554; temperament, 554 sceptical, 555;\\nMyers quoted, 555 translates Leben\\nJesu, 556; on the Continent, 556;\\neditor of Westminster Review, 557\\nrelations with Lewes, 557 realistic\\nprinciples, 558; Amos Barton, 558\\ncritique, 559; happy life, 559; Adam\\nBede, 560; Mill on the Floss, 561\\nin Florence, 561; Silas Marner,\\n561; Romola, 562; receptions, 563\\nSpanish Gypsy, 564; other poems,\\n564 Middlemarch and Daniel\\nDeronda, 565 education of women,\\n565 marriage to Cross, 566 death,\\n566 power and purpose, 566.\\nElizabeth, Queen, ascends throne, 74;\\ndifficulties and dangers, 75 character,\\n75 growth of Protestantism, 75, 76\\ncondition of country, 76, J7; English\\ncharacter, jj patron of drama, 139.\\nEngland, people composite, 11 meaning,\\n13; in fourteenth century, 35, 36; ac-\\ncession of Elizabeth, 74, 76 and Scot-\\nland united, 202 influence abroad, 202\\nsocial condition, 203 material and", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0814.jp2"}, "813": {"fulltext": "INDEX.\\n693\\nintellectual progress, 277 morals and\\nreligion, 278; a world-power, 278; in\\nAge of Scott, 371 in Victorian Age,\\n477-483-\\nEnglish literature, defined, 2; periods of, 6.\\nEvelyn, John, 195, 206.\\nFarquhar, George, 196.\\nFiction, in Victorian Age, 484.\\nFielding, Henry, 196, 209.\\nFirst Creative Period, 69; revival of\\nlearning, 70, 71 literary activity, 84, 96.\\nFirst Critical Period, 197,\\nFletcher, John, 68, loi.\\nFreeman, quoted, 40, 475.\\nFrench influence at Restoration, 198.\\nFroude, James A., 475.\\nGeoffrey of Monmouth, 39, 41.\\nGibbon, Edward, sketch of, 315-331\\nrank as historian, 315; Autobiog-\\nraphy, 315 ancestry, 316 birth, 316\\nat school, 317 love of history, 318\\ncriticism of Oxford, 318 becomes a\\nRoman Catholic, 319; sent to Lau-\\nsanne, 319 ardor in study, 320 re-\\nnounces Romanism, 320 and Voltaire,\\n321 love affair, 321 in London, 322;\\nhis library, 322; L Etude de la Lit-\\nterature, 323; captain of militia, 323;\\nfinds historical subject, 324; in Paris,\\n324 visits Italy, 325 idleness, 325\\nbegins Decline and Fall, 326; in\\nParliament, 326 retires to Lausanne,\\n327 concludes Decline and Fall,\\n327 writes Autobiography, 328\\ndeath, 329; his character, 329, 330;\\ncritique, 330 style, 331.\\nGleeman, 21, 22.\\nGoldsmith, Oliver, sketch of, 302-314\\ncharacteristics, 302 Garrick s epitaph,\\n302 birth and parentage, 303 as a\\nstudent, 304 at the university, 305\\nanecdote, 305 objection to clerical\\nprofession, 306 starts to America, 306\\nstudies medicine, 307; travels on Con-\\ntinent, 307; in London, 308; circle of\\nacquaintances, 309; thriftless, 309;\\nVicar of Wakefield, 310; Travel-\\nler, 310 Good-Natured Man, 311\\nhack-work, 312; Deserted Village,\\n312; She Stoops to Conquer, 313;\\ndeath, 313 Thackeray s estimate, 314.\\nGower, John, 31 sketch of, 47, 48.\\nGray, Thomas, 273.\\nGreen, John Richard, on classical re-\\nvival, 37; on Puritanism, 160, 475.\\nGreen, Robert, 68, 99.\\nGregory, Pope, anecdote of, 15.\\nGrote, George, 475.\\nHallam, Henry, quoted on Faery\\nQueene, 109; on Bacon, 134, 367;\\nvarious writings, 375.\\nHamilton, Sir William, 476.\\nHazlitt, William, 367, 374.\\nHemans, Felicia Dorothea, 368.\\nHerbert, George, 153.\\nHerrick, Robert, 153; quoted, 164.\\nHistory, in Age of Johnson, 281; in\\nVictorian Age, 484.\\nHobbes, Thomas, 195.\\nHood, Thomas, 368.\\nHooker, Richard, 67 sketch of, 90-92.\\nHoward, Henry, Earl of Surrey, 67;\\nsketch of, 81-83.\\nHudson, Henry, quoted on Shakespeare,\\n141.\\nHume, David, 273, 281-283; History\\nof England, 282.\\nHunt, Leigh, 367.\\nHuxley, Thomas Henry, 476.\\nHyde, Edward, Earl of Clarendon, 153,\\n161.\\nIndependents, character of, 158.\\nIndo-European group of languages, 20.\\nInventions, 71, 72; of Victorian Age,\\n478.\\nItaly, influence on English literature,\\n39- 81, 83.\\nJeffrey, Francis, 367, 374 op Byron, 400\\non Wordsworth, 422.\\nJohnson, Dr. Samuel, quoted, 163;\\nsketch of, 288-301 intimate knowl-\\nedge of, 288 peculiarities, 288 in\\nconversation, 289; on friendship, 289;\\nhis prejudices, 290; birth and educa-\\ntion, 290 marriage, 291 trials in\\nLondon, 291; as a reporter, 292;\\nLondon, 292; Dictionary, 293;", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0815.jp2"}, "814": {"fulltext": "694\\nmDEX.\\nand Chesterfield, 294; Vanity of\\nHuman Wishes, 295 Irene, 295\\nRambler, 296; style and aim, 296;\\nRasselas, 297 pensioned, 297 The\\nClub, 298; views of Ossian, 298;\\nJourney to Hebrides, 298; Lives\\nof the Poets, 299; death, 300.\\nJonson, Ben, 68; sketch of, 101-103;\\non Bacon s oratory, 124; tribute to\\nShakespeare, 140.\\nKeats, John, 368, 377, 378.\\nKeble, John, 369.\\nKingsley, Charles, 473.\\nLamb, Charles, 367, 375 on Coleridge,\\n426,\\nLandor, Walter Savage, 369.\\nLang, Andrew, 474.\\nLangland, 31; Piers the Plowman,\\n46; Marsh on, 47.\\nLatitudinarians, 200.\\nLayamon s Brut, 31, 41.\\nLecky, W. E. H., 475.\\nLiterature, in largest sense, i English\\nliterature, 2 influences determining, 2\\nliterature in narrower sense, 4 classic\\nliterature, 5 as a social force, 5 liter-\\nary taste, 6; periods of English, 6.\\nLocke, John, 195, 206.\\nLockhart, John Gibson, 367,375.\\nLouis XIV. and literature, 198.\\nLowell, James Russell, quoted, 97 on\\nPope, 257.\\nLyly, John, 67, 87.\\nLytton, Lord, (Owen Meredith), 474.\\nMacaulay, Thomas Babington, quoted^\\n170 sketch of, 488-503 popularity,\\n488 birth and parentage, 489 childish\\nprecocity, 489 at Cambridge, 489,\\n490 earliest publications, 490 Essay\\non Milton, 491 great as a man, 491\\nin Parliament, 492; in India, 492;\\nlearns German, 493; visits Italy, 493,\\n494; Secretary of War, 494 Essays,\\n495 style, 495 a partisan, 496 ex-\\ntracts, 497; Lays of Ancient Rome,\\n499 as a historian, 500 theory of his-\\ntory, 501 History of England, 501\\nlast years, 502.\\nMacpherson, James, his Poems of\\nOssian, 285; Johnson s letter to, 298.\\nManning, Robert, 31, 43.\\nMarlowe, Christopher, 68, 99, loi.\\nMarryat, Frederick, 473.\\nMassinger, Philip, 68, loi.\\nMcCarthy, quoted, 478 on Macaulay,\\nSOS-\\nMetaphysical poets, 162; Dr. Johnson\\non, 163.\\nMethodism, rise of, 204.\\nMiddle English Period, 33.\\nMill, John Stuart, 476.\\nMiller, Hugh, 476.\\nMilman, Henry Hart, 475.\\nMilton, John, quoted on books, 5 sketch\\nof, 167-180 greatness of, 167 paren-\\ntage, 167; educational reformer, 168;\\ndeclines to take orders, 169 at Horton,\\n169; Comus, L Allegro, II Pen-\\nseroso, 169, 170; Lycidas, 170; his\\ntravels, 171 premonitions of fame,\\n172 private school, 172 various con-\\ntroversial writings, 173 marriage, 174\\nDoctrine of Divorce, 174; recon-\\nciliation, 174; Areopagitica, and\\nTractate on Education, 175 on\\nlanguage study, 176; Cromwell s sec-\\nretary, 177; Defensio, 177; blind-\\nness, 178; Paradise Lost, 179;\\nParadise Regained, and Samson\\nAgonistes, 180; death, character, 180.\\nMiracle plays, 98.\\nMitford, William, 375.\\nMoore, Thomas, 368, 380-382.\\nMoralities, 98.\\nMore, Hannah, 368.\\nMore, Sir Thomas, 67, 80.\\nMorris, William, 474.\\nNewspapers, rise of, 277.\\nNewton, Sir Isaac, 195.\\nNormans, 33; character, 34; coalesce\\nwith Anglo-Saxons, 35.\\nOratory, in Age of Johnson, 279.\\nOrmin, his Ormulum, 45, 46.\\nParis, Matthew, 31\\nPepys, Samuel, 195, 206.\\nPercy, Thomas, 274; Reliques, 285.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0816.jp2"}, "815": {"fulltext": "INDEX.\\n695\\nPeriodicals, become important, 215\\nnewspapers, 277 reviews, 374, 480.\\nPeriods, literary, not sharply defined, 372.\\nPetrarch, 39.\\nPiers the Plowman, Langland s, 46, 47.\\nPoetry, first literature of a people, 21\\nAnglo-Saxon, 22; change of tone, 286;\\nnature in, 286, 287 in Victorian Age,\\n486.\\nPope, Alexander, influenced by France,\\n199 extract from Rape of the Lock,\\n203 sketch of, 240-257 character and\\ngenius, 240 childhood, 240 reading,\\n241 precocity, 241 and Dryden, 242;\\nand Trumbull, 242 and Walsh, 242\\nWycherly, 243; Essay on Criticism,\\n243-245 and Dennis, 245 Rape of\\nthe Lock, 246; Iliad, 247; Odys-\\nsey, 248 quarrel with Addison, 248,\\n249; at Twickenham, 249 filial affec-\\ntion, 250; Dunciad, 250-252;\\nThackeray s critique, 252 Essay on\\nMan, 252-254; death, 255; character-\\nistics, 255-257 as a poet, 257 Lowell s\\nestimate, 257.\\nPorter, Jane, 368, 376.\\nPuritanism, and literature, 159, 160; ex-\\ntreme, 197.\\nQuarles, Francis, 153 quoted, 164.\\nQueen Anne, ascends throne, 201.\\nRace, influence of, on literature*, 2, 3.\\nRadcliffe, Ann, 367, 376.\\nRaleigh, Sir Walter, 67 sketch of, 92-\\n96, 107.\\nRaumer, quoted on Bacon, 134.\\nReade, Charles, 473.\\nRealism, 485.\\nReformation, the, 72, 73.\\nReligion and literature, 44, 159, 160.\\nRestoration, the, moral effects, 198\\nand science, 199; Green on, 200.\\nRevival of learning, 70, 71.\\nRevolution, the, 200, 202 French, 373.\\nRichardson, Samuel, 196, 208.\\nRobert of Gloucester, Rhyming Chroni-\\ncles, 31, 43.\\nRobertson, William, 273, 283, 284.\\nRobin Hood, 70; ballads, 40, 70.\\nRogers, Samuel, 369.\\nRomanticism, rise of, 284; new, 486.\\nRoscoe, quoted on Rape of the Lock,\\n247.\\nRossetti, Dante Gabriel, 474.\\nRoyalists, 157.\\nRuskin, John, sketch of, 656-670; varied\\nspheres, 656; and Carlyle, 656; birth\\nand parentage, 657 childhood, 658\\nthirst of authorship, 659; interest in\\nart, 659; love of mountains, 660; wor-\\nshipper of nature, 660 at Oxford, 661\\nPoetry of Architecture, 662; Mod-\\nern Painters, 663 manner of writing,\\n664; marriage, 664; Seven Lamps,\\n664 Pre-Raphaelitism, 665 Stones\\nof Venice, 665; popular lectures, 666;\\nUnto this Last, 666; Sesame and\\nLilies, 667 Crown of Wild Olives,\\n667; Time and Tide, 667; educa-\\ntional reformer, 668 Professor of Fine\\nArts at Oxford, 668 at Brantwood,\\n669 as a critic, 669 eccentricity, 669\\nrank, 670.\\nSackville, Thomas, Earl of Dorset, 67, 97.\\nSchools, cathedral and monastic, 37,\\nScott, Sir Walter, sketch of, 383-396;\\nprominence, 383 ancestry, 383; child-\\nhood, 384 at the university, 385 as\\na lawyer, 385; early romance, 386;\\nmarriage, 387 Minstrelsy of the\\nScottish Border, 387 Carlyle on, 387\\nLay of the Last Minstrel, Mar-\\nmion, Lady of the Lake, 388, 389;\\nmethod of work, 390 Abbotsford, 390\\nas host, 390; tree-planting, 391; pub-\\nlishing house, 391 Waverley, 392;\\nother romances, 392 romanticist, 393\\nwrote rapidly, 393 character of Wa-\\nverley novels, 394; style, 394; effort to\\nmeet obligations, 395 last days, 396.\\nShakespeare, William, sketch of, 136-\\n150; preeminence, 136; meagre de-\\ntails, 136 parentage, 137 education,\\n137; marriage, 137; in London, 138;\\nas actor, 138; Venus and Adonis,\\n139; Spenser s tribute, 139; growing\\nwealth, 139; social life, 139, 140; Jon-\\nson s tribute, 140 dissatisfied- with\\nactor s life, 140; retires to Stratford,\\n141 death, 141 Hudson s estimate,", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0817.jp2"}, "816": {"fulltext": "696\\nINDEX.\\n141; rich inner life, 142; sanity, 143;\\ndevelopment of his genius, 143, 144;\\nhidden personality, 144 knowledge of\\ndramatic art, 145 enriched borrowed\\nmaterials, 146; historical plays, 146;\\nacquaintance with human nature, 146\\nnoble types of men and women, 147\\nstyle and diction, 147; voices human\\nexperience, 148, 149; his influence,\\n149; on the Continent, 150; enduring\\nfame, 150; addendum on drama, 151,\\n152.\\nShelley, Percy Bysshe, sketch of, 442-\\n458 growing fame, 442 sad life, 442\\nchildhood, 443; at Eton, 443; at Ox-\\nford, appearance and character,\\n445; Posthumous Fragments, 445;\\nNecessity of Atheism, 446; in Lon-\\ndon, 446; marriage, 447; migratory\\nlife, 447 Queen Mab, 447, 448 op-\\ntimist, 449 elopement, 449 Alastor,\\n450; suicide of his wife, 451 Revolt\\nof Islam, 451 manner of life, 452\\nin Italy, 452; Julian and Maddalo,\\n453 various works, 453 The Cenci,\\n455; Cloud, 455; Defence of\\nPoetry, 456; Adonais, 456;\\ndrowned, 457 as a poet, 457 as a\\nreformer, 458.\\nShenstone, William, 274.\\nSheridan, Richard Brinsley. 273.\\nSidney, Sir Philip, 67, 88-90.\\nSmith, Adam, 274.\\nSouthey, Robert, 368, 378, 379.\\nSpencer, Herbert, 476.\\nSpenser, Edmund, sketch of, 104-116;\\nfirst great writer of Creative Period,\\n104; meagre details, 104; education,\\n105 Shepherd s Calendar, 105 in\\nLondon and Ireland, 106 visited by\\nRaleigh, 107; Colin Clout s Come\\nHome Again, 107; Mother Hub-\\nbard s Tale, 108 Faery Queene,\\n109 marriage, 109 View of the State\\nof Ireland, no; Kilcolman Castle\\nburned, in; characterization, in;\\nSpenserian stanza, 112 plan of Faery\\nQueene, 113-117; critique, 117, 118;\\ntribute to Shakespeare, 139.\\nStevenson, Robert Louis, 473.\\nStewart, Dugald, quoted, 128.\\nSwift, Jonathan, sketch of, 258-271\\nas a writer, 258 as a man, 258 birth\\nand education, 259; at college, 259;\\nat Temple s, 260; Battle of Books,\\n260 at Laracor, 261 sermons, 261\\nimperious temper, 262 satirical gift,\\n262; Tale of a Tub, 263; in London,\\n264; Journal to Stella, 265; rela-\\ntions to women, 265; secret marriage,\\n266; Drapier Letters, 267; Gulli-\\nver s Travels, 267; Thoughts on\\nVarious Subjects, 268; style, 269;\\neccentricities, 269 friendships and\\nhatreds, 270 insanity and death, 270\\ncharacterization, 271.\\nSwinburne, Algernon Charles, 474.\\nTaillefer, anecdote of, 38.\\nTaine, quoted, 160.\\nTaste, literary, 6.\\nTaylor, Jeremy, 153, 160.\\nTemple, Sir William, 196; Swift with,\\n260.\\nTennyson, Alfred, visit to Brownings,\\n580 sketch of, 603-621 preeminence,\\n603; fortunate life, 603; birth and\\nparentage, 604; at Cambridge, 604;\\nPoems, Chiefly Lyrical, 605; con-\\nception of poetic character, 606;\\nvolume of 32, 606; a fundamental\\nprinciple, 607 interim of study, 608\\nin London, 609; volume of 42,610-\\n612; character of his poetry, 612;\\nPrincess, 613 conservative sym-\\npathies, 613; In Memoriam, 614-\\n616; marriage, 616; various homes,\\n617 Maude, and Other Poems, 617\\nIdyls of the King, 618-620; Enoch\\nArden, 620 Crossing the Bar, 620\\nenduring fame, 621.\\nThackeray, William Makepeace, tribute\\nto Addison, 239; estimate of Gold-\\nsmith, 314; of Charlotte Bronte,\\n517; sketch of, 519-534; parallel with\\nDickens, 519; birth and parentage,\\n519; at Charter House, 520; at Cam-\\nbridge, 520 classic style, 521 at\\nWeimar, 521 studies law, 521 loses\\nhis fortune, 522 Memoirs of Yellow-\\nplush, 523 Catherine, 523 Great\\nHoggarty Diamond, 523; other writ-", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0818.jp2"}, "817": {"fulltext": "INDEX.\\n697\\nings, 524; marriage, 524; Lucky\\nSpeculator, 525; Novels by Emi-\\nnent Hands, 525 Book of Snobs,\\n526 Vanity Fair, 526-528 Pen-\\ndennis, 528 not a cynic, 529 Henry\\nEsmond, 530; other novels, 531;\\nEnglish Humorists, 531 in America,\\n532 as a poet, 532 editor of Corn/iill\\nMagazine, 533 death, 534.\\nTheatres, first English, 99, 100.\\nThirlwall, Connop, 475.\\nThomson, James, 196, 211, 212.\\nTillotson, John, 195.\\nTrollope, Anthony, 473.\\nTroubadour poetry, 40.\\nTrouvere poetry, 37.\\nUniversities, the oldest, 37.\\nUtopia, of Sir Thomas More, 80.\\nVictorian Age, grandeur of, 477 age of\\ninventions, 478 science, 479 practi-\\ncal, 479 educational advancement,\\n480; political progress, 481; social\\nprogress, 481 religious advancement,\\n482 favorable to literature, 483.\\nWaller, Edmund, 153, 164.\\nWalpole, Horace, 274, 285.\\nWalton, Izaak, 153, 162.\\nWarton, Thomas, 274, 285.\\nWatson, William, 474.\\nWebster, John, 68.\\nWhately, Archbishop, quoted, 127.\\nWilliam of Malmesbury, 31.\\nWilson, John, 367.\\nWomen in literature, 375.\\nWordsworth, William, sketch of, 410-\\n424; parallel with Byron, 410; child-\\nhood, 411; influence of nature, 411;\\nwithout vocation, 412; in France, 412;\\nfortunate life, 413 Lyrical Ballads,\\n413-415; in Germany, 415 Prelude\\nand other poems, 415 famous preface,\\n416 life in Lake District and marriage,\\n417 death of his brother, 418 The\\nHappy Warrior, 419; The Rain-\\nbow, 420; Ode on Immortality,\\n420, 421 at Rydal Mount, 421 Ex-\\ncursion, 422; confidence in himself,\\n422; death, 423; character, 423; love\\nof nature, 423, 424.\\nWyat, Sir Thomas, 67, 83, 84.\\nWycherly, William, 196; and Pope,\\n242.\\nWycliffe, John, 31, 44, 45.\\nYoung, Edward, 196, 212-214.", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0819.jp2"}, "818": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0820.jp2"}, "819": {"fulltext": "The Students Series of English Classics.\\nLIST PRICE\\nAddison Sir Roger de Coverley Papers $0.35\\nArnold Sohrab and Rustum ,25\\nBates A Ballad Book .50\\nBurke Speech on Conciliation with America .35\\nByron Prisoner of Chillon .25\\nCarlyle Diamond Necklace .35\\nCarlyle Essay on Burns 35\\nColeridge Ancient Mariner .25\\nCooper The Last of the Mohicans .50\\nDe Quincey Revolt of the Tartars 35\\nDe Quincey Joan of Arc, and other selections .35\\nDryden Palamon and Arcite .35\\nDryden, Burns, Wordsworth, and Browning (selections) .35\\nEliot Silas Marner .35\\nGoldsmith Traveller and Deserted Village .25\\nGoldsmith Vicar of Wakefield 50\\nIrving Selections .50\\nJohnson History of Rasselas 35\\nLamb Essays of Elia .35\\nLongfellow Evangeline .35\\nLowell Vision of Sir Launfal 25\\nMacaulay Essay on Lord Clive .35\\nMacaulay Essays on Milton and Addison 35\\nMacaulay Life of Samuel Johnson .25\\nMacaulay Second Essay on the Earl of Chatham 35\\nMilton Paradise Lost, Books I and II 35\\nMilton L Allegro, II Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas 25\\nPope Translation of the Iliad, Books I, VI, XXII, and XXIV .35\\nRuskin Selections 50\\nScott Lady of the Lake 35\\nScott Marmion 35\\nShakespeare A Midsummer Night s Dream 35\\nShakespeare As You Like It 35\\nShakespeare The Merchant of Venice 35\\nShakespeare Macbeth .35\\nTennyson Elaine .25\\nTennyson The Princess .35\\nWebster First Bunker Hill Oration 25\\nSIBLEY DUCKER,\\nPUBLISHERS.\\nBOSTON. CHICAGO,", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0821.jp2"}, "820": {"fulltext": "The Students Series of English Classics.\\nTHE EDITORS.\\nFrank T. Baker, Teachers College, New York City.\\nKatharine Lee Bates, Wellesley College.\\nHenry H. Belfield, Chicago Manual Training School.\\nHenry W. Boynton, Phillips Andover Academy.\\nGamaliel Bradford, Jr., Instructor in English, Wellesley and Boston.\\nJames Chalmers, Port Huron, Mich.\\nAlbert S. Cook, Yale University.\\nCaroline Ladd Crew, Friends School, Wilmington, Del.\\nW. W. Curtis, Principal of High School, Pawtucket, R.I.\\nJames M. Garnett, Baltimore, Md.\\nWarren F. Gregory, West Newton, Mass.\\nReuben Post Halleck, M.A. (Yale), Boys High School, Louisville, Ky,\\nLouise M. Hodgkins, Auburndale, Mass.\\nFannie M. McCauley, Winchester School, Baltimore.\\nW. F. Mozier, High School, Ottawa, 111.\\nMary Harriott Norris, Northwestern University, Evanston, 111.\\nWarwick J. Price, Late of St. Paul s School.\\nJ. G. Riggs, Superintendent of Schools, Plattsburg, N.Y.\\nA. S. Roe, Worcester, Mass.\\nFred N. Scott, University of Michigan.\\nVida D. Scudder, AVellesley College.\\nCharles Maurice Stebbins, High School, Salt Lake City, Utah.\\nL. DuPont Syle, University of California..\\nIsaac Thomas, Principal of High School, Burlington, Vt.\\nJames Arthur Tufts, Phillips Exeter Academy.\\nGeorge A. Watrous, Utica Free Academy, Utica, N.Y.\\nWilliam K. Wickes, Principal of High School, Syracuse, N.Y.\\nMabel C. Willard, Instructor, New Haven, Conn.\\nSIBLEY DUOKER,\\nPUBLISHERS.\\nBOSTON. CHICAGO.", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0822.jp2"}, "821": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0823.jp2"}, "822": {"fulltext": "i\\\\", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0824.jp2"}, "823": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3455", "width": "2395", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0825.jp2"}, "824": {"fulltext": "^ffl/^Jr\\nLIBRARY OF CONGRESS\\n022 052 620 3\\nmffm\\nJJ^li illliU ILUUfJi", "height": "3403", "width": "2279", "jp2-path": "historyofenglish00pai_0826.jp2"}}