Chapter IX: The Age of Transition (2)

=3. Features of his Poetry.= The poetry is of such a miscellaneous character, and its composition was often so haphazard in the matter of time, that it is almost impossible to give a detailed chronology of it. We shall therefore take it in the mass, and attempt the difficult task of giving an analysis of its various features.

(_a_) The best work of Burns was almost entirely _lyrical_ in motive. He is one of the rare examples, like Shelley, of the born singer who can give to human emotion a precious and imperishable utterance. He was essentially the inspired egoist: what interested him was vivid and quickening; what lay outside his knowledge and experience was without life or flavor. He thought of reviving the Scottish drama, but, even if he had entered on the project, it is doubtful if he would have succeeded, for he lacked the faculty of putting himself completely in another man’s place. His narrative gift, as it is revealed in _Tam o’ Shanter_, becomes fused with the heat of some lyrical emotion (in this case that of drunken jollity), and then it shines with a clear flame. But with the departure of the lyrical emotion the narrative impulse ends as well.

(_b_) While keeping within the limits of the lyric he traverses an _immense range_ of emotion and experience. The feelings he describes are those of the Scottish peasant, but the genius of the poet makes them germane to every member of the human race; he discovers the touch of nature that makes the whole world kin. Here we have the “passion and apathy, and glory and shame” that are the inspiration of the lyrical poet, and we have them in rich abundance.

(_c_) His _humor and pathos_ are as copious and varied as his subject-matter. His wit can be rollicking to coarseness, as it is in _The Jolly Beggars_; and there are no poems richer in bacchanalian flavor than _Willie brewed a Peck o’ Maut_ and _Tam o’ Shanter_. He can run to the other extreme of emotion, and be graceful and sentimental, as in _Afton Water_ and _My Luve is like a Red, Red Rose_. We have beautiful homely songs in _John Anderson, my Jo_ and _O’ a’ the Airts_; and he can be bitter and scornful in such poems as _The Unco Guid_ and _The Holy Fair_. His pathos ranges from the piercing cry of _Ae Fond Kiss_, through the pensive pessimism of _Ye Banks and Braes_, to the tempered melancholy of _My Heart’s in the Hielands_. The facility of this precious lyrical gift became a positive weakness, for he wrote too freely, and much of his songwriting is of mediocre quality.

We give brief extracts to illustrate these features of his poetry. The first shows him in his mood of vinous elation; in the second he is acutely depressed and almost maudlin; the third for pure loveliness is almost unexcelled.

(1) O, Willie brewed a peck o’ maut,
And Rob and Allan cam’ to see;
Three blither hearts, that lee-lang night,
Ye wad na find in Christendie.

_Chorus_

We are na fou, we’re nae that fou,
But just a drappie in our ee;
The cock may craw, the day may daw,
And aye we’ll taste the barley bree.

Here are we met, three merry boys,
Three merry boys, I trow, are we;
And mony a night we’ve merry been,
And mony mae we hope to be.

It is the moon--I ken her horn,
That’s blinkin’ in the lift sae hie;
She shines sae bright to wyle us hame,
But, by my sooth, she’ll wait a wee!

(2) Thou ling’ring star, with less’ning ray,
That lov’st to greet the early morn,
Again thou usher’st in the day
My Mary from my soul was torn.
O Mary! dear departed shade!
Where is thy place of blissful rest?
Seëst thou thy lover lowly laid?
Hear’st thou the groans that rend his breast?

* * * * *

Still o’er these scenes my mem’ry wakes,
And fondly broods with miser care!
Time but th’ impression stronger makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear.
My Mary, dear departed shade!
Where is thy place of blissful rest?
Seëst thou thy lover lowly laid?
Hear’st thou the groans that rend his breast?
_To Mary in Heaven_

(3) O, my luve is like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June;
O, my luve is like the melodie
That’s sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonny lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee well, my only luve!
And fare thee well a while!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.

(_d_) The poet’s _political and religious views_ have been given prominence by his admirers, but they scarcely deserve it. His politics, as expressed in such poems as _A Man’s a Man for a’ That_, are merely the natural utterances of a strong and sensitive mind deeply alive to the degradation of his native people. His religious views, in so far as they are colored by his unhappy personal experiences with the Scottish Church, are of value solely as the inspiration of capital satirical verse, but in _The Cotter’s Saturday Night_ Burns pays a spontaneous and beautiful tribute to the piety of the Scottish peasant. The following extract from _Holy Willie’s Prayer_ sufficiently reveals his personal bias:

Lord, bless Thy chosen in this place,
For here Thou hast a chosen race:
But God confound their stubborn face,
And blast their name,
Wha bring Thy elders to disgrace,
And public shame.

Lord, mind Gaw’n Hamilton’s deserts,
He drinks, and swears, and plays at cartes,
Yet has sae mony takin’ arts,
Wi’ great and sma’,
Frae God’s ain priests the people’s hearts
He steals awa’.

But, Lord, remember me and mine,
Wi’ mercies temp’ral and divine,
That I for gear and grace may shine,
Excelled by nane,
And a’ the glory shall be Thine.
Amen, amen!

(_e_) His _style_ is noteworthy for the curious double tendency that is typical of the transition. When he writes in the “correct” manner he has all the petty vices of the early school. The opening lines of his _Address to Edinburgh_ are:

Edina! Scotia’s darling seat!
All hail thy palaces and tow’rs,
Where once beneath a monarch’s feet
Sat Legislation’s sov’ran pow’rs!

Here we see a paltry classicism and a metrical scrupulousness (leadingto the mutilation of words like “pow’rs”) that were far below Burns’s notice. The latter vice will be seen even in such poems as _To Mary in Heaven_, quoted above. But when he shakes himself free from such trifling arts his style is full and strong, and as redolent of the soil as his own mountain daisy.

(_f_) As the _national poet_ of Scotland his position is unique. He is first, and the rest nowhere. His rod, like Aaron’s, has swallowed up the rods of the other Scottish poets; so that in the popular fancy he is the author of any striking Scottish song, such as _Annie Laurie_ or _Auld Robin Gray_. His dominating position is due to three factors:

(1) He has a matchless gift of catching traditional airs and wedding them to words of simple and searching beauty. It is almost impossible to think of _Auld Lang Syne_ or _Scots wha hae_ or _Green grow the Rashes, O!_ without their respective melodies being inevitably associated with them. And these tunes were born in the blood of the Scottish peasant.

(2) He rejoices in descriptions of Scottish scenery and customs. _The Cotter’s Saturday Night_ is packed with such features, and all through his work are glimpses of typical Scottish scenes. The opening stanzas of _A Winter Night_ are often quoted to show his descriptive power:

When biting Boreas, fell and doure,
Sharp shivers thro’ the leafless bow’r;
When Phœbus gives a short-liv’d glow’r,
Far south the lift,
Dim-dark’ning thro’ the flaky show’r,
Or whirling drift:

Ae night the storm the steeples rocked,
Poor Labour sweet in sleep was locked,
While burns, wi’ snawy wreeths up-choked,
Wild-eddying swirl,
Or thro’ the mining outlet bocked,[168]
Down headlong hurl.

(3) Lastly, he came just at the time when the Scottish tongue, as a separate literary medium, was fast vanishing. The Edinburgh society that prided itself on being the equal of the literary society of London was soon to pass away with the greatest of Edinburgh writers. Burns captured the dialect of his fellows, and gave it permanence.

OTHER POETS OF THE NEW SCHOOL

=1. James Macpherson (1738–96).= This writer was born at Kingussie, in the county of Inverness, and was educated for the Church. He never became a regular minister, for at the age of twenty he was producing bad poetry, and soon after he definitely adopted a literary career. He traveled in the Highlands of Scotland and abroad, settled in London (1764), and meddled in the politics of the time. Then he entered Parliament, realized a handsome fortune, and died in his native parish.

After producing some worthless verse in the conventional fashion, in 1760 he issued something very different. It was called _Fragments of Ancient Poetry translated from the Gaelic_. The work received a large share of attention, and a subscription was raised to allow him to travel in the Highlands to glean further specimens of native poetry. The fruits of this were seen in _Fingal_ (1762) and _Temora_ (1763). Macpherson declared that the books were his translations of the poems of an ancient Celtic bard called Ossian. Immediately a violent dispute broke out, many people (including Johnson) alleging that the books were the original compositions of Macpherson himself. The truth is that he gave substance to a large mass of misty Gaelic tradition, and cast the stories into his peculiar prose style.

The controversy hardly matters to us here. What matters is that the tales deal largely with the romantic adventures of a mythical hero called Fingal. They include striking descriptions of wild nature, and they are cast in a rhythmic and melodious prose that is meant to reproduce the original Gaelic poetical measure. As an essay in the Romantic method these works are of very high value. (See p. 349.)

=2. Thomas Chatterton (1752–70).= Chatterton was born at Bristol, and was apprenticed to an attorney. At the age of eighteen he went to London to seek his fortune as a poet. Almost at once he lapsed into penury, and, being too proud to beg, poisoned himself with arsenic. He was eighteen years old.

The brevity and pathos of Chatterton’s career have invested it with a fame peculiar in our literature. He is held up as the martyr of genius, sacrificed by the callousness of the public. His fate, however, was largely due to his own vanity and recklessness, and his genius has perhaps been overrated. In 1768, while still at Bristol, he issued a collection of poems which seemed archaic in style and spelling. These, he said, he had found in an ancient chest lodged in a church in Bristol; and he further stated that most of them had been written by a monk of the fifteenth century, by name Thomas Rowley. The collection received the name of _The Rowley Poems_, and includes several ballads, one of which is _The Battle of Hastings_, and some descriptive and lyrical pieces, such as _Songs to Ælla_. A slight knowledge of Middle English reveals that they are forgeries thinly disguised with antique spelling and phraseology; but, especially after their author’s death, they gained much currency, and had some influence on their time. There is much rubbish in the poems, but in detached passages there is real beauty, along with a marvelous precocity of thought.

=3. William Blake (1757–1827).= Blake was a Londoner, being born the son of a City hosier. At the age of ten he was an artist; at the age of twelve he was a poet; and thereafter his father apprenticed him to an engraver. All his life Blake saw visions and dreamed dreams, hovering on the brink of insanity; and his mental peculiarities are abundantly revealed in the two arts that he made his own. His engravings and his poems, conceived on wild and fantastic lines, kept him fully occupied all his life, though they brought him neither money nor fame. But his desires were easily satisfied, and he died poor and unknown, but cheerful and serene, in the city of his birth.

His chief poetical works are _Poetical Sketches_ (1783), _Songs of Innocence_ (1789), and _Songs of Experience_ (1794). They are extraordinary compositions, full of unearthly visions, charming simplicity, and baffling obscurity. His genius is undoubted, but it is wayward and fitful, the sport of his unbalanced mind. His astonishing lines on the tiger are well known, and are a good specimen of his poetical gifts:

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

* * * * *

And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And, when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?

* * * * *

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water’d heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

=4. Robert Fergusson (1750–74).= Fergusson was born in Edinburgh, and received his education at the university of that city, but soon fell into loose and disreputable habits. He contributed much to the local press, and acquired some reputation as a poet of the vernacular. His irregular habits led to the madhouse, in which he died at the early age of twenty-four.

Fergusson is chiefly notable as the forerunner of Burns, who was generous in his praise of the earlier poet. His best poems are short descriptive pieces dealing with Scottish life, such as _The King’s Birthday_, _To the Tron Kirk_, and _The Farmer’s Ingle_. This last poem perhaps suggested Burns’s _Cotter’s Saturday Night_. Fergusson gives clear and accurate descriptions, and his use of the vernacular Scots tongue is vigorous and natural, thus providing Burns with a model for his best style. (See p. 346.)

SAMUEL RICHARDSON (1689–1761)

=1. His Life.= Richardson was born in Derbyshire, the son of a joiner, by whom he was apprenticed to a London printer. Richardson was an industrious youth, and in the course of time rose high in the pursuit of his occupation. He became a master-printer, produced the journals of the House of Commons, and became printer to the King. He was a man of retiring and almost effeminate habits, but was generous and well liked.

=2. His Novels.= Richardson’s first attempts at writing fiction began at the age of thirteen, when he was the confidant of three illiterate young women, for whom he wrote love-letters. This practice afterward stood him in good stead. He was over fifty years old before he printed a novel of his own, called _Pamela_ (1740). The book, which takes the form of a series of fictitious letters, deals with the fortunes of Pamela, a poor and virtuous maid of low degree, who marries and afterward reforms her wicked master. The work was instantly successful, exhausting five editions during the first year of its issue. The characters, especially the chief female character, slowly but accurately fabricated during the gradual evolution of the simple plot, were new to the readers of the time, and mark a great step forward in the history of the English novel. Richardson’s next novel, which was also constructed in the form of letters, was _Clarissa Harlowe_ (1749). This treats of characters higher in the social scale, with indifferent success, and the end is made tragical. The heroine is a young lady of rank and fortune who is persecuted by a villain called Lovelace, and who dies finally of a broken heart. His third and last novel, also in letter-form, was _Sir Charles Grandison_ (1753), dealing chiefly with persons still higher in the social world. Richardson contemplated calling the book _A Good Man_, for he intended the hero to be the perfection of the manly virtues. But Sir Charles is too good, and succeeds only in being tedious and unreal. The character of the social _milieu_ in which the action is cast also weighs heavily upon Richardson, with the result that this book, which he intended to be his masterpiece, is the hollowest of the three.

=3. Features of his Novels.= Richardson’s works are largely the reflection of the man himself, and, in spite of their faults and limitations, are of immense importance in the development of the novel.

(_a_) Their most prominent feature is their _immense length_. In the last two works this is most noticeable.

(_b_) In spite of the great length of the books, the _plots_ have little complexity; the length is due to an enormous accumulation of detail, both of character and incident, which is ingenious, but clogs the course of the story. He is really an adept in the minute analysis of motive and emotion, which gradually evolves a character that is entire and convincing, and he fills in his sketch with a multitude of tiny strokes.

(_c_) His novels convey the general impression of a certain kind of bloodlessness--a literary anemia--that is due to several causes. His themes are those of love-making; they are handled with a great parade of morality, but have nevertheless a simpering prudishness that conveys a stealthy suggestion of immorality. Then his good people are laboriously virtuous; his villains are stuffily vile; he is devoid of humor; the action is too frequently indoors; the sentiment is protracted and sickly. After a spell of reading such work one is glad to escape into the open air.

(_d_) Yet his merits are very real, and the cumbrous machinery of the letter-series assists him. His character-drawing is among the best of his time, and is still among the most remarkable in English; he is specially happy in his treatment of feminine characters; his use of dialogue shows an advance, though it might be even more frequently employed. He gives a good start to the modern novel, though it is still a long distance from maturity.

HENRY FIELDING (1707–54)

=1. His Life.= A cadet of an ancient family, Fielding was born in Somersetshire, was educated at Eton, and studied law at Leyden. Lack of funds stopped his legal studies for a time; he took to writing plays for a living, but the plays were of little merit; then, having married, he resumed his studies and was called to the Bar. After some time in practice he was appointed (1749) Bow Street magistrate, a post which brought him a small income (“of the dirtiest money on earth,” as he said) and much hard work. His magisterial duties, however, had their compensations, for they gave him a close view of many types of human criminality which was of much use to him in his novels. Fielding himself was no Puritan, and his own excesses helped to undermine his constitution. In the hope that it would improve his health, he took a voyage to Portugal (1754); but he died some months after landing, and was buried at Lisbon.

=2. His Novels.= In 1742 appeared _Joseph Andrews_, which begins in a loud guffaw of laughter--not unkind, but not very delicate--at the namby-pamby Pamela of Richardson. In the story Joseph Andrews, the hero, is a footman, and the brother of Pamela. Along with a poor and simple curate called Abraham Adams he survives numerous ridiculous adventures. In a short time Fielding forgets about the burlesque, becomes interested in his own story, and we then see a novel of a new and powerful kind. From the very beginning we get the Fielding touch: the complete rejection of the letter-method; the bustle and sweep of the tale; the broad and vivacious humor; the genial and half-contemptuous insight into human nature; and the forcible and pithy prose style. His next works were _A Journey from this World to the Next_ (1743) and _Jonathan Wild the Great_ (1743). _Jonathan Wild_ is the biography of the famous thief and highwayman who was hanged at Newgate. The story is one long ironical comment upon human action. In it Fielding deliberately turns morality inside out, calling good by the name of evil, and evil by the name of good. In the hands of a lesser writer such a method would at length become teasing and troublesome; but Fielding, through the intensity of his ironic insight, gives us new and piercing glimpses of the ruffian’s mentality. We give an extract to illustrate Fielding’s ironic power, which in several respects resembles that of Swift:

In Wild everything was truly great, almost without alloy, as his
imperfections (for surely some small ones he had) were only such
as served to denominate him a human creature, of which kind none
ever arrived at consummate excellence. Indeed, while greatness
consists in power, pride, insolence, and doing mischief to
mankind--to speak out--while a great man and a great rogue are
synonymous terms, so long shall Wild stand unrivalled on the
pinnacle of GREATNESS. Nor must we omit here, as the
finishing of his character, what indeed ought to be remembered
on his tomb or his statue, the conformity above mentioned of his
death to his life; and that Jonathan Wild the Great, after all
his mighty exploits was, what so few GREAT men can
accomplish--hanged by the neck till he was dead.
_Jonathan Wild the Great_

His greatest novel, _Tom Jones_ (1749), completes and perfects his achievement. In the book we have all his previous virtues (and some of his weaknesses), with the addition of greater symmetry of plot, clearer and steadier vision into human life and human frailty, and a broader and more thickly peopled stage. His last novel, _Amelia_ (1751), had as the original of the heroine Fielding’s first wife, and the character of the erring husband Booth is based upon that of Fielding himself. This novel, though possessing power and interest, lacks the spontaneity of its great predecessor. The last work he produced was his _Voyage to Lisbon_, a diary written during his last journey. It possesses a painful interest, for it reveals a strong and patient mind, heavy with bodily affliction, yet still lively in its perception of human affairs.

=3. Features of his Novels.= (_a_) Like Richardson, Fielding had a genius for sounding the emotions of the human heart, but his methods are different. Richardson pores over human weaknesses with puckered brow and with many a sigh; Fielding looks, laughs, and passes on. He does not seek to analyze or over-refine; and so his characters possess a breadth, humanity, and attraction denied to Richardson’s. Even a sneaking rogue like Blifil in _Tom Jones_ has a Shakespearian roundness of contour that keeps him from being quite revolting.

(_b_) Fielding is breezy, bustling, and energetic in his _narrative_. He shows us life on the highway, in the cottage, and among the streets of London. Coleridge truly said that to take up Fielding after Richardson is like emerging from the sick-room on to the open lawn.

(_c_) Fielding’s _humor_ is boisterous and broad to the point of coarseness--a kind of over-fed jollity. But it is frank and open, with none of the stealthy suggestiveness of Richardson. In dealing with this aspect of Fielding’s work (an aspect frequently repulsive to the more squeamish taste of the moderns) we must make allowance for the fashion of his time, which united a frankness of incident with a curious decorum of speech. He had also in him a freakishness of wit, the excess of his grosser mood, which led to fantastic interludes and digressions in his novels. For instance, in describing the numerous scuffles among his characters, he frequently adopts an elaborate mock-heroic style not quite in accordance with later taste. Fielding’s comic characters, such as Partridge, the humble companion of Tom Jones, are numerous, diversified, and exceedingly likeable and lively.

(_d_) A word must be given to his _style_. He breaks away from the mannered, artificial style of the earlier novelists, and gives us the good “hodden grey” of his own period. His style has a slight touch of archaism in the use of words like “hath,” but otherwise it is fresh and clear. His use of dialogue and conversation is of a similar nature.

We add an extract to illustrate Fielding’s easy style, his almost haphazard cast of sentence, and his use of natural dialogue:

As soon as the play, which was _Hamlet, Prince of Denmark_,
began, Partridge was all attention, nor did he break silence
till the entrance of the ghost; upon which he asked Jones:
“What man that was in the strange dress; something,” said he,
“like what I have seen in a picture. Sure it’s not armour, is
it?” Jones answered: “That is the ghost.” To which Partridge
replied, with a smile: “Persuade me to that, sir, if you can.
Though I can’t say I ever actually saw a ghost in my life, yet
I am certain I should know one if I saw him better than that
comes to. No, no, sir; ghosts don’t appear in such dresses as
that neither.” In this mistake, which caused much laughter in
the neighbourhood of Partridge, he was suffered to continue till
the scene between the ghost and Hamlet, when Partridge gave
that credit to Mr Garrick which he had denied to Jones, and
fell into so violent a trembling that his knees knocked against
each other. Jones asked him what was the matter, and whether
he was afraid of the warrior upon the stage. “O la! sir,” said
he, “I perceive now it is what you told me. I am not afraid of
anything, for I know it is but a play; and if it was really a
ghost, it could do one no harm at such a distance, and in so
much company; and yet if I was frightened, I am not the only
person.” “Why, who,” cries Jones; “dost thou take me to be such
a coward here besides thyself?” “Nay, you may call me coward if
you will; but if that little man there upon the stage is not
frightened, I never saw any man frightened in my life. Ay, ay;
go along with you! Ay, to be sure! Who’s fool, then? Will you?
Who ever saw such foolhardiness? Whatever happens, it is good
enough for you. Oh! here he is again! No further! No, you’ve
gone far enough already; further than I’d have gone for all the
king’s dominions!” Jones offered to speak, but Partridge cried:
“Hush, hush, dear sir; don’t you hear him?” And during the
whole speech of the ghost, he sat with his eyes fixed partly on
the ghost, and partly on Hamlet, and with his mouth open; the
same passions, which succeeded each other in Hamlet, succeeding
likewise in him.
_Tom Jones_

OTHER NOVELISTS

=1. Tobias Smollett (1721–71).= Smollett was a Scotsman, being born in Dumbartonshire. Though he came of a good family, from an early age he had to work for a living. He was apprenticed to a surgeon, and, becoming a surgeon’s mate on board a man-of-war, saw some fighting and much of the world. He thus stored up abundant raw material for the novels that were to follow. When he published _Roderick Random_ (1748) the book was so successful that he settled in London; and the remainder of his life is mainly the chronicle of his works.

_Roderick Random_ is an example of the “picaresque” novel: the hero is a roving dog, of little honesty and considerable roguery; he traverses many lands, undergoing many tricks of fortune, both good and bad. The story lacks symmetry, but it is nearly always lively, though frequently coarse, and the minor characters, such as the seaman Tom Bowling, are of considerable interest. His other novels are _Peregrine Pickle_ (1751), _Ferdinand_, _Count Fathom_ (1753), _Sir Launcelot Greaves_ (1762), and _The Expedition of Humphrey Clinker_ (1771).

The later books follow the plan of the first with some fidelity. Most of the characters are disreputable; the plots are as a rule formless narratives of travel and adventure; and a coarse and brutal humor is present all through. Smollett, however, brings variety into his novels by the endless shifting of the scenes, which cover nearly all the globe, by his wide knowledge and acute perception of local manners and customs, and by his use of a plain and vigorous narrative style. His characters, especially his female characters, are crudely managed, but his naval men--comprising Commodore Trunnion, Lieutenant Hatchway, and Boatswain Pipes--form quite a considerable gallery of figures. Smollett is the first of our novelists to introduce the naval type.

=2. Laurence Sterne (1713–68).= Sterne was born at Clonmel, was educated at Cambridge, took orders, and obtained a living in Yorkshire (1740). His habits were decidedly unclerical, even though we judge them by the easy standard of the time. He temporarily left his living for London to publish _Tristram Shandy_ (1759). Then he toured abroad, returned to England to write his second novel, and died in London while visiting the city on business connected with the production of his book.

His two novels are _Tristram Shandy_ (1759–67) and _A Sentimental Journey_ (1768). The first made him famous, and rather turned his head, confirming him in some of his worst mannerisms. Both novels are bundles of episodes and digressions, often irritatingly prolonged. The characters are elaborately handled, caressed, and bewept. Perhaps the most famous of them is “my uncle Toby,” with his Corporal Trim. Both books are saturated with a sentiment that modern taste can only call sloppiness. This sentiment, however, does not prevent a sniggering indecency from appearing in the narrative. The style is distinguished by many antics, such as exclamation, inversion, and unfinished sentences. These mannerisms have long made Sterne distasteful to all but highly trained palates, but no one can deny him great ingenuity and industry, which can gradually unswathe characters and incidents from their trappings of talk and digression, an acute perception of character, and an immense opinion of his own importance.

The following is an exciting incident that occurred just after the birth of Tristram Shandy. Susannah, the serving-maid, rouses Mr. Shandy with the news that the child is in a fit. Observe the staccato dialogue and the ingenious variation of the paragraph. The humor is typical of Sterne.

“Bless me, sir,” said Susannah, “the child’s in a fit”--“And
where’s Mr Yorick?”--“Never where he should be,” said Susannah,
“but his curate’s in the dressing-room, with the child upon his
arm, waiting for the name--and my mistress bid me run as fast as
I could to know, as Captain Shandy is the godfather, whether it
should not be called after him.”

“Were one sure,” said my father to himself, scratching his
eyebrow, “that the child was expiring, one might as well
compliment my brother Toby as not--and ’t would be a pity in
such a case, to throw away so great a name as Trismegistus upon
him--But he may recover.”

“No, no”--said my father to Susannah, “I’ll get up”--“There’s
no time,” cried Susannah, “the child’s as black as my shoe.”
“Trismegistus,” said my father--“But stay--thou art a leaky
vessel, Susannah,” added my father; “can’st thou carry
Trismegistus in thy head the length of the gallery without
scattering?”--“Can I?” cried Susannah, shutting the door in a
huff--“If she can, I’ll be shot,” said my father, bouncing out
of bed in the dark, and groping for his breeches.

Susannah ran with all speed along the gallery.

My father made all possible speed to find his breeches.

=3. Horace Walpole (1717–97).= Walpole was the son of Sir Robert Walpole, the famous Whig minister. He touched upon several kinds of literature, his letters being among the best of their kind. His one novel, _The Castle of Otranto_ (1764), is of importance, for it was the first of the productions of a large school (sometimes called the “terror school”) of novelists who dealt with the grisly and supernatural as their subject. Walpole’s novel, which he published almost furtively, saying, like Chatterton, that the work was of medieval origin, described a ghostly castle, in which we have walking skeletons, pictures that move out of their frames, and other blood-curdling incidents. The ghostly machinery is often cumbrous, but the work is creditably done, and as a return to the romantic elements of mystery and fear the book is noteworthy.

=4. Other Terror Novelists.= (_a_) =William Beckford (1759–1844).= The one novel now associated with Beckford’s name is _Vathek_ (1784). Beckford, who was a man of immense wealth and crazy habits, drew largely upon _The Arabian Nights_ for material for the book. The central figure of the novel is a colossal creature, something like a vampire in disposition, who preys upon mankind and finally meets his doom with suitable impressiveness. Beckford had a wild, almost staggering, magnificence of imagination, and his story, though crude and violent in places, does not lack a certain reality.

(_b_) =Mrs. Ann Radcliffe (1764–1823).= This lady was the most popular of the terror novelists, and published quite a large number of books that followed a fairly regular plan. Among such were her _A Sicilian Romance_ (1790), _The Romance of the Forest_ (1791), and the most popular of them all, _The Mysteries of Udolpho_ (1794). Her stories took on almost a uniform plot, involving mysterious manuscripts, haunted castles, clanking chains, and cloaked and saturnine strangers. At the end of all the horrors Mrs. Radcliffe rather spoils the effect by giving away the secrets of them, and revealing the fact that the terrors were only illusions after all. Nowadays the novels appear tame, but they showed the way to a large number of other writers, for they were fresh to the public of their time.

(_c_) =Matthew Gregory Lewis (1775–1818).= Lewis is perhaps the crudest of the terror school, and only one book of his, _The Monk_ (1795), is worth recording. Lewis, who is lavish with his horrors, does not try to explain them. His imagination is grimmer and fiercer than that of any of the other writers of the same class, and his book is probably the “creepiest” of its kind.

=5. Henry Mackenzie (1745–1831).= This novelist is the most considerable of the sentimental school, who took Sterne for their master. His best-known work is _The Man of Feeling_ (1771), in which maudlin sentiment has free play. To his contemporaries Mackenzie was known as “the Man of Feeling.”

=6. Frances Burney (1752–1840)=, whose married name was =Madame d’Arblay=, is rather an important figure, for she exercised a considerable influence on her age. Her diaries and letters are clever and informative, and her two best novels, _Evelina_ (1778) and _Cecilia_ (1782), are lively and acute representations of fashionable society. Johnson, with his heavy jocularity, called her a “character-monger,” meaning that her chief effects were obtained in the portraying of character. In the construction of _Evelina_ she returns to the clumsy letter-method of Richardson, but she has a wit of an agreeably acid flavor. She is no mean predecessor of Jane Austen. (See p. 354.)

EDWARD GIBBON (1737–94)

=1. His Life.= Gibbon, who was born at Putney, was a sickly child, and, according to his own grateful acknowledgment, he owed his life to the exertions of his aunt, Catherine Porten. He had little regular schooling, but from his early years he was an eager reader of history. At the age of fifteen he entered Magdalen College, Oxford, an institution of which he always spoke afterward with aversion and contempt. “To the University of Oxford,” he writes, “I acknowledge no obligation, and she will as readily renounce me as a son, as I am willing to disclaim her as a mother.” His private historical studies led him to become a Roman Catholic when he was sixteen years old, to the great horror of his father, and resulted in his expulsion from the university. His father packed him off to Lausanne, in Switzerland, in the hope that the Protestant atmosphere of the place would wean him from his new faith.

From his stay in Lausanne began Gibbon’s long and affectionate acquaintance with French language and learning, two sources from which he was to draw the chief inspiration for his masterpiece. He returned to England in 1758, and had a brief and mixed experience in the Militia; afterward he toured the Continent, visiting the famous _salons_ of Paris and seeing Rome. Returning to England after some years, he entered Parliament (1774), hoping for political preferment. In this he was only moderately successful, for he was a lukewarm and rather cynical politician. He returned to Lausanne, where he completed his great work in June 1787. He finally came back to England, and died in lodgings in London.

=2. His Works.= His first projected book, _A History of Switzerland_ (1770), was never finished. Then appeared the first volume of _The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_ (1776). At nearly regular intervals of two years each of the other five volumes was produced, the last appearing in 1788. His _Autobiography_, which contains valuable material concerning his life, is his only other work of any importance, and it is written with all his usual elegance and suave, ironic humor.

To most judges _The Decline and Fall_ ranks as one of the greatest of historical works, and is a worthy example of what a history ought to be. In time it covers more than a thousand years, and in scope it includes all the nations of Europe. It sketches the events leading up to the dissolution of the Roman Empire, and traces the rise of the states and nations that previously formed the component parts of the Roman world, concluding with the fall of Constantinople in the fifteenth century. For this great task Gibbon’s knowledge is adequate; recent specialized research has rarely been able to pick holes in his narrative. Moreover, he had also that infallible sense of proportion which is the mark of the born historian: he knows what and when to omit, to condense, or give in full. In consequence his gigantic narrative has the balance and the beauty that result from a single and indivisible _mind_ directing it, and suggests in plan and workmanship a vast cathedral.

Exception has been taken to Gibbon’s humor, and with some reason. His skeptical bias, the product of his studies in French, pervades the entire work. This mental attitude need be no disadvantage to the historian, for it leads him to scrutinize his evidence very severely. But in the case of Gibbon it is troublesome at times, especially when he deals with the rise of the Christian faith. In the chapters devoted to the early Christians he sets the facts down solemnly, but all the time he is subtly and sneeringly ironical, a characteristic that aroused the great indignation of Johnson. At many other points when recording disagreeable incidents Gibbon reveals a sniggering nastiness of humor unworthy of so great a writer.

His prose style, deliberately cultivated as being most suited to his subject, is peculiar to himself. It is lordly and commanding, with a full, free, and majestic rhythm. Admirably appropriate to its gigantic subject, the style has nevertheless some weaknesses. Though it never flags, and rarely stumbles, the very perfection of it tends to monotony, for it lacks ease and variety. The extract shows the elaborate construction of the sentences and the rolling character of the rhythm:

Three days Mahomet and his companion were concealed in the
cave of Thor, at the distance of a league from Mecca; and in
the close of each evening, they received from the son and
daughter of Abubeker a secret supply of intelligence and food.
The diligence of the Koreish explored every haunt in the
neighbourhood of the city; they arrived at the entrance of the
cavern; but the providential deceit of a spider’s web and a
pigeon’s nest is supposed to convince them that the place was
solitary and inviolate. “We are only two,” said the trembling
Abubeker. “There is a third,” replied the prophet; “it is
God himself.” No sooner was the pursuit abated, than the two
fugitives issued from the rock, and mounted their camels; on
the road to Medina they were overtaken by the emissaries of the
Koreish; they redeemed themselves with prayers and promises from
their hands. In this eventful moment the lance of an Arab might
have changed the history of the world. The flight of the prophet
from Mecca to Medina has fixed the memorable era of the Hegira,
which, at the end of twelve centuries, still discriminates the
lunar years of the Mahometan nations.

OTHER HISTORIANS

=1. David Hume (1711–76).= Born and educated at Edinburgh, Hume first distinguished himself as a philosopher, publishing the _Treatise on Human Nature_ (1739–40) and _Essays, Moral, Political, and Literary_ (1741). Later he turned to historical work, writing _The History of England_, in six volumes, which appeared between the years 1754 and 1762. At first the work was coldly received, for it traversed the popular Whig notions, but in time the book raised Hume to the position of the leading historian of the day. He died in the same year that witnessed the issue of the first volume of _The Decline and Fall_.

As a historian Hume makes no pretense at profound research, so that his work has little permanent value as history. He possesses a clear and logical mind and a swift and brilliant narrative style. In the history of literature his work is of importance as being the first of the popular and literary histories of the country.

=2. William Robertson (1721–93).= Robertson also was a Scot, being born in the country of Midlothian. After leaving the university he entered the Scottish Church. He had an active and successful career as a historian, producing among other works _The History of Scotland_ (1759), _The History of Charles V_ (1769), and _The History of America_ (1777).

The range of Robertson’s subject-matter shows that he could have been no deep student of any particular epoch of history. He aimed at a plain and businesslike narrative of events, taking the average man’s view of the facts he chronicled, and, with perhaps the exception of his pronounced bias in favor of Mary Queen of Scots, he is never conspicuously personal in his opinions.

=3. James Boswell (1740–95)= was born in Edinburgh of a good Scottish family. He studied law, but his chief delight was the pursuit of great men, whose acquaintance he greedily cultivated.

He lives in literature by his supreme effort, _The Life of Samuel Johnson_ (1791), which ranks as one of the best biographies in existence. Boswell sought and obtained Johnson’s friendship; endured any humiliation for the sake of improving it; and for twenty-one years, by means of an astonishing amount of patience, pertinacity, and sheer thick-skinned imperviousness to slight and insult, obtained an intimate personal knowledge of Johnson’s life and habits. Boswell has suffered at the hands of Macaulay, who has pictured him as being a knavish buffoon. No doubt he had glaring faults; but on the other hand he had great native shrewdness, a vigorous memory, a methodical and tireless industry which made him note down and preserve many details of priceless value, and a natural genius for seizing upon points of supreme literary importance. All these gifts combine to make his book a masterpiece.

The following extract illustrates Boswell’s acute perception, his eye for detail, and his limpid and vivacious style:

That the most minute singularities which belonged to him, and
made very observable parts of his appearance and manner, may not
be omitted, it is requisite to mention, that while talking or
even musing as he sat in his chair, he commonly held his head to
one side towards his right shoulder, and shook it in a tremulous
manner, moving his body backwards and forwards, and rubbing his
left knee in the same direction, with the palm of his hand. In
the intervals of articulating he made various sounds with his
mouth, sometimes as if ruminating, or what is called chewing
the cud, sometimes giving half a whistle, sometimes making his
tongue play backwards from the roof of his mouth, as if clucking
like a hen, and sometimes protruding it against his upper gums
in front, as if pronouncing quickly under his breath, _too,
too, too_: all this accompanied sometimes with a thoughtful
look, but more frequently with a smile. Generally when he had
concluded a period, in the course of a dispute, by which time he
was a good deal exhausted by violence and vociferation, he used
to blow out his breath like a whale. This I suppose was a relief
to his lungs; and seemed in him to be a contemptuous mode of
expression, as if he had made the arguments of his opponent fly
like chaff before the wind.
_The Life of Samuel Johnson._

EDMUND BURKE (1729–97)

Burke shares with Gibbon the place of the greatest prose stylist of the period now under review. He is, moreover, recognized as one of the masters of English prose.

=1. His Life.= Born in Dublin, Burke was educated at Trinity College, Dublin, and then removed to London to study law in the Middle Temple. He soon showed that his real bent lay toward politics and literature, and it was not long before he published some books that attracted a good deal of attention and admitted him into the famous Johnson Club. In politics he attached himself to the Whig party, obtained some small appointments, and became member for Wendover (1765). Both as an orator and as a pamphleteer he was a powerful advocate for his party, and very soon his splendid gifts won for him a leading place in the House of Commons. His style of oratory, often labored, rhetorical, and theatrical, exposed him to much censure and ridicule, and his speeches were frequently prolonged to the point of dullness. But at its best his eloquence was powerful in attack and magnificent in appeal, rising to the very summit of the orator’s art. When the Whigs attained to office in 1783 Burke was appointed Paymaster of the Forces. He was leader in the prosecution of Warren Hastings, making a speech of immense length and power (1788). On the outbreak of the French Revolution in 1789 he left his party and attacked the revolutionaries with all his great energy. In 1794, broken in health, he retired from Parliament, but continued to publish pamphlets till his death in 1797.

=2. His Works.= The considerable sum of Burke’s achievement can for the sake of convenience be divided into two groups: his purely philosophical writings, and his political pamphlets and speeches.

(_a_) His philosophical writings, which comprise the smaller division of his product, were composed in the earlier portion of his career. _A Vindication of Natural Society_ (1756) is a parody of the style and ideas of Bolingbroke, and, though it possesses much ingenuity, it has not much importance as an original work. _A Philosophical Inquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful_ (1756) is his most considerable attempt at philosophy. As philosophy the book is only middling, for its theory and many of its examples are questionable, but it has the sumptuous dressing of Burke’s language and style.

(_b_) His political works are by far his most substantial claim to fame. In variety, breadth of view, and illuminating power of vision they are unsurpassed in the language. The chief of the many works are _Thoughts on the Present Discontents_ (1770), a resounding attack on the Tory Government then in power; _Reflections on the French Revolution_ (1790), which marked his departure from his old party and his fierce challenge to the extreme revolutionary policy; _Letter to a Noble Lord_ (1796); and _Letters on a Regicide Peace_ (1797). In addition we have much purely oratorical work, such as the notable speeches on the American question and his great philippic against Warren Hastings.

=3. Features of his Work.= Though the occasion of Burke’s political writings has vanished, the books can still be read with profit and pleasure. Burke was the practical politician, applying to the problems of his day the light of a clear and forcible intelligence; yet, above this, he had an almost supreme faculty for discerning the eternal principles lying behind the shifting and troubled scenes of his time. He could distill from the muddy liquid of contemporary party strife the clear wine of wisdom, and so deduce ideas of unshakable permanence. Thus pages of his disquisition, scores of his dicta, can still be applied almost without qualification to the problems of any civilized state and time. A good deal of the writing is of an inferior quality; it can be flashy, labored, and dull; but as a whole it possesses the foundations of sanity and wisdom.

We have in addition the permanent attraction of Burke’s style. His prose is marked by all the devices of the orator: much repetition, careful arrangement and balance of parts, copious use of the rhetorical figures (such as metaphor, simile, epigram, and exclamation), variation of the sentence, homely illustrations, and a swift but steady rhythm. When he overdoes these devices he is garish and vulgar, but for the most part his style impresses the reader with an effect of elevation, strength, and noble perspicuity.

In the extract now given, note that the actual vocabulary does not abound in long Latinized words as in the case of Johnsonese. The ornate effect is produced rather by the elevation of the sentiment and the sweeping cadence of the style.

On the scheme of this barbarous philosophy, which is the
offspring of cold hearts and muddy understandings, and which
is as void of solid wisdom as it is destitute of all taste and
elegance, laws are to be supported only by their own terrors,
and by the concern which each individual may find in them from
his own private speculations, or can spare to them from his
own private interests. In the groves of _their_ Academy,
at the end of every vista, you see nothing but the gallows!
Nothing is left which engages the affections on the part of the
commonwealth. On the principles of this mechanic philosophy, our
institutions can never be embodied, if I may use the expression,
in persons, so as to create in us love, veneration, admiration,
or attachment. But that sort of reason which banishes the
affections is incapable of filling their place. These public
affections, combined with manners, are required sometimes as
supplements, sometimes as correctives, always as aids, to law.
The precept given by a wise man, as well as a great critic, for
the construction of poems is equally true as to states: “Non
satis est pulchra esse poemata, dulcia sunto.” There ought to
be a system of manners in every nation which a well-formed mind
would be disposed to relish. To make us love our country, our
country ought to be lovely.
_Reflections on the French Revolution_

OTHER PROSE-WRITERS

=1. Adam Smith (1723–90).= This author was born at Kirkcaldy, in Fifeshire, and completed his education at Glasgow and Oxford. He was appointed professor at Glasgow University, whence he issued his famous book _The Wealth of Nations_ (1776).

In the history of economics the work is epoch-making, for it lays the foundations of modern economic theory. In the history of literature it is noteworthy because it is another example of that spirit of research and inquiry that was abroad at this time, playing havoc with literary convention as well as with many other ideas. The book is also a worthy example of the use of a plain businesslike style in the development of theories of far-reaching importance.

=2. William Paley (1743–1805)= may be taken as the typical theological writer of the age. He was a brilliant Cambridge scholar, and obtained high offices in the Church, finally becoming an archdeacon. His chief books are _Moral and Political Philosophy_ (1785), _Horæ Paulinæ_ (1790), and _A View of the Evidences of Christianity_ (1794). His style is lively and attractive, and he possessed much vigor of character and intellect.

=3. The Earl of Chesterfield (1694–1773)= was of the famous Stanhope family. In his day he was an illustrious wit and man of fashion, and held high political offices. He is an example of the aristocratic amateur in literature, and he wrote elegant articles for the fashionable journals, such as _The World_.

His _Letters to his Son_, which were published shortly after his death in 1773, caused a great flutter. They appeared diabolically cynical and immoral, and as such they were denounced by Johnson. No doubt they affect the tired cynicism of the man of the world, but that does not prevent them from being keen and clever, and underneath their bored indifference to morality they reveal a shrewd judgment of men and manners. (See p. 342.)