The Prisoner of Chillon and Selections From Childe Harolds ...

m. 3 . QEsge (Ra’

s fii’tzratnreS eries .

THEPRISONER OF CHILLON

AND

SELEC TIONS FROM

CHILDEHAROLD’

S PILGRIMAGE

LIFE OF BYRON,CRITICAL INTRODUCTION,

AND NOTES .

J; E . WETHERELL,B.A .

,

Principal of S trathroy Collegiate Instilutc.

TORONTO

W. J. GAGE COMPANY.

1889.

Entered according to Act of Parliament of C anada,in the year of ou r Lord

eighteen hundred and eighty-nine , b y W. J. GAGE C o . ,

in the office of the Minister of Ag riculture ,

PR EFA C E.

The present volume contains those portions of Byron’s poetry that

have been prescribed by the University of Toronto for the pass matricu

lation examination, and adopted by the Education Department of the

Province for the examination of candidates for second class certificates .

In this edition of selections from Byron the editor has closely followed

the mode of treatment pursued in his edition of Sco tt’

s“Lay ,

”issued

last year under the supervision of the Education Department . The aids

furnished to the teacher and the pupil are three - fold , as we cannot

enjoy the full effects of a literary work w ithout considering , (I) Whatthe author has to say , (2) H ow he says it, and (3) Why he says it . The

author ’

s message is , of course , the main thing for consideration , but, if

we would gain a full appreciation of that message, we must attend to

the striking features and devices of the artistic medium that conveys itto us, and w e must not neglect the remote and the immediate causes

that developed or influenced the author’

s literary genius, thus affectingthe cast and coloring of his message .

The biographical chapter shou ld be carefully read by the pupil beforehe reads the poems themselves . H e w ill thus gain a general notion of

the conditions under which these works of art were produced . It w ill

be necessary thereafter to make frequent use of the biographicalchapter, whenever an examination of thepoet

’

s environment w ill throwlight on the text.The explanatory notes are intended for the use of the pupil in his

first reading of the poem.

The C ritical Introduction is intended mainly for the use of the

teacher . In the detailed analysis of the finer passages of the poems,

the various topics considered in the thirty -two sections of this Introduction will need to be discussed . When the pupil has been brought tosee the poet

’s art in the poems themselves, a reference to the C ritical

Introduction w ill serve to fix his know ledge and to familiarize him w iththe rhetorical nomenclature . When the study of the poem has beencompleted , the pupil

’

s critical knowledge may then be systematized byreading the Introduction in course .

The editor hereby acknowledges his indebtedness to Miss E . M.

Balmer , B.A . , for valuable aid in revising proo fs and in the preparationof the C ritical Introduction.

STRATH ROY , June 22nd , 1889.

K EA TS ON PO ESY.

A drainless showerO f light is poesy ;

’

tis the supreme of powerI i

Fresher than berries of a mountain-tree ;More strange, more beautiful , more smooth , more regal,Than wings of swans, than doves, than dim -seen eagle ;What is it ? And to what shall I compare it ?It has a glory and nought else can share itThe thought thereof is awful , sweet and holy,Chasing away all worldliness and folly :Coming sometimes like fearful claps of, thunderO r the low rumblings earth ’

s regions under ;And sometimes like a. gentle wh isperingOf all the secrets of some wondrous th lngThat breathes about us in the vacant air ;So that we look around with prying stare,Perhaps to see shapes of light, aerial limning ;And catch soft floatings from a faint-heard hymning ;

Q Q i

No one who once the glorious Sun has seen,

And all the clouds, and felt his bosom clean

For his great Maker’

s presence , but must knowWhat ’

tis I mean, and feel his being glow.

LIFE OF BYRON .

No man’s work was ever more influenced by his character,

and no man’

s character w as ever more influenced by hiscircumstances . R ather from things without than from thingsw ithin did the spirit of Byron assume color and shape . If

,

then,we would fully understand and appreciate the poetry of

Byron,w e must have a fair knowledge of his varied career

and of the powerful political and literary impulses that hadsway during the earlier years of the present century .

The l ife of Byron is a story sad and dark . No work offiction can furnish us a record more melancholy and pathetic.

Goethe has truly said that Byron was inspired by the Geniusof Pain,

for the march of his l iterary tr iumphs was ever overthe waste and ruins of his personal happiness.

George Gordon Byron was born in H olles S treet, London , onJanuary 22nd, 1 788 . H e was descended from the Byrons ofNormandy , who accompan ied William the C onqueror into England

,and of this

,to the last

,he continued to be prouder than

of having been the author of “C hi lde H arold .

”In his parents

he was doubly unfortunate . H is father,C aptain Byron

,was

a man of dissolute and extravagant habits,who died when his

son was three years old,leaving his w idow only a pittance of

£1 35 per annum . H is mother was C atherine,sole -

child and

heiress of George Gordon,of Gight, in S cotland . She w as a

total stranger to English manners and English society . H er

opinions,her habits

,her speech , all smacked of the North .

H er violent and intractable temper,her lack of mental

cu ltivation,and her ill-balanced nature, unfitted her for train

ing up so precocious and so imperious a son .

During the greater part of his childhood Byron lived withhis mother in seclusion at Aberdeen . H ere the sea and the

mountains took a firm hold upon his imagination,and to these

2 LIFE or BYRON.

early years we must trace that love of natural scenery which isapparent in all his poetry . These years at Aberdeen w ere

years of freedom ,but of freedom tinctured w ith unhappiness.

H is mother’s treatment of him was strangely capricious. She

alternated betw een paroxysms of rage and paroxysms oftenderness. At one time she

'

would smother him with herendearments ; at another time she would insult him for his

lameness—for he, like his great contemporary, S cott, was lame

from his earliest boyhood .

In 17 98, at ten years of age, on the death of his grand-uncle,

he became Lord Byron and the owner of New stead Abbey,in

Nottinghamshire . After receiving the rudiments of his edu

cation at the Aberdeen Grammar S chool he went,in 1 7 99, to

Dulwich,to attend the school of Dr. Glenn ie. From there he

w as removed to H arrow in 180 1 .

Byron’

s four years at H arrow had much to do in determin ingthe course that his life was to take. While here, he devouredall sorts of learning excepting only what the regimen of theschool prescribed for him . A s he himself tells us, he readeating

,read in bed

,read w hen no one else read

,all sorts of

reading. The list of w orks in all departments of literaturewhich he hastily and greedily perused, before the age of fifteen ,

is enough to startle credibility . A s w e m ight expect,his

favorite literature w as romance and history. As he possesseda most retentive memory

,be early gained complete mastery

over the resources of his ow n language . At H arrow youngByron soon became the leader in all the sports

,schemes

,and

m ischiefs of the school . H e here displayed many of thosetraits of character which clung to him through life. H e w as

sensitive , passionate , sullen ,and sometimes defian t of authority .

H e w as,how ever

,ardent in the few friendships that he

formed and he w as always singularly tractable under the influence of kindness and persuasion . It was in 1 803

,during

the H arrow days,that Byron conceived an attachment which

influenced all his future life,— his love for Miss C haworth , the

heiress of a family near New stead . In his youthful imagination he thought this lady the ideal oi fem inine perfection ,

As the sweet moon on the horizon’

s verge ,The maid was on the eve of womanhood ;The boy had fewer summers, but his heart

H ad far out-grown h lS years. and to his eyeThere was but one beloved face on earth ,

And that was shining on him .

”

LIFE or BYRON. 3

Miss C haworth,however

,did not return his love

,and the

feelings aroused by his unrequ ited affection deepened the

natural melancholy of his nature and gave his spirit a biaswhich it retained through life .

H e livedThrough that which had been death to many men,

And made h im friends of mountains ; with the starsAnd the quick Spirit of the UniverseH e held his d ialogues ; and they did teach

To him the magic of their mysteries.

From H arrow,in 1805

,Byron went to Trin ity C ollege ,

C ambridge . H ere,too

,he neglected his prescribed studies

and rebelled against authority. It was while he w as yet at

C ambridge that he came before the w orld as a poet. A s earlyas 1800 he had made his first dash into poetry in the ebullitionof a passion for his cousin , Margaret Parker

,a beau tiful girl

who died a year or two after. In 1806,then at C ambridge

,

he printed for private circulation a small volume of poems.

In 1 807,still at C ambridge

,he published his first w ork

,

“ H ours of Idleness.

”The book was mercilessly attacked by

the Edinburgh Review in the spring of the follow ing year .

S tung to the qu ick by the hostile review,he published

,after a

year of preparation,his famous satire

,—“English Bards and

Scotch R eviewers,” in which he pilloried the poets of the age,

great and small. H e afterwards repented of many of his harshjudgments. After the lapse of seven years he styled the work“A m iserable record of misplaced anger and indiscrim inateacrimony .

” Early in 1 809,then just come of age, Byron took

his seat in the H ouse of Lords. H e had long had a desire for

parliamentary distinction, but his reception w as such as tochill his aspirations. Disappointed in love

,disgusted by the

reception of his poetry,and wearied by a long round of dissi

pated living,he left England for a foreign tour with his

college friend H obhouse,afterwards Lord Broughton . They

landed at Lisbon early in July , and then proceeded throughPortugal and Spain by way of Seville and C adiz to Gibraltar.

Thence they went by sea to Malta and Albania. After a visitto A li Pasha, the Albanian despot , they went through Epirusand A carnania to Missolonghi (w here Byron died fifteen yearslater) . The travellers then v isited Delphi and Thebes. Thencethey passed on to Athens

,where they arrived on C hristmas

day, 1809 . They remained ten weeks in Athens,leaving in

March , 1810 , for Smyrna, where Byron finished the 2nd C anto

4 LIFE 0 1? BYRON.

of “Childe H arold.

” The poem had been begun at Yanina,in

Albania,on the 3l st of October of the preceding year . In

April,Byron and his compan ion went through the Troad to

C onstantinople. H ere the friends separated, Byron return ingto Athens

,where he remained till the summer of the following

year. In July, 18 1 1 , he returned to his native land. In a

letter to a friend,written during his homeward voyage

,he

thus expresses his melancholy condition —“Embarrassed inmy private affairs, indifferent to public, solitary without a wishto be social

,—with a body a little enfeebled by a succession of

fevers, but a spirit I trust yet unbroken,

-I am returninghome

,without a hope and almost without a desire.

” To add tohis gloom numerous afflictions awaited his return. H e was

plunged into p rofound sorrow by learning of the loss, either

before or shortly after his return,of five relatives and intimate

friends and also of his mother,whose death affected him deeply,

notw ithstanding the little genu ine affection he had for her. It

is to this period that the lines in “C hilde H arold,

”II. 96

,

A b fel'

All thou could’

st have of mine , stern Death , thou hast,The parent, friend , and now the more than friend iNe

’

er yet for one thine arrows flew so fast,And grief with grief continu ing still to blend

,

Hath snatched the little joy th at life had yet to lend.

Byron had brought back with him to England as the fruitsof his two years of wanderings two poems of a very differentnature,—“H ints from H orace

,and the first two cantos of

“C hilde H arold’s Pilgrimage.

”Of the latter he had a poor

opin ion,but the former he subm itted to his friend Dallas and

urged him to have it published . It was some time before thepoet’s obstinate repugnance to the

'

idea of publishing “C hildeH arold ”

could be removed . Says his biographer Moore“Among the many instances recorded in literary history of thefalse judgments of authors respecting their own productionsthe preference given by Lord Byron to a work so little worthyof his gen ius over a poem of so rare and original beauty as the

first cantos of C hilde H arold may be accounted one of themost ex traordinary and inexplicable .

In February, 18 12, the first two cantos of C hilde H aroldwere given to the world. The success of the poem was

immediate and signal . It was received everywhere with a

burst of enthusiasm . From loneliness and neglect the poetemerged suddenly to become the idol of society. AsMacaulay

LIFE or BYRON. 5

says : “There is scarcely an instance in history of so sudden a

rise to so dizzy an eminence .

” “H is fame had not to wait forany of the ordinary gradations, but seemed to spring up likethe palace of a fairy tale in a night. A s he himself brieflydescribed it in his memoranda :

‘I awoke one morning and

found myself famous .

’C hilde H arold and Lord Byron became

the theme of every tongue . What was it in thisnew poem that so dazzled and captivated the world

’

.Z Let

the poet’s biographer speak : “There are those who trace inthe peculiar character of Lord Byron ’

s gen ius strong featuresof relationship to the times in which he lived who think thatthe great events which marked the close of the last century

,by

giving a new impulse to men’s minds

,by habituating them to

the daring and the free, and allowing full vent to ‘the flashand outbreak of fiery spirits

,

’had led naturally to the produc

tion of such a poet as Byron ; and that he was as much thechild and representative of the R evolution in poesy as

Napoleon was in statesmanship and warfare . Without goingthe full length of this notion , it will at least be conceded thatthe free loose which had been given to all the passions and

energies of the human m ind in the great struggle of that period,together with the constant spectacle of such astounding vicissitudes as were passing almost daily on the theatre of the world

,

had created in all m inds and in every walk of intellect a tastefor strong ex citement w hich the stimulants supplied fronordinary sources were insufficient to gratify -that a tame

deference to established authorities had fallen into disreputeno less in l iterature than in politics ; and that the poet whoshould breathe into his songs the fierce and passionate spirit ofthe age and assert

,untrammelled and unawed, the high dominion

of genius, would be the most sure of an audience toned in fullsympathy w ith his strains.

” O ther causes of the popu larity of“C hilde H arold

,

” besides those so graphically described aboveby Moore

,may be adduced. (1) The peculiarities of Byron

’

s

personal history and character,his rank

,and his handsome and

interesting appearance,all contributed to the tide of success

that now flowed in upon him . (2) Many of the places celebrated in the poem were at that time prominently in men

’s

thoughts, especially Spain, as England was then engaged in«the Peninsular War.

A few days before the publication of C hilde H arold ,” Byron

6 LIFE OF BYRON.

attracted considerable attention by his first speech in the

H ouse of Lords. This effort was much commended by suchdistingu ished authorities as Sheridan and Grenville . H e

appears to have had oratorical powers of a high order,even at

H arrow being distinguished above his fellow s for his ability indeclamation . At the very junctu re when his head w as likelyto be turned by his success in oratory came his unexpected andmore gratifying success in poetry

,which forever decided the

course which his life ’

s ambitions were to follow . We can ,

how ever,detect in many of his an imated and flow ing periods a

latent force of rhetorical energy which , if it had been employedin oratory

,w ith the seductive accompan iments of his pleasing

presence and musical voice,w ould have thrilled and moved

the souls of his hearers as much as his poetry has charmed hisnumerous readers.

The next three years were spent by Byron in alternateseasons of dissipation and literary industry . In 18 13

,appeared

“ The Giaour ,”a w ild poetical fragment founded on an event

that had occurred in Athens while he was there . In December,

1 8 1 3,appeared “ The Bride Of Abydos

,written in a week .

At the beginn ing of the nex t year appeared “ The C orsair,

”

w ritten in ten days,—a poem of higher merit and greaterpopularity than the tw o preceding.

“Lara,

”the sequel of

The C orsair,”appeared in August, 18 1 4 .

A nd now occu rred an event which proved the turning- pointOf his life . In January , 18 15 , he was married to Miss IsabellaMi‘lbanke

,the only daughter and heiress of S ir R alph

Mi lbanke . This lady appears to have been attractive and

accomplished, but her union w ith a man O f such waywardnotions and unrestrained passions could not help provingdisastrous. After a few months of apparent happiness a cloudcame over their domestic life . In December was born theironly child

,Augusta A da

,and in January Lady Byron left her

husband and went home to her parents. A deed of separationwas signed shortly afterw ards

,but the causes that led to the

estrangement and separation have always remained a mystery .

There can be no doubt that Byron was much in fault,but the

punishment meted out to him by his enem ies and even by hisformer admirers and friends was out of all proportion to hisdeserts.

“ Such an outcry w as now raised against him as in

no case of private life perhaps was ever before witnessed nor

LIFE OF BYRON. 7

had the whole amount of fame which he had gathered in”

the

course of the last four years much exceeded the reproach and

obloquy that were now in the space of a few weeks showeredupon him . The new spapers were filled with lampoons. The

theatres shook with execrations. H e was ex cluded from circleswhere he had lately been the Observed of all observers.

”The

unhappy man described his own situation thus I felt thatif what was w hispered and muttered and murmured was true

,

I was unfit for England 3 if false , England was unfit for me .

”

In April,1 8 16

,accordingly

,he left his native land never to

return . What an intense feeling of bitterness he must havehad at this time for England and for English people , w e can

imagine w hen,after a sobering interval of three years

,he wrote

thus —“ I am sure my bones would not rest in an Englishgrave, or my clay mix with the earth of that country . I believethe thought would dr ive me mad on my death-bed

,could I

suppose that any of my friends would be base enough to conveymy carcass back to your soil . I would not even feed yourw orms if I could help it . ”

TO the year Of Byron ’s married life belong the “ S iege of

C orinth,”and Parisina

,

” two poems of the same romantic typeas those that had preceded them .

Byron now endeavored to divert his thoughts by foreigntravel . H e first went to Brussels

,visiting the field ofWaterloo

where the great battle had been fought less than a year before .

H is j ourney down the Rhine may, as Moore says,be “ best

traced in his own matchless verses which leave a portion Of

their glory on all that they touch , and lend to scenes alreadyclothed with immortal ity by nature and by history the no lessdurable associations Of undying song.

”R eaching Sw itzerland

he established himself for the summer in a villa near Genoa .

Shelley w as at this time l iving in the immediate neighborhood,

and the two poets w ere much together. The influence ofShelley’

s idealism shows itself In all the poetry that Byroncomposed during this period

,—the third canto Of “ C hilde

H arold ,”The Prisoner Of C hillon ,

” “Darkness,

” “The Dream ,

”

and part of Manfred .

”

Of “ Childe H arold ,” canto III. , Byron wrote in the year 1817

It is a fine indistinct piece Of poetical desolation,and my

favorite. I was half mad during the time of its composition,between metaphysics

,mountains

,lakes

,love inextinguish

8 LIFE OF BYRON.

able, thoughts unutterable, and the nightmare of my own

delinquencies.

”

From Switzerland Byron proceeded to Milan and Verona,and

thence to Venice,where he lived from November, 1816, to April ,

1817 , during this time completing “Manfred .

”In the spring of

1817 he visited Rome and other places of fame in Italy,but

soon returned to Venice, where he remained till 18 19. It was

at this time that he wrote the fourth canto of C hilde H arold.

”

Byron continued to live in Italy until the middle of the year1823, residing in succession atVenice

, Ravenna, Pisa, and Genoa.

The most notable of the works he composed during this periodare Don Juan,

”and the tragedy of C ain .

” After engaging inseveral revolutionary intrigues among the Italians, his attentionwas turned to Greece by the outbreak of the Greek War ofIndependence. H is earlier lamentations over the Greeks

Trembling beneath the scou rge of Turkish hand,From birth till death enslaved, in word , in deed, unmanned ,

now received a practical outlet. H is earlier aspirations expressedin the fiery lines

0 h ! who that gallant spirit shall resume,Leap from Eurotas’ banks, and cal l thee from the tomb 7

"

now seemed about to be realized . After the insurrection had

been in progress for two years, with some prom ise of ultimatesuccess, he crossed to Greece in July, 1823, and at once lentthe whole strength of his active and impulsive nature to theGreek cause. Joined by other adventurous spirits he went toMissolonghi inAetolia in January, 1824. Although be materiallyaided the cause of the revolutionists

,he was not destined to take

part in throwing off the yoke Of the Turks from the land he lovedso well. In April, 1824 , he died of a fever in Missolonghi, atthe early age of 36 years. Publ ic honors were decreed to hismemory by the authorities of Greece

,where his loss was keenly

felt and deeply lamented by all. Thus he, whom his own countryhad eight years before with unbrid led fury driven into dishonorable exile, now, after a life the most troubled and chequered inliterary history, laid down in peace his honored head beneath a.

foreign sky.

mm or BYRON. 9

BYRON’

S PREFACE.

The following is the author’

s preface to the first two cantos of

C hilde H arold ”as published in 1812

The following poem was written , for the most part, amidst the

scenes which it attempts to describe . It was begun in A lbania ; and

the parts relative to Spain and Portugal were composed from the author’

s

Observations in those countries. Thusmuch it may be necessary to state

for the correctness of the descriptions . The scenes attempted to be

sketched are in Spain , Portugal, Epirus, Acarnania, and Greece. There

for the present the poem stops ; its reception will determine whetherthe author may venture to conduct his readers to the capital of the East,through Ionia and Phrygia these two cantos are merely experimental .

“ A fictitious character is introduced for the sake of giving someconnexion to the piece which , however, makes no pretension to

regularity. It has been suggested to me by friends, on Whose OpinionsI set a high value , that in this fictitious character, Childe H arold , Imayincur the suspicion of having intended some real personage : this I begleave , once for all, to disclaim ; Harold is the child of imagination , for

the purpose I have stated . In some very tri-vial particulars, and thosemerely local , there might be grounds for such a notion but in the main

points, I should hope , none whatever .

It is almost superfluous to mention that the appellation Childe is

used as more consonant with the old structure Of versification which Ihave adopted .

The stanza of Spenser, according to one of our most successful poets ,admits of every variety. Dr . Beattie makes the following observationNot long ago, I began a poem in the style and stanza of Spenser, inwhich I propose to give full scope to my inclination, to be either droll

or pathetic, descriptive or sentimental , tender or satirical , as the humourstrikes me ; for if I mistake not, _the measure which I have adoptedadmits equally of all these kinds of composition .

’Strengthened in my

Opinion by such authority, and by the example of some in the highestorder of Italian poets, I shall make no apology for attempts at similarvariations in the following composition satisfied that if they are unsuc

cessful ,'

their failure must be in the execution, rather than in the design,sanctioned by the practice of Ariosto, Thomson, and Beattie .

The preceding Preface deals with two subjects that requirefurther consideration, —the identification Of Byron with Chi ldeH arold

,and the nature of the S penserian stanza. Mr. Tozer

’

s

treatment of these subjects in his excellent Introduction is

here given.

8 LIFE OF BYRON.

able, thoughts unutterable, and the nightmare of my own

delinquencies.

”

From Switzerland Byron proceeded to Milan and Verona,and

thence to Venice, where he lived from November, 1816 , to April,1817 , during this time completing Manfred .

”In the spring of

1817 he visited Rome and other places of fame in Italy,but

soon returned to Venice, where he remained till 18 19. It was

at this time that he wrote the fourth canto of C hilde H arold.

”

Byron continued to live in“

Italy until the middle of the year1823, residing in succession at Venice

,Ravenna, Pisa, and Genoa.

The most notable of the works he composed during this periodare Don Juan,

”and the tragedy of Cain.

” After engaging inseveral revolutionary intrigues among the Italians, his attentionwas turned to Greece by the outbreak of the Greek War ofIndependence. H is earlier lamentations over the Greeks

Trembling beneath the scou rge of Turkish hand,From birth till death enslaved, in word , in deed, unmanned ,

now received a practical outlet. H is earlier aspirations expressedin the fiery lines

Oh ! who that gallant spirit shall resume ,Leap h

'

om Eurotas’ banks, and call thee from the tomb ?"now seemed about to be realized . After the insurrection had

been in progress for two years, with some promise of ultimatesuccess, he crossed to Greece in July, 1823, and at once lentthe whole strength of his active and impulsive nature to theGreek cause. Joined by other adventurous spirits he went toMissolonghi inAetolia in January, 1824. Although be materiallyaided the cause of the revolutionists

,he was not destined to take

part in throwing off the yoke of the Turks from the land he lovedso well. In April, 1824 , he died of a fever in Missolonghi, atthe early age of 36 years. Publ ic honors were decreed to hismemory by the authorities of Greece, where his loss was keenlyfelt and deeply lamented by all. Thus he, whom his own countryhad eight years before with unbrid led fury driven into dishonorable exile, now , after a life the most troubled and chequered inliterary history, laid down in peace his honored head beneath a

foreign sky.

LIEE OE BYRON. 9

BYRON’

S PREFACE.

The following is the author’s preface to the first two cantos of

Childe H arold ”as published in 18 12

The following poem was written, for the most part, amidst the

scenes which it attempts to describe . It was begun in Albania ; and

the parts relative to Spain and Portugal were composed from the author’s

observations in those countries. Thus much it may be necessary to state

for the co rrectness of the descriptions . The scenes attempted to be

sketched are in Spain , Portugal, Epirus, Acarnania, and Greece. There

for the present the poem stops ; its reception will determine whetherthe author may venture to conduct his readers to the capital of the East,through Ionia and Phrygia these two cantos are merely experimental .

“ A fictitious character is introduced for the sake of giving some

connexion to the piece which, however, makes no pretension to

regularity . It has been suggested to me by friends, on whose OpinionsI set a high value , that in this fictitious character, C hilde H arold, Imayincur the suspicion of having intended some real personage : this I begleave , once for all

, to disclaim ; H arold is the child of imagination, for

the purpose I have stated . In some very trivial particulars, and thosemerely local , there might be grounds for such a notion but in the main

points , I should hOpe , none whatever .

It is almost superfluous to mention that the appellation Childe is

used as more consonant with the old structure of versification which Ihave adopted .

The stanza of Spenser, according to one of our most successful poets,admits of every variety. Dr . Beattie makes the following observationNot long ago, I began a poem in the style and stanza of Spenser, in

which I propose to give full scope to my inclination , to be either droll

or pathetic, descriptive or sentimental,tender or satirical , as the humour

strikes me ; for if I mistake not, the measure which I have adoptedadmits equally of all these kinds of composition.

’

Strengthened in myOpinion by such authority, and by the example of some in the highest

order of Italian poets, I shall make no apology for attempts at similarvariations in the following composition satisfied that if they are unsuc

cessful, their failure must be in the execution, rather than in the design,sanctioned by the practice of Ariosto, Thomson, and Beattie .

The preceding Preface deals with two subjects that requirefurther consideration, —the identification Of Byron with Chi ldeH arold

,and the nature Of the S penserian stanza. Mr. Tozer

’

s

treatment of these subjects in his excellent Introduction is

here given.

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10 LIFE or BYRON.

Byron and the Character of Childe H arold .

At the time of the first appearance of the poem the question was

much debated whether Byron’

s own character was represented in the

person of C hilde H arold . The public naturally believed that this was

the case on account of the unmistakeable points of correspondencebetween them ,

while the author as vehemently denied it. We now

know that in the original draft the title was Childe Burun , that beingthe earliest form Of the poet

’

s family name ; but for all that he was

probably keeping w ithin the bounds Of truth in his disavowal . The

C hilde was no doubt in the first instance a self -portraiture , butexaggerated and darkened in its unfavorable traits , partly from Byron’

s

love of notoriety even in what was evil , and partly from genuine disgustat his former life. But the character thus distorted was suffi cientlydifferent from the original for it to be possible for the w riter to disclaimit . In all probability ,

as the poem proceeded , the w riter found that

the personality he had thus introduced was serviceable to him as a.

central figure to which his experiences and Observations might beattributed , and that his presence facilitated the transition from one

subj ect to another , and prevented the too frequent use of descriptionpure and simple . In the third C anto, though the poet and his creationare treated as distinct persons, yet they are clearly identified , for herepresents H arold as the obj ect of his sister ’

s love , and the lines

which Byron addressed to his sister Augusta— ‘The castled crag,’

etc.

(C . H . III . are put into his month. In the dedication prefixed to

C anto Iv. the author states that he had abandoned the attempt to drawthe distinction because he found that it was unavailing.

”

The Sp enserz’

an S tanza.

This stanza occupies an intermediate position between the continuousverse of an epic poem like Paradise Lost and the pointed brevity of

the couplet . Though it does not possess the full dignity of the one or

the concinnity of the other , yet to some extent it unites the merits andavoids the disadvantages of both . From being longer and more complexthan the couplet it can express an idea or group of ideas more fully and

illustrate it more elaborately , and develop a description more com

pletely ; while , on the other hand, the recurrence of a marked pause at

definite intervals imparts a unity to each successive step in the progressof the poem , and at the same time relieves the strain on the attention

which is unavoidable in continuous verse . The stanza was especiallyw ell suited for Byron’

s purpose in Childe H arold ,

’ because the subj ectis constantly shifting , and requires that there should be continu ity ,

but

of the least stringent kind . The stanzas are not so much the links of a

chain , as beads on a string.

The Spenserian stanza is so called to distinguish it from other stanzas,because Spenser used it in his Faery Q ueene it consists of nine lines,

the last of which is an A lexandrine . The ordinary verses are iambiclines of five accents and ten, sometimes eleven , syllables, while the

Alexandrine has six accents and tw elve , sometimes thirteen , syllables ;the extra syllable is found where there is a. double rhyme. The lines of

the stanza which rhyme with one another are,l , 3 ; 2 , 4 , 5 , 7 ; 6 , 8 ,

LIFE or BYRON. 1 1

BYRON AND THE REVOLUTIONARY SPIRIT.

In the preceding pages reference has been made to theinfluence of the French Revolution on Byron’

s poetry. The

following selectionswill indicatemore fully to what extent Byronwas affected by the revolutionary wave

The same revolution which levelled the Bastile drove the models of

the so-called Augustan age of English literature into a museum of

antiquarians . The movement initiated by C owper and Burns was carriedout by two classes of great w riters. They agreed in Opposing freedomto formality in substitu ting for the old , new aims and methods . Theybroke from the old school , but they separated again . Wordsworth,S outhey , and C oleridge , while refusing to acknow ledge the literaryprecedents of the past , submitted themselves to a sel f- imposed law .

The partialities of their maturity were towards things settled and

regu lated ; their favorite virtues, endu rance and humility ; their con

formity to established institutions was the basis of a new C onservatism .

The others w ere the Radicals of the movement : they practicallyacknowledged no law but their own inspiration . Dissatisfied w ith the

existing order, their sympathies were w ith strong will and passion and

defiant independence . These found their master-types in She lley and

Byron .—N ichol.

Byron and the leaders of the so-called Lake S chool were, at

starting, common heirs of the revolutionary spirit they w ere , either intheir social views or personal feelings, to a large extent influenced bythe most morbid, though in some respects the most magnetic, genius of

modern France , J . J. Rousseau but their temperaments w ere in manyrespects fundamentally diverse ; and the pre -established discord between

them ere long began to make itsel f manifest in their follow ing out

widely divergent paths. Wo rdsworth’

s return to natu re had been preluded by C owper ; that of Byron by Burns . The revival of the one

ripened into a restoration of simpler manners and old beliefs ; the otherwas the spirit of the storm . When they had both become recognizedpowers, neither appreciated the work of the other .

—Nz'

ckol .

During the tw enty years that followed the death . of C owper , the

revolution in English poetry was fully consummated . None of the

writers of this period , not even Sir Walter Scott, contributed so much

to the consummation as Lord Byron . Yet Lord Byron contributed toit unwillingly , and w ith constant self -reproach and shame . A ll . his

tastes and inclinations led him to take part w ith the school of poetrywhich was going out against the school which was coming in . Of Pope

himself he spoke with extravagant admiration. H e now and then

praised Wordsworth and C oleridge, but ungraciously and withoutcordiality. When he attacked them , he brought his whole soul to the

work . H e belonged hal f to the old and half to the new school of

poetry. H is personal taste led him to the former ; his thirst of praise

12 LIFE on BYRON.

to the latter ; his talents were equally suited to both. H e was therepresentative, not of either literary party, but of both at once , and of

their conflict, and of the victory by which that conflict was terminated.

H is poetry fills and measures the whole of the vast interval throughwhich our literature has moved since the time of Johnson . It touchesthe Essay on Man at the one extremity, and the Excursion at theother.

”—Macaulay.

BYRON’S INFLUENCE ON LITERATURE.

It is remarkable that the influence of Byron’s poetry has been far

greater on the C ontinent than it has been in England . No English poetexcept Shakespeare has been so much read or so much admired byforeigners. H is works, or part of them , have been translated into manyEuropean languages , and numerous foreign w riters have been affected bytheir ideas and style. The estimate that has been formed of them is

extraordinarily high . The chief reason of this, independently of the

splendor of his compositions, is to be found in his political opinions.

Byron’

s poetry, like that of most of his English contemporaries—Wo rdsworth, C oleridge , Southey, and Shelley—was the outcome of the French

Revolution but whereas the three first-named of these poets, disgusted

with the excesses of that movement , went over into the opposite camp,and the idealism of Shelley was too far removed from the sphere of

practical politics to be a moving force , Byron became, almost uninten

tionally, the apostle of the principles which he represented . H e has put

on record his condemnation of its criminal extravagancesBut good with ill they also overthrew,

Leaving but ruins, wherewith to buildUpon the same foundation, and renewDungeons and thrones, which the same hour refil l’d ,As heretofore, because ambition was self —(C . H . m.

“But France got drunk with blood to vomit crime,

And fatal have her Saturnalia beenTo Freedom’

s cause, in every age and clime.—(C . H . W.

but, when men had become weary of the strife between liberty run

wild and absolutism re -asserting itself , instead of preaching, as Goethe

did ,the doctrine of acquiescence in the existing order of things, and

gradual development by culture, he stoodsforth as the poetic champion

of freedom . The lines,

Yet, Freedom ! yet thy banner, torn, but flying ,Streams like the thunderstorm against the wind.

”- (C . H . IV.

struck a chord which vi brated in the hearts of thousands. Thus hiswritings became a political power throughout Europe , and more so on

the C ontinent than in England, in proportion as the loss of liberty wasmore keenly felt by foreign nations. Wherever aspirations for independence arose, Byron

’s poems were read and admired.

—Tozer .

LIFE OF BYRON.

CHANGE OF STYLE IN “ CH ILDE HAROLD.

Though there is no reason to suppose that Byron consciously or

intentionally modified his style , yet as he was young when the two

first C antos w ere w ritten, and six years intervened before the third wascommenced , it is not to be wondered at if differences are traceablebetween them . During the interval his genius had developed and

matured , and the circumstances which preceded his departure fromEngland had induced a tumultuous state of feeling this is reflected inhis verses, while at the same time his crowding thoughts seem to

struggle for expression , and to rebel against the lim its imposed by thestrict rules of art. The result of this is

,that in the later cantos the

style is more vigorous, more impassioned, and more rhetorical , and theversification is more varied and more irregular , not to say careless and

the change was progressive , for it ‘is more decidedly marked in the

fourth than in the third Canto. The chief points in which these

differences are apparent are1 . In Cantos I . and II . the considerable pauses are usually at the end

of a l ine in III. and 1V. they are frequently in the middle .

2 . The neglect of the natural pause between the verses, which arisesfrom ending a line w ith a word closely connected with the beginning of

the next, is rare in the earlier cantos.

3. In Cantos I . and II . the stanzas are almost always complete in

themselves in W . they frequently run into one another.

4 . Double rhymes are entirely wanting in C antos I . and II they firstappear in C anto III . , and become morenumerous as the poem advances.

5 . S imiles are very rare in the first two , common in the last two Cantos .

6 . Personification on a large scale in found in Canto I . , but not

afterwards.

7 . Archaisms,which are somewhat numerous in Canto I . and occasional

in Canto II. ,are hardly ever found in the later portion.

” —Tozer .

C R ITIC AL INTRODUC TION .

The purpose Of this C ritical Introduction and the mode inwhich it is recommended that it should be employed in tuitionhave been indicated in the P1 eface.

The principle that has dictated the order in which the topicshave been introduced may be easily seen. The Vocabulary ofthe poet is the subject of section I. Poetic Grammar, of sectionII. the S entence in its various aspects, of sections III.

—VII. ;

the Paragraph , of VIII. The commonest of the Figures are

explained and exemplified in IX . S ome of the Qualitiesof S tyle receive attention in XIV—XVIII. S ections XIX .

XXX . deal with the principal devices, characteristics, and

themes of poetry. S ections XXXI. and XXXII. give a brieftreatment of Taste and Beauty.

It will be noticed that the sections are not mutually exclusive.

There is necessarily much overlapping, especially in the laterportions

,the same things being touched upon in more than one

place,but from different points of View .

Vocabulary.

At the outset of studies in style it is well to consider the

nature of the poet’s vocabulary,(1 ) A s regards origin

,

(2) As regards the employment of archaisms and ofwords having a distinctively poetical cast .

(1 ) Our best writers use about eight words of classical originin every forty. Wherever there is any marked variation fromthe normal usage in respect to the proportion of classical words,the cause of the variation should be ascertained . C ompare inC anto III. of C . H . the first four lines of the l st stanza with thefirst four lines of the 17th stanza.

CRITICAL INTRODUCTION. 15

(2) Poetry has a select diction of its own. There is a

mintage of words fit for poetry and unsuitable for ordinaryprose. C olloquial terms and hackneyed expressions find no

place in poetry but words that are never heard in the languageof the vulgar are abundantly employed . When the poet uses“ idlesse for “ idleness, ”

or“ fanes for “ temples

,

”or

“ne

’

er”

for “never

,

”he enhances our pleasure by the dignity or eleva

tion that such archai c or unusual words give to his style, andby the glamour of association which such words have acquiredfrom having been habitually used by many generations of poets.

Further,many of these poetic words are shorter and thus more

effective than the corresponding words of every-day utterance.

An examination of the vocabulary employed by Byron in the

subsequent selections will show that he makes a copious use ofpoetic diction.

(a We find a number of archaic words,

“ wist,

” “ ine

thought,

” “eld,

” “sate

,

” “Whilome,” “withal

,

” “albeit

,

” “joyannee,

” pleasaunce.

(b) Words belonging to the poetic mint, sooth,

” “ twain,

corse,” “ lightsome

,

” “main ”

(sea) ,“reft

,

” “phantasy,

” “be

twixt,

” “wert,” “yore, wont

,

” “ perchance,” “guise

,

” “athwart,

”

“ fain,

” “reeked

,

” “uncreate

,

” “save (except)

“rife

,

” “ lave,

ill”

(evil) , dale,” “ glen,” “ wold,” “ clime,

” “sages

,

” “bards,“ lore

,

” “aught

,

” “mariners,

” “elate,

” “ oft,

” “ere,

” “sire,

thereon,” “ therefrom

,

” “ whereon,” “ wherein whither.

”

(0) Words altered for a metrical reason, morn,

”

“ prest,” “

staid,

”

mixt,

” “ fixt,

”swoln.

”

(d) In the case of proper names the more unusual or themoremusical are selected . by the poet,

“Gaul,” “Muscovite

,

”

Saxon,

” “Albyn,

” “Albion,” “ H ellas.

(e) The poet often uses not uncommon words with an

unusual or with an antiquated sense,

-“fond ”

(C . H . III.

“glad ”—(C . H . 111 .“the While ”

(P . C .

(f ) The poet sometimes takes liberties with the accent ofhis words, —“ record (C . H . n .

(g) The extreme of poetic licence is the coining of a new

word , smilingness ”

(C . H . III.

Two other questions may be dealt with here : (a) Is thepoet’s vocabulary pure ? (b) Is it rich ? and in dealing withwhat themes does he display the greatest verbal wealth ?

16 CRITICAL INTRODUCTION.

Poetic Grammar.

The same causes that lead the poets to differentiate theirvocabulary from that of prose frequently lead'

them also todeviate from the grammar of prose. All the deviations notedbelow may be referred (l ) to a desire for agreeable variation fromprose structure

,or (2) to a desire for brevity, or (3) to metrical

convenience, or (4) to melodious collocation.

In the earlier examples of poetic structure cited below the

grammar is quite irregular ; in the later examples it is simplyunusual and so poetic.

(l ) The adjective used for the adverb“ My own was f u ll as chill. —(P. C .

If it late were free .—(P . C . 279

(2) One part of the verb used for another“As gently sunk away .

—(P. C .

Where my walk begun.—(P. C .

Pendent participial clausesAwaking wtth a start,

The waters heave around me . H . m .

Un taught in youth my hear t to tame,My springs of life were poison’

d.—(C . H . in.

The anacoluthic subjectH e that is lonely hither let him roam.

”—(C . H . II.

(5 ) Omission of the relativeWhat want these outlaws conquerors should have (C . H . 111.

(6 ) Attraction in the concord of the verb“Ah then and there was hurrying to and fro,And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress.

—( C . H . In

(7 ) C ondensed expressions“ For daring made thy rise as fal l. -(C . H . m.

A special—

form of condensation is zeugmaBanners on high , and battles passed below.

-(C . H . 111 .

(8) The anticipatory pronounThis must he feel, the true-born son of Greece.

—(C . H . u .

(9) Poetic uses of norWhich heeds nor keen reproach nor partial praise.

”—(C . H . II.

“There sunk the greatest nor the worst of men. ”H . m.

CRITICAL INTRODUCTION.

Show in each case whether the order is decided by metricalconvenience

,by a desire for emphasis

,or by a leaning towards

the unusual .In prose the positions of emphasis are the beginning and the

end of the clause or sentence In rhyming verse the rhymes,on

account of their terminal position and pleasing sound , gain a fac

titious emphasis. Of necessity it thus frequently happb

ens that aword of little sense- importance secures the powerful emphasisof the rhyme. This is a disadvantage inherent in the verynature of rhyming verse,—a disadvantage that the herorc measure

of our language is not burdened with .

The nature of factitious emphasis may be illustrated by thefollowing passage

But he the favorite and theflower ,Most cherish

’

d since his natal hour ,H is mother

’

s image in fair f ace,The Infant love of all his race.

”

In the second couplet the metrical emphasis and the sense

emphasis coincidently fall on “ face ”and “

race. In the firstcouplet “ hour ” deserves less emphasis than flower

,

” but a fulloral expression of the rhyme robs something from natal ”

and

adds it to “ hour.

” This tendency furnishes a very simpleillustration of the fact that when music is wedded to thoughtit is often at the expense of the thought ; the loss, however, ismore than made up by the superior emotional effect.

Number of Words.

C ondensation and energetic brevity are often employed as

devices of style. But in poetry terseness is not always a virtueamplification and iteration frequently contribute - to the poet’

s

object,

- to give pleasure. The follow ing passages will illustratesome of the modes of repetition and verbal enlargement

(1 )The goodly earth and air

Are bann’

d and barr’

d—forbidden fare.

(2) S0 perish monuments of mortal birth ,

So perish all in turn, save well -reco rded worth .

(3) “ Apollo still thy long , long summer gilds.

(4 ) Once more upon the waters 1yet once more !(5 ) “

Arm 1 arm Iit is—it is—the cannon’s opening roar l

When justifiable diffuseness occurs its causes may be

examined under these heads

CRITICAL INTRODUCTION. 1 9

(1) Is it to prevent ambiguity ? (2) Is it the result of strongfeeling ? (3) Is it for emphasis ?Various devices of condensation are found in poetry, of which

one of the commonest is the use of the co-ordinating ep ithet, or

epithet equivalent to a clause, as(a

And when

Can man its shatter’d splendor renovate ?

i.e.,its splendor when it is once shattered .

(b)“As eagerly the barr ’

d -up bird will beatH is breast and beak against his wiry dome .

i . e. , the bird whenit is barr’d up.

Another poetical device for brevity is the use of a substantivewith a perfect participle instead of an abstract noun connectedw ith another noun by the preposition “ of

“O’

er hearts divided and o’

er hOpes destroyed .—(C . H . II .

This is equivalent to “ O’

er the separation of hearts and the

destruction of hOpes. C ompare the Latin p ost urbem conditam .

A striking case of energetic condensation we find in the lineThe sun, the soil , but not the slave, the same.

The sun,the soil

,but not the inhabitant the same, for he has

become a slave .

Other modes of condensation are illustrated in S ection II.

above,5,7,12, 13.

The Period and the Loose S entence.

Examples of the perfect period are rare in Byron. In C . H .

II. 84,from “When riseth to “

restored ”is period ic

,i. e. ,

the

meaning is suspended until the last word .

As the loose sentence has the advantage in regard to naturalness and simplicity

,we are not surprised to find it the prevalent

form in Byron,who is not prone to elaborate his sentences.

What is the rhetorical purpose in the studied use of theperiodic style ?

Balance.

The following wil l serve as examples of the device of symmetry in structure

(a)Yet are thy skies as blue , thy crags as wild

Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields,


(6) The flying Mede, his shaftless broken howThe fiery Greek , his red pursu ing spearMountains above , Earth’

s,Ocean

’

s plain below ;Death in the front, Destruction in the rear 1The effect Of the balance may be studied in individual cases.

It is always an aid to simplicity and clearness, and it usuallycontributes to energy of expression. Balance, moreover, is

alway s pleasing to the ear,and thus, aiding the memory

,it con

tributes to impressiveness.

Length of S entence.

Short sentences suit a simple and direct style. We shouldexpect, therefore, an abundant use of short sentences in the

Prisoner of C hillon, but an examination Of the first section Ofthe poem will reveal a peculiarity of punctuation. The wholesection containing one hundred and sixty- four words is run intoa single sentence The second section

,too, contains one

hundred and forty-six words, all contained within one sentence .

In “ Childe H arold ”the requisites of the rhythm and the cadence

of the Spenserian metre affect the punctuation, each stanza con

taining one or at most two sentences, the sense rarely overflowing from one stanza into another.

VIII.

Paragraph S tructure.

From what has just been said, it is plain that neither thestanzas of “C hilde H arold ”

nor the sections of the “Prisoner ofC hil lon ”

are equivalent to the paragraphs of prose. It mustbe remembered that verse has many limitations, and that theprimary Obj ect of poetry is to express not thought but feeling.

It is, however, important constantly to note the arrangementand interdependence Of the thoughts that each topic embraces.

This part of the literary analysis should always precede the moreminute study Of each passage, otherwise the meaning Of the

passage as a whole may be missed .

S imilitudes.

As one Of the three great functions of the intellect is agree

ment,or the appreciation of similarity, we must expect simil itudes


to play an important part in language. C omparisons may beeither literal or figurative

,the literal having the least and the

figurative the greatest rhetorical value. These are the com

monest sorts of simil itudes( l ) The similitude of literal comparison,

as

Like stern Diogenes to mock atmen.

”—(C . H . III.

(2) The simile as

And the waves bound beneath me as a steedThat knows his rider. ”—(C . H . III.

(3) The metaphor, as

(a)“Among the stones I stood a stone.

—( P. C .

(b) Roll on, vain days 1 full reckless may ye flow.

”—(C . H . II.

There can be no more interesting language study than an

investigation of the purposes and effects of similitudes. The

following questions arise in dealing with a similitude z—(a) Isit to aid the understanding ? (b) Is it to arouse the emotions ?

(c) H as it mixed effects ?

It will be found in poetry that nearly all similitudes, evenliteral comparisons, have an emotional tinge. The life and glowOf poetry owe very much to the metaphor : in fact, a wholesentence is often poetized by a single similitude Of this kind .

The simile,being usually the result of study and deliberation

,

is not so well adapted to the language of passion ; still,if it is

apt and striking,and properly pursued, and adorned with the

graces of melody,it cannot fail to produce stirring effects.

In respect to Byron’

s use of similitudes it may be noticed thatthere are v ery few similes in the first two cantos of “ ChildeH arold in the later cantos there are more. In regard to thesource from which Byron draws his similitudes

,we might expect

,

as we find, that nature is his unfailing storehouse. H is similesare usually short and forcible

,but we find in the later cantos

several fully elaborated, notably in C . H . III. 335 “Even as a

broken mirror and in C . H . III. 15 : “Droop’d as a wild-born

falcon.

”Sometimes the poet cumulates his comparisons with

pleasing effect,using two or more to illustrate the same thing,

as in C . H . III. 44

Even as a flame unfed, which runs to wasteWith its own flickering , or a sword laid by,Which eats into itself, and rusts ingloriously.

N0 less than six similes are crowded together in C . H . 1 11 . 32.


Contrasts.

As another great function of the intel lect is discrimination, orthe appreciation Of difference, we are prepared to find contrastseverywhere in speech . In contrasts, as in similitudes

,the

emotional element may be present in a greater or in a less

degree. The effect of contrast when employed as a rhetoricaldevice arises from the well-known fact that anything is moreclearly seen and its characteristics more keenly felt when itstands side by side with its Opposite.

C ontrast is a feature peculiarly Byronic . It is a device thatByron was very fond of using

,it being in fact the natural pro

duct of his spirit antithetically m ixt. ”

The following varieties of antithesis should be noticed(1 ) In the arrangement Of the subject ; e.g. ,

the transitionfrom the j oyous revelry Of the ball at Brussels to the tremblingterror aroused by “the cannon’

s Open ing rear.

”

(2) In the description Of changes Of fortune,as in the fine

stanzas on Greece in “ C hilde H arold ,”II. 7 3—90. The poet’s

pessimism revels in descriptions of this kind. These famousstanzas contain an additional contrast—between the outwardaspect of Greece and her political condition—a contrast thatmakes the original one more impressive.

(3) In the heightening of pathos, as in III. 27 , Ere evening,

etc. in III. 28,

“The earth,”etc. in 111 . 30 ,

“ The fresh greentree

,

”etc.

(4) In pictorial opposites, asThy vales of evergreen, thy hills of snow .

—(C . H . II. 85

(5) In antithetical expressions and words,as

Its bounds and boundless fame .—(C . H . II

Thy glorious day is o’

er, but not thy years of shame.—(C . H . II.

Abundant use is made of the antithetical epithet,as

“ Envied , yet how unenviable —(C . H . III.

Since upon night so sweet such awf ul morn could rise —(C . H . In . 24

And burning with high hOpe, shall moulder cold and low. H . III.

H ere may be noticed the frequent use of oxymoron and otherepigrammatic stru ctures

,as

“ Immortal , though no more ; though fallen, great I H . II.

Fixedness without a place.

”P. C .

Conqueror and captive of the earth art thou —(C . H . m.


Vitality of poison.- (C . H . III.

Where ruin greenly dwells.

”—(C . H . III.

It will be noticed that a contrast is often made more pointedby the addition Of balanced arrangement. This is strikinglyexemp lified in the first four lines of C . H . II. 90,

“ The flyingMede,

”etc.

Contiguities.

The third great function of the intel lect is retentiveness.

Now ,memory works largely by means of the association O f

ideas. The devices Of language that correspond to this peculiarity of memory are the figures of contiguity . Examplesof these figures are numerous

,as

(a)“ That all was over on this side the tomb, —(C . H . III.

16 ) death bein g named by an important adjunct or accompani

ment (metonymy) .

(b)“ If aught that’s kindred cheer the welcome hearth,

(C . H . II. 92) the home being named by an important part

(synecdoche) .

(c)“ This clay will sink its spark immortal,

”- (C . H . III. 1 4 )

man’s lower nature being described by the material of which

his body is composed (synecdoche) .S ometimes imp ressive associated circumstances are employed

instead Of the simple word -figure, as

(a)H is heart more truly knew that peal too wellWh ich stretched h is father on a bloody bier ,

”—(C . H . III.

a vivid way Of describing a soldier’s death by means of a

striking attendant circumstance.

(b) Theparted bosom clings to wonted home, H . II.

an impressive circumstance Of separation . charging the wholeexpression with tender emotion .

Among the figures Of contiguity is the transferred ep ithet,

Dims the green beauties of thine Attic p lainthe epithet “green,

” which belongs to “ plain, being shiftedto beauties.

These various devices Of contigu ity have usually a markedrhetorical value . Most of them carry force and suggestiveness.

S ometimes,however

,variety alone is attained.

A further employment Of associated terms and circumstancesmust now be noticed . Not only are such terms and circum

24 CRITICAL INTRODUCTmN.

stances employed as impressive substitutes for something else,but they are also employed , in the language of description, withan independent rather than a vicarious value . The followingexamples will serve to show how much the pictorial descriptions of poetry owe to the artistic use of associated circumstances

(a) Some warrior’s half f orgotten grave,Where the gray stones and unmolested grassAges, but not oblivion, feebly brave.

—(C . H . II . 86 .

(b) And the bleak battlements shall bear no future blow.

”—(C . H . III.

(c ) Chic/less castles.

”—(C . H . m .

(d) Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields. H . III.

H ere the epithets do not plainly mention the aspects of theObjects

,but they effectively suggest them by the human associ

ations called up.

One of the highest strokes Of poetic art in picturesquedescription is the use of some striking and suggestive feature

,

as

(a) Or whispering , with white lips The foe ! they come 1 they come ."

—(C . H .

(b) Rider and horse,—friend , foe,—in one red burial blent ! —(C . H . III. 28.

S ometimes a general reference is made an imated and im

pressive by bringing into prominence one well-known and

striking associated circumstance, asApollo still thy long , long summer gilds,

Still in his beam Mendeli’

8 marbles glare. —(C . H . II.

And the SpringC ome forth , her work of gladness to contrive ,With all her reckless birds upon the wing .

”—(C . H . III.

The use of associated circumstances has still a further appli

cation ih poetry . The harmon ious aspects and activities ofnature are Often associated with the l ife and fate of man

with telling effect . The following passages will illustrate thisdevice

(a) In C . H . II. 80, with the merriment of the C arnival areassociated the pleasant noise of rippling waters and the

transient breeze sweeping the wave ; and,—the finest touch

of all,

The Q ueen of tides on high consenting shone.

(b) In C . H . III. 27 , we have the common poetic fancy thatdew-drops are nature’

s tears,And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves,Dewy with Nature’

s tear-drops, as they pass. ”


is to furnish an aid to the mind as well as a stimulus to theemotions. When the poet says

And then there was a little isle,Which in my very face did smile, ”—(P. C .

both the feelings and the understanding are affected.

The Subjective Q ualities.

The Subjective Qualities of style are (a) S ignificance, (b)Continuousness, (c ) Naturalness.

(a) By significance is implied that the words which an

author employs are actually the vehicle of some thought whichhe has to commun icate. A s The Nonsensical has no place inserious poetry

,this quali ty need not be illustrated here .

(6 )“ Continuousness of style is its quality of being con

nected.

” This quality requires that the thoughts expressedshould be in their proper relations

,and that there should be a

regular sequence from the beginn ing of the composition to theend. The requ irements of style in this regard are wellobserved in “The Prisoner of C hillon . C hilde H arold

,

however,makes no pretence to un ity

,the personality of the

poet being almost the only bond that holds the parts together .

Whatever continu ity the poem has,resembles that of the old

epic poems,in which the sequence is frequently broken by the

introduction of episodes. The poet displays considerable art

in the various methods that he uses in marking his transitionswhen passing from one part of his subject to another. The

apparent abruptness with which 0 . E . III. 17 begins serves a

rhetorical purpose .

(c )“Naturalness of style is its representing the peculiar mode

of thought and manner of expression of the particular writer.

”

It need scarcely be said that very few writers exhibit thisquality in a more marked degree than Byron .

“ The style isthe man

,

”is applicable to Byron if to any English poet.

S imp licity and C learness.

A consideration of the Objective Qualities of style mustbegin with those that relate to the understanding. The mostessential of the intellectual qualities are simplicity and alarm


ness. S implicity,or intelligibility

,is opposed to abstruseness.

C learness or perspicuity is opposed to ambiguity or confusion .

S implicity requires the use Of terms that name familiarobjects

,actions

,feelings

,and thoughts 5 and also requires that

these terms shou ld be intelligibly arranged into clauses, sen

tenoes, and paragraphs. C learness has to contend with the

vagueness and ambiguity of many of our vocables.

Byron ’

s poetry is rarely abstruse,and it has

,above all

things,

the great virtue of lucidity .

”The following passages,

however , shou ld be noticed

I. (a)“ Till I have done with this new day.

—(P. C .

(b)“ The pure elements of earth .

—(P. C .

O . H . II. 77 .

II. (a) And so perchance in sooth did mine.—(P. C .

(6)“ And that forbade a selfish death .

—(P. C .

(c ) C . H . II. 97

Why thought seeks refuge , etc.—(C . H . III.

(e) Untaught to submit his thoughts, eta—(C . H . m .

(f ) O. H . III. 35 .

(g)“ Or holding dark communion with the cloud .

—(C . H . III.

Impressiveness.

Impressiveness is the art of stamping a thought on the

mind so that it cannot be easily forgotten .

” It is an intellectual quality , but it usually has an emotional effect as well.“ C hilde H arold , III. 21 and 22

,will serve for illustration . The

intense impressiveness of these stanzas has fixed them amongthe treasures of our language . Observe the various means

that produce the abiding effect :The subject and the

b

situation are intensely impressive inthemselves

,the introduction of the love interest amid the

merriment of the “ fair women ”and “brave men ”

contributinglargely to the effect produced . A ll the impressive devices ofstyle at the poet’s call are summoned to his aid. Notice theabundant use of interrogation and exclamation

,—the contrast

between the sounds of j oy and the sounds of terror,—the

brilliant phrase,

“a sound of revelry by night ,

”for a dance,


the periphrasis, “Belgium’s capital

,

” for Brussels,—the appeal

to our sensuous emotions in the many w ords describing colorsand sounds,—the striking similitudes

,

“as a marriage-bell

,

”

“ like a rising knell,” “ to flying feet

,

”- the

cumulative energy of the three comparat ives,

“nearer

,clearer

,

deadlier,”—the nervous force of the double epizeuxis, “A rm '

arm ! it is—it is l”—the use Of the person ified abstracts

,

Beauty , C hivalry , Youth , Pleasure , for emotional effect, —thetouches of fancy and imagination in the expressions

,

“ To

chase the glowing hours,

”and

,

“A s if the clouds its echowould repeat . ”—The two stanzas receive a kind of impressiveunity by gradually proceeding from the merry “

sound O f

revelry to the terrifying cannon ’

s opening roar . Furthe r,

there is a pleasing melody in all the lines descriptive of j oy,

and a terrific harmony in all the lines descriptive of tluthunder-peals of battle.

XVII.

S trength.

An examination of the qualities of style that relate tofeeling w ill begin with strength . Under the general name ofstrength many variations find a place z— animation

,vivacity

,

liveliness, rapidity , brilliancy ; nerve , vigor, force, energy,

fervor ; dign ity , stateliness, Splendor,grandeur, magn ificence

,

loftiness,sublimity. Between an imation and sublimity there

is a vast difference, but they all agree in describing a qualityof style that produces active pleasurable emotions. The vocabulary of strength is made up of words that name powerful

,

vast,and exciting objects, effects, and qualities.

C ertain conditions are necessary for genuine strength

(1 ) There must be originality ; the thoughts shou ld not be

commonplace, nor the figu res trite .

2) The language and the subject should be in keeping, onenot being above the other. When this condition is not Ob

served , —when the language is more elevated than the thought,—the result is bombast.

(3) There should be no idle redundancies. Superfiuous

language alw ays enfeebles.

(4) There should be variety , as—in the use of terms ; in thenature, structure, and length of sen tences ; in the alternationof bold figures with those of a milder kind .


S trength is often greatly enhanced by the follow ing ex

pedients z

(I) By attention to the selection of terms,native English

w ords being often more forcible than words of foreign origin ;particular terms

,than general ; concrete terms

,than abstract.

(2) By attention to the order of words.

(3) By brevity and condensation .

Energy of expression is one of the marked features ofBy ron

'

s style . The following passages w ill serve as studies instrength —C . H . II. 88 ; III. 17 ; III. 25 ; III. 26 ; III. 34 ; III.

39 ; III. 42.

XVIII.

Path0 8 .

The difference between strength and pathos is like the

difference between motion and rest,pathos being the quality of

style that produces passive pleasurable emotions,

—emotionsthat compose rather than excite the m ind . The vocabu lary ofpathos includes all w ords that arouse the tender feelings oflove

,pity

,benevolence

,human ity, etc .

The same conditions are necessary for pathos as for strength,

viz. ,originality

,harmony

,and variety . When the condition

of harmony is not observed,—when the language is more

elevated than the situation described ,—the result is meresentimentality.

In themost touching instances of pathos it must be observedthat we have a pitiable case put forward w ithout any referenceto help or relief of a k ind strictly adapted to the case

,the

assuaging influences coming main ly from the exp ression oftender feeling.

S tudies in pathos may be found in P. C .,164—230

,—the

description of the slow death of the youngest brother ; and

in C . H . 1 1 1 . 24 :“Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and

fro, etc .

XIX.

The Redemp tion of Pain.

A s poetry has for its main object the pleasure of the reader,

all painful elements in a poem must in some way be redeemed .

The painful side of things,however

, must have a place inpoetry , else our feelings would be unpleasantly affected by thetotal absence of an important element in human life . More


over, the description of suffering is not altogether pain ful tothe reader

,especially if the suffering is merited or in the

circumstances necessary.

The emotional power of pathos is one of the commonestmeans employed to redeem painful effects

,the tender feelings

being a rich source of pleasure. C harms of style are O ften inthemselves sufficient to obviate painful effects.

Discover how pain is redeemed in these instances

(a) The m iseries of the Prisoner of C hillon.

(b) The“secret pain ” of “ the true-born son of Greece at

the downfall and degradation O f his country .

(c) The woes of the poet described in C . H . II. 95—98And grief w ith grief continu ing still to blend ,

H ath snatched the little joy that life had yet to lend.

(d) The bitter experiences that led to C hilde H arold’

s

S econd Pilgrimage .

(e) The terr ibleness of the“aw ful morn at Brussels (C . H .

III. 24

(f ))The “ tears and breaking hearts ”

for young gallantH ow ard ”

(III. 29,

(g) The un iversal mourning that followed the fatalWaterloo(111 . 31

T he Music of Poetry.

The musical element of poetry may be considered under theheads of melody and harmony.

Melody may be considered under two aspects

(1 ) The laws of melody requ ire the avoidance of all un

pleasant,difi

'

icult,

and harsh combinations of letters and

syllables.

(2) In poetry the melody of metre and rhyme is superaddedto other melodious effects.

These passages will serve to illustrate some applications Ofthe term melody

(a)A lovely bird with azure wings,

And song that said a thousand things,And seem

’

d to say them all for me I”

(b)A small green isle, it seem’

d no more,Scarce broader than my dungeon floor,But in it there were three tall trees,And o

’

er it blew the mountain breeze,

And by it there were waters flow ing ,

And on it there were young flowers growing,O f gentle breath and hue.


Byron’s rhymes are often bad. In the Prisoner of C hillon

alone w e find a very large number of defective rhymes,such as

,

“ w olf,

” “ gulf “athwart,

” “ part “ come,

” home .

”H asty

w riting can be the poet’s only excuse.

In connection with melody must be noticed the metr icalornament called alliteration. Byron uses this device of art

abundantly . It is a remnant of the old English versification ,

where it w as systematically employed . Alliteration imparts a

melodious sound to the verses, but modern taste demands thatthis shou ld be felt rather than distinctly recogn ized . Nor is itlikely that the poet himself is conscious of every alliterativecollocation that he produces : when a choice of w ords isallowed

,a musical ear or association will incline him uncon

sciously to emp loy the alliterative combination .

The variations which alliteration assumes are numerous.

S ome of these are

(a) Alternating AlliterationBut ne

’

er will f reedom seek thisf ated soil .

Nor staid to welcome here thy wanderer home.

O’

er hearts divided and o’

er hopes destroyed .

”

(b) Double Alliteration, in successive lines,or in the same

line One in f ire, and two inf ield ,Their belief with blood have seal’d.

Blind ,boundless, mute and motionless.

(c) Trip le A lliterationH ow do they loathe the laughter idly loud.

And wield the slavish sickle , not the sword .

”

(d) Complex A lliteration“ There the blithe bee hisf ragrant f ortress builds.

(e) Q uadrup le AlliterationH e rushed into the f ield , and foremost f ighting , fell .

Alliteration has Often marked effects besides those con

nected w ith melody . Frequently it points a con trast,

accentuates a balance,or in some other way impresses the

mean ing

(a) Contrast marked by A lliterationDeath in the front, Destruction in the rear.To feig n the pleasure or conceal the p ique.

”

Conqueror and captive of the earth art thou .

(b) Impressiveness gained by the alliterative syllablescid ing with the beats of the verse

If ever more should meet those mutual eyes.


Alliteration elaborately pursued will be found in the following passages

(a)Preserves alike its bounds and boundless fame

,

The Battle-field ,where Persia’

s victim hordeFirst bowed beneath the brunt O f H ellas

’sword .

(b)“ As eagerly the barred-up bird w ill beatH is breast and beak against his wiry dome

Till the blood tinge his plumage, so the heat

Of his impeded soul would through his bosom eat.

(c) C . H . II. 92.

In some of these passages we have concealed alliteration, i. e. ,

the recurrence of the same letter not In the initial place,or

the crowding together of letters of the same order.

Example (b) above will show that alliteration is often a

powerful aid to impressiveness.

H armony is of various kinds

(1 ) The sounds of words may echo natural sounds, as

(a)We heard it ripple night and day ;Sounding o

’

er our heads it knock’

d .

(b)“ And then the very rook hath rock

’

d ,And I have felt it shake, unshock’

d .

(C f And then the sighs he would suppressOf fainting nature

’

s feebleness,More slowly drawn, grew less and less.

(d)“ I heard the torrents leap and gush

O’

er channell’

d rock and broken bush .

(8 ) The gentle murmurs of the main.

”—(C . H . II.

(f ) C . H . m . 26 .

(2) The movement and the metre may imitate slow or rapidmotion

,easy or difficult labor

,variations of mood, etc. , as

(a)A thousand feet in depth below

Its massy waters meet and flow.

”

(b)I

’

ve seen it on the breaking ocean

Strive with a swoln convulsive motion.

(0 ) I know not whyI could not die .

(What do the short lines express ?)

(d)And up and down, and then athwart,

And tread it over every part ;And round the pillars one by one

,

Returning where my walk begun.

(8 )My breath came gaspingly and thick ,

And my crush’

d heart fell blind and sick .

(f )The darkness Of my dim abode

Fell on me as a heavy load .

”

(9)Awaking with a start,

The waters heave around, and on high

The winds lift up their voices.

”

(h) Once more upon the waters, yet once more !And the waves bound beneath me as a steed

That knows his rider.


“ I saw them—and they were the same,They were not changed like me in frame

x

Methought he never flew so fastAs then to me he seemed to fly .

Picturesqueness may be studied best under the heads of stilllife and action. S tudies in stilllife will include : (1 ) nature,including all living creatures below man ; (2) man

, his por

traiture and appearance ; (3) the products of man’s hand.

S tudies in action will include (1 ) nature, as in the raging of theelements ; (2) man in activity .

The vocabulary of the picturesque makes up a very large partof language. It includes the names of concrete objects and all

words indicating form ,size

,position

,light

,and color. The

words indicating motion,resistance

,sound , and odor, may also

be said to belong to the vocabulary of the picturesque. S oundand Odor

,however

,are only suggestive of the picturesque.

To the vocabulary of the picturesque, it has been said,belong

words indicating light, color, and sound . This class of wordsmerits separate consideration, as they make up a very large partOf the interest of description . Whether the higher senses

,sight

and hearing, furnish intrinsic sources of pleasure apart fromtheir emotional associations

,or the charms which these senses

impart are entirely due to the association of ideas,is a question

that cannot be determined here. The two higher senses are,in

whichever way, copious sources Of pleasure,principally in

nature,and secondarily in the arts of painting and music respec

tively. Even the imperfect medium Of language is capable ofconveying to us the effects that these senses arouse. Byronmakes abundant use of the vocabulary Of color and of sound .

For studies in sound see C . H . III. 25 , 26 : in light and color,

II. 87 ; III. 1 3 : in light and sound , II. 80 ; III. 21 , 22 : in colorand sound , P . C . 332—355 ,—the passage quoted in S ection XXI.

above,to illustrate the Picturesque.

The word- picture in the “ Prisoner of Chillon referred toabove may be used to illustrate the advantages and disadvantagesof verbal description as compared with painting. As the pic

torial art is the art Of space- continuity,and as the literary art

deals with time-succession, the former gives us the harmony of

things as they actually ex ist at a given moment,while the latter

can give us things only in succession , thus failing to give a

complete impression of actual co-ex istence. A progressive ac

count, however, may be linked into an impressive unity by


various devices of structure and of metre . The painter has anothermarked advantage over the literary artist in his ability to represent more vivid ly the form, size, position ,

and color of Objects.

On the other hand the word- artist has certain advantages overthe painter . H e can appeal to a plurality of senses, being ableto represent adequately motion and sound . H e can powerfullyimpress by the vocabu lary of the feelings, which he employsabundantly in his descriptions. H e has at his command

,too

,

all the charms of poetic style and all the graces of metre.

Further,what the poet lacks in respect to unity of impression

he almost makes up in the attractiveness that animated sequencealways possesses. And then it must be noticed that the poet isthe expositor of his own picture, allowing nothing to escape us,whereas the painter has to leave much to the taste and imagination of the spectator.

XXII.

Nature S tudies.

Nature,whether in repose or in action

,is one of the favorite

themes of poetry . It is an interesting study to examine thedifferent ways in which Byron deals with nature .

(1 ) The descript ive method,as in P. C . 332—355

“ I saw them—and they were the same, etc.

Very fine examples of this mode of dealing w ith nature are tobe found in C . H .

,— as in the picture of “ C intra’

s glorIous

Eden ,

”I. 19

,and in the description of C larens III. 99—102.

(2 ) The expression of the simple,

spontaneous pleasurethat is produced in everyone by out-of-door life and scenes

,as

(a) Once more upon the waters, yet once more !And the waves bound beneath me as a steedThat knows h ls rider. ”—( C . H . III.

(b) Tl'

l

l‘

h‘

ere is a pleasure in the pathless wo’ods,me Is a Iapture on the lonely shore.- (C . H . IV.

(3) The expression of that higher love of nature which isfelt only by those who

C onverse with Nature’

s charms, and view her stores unroll’d.

”

A few striking examples from C hilde H arold may bequoted

Dear Nature is the kindest mother still ,Though always changing in her aspect mild ;From her bare bosom let me take my fill

,

H er never-weaned , though not her favored, child—(II.


(b)“Where rose the mountains, there to him were friendsWhere rolled the ocean , thereon was his homeWhere a blue sky , and glow ing clime , extends,H e had the passion and the power to roam.

—(III .

True wisdom '

s world will beWithin its own creation, or in thine ,Maternal Nature for who teems l lke thee ,Thus on the banks of thy maj estic Rhine —(III.

(d)“ Are not the mountains, waves, and skies a partOf me and of my soul , as I of them ?Is not the love of these deep in my heartWith a pure passion —(III.

(4 ) Nature is frequently employed as a background or

setting for human act ion or emotion . In this connection maybe viewed the illustration of actions and emotions by strikingsimiles from nature . C . H . II. 80 , and III. 30

,will serve to

illustrate the former . A few sim iles from nature are

(a)Whose t ints as gently sunk away

As a departing rainbow ’

s ray .

(b)And was scarce conscious what I wist,

As shrubless crags within the mist.

”

(6 )Life w ill suit

Itself to sorrow’

s most detested fru it,Like to the apples on the Dead Sea'

s shore ,All ashes to the taste.

(5 ) The poet sometimes looks at nature through the light ofhistoric events with which some particular spots have becomeassociated . We find much of this in C . H . II . ,

stanzas 85 to92. S ee also III. 47 and 5 1 .

(6) The poet somet imes colors nature w ith the hues of hisprevailing mood

,or represents nature as in harmony with

man,as

And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves,Dewy with Nature’

s tear drops, as they pass ,Grieving ,

if aught inanimate e’

er grieves,Over the unreturning brave.

”—( III.

(7 ) S ometimes nature is made to govern man’s moods

,as in

C . H III. 60

The mind is colored by thy every hue.

(8) S ometimes the poet enters into the life and movementsof nature w ith a kind of imaginative sympathy and interpretsthe significance of all her doings

,as z

(a) But thou exulting and abounding river. —(III.(b)

“ There seems a floating whisper on the hill,Bu t that is fancy, for the starllght dewsAll silently their tears of love instil ,Weeping themselves away , till they infuseDeep into Nature’

s breast the spirit of her hues.

"—(m.


Far along,From peak to peak , the rattling crags amongLeaps the live thunder . not from one lone cloud ,But every mountain now hath found a tongue ,And Jura answers , through her misty shroud ,

Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud -(III.

(d)And this is in the night

—Most glorious night 1Thou wert not sent for slumber l let me beA sha l er in thy fierce and far delight,A pO I tion of the tempest and of thee !

H ow the l it lake shines , a phosphoric sea,And the big rain comes dancing to the earthAnd now ag ain

’

tis black ,—and now the glee

Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain m irth ,

As if they did rejoice o’

er a young earthquake’

s birth .—(III.

(9) S ometimes nature’

s movements are presented as beingoutside of and beyond man

’

s control and comp l ehension . Thisinhuman and infin ite side of nature ”

is presented frequentlyin Byron , as

(a)But where of ye , O tempests, is the goal ?

Are ye l lke those wi thin the human breast ?Or do ye find at length , like eagles, some high nest —(III.

(b)Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean—roll

Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vainMan marks the earth w ith ruin—his controlStops with the shore, ”

etc.—(IV.

o's(10) The poet sometimes m inisters to our spiritual craving

by mak ing nature symbolize the eternal and invisible world,

as

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty’

s formGlasses itself In tempests

Bound less, endless, and sublime

The image of Eternity , the throneOf the Invisible”

.—(Iv . 183.

XXIII.

S tudies of Man.

S tudies of man will include portraiture,dress and accoutre

ments, modes of action ,character, and feelings.

In the selections from Byron there are no portraits. The

three brothers in the “ Prisoner of C hillon are described w ithonly one or two picturesque touches each .

Nor is man in action strikingly illustrated in these se

lections. In “ C hilde H arold ”III. 24, 25 , 26 , is to be found

the most Vivid description of this kind.

C haracter may be described by the methodical or by theincidental method . In a story the character of the actorsis usually developed incidentally by means of actions and

speeches. The description of the character of Napoleon is

pursued with some method in C . H . III. 36—45. In nearly


all of Byron’s poetry the description of the feelings plays a

prominent part. In the “Prisoner of C hillon this is the verycentre of interest . In C hilde H arold ”

the many outburstsof personal feeling and the almost complete identification ofthe hero’

s experiences with those of the poet himself are not

the least of the many attractions of the poem.

XXIV.

Poetic Uses of Ep ithets.

There is nothing more characteristic Of poetry than the profusion and expressiveness of the epithets. Elim inate the

epithets from any fine narrative or descriptive passage and the

main elements of force and beauty are gone . In picturesquepassages sometimes all the salient features are in the epithets.

Besides the ordinary prose use of the epithet as qualifyingor limiting a noun

,w e find several uses pecu liar to poetry .

Already have been noticed the co- ordinating epithet,the anti

thetical epithet,the transferred epithet

,and the suggestive

epithet of pictorial descriptions. We have the anticipatory or

proleptic epithet in,— “ Then tore w ith bloody talon the rent

plain .

” S ometimes the happy use of an epithet idealizes w hatwould otherw ise be an ordinary expression and thus gives itan attractive dignity

,as

“ the glowing hours”for a time of

happiness and excitement . A passage is often made impressiveby means of a cumulation of epithets from the same root

,as :

Thou loved and lovely one“ 0 ,

ever loving,lovely

,and

beloved l”

XXV.

Concreteness and Combination.

A s objects in the concrete are more easily conceived thantheir abstract properties, we find concreteness a characteristicof poetryC umulation

,or combination, is another poetic device as

common as concreteness and often accompanying it . Isolat ionis as rare in poetry as abstraction is. The poet multiplies and

combines obj ects, situation s,characters

,inc idents

,images

,to

produce a harmon ious and effective whole .

The following passages of “ C hilde H arold will illustratethese two devices : II, 87 III. 13 ; III. 32 ; III. 46.


XXVL

Dramatic Devices.

In epic poetry the poet sometimes withd raws himself fromview as narrator

,and his characters assume to some extent

the position of dramatic actors. In such poems as“ C hilde

H arold a similar result is secured by various devices thatserve to impart life and variety to the descriptions. S ome ofthe modes are

(1 ) The subject is apostrophized,as :

(a)“ Fair Greece sad relic of departed worth —(II.

(6 )“ Sp irit of Freedom ! —(n.

(c ) C onqueror and captive of the earth art thou —(III.

(d) Thou too art gone.—(II.

(e) Is thy face like thy mother’s ? —(m .

(2) The reader or some supposed auditor is addressed,as :

(a)“ Yet mark their —(II.

(6 )“ S top l—for thy tread is on an Empire

’

s dust l”—(III.

O f this natu re is the illusion by w hich the sound of artillerybefore Waterloo is gradually realized

Did ye not hear it ? No’

twas but the wind ,Or the car rattling o

’

er the stony str . et

But hark l—that heavy sound breaks In once more.—(III.

(3) The dramatic employment of question and answer hasbeen noticed in S ection XII. A striking illustration of thisdevICe 1s found in C . H . II. 98

What is the worst of woes that wait on age 7”

XXVII.

Poetic H armony.

The very essence of fine- art effects is to produce harmony .

The various kinds of musical harmony have already been re

ferred to in Section XX but the w ord has a mu ch w ider scopethan this. These additional conditions of poetic harmony mustbe considered

(l ) The language and the subject should support each other.

In C . H . II. 87 , and in III. 21,the dign ity and melody and

general impressiveness are in keeping w ith the respective sub

jects of the stanzas,—the beauty of natu re and the brilliant

an imation of the ball in 111 . 1 9, the style is on a much lowerlevel, not much above the animated rhetoric of prose

,the

40 CRITICAL INTRODUCTION .

subject not being one that requ ires the same elevation ofdiction .

(2) Nature is made to harmonize w ith human actions and

sentiments,—this being

,in fact

,one of the fundamental in

stincts of poetry . This has been referred to in S ection XXII. 6 .

Further examples are

(a) The Q ueen of tides on high consenting shone.—(C . H . II.

(b)The fish 5“am by the castle wall ,

And they seemed joyous each and all . -(P. of C .

(3) In the development of character them should be no

want of harmony,no inconsistencies. In C hilde H arold

,as

the hero is almost identical with the poet,harmony of char

acter is not wanting .

(4) In all cases of artistic cumulation (section XXV. ) thereshou ld be harmony among the parts . T he harmony of C . H .

III. 32 is somewhat doubtful. A re the similitudes in keepingwith one another ?

(5 ) In a who le poem unity of plan is a kind of harmony .

Every detail should have a suitable p lace and a defin ite relationto the whole w ork . H e re may be examined the relation w hichstanzas 94—98 of C anto II. of “ Childe H arold ” bear to themain part of the poem .

XXVIII.

Ideality.

One of the most attractive features of poetry is Ideality .

Poetry would be spiritless indeed w ithout hyperbole and un

reality, as the human mind delights to get aw ay from the

tameness of actual things,and to contemplate the highe r

creations of its hopes and fancies. There are two distinctforms of ideality

(l ) The representation of things that have little or no re

lation to actual life, and

(2) The representation of things in an exaggerated form .

S ome examples of the latter are these

(a) The ideal glories of G reece

And yet how lovely in thine age of woe,Land of lost gods and godl lke men, art thou lThy vales of evergreen ,

thy h ills of snow

Proclaim thee Nature’

s varied favorite now.

42 C t IC AL INTRODUCTION.

few wo rds,to make a very clear presen ta tion of the uses of e

te rms in all thei r applicatio ns . O n ly a gene ra l notion of e

distinction can be conveyed he‘

re .

Fancy is pure ly and simply an inte llectual faculty . It is

lighter and less impressive than Imagination. It deals withcxtc rnals

,and never enters the region of deep feeling . It re

ga rds the fo rms and features o f things ra ther than thei rexpressions and e ffec ts ,

Jmagination is a highe r and mo re spi ritua l facu lty . l t sees

the heart and the inner natu re o f things,and makes them felt .

It always ca rries an unde r- cu rrent o f m eaning . It is alwaysse rious

,thus di ffe ring essentially from Fancy, which is often

capricious and p layfu l.A s near ly a ll o f l ly ron

’

s poe try is charac te rized by deepfeeling

,w e sha ll find in it li ttle o f Fancy and ve ry much o f

Imagina tio n . l l owcve r,no very high flights of imagination

wi ll be found in the se lec tions from the poe t contained in thisvolume . In the la tte r pa rt O f C anto III. and in C anto IV. o f“ C hi lde l la rold

,w i ll he found some wonde rful passages

glowing w ith imaginati ve fe rvo r, e g ,the rem arkable stanzas

on C la rens (I l l . 99- l 02) , and on Ege ria (lv. 1 15

The fo llow ing iso l ated passages w ill i llustrate some of thephases O f Fancy and Imagination

(a) h im with a d u ll ting/rimmed ray ,

A snnln-a ln which ha t/t lost i ts way .

And then there was a l ittle Isle ,Which In my vc ry face ( l td sm i le.

"l‘

was as if, darting from her heavenly throne ,A br ighte r glance her

“

form r eflected ga ve .

(d)“ Save whe re some solitary co lumn mourn s

Above its prostrate brethren of the cave.

"—( lmWhere a blue sky and g lowing climc extends.

Nature’

s pages glassed by sunbeams on the lake .

And the spring(Jame forth

,her work of g ladn ess to con trive

,

With all her reck less lo rds upon the wing .

”—( lm )(h) And chieflese castles breathing stern f arewells.

XXXL

Taste.

“ Taste is the kind of artistic excellence that gives the

greatest amount of pleasure to cultivated minds . The artisticjudgment that produces this quality has also the same desig

CRITICAL mm onucrron. 43

nation . The terms“ polish

,

” “refinemen t

,and “

elegan ce,are almost synonymous w ith artistic taste.

When poetry is as it ought to be, in al l the round of the

artistic qualities, it is said to. be.

“ in taste ”; w hen any art

condition is missed the poet exposes himsel f to the reproach of

bad tas te.

”

There are in taste a permanent el ement and a. mutabl eelement. R egarding certain matt ers of style there can be no

discuss ion. l t is, for instance , conceded by all that elegance

of style demands strict con formity w ith the w el l-understoodrules of composition and rhetoric. Besides this permanen t

element th ere is an elemen t that var ies w ith ages,countries,

and individuals. It is largely variety in taste that causes such

diversity in literary judgments.

Determine whether Byron ever violates these canons of

taste :

(a) Mannerisms should be avoided .

(b) Negligence should have no place in a. good style(0 ) There should be neither prolixity nor violent cenden

(d) There should be no st raining after effect.

(6 ) Melody and harmony are essentials of poetic taste.

(f ) Lucidity is a. prime requ isite in literary style.

(9) Tawdry ornamentation should be avoided.

Taste may have reference to subject-matter as well as to

expression. Discuss in this connection :

(a) The discursiveness of C hilde H arold.

(b) The propriety of the poet’s frequen tly introducing mat

ters purely personal. (See 0 . H . III. 1 , note, and 11 . 95

XXI II.

Beauty is a. word of somewhat vague signification As it isone of the qualities on w hich taste exercises itself

, the con

ception of what constitutes the beautiful must vary accordingto the taste of the individual. Beauty is one of the mostcopious sources of the pleasures of poe try

,as it is one large

part of the vocation of the poet to bear witness to the beauty


few words,to make a very c lear presentation of the uses of the

te Im s in all theiI app l ications . On ly a gene ral notion of the

distinction can be conveyed he‘re .

Fancy 1s purely and s imply an inte l lectual facu lty . ItISlighter and less imp ress ive than Imagination . It dealswithexternal s , and never enters the reg ion of deep feel ing . It regards the fo rms and features of things rather than the irexp ress ions and effects .Imagination is a highe r and more spiritua l facu l ty . I t sees

the heart and the inner natu re of things, and makes them fel t .

[ t alway s carries an under- cu r rent of mean ing . I t is a lwaysserious

,thus differing essential ly from Fancy

,which is often

capricious and p lay fu l .A s nearly all o f By ron ’s poe try is char acterized by deep

fee l ing,we shal l find in it l ittle of Fancy and ve ry much of

Imagination . H oweve r,no v ery high flights of imagination

wil l be found in the se lections from the poet contained in thisvolume . In the latter part of Canto I I I . and in Canto IV. of“ Chi lde Ha rold

,

” wi l l be found some wonde rfu l passagesglowing with imaginative fe rvo r

, e.g.

,the remarkable stanzas

on C larens (1 1 1 . 99 and on Ege ria (IV. 1 1 5

The fol l owing isolated passages wil l i l lustrate some of thephases of Fancy and Imagination

(a)“Dim w ith a dull imp rison ed ray ,

A sunbeam wh ich ha th lost its way .

(b) And then there was a little isle ,Wh ich in my very face d id sm ile.

(C )’Twas as if , darting from her heaven ly throne ,

A br ighter glance her / arm reflected gave.

(d)Save where some sol itary column mou r nsAbove its prostrate brethren of the cave.

—(Im

(6 ) Where a blue sky and glowing clime extends.

(f ) Nature’

s pages glassed by sunbeams on the lake .

(9)And the spring

C ame fO Ith,her work of g ladness to con trive,

With all her reck less birds upon the wing.

”

(h) And chiefless castles breathing sternf arewells.

XXXL

Taste.

“ Taste is the kind of artistic excel lence that gives thegreatest amount of p leasu re to cu ltivated m inds . The artisticjudgment that produces this qual ity has al so the same desig


nation . The terms “ pol ish,

” “ refinement,

and “ elegance,

are alm ost synonymous with artisti c taste .When poetry is as it ought to be

,in all the round of the

artistic qual ities,it is said to be “ in taste when any art

condition is m issed the poet exposes himsel f to the reproach of“ bad tas te .

”

There are in taste a permanent element and a mu tableelement . Regarding certain matters of sty le the re can be nodiscuss ion . It is

,fo r instance

,con ceded by all that e legance

of sty le demands stri ct conformity with the wel l - understoodru les of compos it ion and rhetori c . Besides this permanentelement the re is an element that var ies with ages

,countr ies ,

and individual s . I t is large ly var iety in taste that causes su chd i ve rs ity in l ite rary judgments .Dete rm ine whethe r By ron ever vio lates these canons of

taste(a) Manner isms should be avo ided .

(b) Negligence shou ld have no p lace in a good sty le.(0 ) There should be neither p rolix ity nor violent conden

sation.

(d) There should be no st rain ing after effect .(e) Melody and harmony are essential s of poetic taste .

(f ) Lu cid ity is a p r ime requ is ite in l ite rary sty le.(g) Tawdry o rnamentation should be avoided.

Taste may have reference to subj ect—matter as well as to

express ion . D iscuss in this connection(a) The discursi veness of Childe Ha ro ld .

(b) The propr iety of the poet’s frequently introdu cing mat

ters pu rely personal . (See 0 . E . III. 1 , note, and II. 95

xxxn .

Beauty.

Beau ty is a wo rd of somewhat vague s igni fication. As it isone of the qual ities on which taste exercises itself

,the con

ception of what constitutes the beautifu l must vary accord ingto the taste of the ind ividual . Beauty is one of the mostcopiou s sources of the pleasu res of poetry

,as it is one large

part of the vocat ion of the poet to bear witness to the beauty


that is in the world around him,and to the noble thoughts and

affecting sentiments that gi ve us pleasures of a placid kind .

The term beauty is appl ied,not on ly to Obj e cts that please the

eye and the ear,and to thoughts and sentiments

,but also to

the artistic language that gives a vivid and attractive express ion to all these things

,and even to the me lody and har

mony that accompany these graces of w riting.

A brief study of the scene viewed by the Pr isoner of

Chi l lon with a“ loving eye saw them I felt

troubled -wi l l serve to i l lust rate some of the app l icat ions ofthe te rm . A romantic scene is here described with some fu lness — The snow-capt mountains the far-extend ing lake theblue river ; the gushing torrents ; the rock s and bushes ; thewhite-wal led town 5 the sail s of pass ing ships the smal l greenisle

,with its three tal l trees

,its flowing waters

,and its flowers ;

the swimm ing fish ; the fly ing eagle . It wi l l be noticed thatthe poe t makes a strong appeal to our sensuous appreciationof col ors and sounds . Not only is the scene a beau tiful one,bu t all its suggestive associations tend to sti r our gentl eremotions —the “ thousand years ” gives us the pathos of lengthof time the imaginative joy that the poet puts int o the r iver,and the to rrents

,and the ships, and the is le, and the fish

,and

the eagle,p roduces in us a fee l ing akin to tenderness ; our

tender fee l ings are also tou ched by the mention of the flowers,

with thei r sweet scents and hues . The strik ing contrast between the beau ty and joy of natu re and the “

changed frameand

' pitiable cond ition of the Prisoner“ To Whom the goodly earth and airAre bann

’

d and barr’d , —forbidden fare,and the effect of the view on his spirits when new tears cometo his eyes and he feels troubled

,—these powerfully enhance

the e ffect of the whole passage,the charm ing scene

,w ith all

its tender suggestions,be ing presented in a touchingly pathetic

setting . In exam in ing this passage for literary beauty , thereis a more impo rtant matter to cons ide r. The poet has chosena su itable subj ect for the exercise of his art, and he has broughtvarious poetic devices to his aid ; but he has also c l othed hisdesc ription and his sentiments in pleasing language

,and has

charged the Whole passagewith anl

agreeable melgdy.

buxw vv f

J

M IL w w o ca a jg ,“ t a c o

PRISONER O F H ILhONaS/o w

( Id /M ( VI/ 3 An v /

I ALC U/ Q AL-d c x,

“A l/“40 01 4 4

3”v iz

—W W fl cfi j n.

MY h ‘

l ll‘ is gi ey , but not with years,NOI grew it white tl bw béu it cd m wL

In a single n ight,As men’s have grown from sudden fears : tu m-6“ fl

‘ “ f“

My l imbs are bow ’d,though not with toi l

,

But rusted with a vile repose,

For they have been a dungeon’s spoi l, M”? I

And mine has been theD

fate Of thoseTo whom the good ly earth and air

Are baun’d,and barr’d—forbidden fare

But (thiswas for my fathe1 ’: l

’aith JJ

‘

I suffer’d chains and courted death

,b t

ctu utt t

' fi f

Tllj t father perish’

d at the stake u a .C c

m t,

For tenets he would not forsakeAnd for the same his l ineal race [g a wg ( M Q u a n t a -h “

In darkness found a dwel ling place,

I P ani c

“a; wei e seven—who now are one

,

S ix in youth,and one in age,

Finish’

d as they had begun,

Proud of Persecution’s rage ;One in fi re

,and two in field

,

Their be l ief with b lood have seaDy ing as their father d ied ,For the God their foes denied ;Three were in a dungeon cast

,

Of whom this wreck is left the last.

44 CRITICAL INTRODUCTmN.

that is in the world around him,and to the noble thoughts and

affecting sentiments that gi ve us p leasu res of a p lacid kind .

The term beauty is app l ied,not only to Obj ects that please the

eye and the ear,and to thoughts and sentiments

,bu t also to

the artistic language that gives a vivid and attractive express ion to all these things, and even to the melody and har

mony that accompany these graces of wr iting .

A brief study of the scene viewed by the Prisoner of

Chil lon with a“ loving eye I saw them I felt

troubled —wil l se rve to i l lustrate some of the app l icat ions ofthe term . A romantic scene is he re descr ibed with some fu lness - The snow - capt mountains the far- extending lake theblue river ; the gushing torrents ; the rock s and bushes ; thewhite-wal led town the sai l s of pass ing ships the smal l greenisle

,with its three tal l trees

,its flowing waters

,and its flowers

the swimm ing fish ; the fly ing eagl e . It will be noticed thatthe poe t makes a strong appeal to our sensuous app reciationof col ors and sounds . Not only is the scene a beautiful one,bu t all its suggestive associations tend to sti r our gentleremotions —the “ thousand years ’’ gives u s the pathos of lengthof time the imaginative joy that the poet puts into the r i ver,and the to rrents

,and the ships

,and the isle

,and the fish

,and

the eagle,p rodu ces in us a feel ing akin to tenderness ; our

tender fee l ings are also tou ched by the mention of the flowers,

with their sw eet scents and hues . The strik ing contrast between the beau ty and j oy of nature and the “ changed frameand pitiab le condition of the P risoner

To whom the goodly earth and airAre bann

’

d and barr’d ,—forbidden fare,and the effect Of the view on his spir its when new tears cometo his eyes and he fee l s troubled

,—these powerfully enhance

the effect of the who le passage,the charm ing scene

,with all

its tender suggestions,being presented In a tou chingly pathetic

setting. In exam in ing this passage for literary beauty , thereis a more important matter to cons ider. The poet has chosena su itable subj ect for the exercise of his art, and he has broughtvarious poetic dev ices to his aid ; but he has al so clothed hisdescription and his sentiments in pleasing language

,and has

charged the who le passage with an agreeable mel{ u n fi

t-

fC U M / (n ull. f e d-c a lfg

w eeb lf/

M u d -l] M y th 4 60 ) M an y /M qLéV M l

49

1 “

a t 4

8am q cgEnLLON.

There are seven pil lars of Gothic mou ld,

III C hIllon’

s dungeons deep an d old,

There are seven columns,Inassy and grey

,

D im with a du l l impI'Ison’

d ray,

A sunbeam (which hath l ost its wayfluiF!

iAnd through the crevice and the c leftO f the thick wal l is fal len an d le ft ;C reeping o’er the floor so dampflLo n

I“ LIke a marsh’s meteor lamp :

And in each pi l lar there is a ring,

And in each ring there is a chain/;

That I ron i s a cank’

erIng th ing, MFo r In these l imbs Its teeth re IIIaIn

,

( C

marks that wi l l not wear away,

” 1 0: c“

Ti l l I have done with th is new day,Which ngw is painfu l to these eyes , 1

“

Which have not seen the sun so riseFor years—I cannot count them o ’er

,

I l ost their l ong and heavy scoreWhen my last brother droop’

d and died,

And I lay l iving by his s ide.

They chain’d us each to a co lumn stone

,“

Aha we were three—yet, each al oneld not move a s ingle pace

”,

ldanot saee ‘each other’s face,

Ba

i

tiw ith that pal e and l ivid lightlThat made us strangers in our sightAnd thus togethe r—yet apart

,

Fetter’

d in hand,but join’

d in heart,’Twas sti ll some solace

,in the dearth

O f the pure e lements of earth ,To hearken to each other’s speech,And each turn comforter to eachWith some new hope

,or legend o ld

,

O r song heroical ly boldBut even these at length grew co ld .

“fitf

yfu

W V

I

1, “ ( to N

TH E PRISONER or C H ILLON. 47

Our voices took a dreary tone,

An echo of the dungeon stone,

A grating sound—not full and free .m w

As they of yore w ere wont to beIt m ight be fancy but to me (1They never sounded l ike our own .

I was the eldest of the three,And to__uphold and cheer the rest sum :

I ought to do— and did—my best,And each did we l l in his degree .The youngest

,whom my father loved,

Because our m other’s brow was givenTo him— with eyes as blue as heavenFor him my sou l was sorely m oved grid :

A nd trulv m igh t it be distress’

d

To see su ch b ird in such a nestFor he was beauti fu l as day(\Vlien day was beautifu l to meAs to young eagles

,being free)

A polar day, which wi l l no t seeA sunset til l its summer’s gone ,Its s leepless summer of l ong l ight,

The snow- clad offspring of the sunAnd thus he was as pure and bright

,

And in his natural spirit gay,W ith tears for nought but others’ i l ls

,

And then they fiow’

d l ike mountaIn r i lls,Un less he cou ld assuage the woe ” a n " M ’ "

Which he abhorr’

d to v iew below.M w r "

The other was as pure of m ind,

But form’

d to combat with his kind m eet

S trong in his frame,and o f a mood

Which ’gainst the worl d in war (hadf

stoodf M “

And perish’

d in the foremost rankW ith joy —but not in chains to pineH is spirit wither’

d with their c lank .

“ W

Lake Leman l ies by C li illon’s wal ls m u “

A thousand feet in depth be l owIts massy_waters meet and flowThus much the fathom - l ine was sentFrom Chillon’

s snowwhite battlemeIIt,

m

Which round about the wave enthralsA double dungeon wal l and wavel lave made—and l ike a l iv ingB e low the surface of the lakeThe dark vau lt l ies “he i e in we layWe heard‘ it ripp le n ight and day ; “ W“

Sounding 0’

cr our heads it knock ’d ;And I have fe lt the winter’s sprayWash through the bars when winds were highA nd wanton in the happy skyAnd then the very rock hath rock

’

d, a n

dAnd I have felt it shake , unshock’

d,

Because I could have sm i led to seeThe death that would have set me free. r

I said m v nearer brother pined, lI said his m ighty heart decl ined ,’ r

H e l oathed and put away his food ;It was not that ’twas coarse and rude

,

For we were used to hunter’s fare,(M 7

A nd for the l ike had l ittle careThe m i lk drawn from the mountain goatWas changed for water from the m oat

,

Our bread was such as captives’ tears

THE PRIS ONER OF C H ILLON.

Have moisten’d many a thousand years,

S ince man first pe'

nt his fellow-men rw I n u t .

Like brutes within an iron den ; ” at ,

But what were these to us or him ‘P

These wasted not h is heart or l imbMy brother’s sou l was of that mould ”i f“ ”w e

‘w c

na t '

Which in a palace had grown cold,M H ad his free breathing been den ied

w u éf/ tmm wyThe range of the steep mountain’s s ideBut why del_ay the truth —he died . MW

1 “ a m “

:I saw

,and could not hold his head,

Nor reach his dying hand—nor dead ,a

‘

I

lo o-cu m

Though hard I strove but strove in vain “4r a; A

‘

r ca cu o 'fi n

hv’n

'

fl W“ " M ( e

To rend and gnash my bonds ln tw_a1n . ai

r

-c bfiw w

He died—and they unlock’d his chain , r u i n e d

And scoop’d for him a shal low grave

Even from the cold earth of our cave. cu d

I begg’

d them, as a boon , to lay

His corse in dust whereon the dayM ight shine—it was a foo l ish thought,

c u x £ 5 “

f‘t s t c ‘

I n n w '

vf ‘

But then within my brain it wrought, Af fineJe t/a c o m w w

V

That exam in death his freeborn breast a cv.‘

r . m vr A.

III such a dungeon could not rest.I m ight have spared my idle prayerThey coldly laugh’

d—and laid him there t(The flat and turfiess earth abovel ta lc lam ; aé-t 'ré,The being we so much did loveH is empty chain above it leant,nd aam

'

«vjSuch murder’s fitting monument A

li b i/L

i b

But he , the favorite and the flowery—”a M M f

Most cherish’

d since his natal' hour, a.

H is mother’s image in fair face,

The infant love of all his racefl mwi t’

w

a wl -l

l fu "

L ycra/ fl

TH E PRISONER OF C H ILLON.

He,too

,was struck

,and day by day m

Was wither’d on the stoc/k away ”

Oh God ! it is a fearfu l thingTo see the human sou l take w ingIII any shape , in any mood :

[I’ve seen it rushing forth in b lood , M u Av

I’ve seen i t on the break ing oceanStrive with a swoln convu ls ive motion

,

I’ve seen the s ick and ghastly bedO f s in del irious w ith its d readBut these were horrors—this was w oeUnmix

’

d with such—but sure and s lowHe faded

,and so calm and meek

,

So softly worn, so sweetly weak ,So tearless, yet s_9_ tender— kind ,And grieved for those he left behind ;With: 11 the while a cheek whose b loomWas

“as a mockery of the tomb,

Whose tints as gently su_nk away W m

As a departing Iainbow’s ray

An eye of most transparent l ight,IThat almost made the dungeon bright, u -

‘

fl '

And not a word of murmur— notA groan o ’er his untimely l ot

,

A l itt le talk of better days,

A l ittle hope my own tol aise,

For I was sunk in si lence—lostIn this last loss

,of all the most ;

And then the s ighs he wou ld suppIess( ga

l?

Of fainting nature’s feebleness,

N "

More slow ly drawn,grew less and less

I l isten’d, but I corild not hear ;I cal l d

,for I was wild with fear 9 c

I knew ’twas hopeless,but my dIead

Would not be thus admon ished ; w ~

_I_call’d, and thought I head a sound

_I burst my chain with one strong bound ,And rush’d to him —I found him not,I only stirr

’d in this black spot

,

I only l ived—. I only drewThe accursed breath of dungeon-dew a n d

U

The last—the so le—the dearest l ink

I I never saw its l ike before, at

TH E PR ISONER OF CH ILLON.

It ceased,and then it came again,

The sweetest song ear ever heard ,” N Mh u b

-

W“

And m ine was thank ful ti l l my eyes"

.

Ran over with the glad surprise;And they that moment cou ld not seeI was the mate of m isery ; “ V “ w "

But then by dul l degrees came back re w i n d

My senses to their wonted track fem .“ C5 a v

I saw the dungeon wal ls and floorC lose slowly round me as before ;I saw the gl immer of the sunCreeping as it before had done

,

But through the crevice where it cameThat b ird was perch’

d,as fond and tame

,

And tamer than upon the tree ;A love ly b ird

,with azure wings,

And song that said a thousand things,

A nd seem’

d to say them all for mea * a -c t p “s u t

'

1 4 14 0

i f

I ne’er shal l see its l ikeness moreIt seem’

d like me to want a mate,But was not hal f so desolate

,

And it was come to l ove me whenNone l ived to love me so again

,

And cheering from my dungeon’s brink ,H ad brought me back tfi e

/el andj unk .

I know not if it late were free,

(

E

);brok e its cage to perch on m ine,

Bu knowin wel l ca ) t itb

1

Sweet bug! I could notywish for thine "W m“ “WM

Or if it were, in winged gu ise,A visitant from Paradise

M “ W anga w dw o

For—Heaven forgive that thought theWhich made me both to _weep and sm i leI sometimes deem ’

d that it m ight beMy brother’s sou l come down to meBut then at last away it flew

,

And then ’twas mortal—wel l I knew,

For he wou ld never thus have flown,And left me twice so doubly lone M ‘ “M “

Lone—as the corse within its shroud ,M '

.

J

When skies are blue,and earth is gay.

M a u d u “ . “1 4

A kind of change came in my M A Cf iMy keepers o

c rew compass ionate , (Lu—T yne .

I know not what had made them so,

“4”

They were inured to sights of woe,{ga teway

But so it was —my broken chainWith l inks un fastened did remain

,

And it was l iberty to stride W‘s /u M y 2

A l ong my cel l from s ide to s ide,

And u p and down,and then athwart,

And tread it over every partAnd round the pi l lars one—by one, ca lm/5 1 mReturn ing where my walk begun,A void ing only , as I trod , cwé

'

. w —w cl “

My brothers’ graves without a sod ;For if I thought with heed less treadMy step profaned their low ly bed

,

My breath came gaspingly and thick,

And my crush’

d heart fel l b l ind and s ick.

Ian » flu . “ A va n fl d' vul va -nib 5 Lab , m ea n t

-I

I made a footing in the wall,It was not therefrom to escape,

For I had buried one and all

Who loved me in a human shape ;And the whole earth would henceforth beA wider prison unto meNo chi ld—no S ire—no k in had I,No partner in my m iseryI thought of this , and I was glad

,

For thought of them had made me mad ; .

But I was curious to ascend (éfdfi/ V w M “;

v fl ‘ Q l fl 6L“ h a

£0 sew } XIII.

yfflw

tfM “ M

I saw them—and they were the same,

They were not changed l ike me in frame ; 4 4 6 a “

I saw the ir thousand_years of snow “

f“ “ 77

“

On high— their wide long lake be l ow,M a gl a m ? "

And the blue Rhone in fullest_ ,

flow o fJ /W f

I heard the torrents leap and gushO ’er channel’d rock and broken bushI saw the white-wall’d distant__town , i n

" La w "

And whiter sai ls go skimm ing downAnd then there was a l ittle is le

,eggfi

ffggfzgyé

1Which in my very face d id sm i le,The only one in view ;

A small green is le,it seem’

d no more,

S carce broader than my dungeon floor,

But in it there were three ta l l trees,

And o’er it blew the mountain breeze,

And by it there were waters flowingAnd on it there were young flowers growing

,

Of gentle breath and hue .The fi sh swam by the castle wal l ,And they seem

’

d j oyous all ; u m,

t ALIThe eagle rode the ris ing blast,

Methought he never flew so fast s ul jAs then to me he seem’

d to fly flu? wa f t“)

And then new tears came in my eye, 4, L u “, 41

“wAnd I felt troubled— and wou ld fain r a»

" d a d

I had not left my recent chain mvf’

zx:firxfii ffqflAnd when I d id descend again

,3

The darkness of my dim abodeFel l on me as a heavy l oad ;It was as is a new-dug grave,C losing o’er one we sought to save ,And yet my glance , too much Opprest

Jud i, “w'

w ) hw co u u .

a?

H ad almost need of such a rest.“M d, 52: en .

‘

t n e vus.

XIV.

I

It mIght be months , or years, or days’MA/M w abu t s. mm + n w u u

I kept no count—I took no note.

At last men came to set me free,

tee ny-ZI ask’

d not why,and reck

’d not where ;

It was at length the same to me ,Fetter

’d or fetterless to be ,

I learn’

d to love despair .And thus when they appear

’

d at last,

And all my bonds as ide were cast,

These heavy wal ls to me had gro n HM W ro"

A herm itage— and a my own l aw ifixd wfi fyw w ‘

And half I felt as they were comeTo tear me from a second home“Tith spiders I had friendship made

,[Ci—H iw u -U~ ~ e fi w‘w ‘m

And watch’d them in the ir su l len trade

, aw l/

a wiu fim g : tm

H ad seen the m ice by moonl ight p lay,

And why should I feel less than theyWe were all inmates of one p lace,And I

,the monarch of each I

fé‘

éé,9

H ad p ower to k i l l— yet,strange to te l l '

In qu iet we had learned to dwel lMy very chains and I grew friends

,

So much a long communion tendsTo mafie us what we are —even IRegain

’d my freedom with a sigh.

w

C H ILDE H AROLD’S PILGR IMA GE .

CANTO SECOND.

LXXIII.

Fair Greece sad rel ic of departed worthImmortal

,though no more ; though fal len,

greatWho now shal l lead thy scatter

’

d chi ldren forth,

And l ong accustom’

d bondage uncreate ?Not such thy sons who whilome did await

,

The hope less warriors of a wil l ing doom,

In bleak Thermppylae’

s sepu l chral s trait ”8 WW

Oh who that gal lant spirit shal l resume,

Leap from Eurotas’ bank s,and cal l thee from the tomb ?LXXIV.

Spirit of freedom when on t le’s browThou sat

’

st with Thrasyl‘m ius an dhis train,

Cou ldst thou forebode the dismal hour which now

D ims the green beauties of thine Attic p lainNot thirty tyrants now enforce the chain ,ut every carle can l ord it o’er thy landNor rise thy sons

,but idly rai l in vain ,

Trembl ing beneath the scourge o f Turkish handFrom birth ti l l death enslaved ; in word , in deed , unmann

’d

LXXV.

In all save form alone,how changed 1 and who

That marks the fire sti l l spark l ing in each eye,

Who but wou ld deem their bosoms buru’d anewW ith thy unquenched beam

,lost Liberty

And many dream withal the hour is nigh

CHILDE H AROLD’S PILGRIMAGE. 57

That gives them back their father’s heritageFor foreign arms and aid they fond ly sigh

,

Nor so lely dare encounter hosti le rage,Or tear their name defiled from Slavery’s mourn ful page.

LXXVI .

Hereditary bondsmen know ye notWho wou ld be free themselves must strike the blow 1By their right arms the conquest must be wrought ?W i l l Gaul or Muscovite redress ye ? no ITrue

,they may lay your proud despoi lers low,

But not for you wi l l Freedom’s altars flame .Shades of the He l ots triumph o ’er your foeGreece change thy lords, thy state is stil l the same

Thy glorious day is o’er, but not thy years of shame .LXXVII

Q U . L

The city won for Al lah from the Giaour, Clip -w e -C‘

u t t

The Giaour from Othman’s race again may wrest ;And the Serai’s impenetrab le towerRece ive the fiery Frank

,her former guest

Or Wahab’

s rebel brood , who dared divestThe prophet’s tomb of all its pious spoi l

,

May wind their path of blood along the West ;But ne’er wi l l freedom seek this fated so i l

,

But slave succeed to slave through ’years of end less toil.LXXVIII.

Yet mark their m irth—ere lenten days beg in,

That penance which their ho ly rites prepareTo shrive from man his weight of mort al s in

,on c e “ . {M

‘M ’

I

By daily abstinence and n ightly prayerBut ere his sack c l oth garb Repentance wear

,

Some days of joyaunce are decreed to —W W VW W m

To take of p leasaunce each his secret share,

III motley robe to dance at mask ing ball,

And j o in the m imic train o f merry Carnival.LXXIX.

And whose more rife with merriment than thineO S tamboul once the empress of their reign ? f u n 45

, 0 »u wwe

58 CH ILDE H AROLD ’S PILGRIMAGE.

Though turbans now po l lute Sophia’s shrine,

And Greece her very al tars eyes in vain(Alas her woes wi l l sti l l pervade my strainGay were her m instrels once , for free her throng,A l l felt the common j oy they now must feign ,Nor oft I’ve seen such sight , nor heard such song,

As woo’d the eye, and thrill

’

d the Bosphorus along.

LXXX.

Loud“

was the l ightsome tumu lt on the shore,O ft Mus ic changed

,but never ceased her tone ,

And timely echo’

d back the measured oar,

And ripp l ing waters made a p leasant moanThe Q ueen of tides on high consenting shone ,And when a transient breeze swept o ’er the wave,’Twas

,as if darting from her heaven ly throne,

A brighter glan ce her form reflected gave,

Ti l l spark l ing bi l lows Seem’d to l ight the banks they

LXXXI.

Glanced many a l ight caique along the foam ,

Danced on the shore the daughters of the land,

No thought had man or maid of rest or home,

Whi le many a langu id eye and thril l ing handExch anged the look few bosoms may withstand ,Or gen tly prest

,return

’

d the pressure sti l lOh Lo ve 2 young Love 1 bound in thy rosy band ,Let sage or cynic prattle as he wi l l

,

These hours,and only these, redeem Life’s years of ill !

LXXXII.

But, midst the throng in merry masquerade ,Lurk there no hearts that throb with secret pain ,Even through the c l osest searment half betray’

d ?

To such the gentle murmurs o f the mainSeem to re- echo all they mourn in vainTo such the g ladness of the gamesome crowdIs source of wayward thought and stern d isdainH ow do they loathe the laughter id ly loud ,

And long to change the robe of revel for the shroud .

’

a J:

Cu .

CH ILDE H AROLD ’S P ILGRIMAGE .

While strangers only_not regard less pass, e lf/ m ee k 4&4 !wLingering l ike me

,perchance

,to gaze

, and sigh Alas l ”

LXXXVH .

Yet are thy sk ies as b lue , thy crags as wild ;Sweet are thy g

G roves , and verdant are thygfbe‘lds,W IM

Q (5 aux ,Thine o l ive I ipe as when M inerva sm i led, M aw W M “M y

And sti l l his honey’

d wealth H ynrettus yie lds , w e

There the bl ithe bee his fragrant fortress builds,}oy

*m w w

The freeborn wanderer of thy mountain airW 'LApol lo sti l l thy long

,long summer gi lds

,

Sti l l In his beam Mende l i’8 marbles glaI e ,$Mf

fidu rv 0~m

¥ ffiam ass.“

Art,Glory

,Freedom fail

,but Nature sti l l 1s fair.LXXXVH L

Where’er we tread ’tis haunted,ho ly ground“; n urcvvw

No earth of thine is lost in vu lgar mould,

u

b~~f

But one vast realm of wonder spreads around,

And all the Muse’s tales seem tru ly to ld,

Til l the sense aches with gaz ing to beho ldThe scenes our ear l iest dreams have dwelt uponEach hi l l and dale, each deepen ing glen and woldDefies the power which crushed thy temp les gone :

Age shakes Athena’s tower,but spares gmy Marathon .

LXXXL&

The sun,the soi l

,but not the s lave

,the same

Unchanged in all except its foreign l ordPreserves al ike its bound s and bound less fameThe field

,where Pers ia’s victim horde

v, w as ». rel. e rr .

Firs Tb“! I beneath the brunt of Hel las’ swordW W”

As on the morn to distant G lory dear,etc 1 m aca w V » eéw ‘e w f‘efw

When Marathon became a mag ic word ;IVhich utter

’

d, to the hearer’s eye appear am »

.

The camépwthe host,athedfight, the conqueror’s career.m whfic

’

a afimdw

L Q M Q L

The flying Mede,his shaftless broken bow ; Q M ‘JW ’

The fiery Greek,his red purs_u ing spear ;W W ‘

Mountains above,Eart ’h s

,Ocean’s plain be l ow ;

Death In the front, D estruction In the I“egg !w r v

" f “A RHLP C

: mL J¢a u A A A k j$ uxfi>

CH ILDE HaRoLD’s PILGRIMAGE.

Such was the scene—what now remaineth here ? 5' 5 0

What sacred trophy marks the hal l ow ’d ground,

Record ing Freedom’s sm ile and Asia’s tear ‘

.l

M -L we. W“The rifled urn

,the v iolated M r

The dust thy courser’s hoof,rude stranger ! spurns around . 6m

Yet to the remnants of thy splendor pastShal l pi lgrims

, pens ive , but unwearied , throng ;Long shal l the voyager

,w ith th’ Ionian blast

,a l a l

‘

u i n dl

Hai l the bright clinIe of battleand of songLong shal l thine annal s and imm ortal tongue i44 0

Fi l l with thy fame the youth of many a S ll O l'(

Boast of the aged lesson of the young !Which sages venerate and bards adore ,

As Pal las and the Muse unvei l their awfu l lo re.XC II.

'W O-n—p Vi IA /ow vh l C l ub

The parted, bosom c l ings to wonted homef’M '

fW I

I f aught that’s kindred cheer the we l come hearthHe that is lone ly , hither let him roam,

And gaze complacent on congen ial earth .

Greece is no lightsome land of social m irthBut he whom Sadness sootheth may ab ide ,And scarce regret the region o f his birth

,

When wandering s l ow by D e lphi’s sacred side,

Or gaz ing o ’er the plains where Greek and Pers ian ( l ie d.

XC III.

Let such approach this consecrated land ,And pass in peace along the magic wasteBut spare its relics— let no busy handDeface the scenes

,already how defaced l

Not for such purpose were these altars p lacedRevere the remnants nations once reveredSo may our country’s name be undisgraced ,So may ’st thou prosper where thy you th“ was rear

’

d,

By every honest j oy of love and l ife endear’

d

XC IV.

For thee,who thus in too protracted song

Hast soothed thine id lesse w ith inglorious lays,

Soon shall thy voice be lost am id the throngO f louder m instrels in these later days :To such resign the strife for fading bays Ca t t/w“

Ill may such contest now the spirit move u I u “ h ave eff “

Which heeds nor keen reproach nor partial praise,

a u x. v

‘

S incecold each k inder heart that m ight approve,And none are left to please when none are left to loye.W m W Mk ;

I k I L aJ

." M a ta4 0 A !

XCV.

ow favo ur-l F"Thou t ou loved ’and lovelyone !

Whom youth and youth ’s affections bound to me ;0 d id for me what nonp m

beside have done,

Nor shrank from one albe it unworthy thee.What Is my being '

.z thou has ceased to be !

Nor staid to welcome here thy wanderer home,Who mourns o’er hours which we no more shal l seeWould they had never been , or were to come

Would he had ne’er return’d to find fresh cause to roam

‘ H - M i b‘

XCVI.Oh ever loving

,lovely

,and be loved

How selfish Sorrow ponders on the past,

And c l in s to th uo s now better far removedBut Timgshal l tearEhy

w

li’iarll

’

cfii I from me last. W fi n fimafi

Al l thou could’st have of m ine,stern death thou hast

The parent,friend, and now the more than friend

Ne’er yet for one thine arrows flew so fast,

W W

And grief with grief continu ing stil l to blend,

Hath snatched the l ittle j oy that l ife had yet to lend .

XCVI I .Then must I plunge again into the crowd

,toWWW -W

"4

And fo l low all that Peace disdains to seek 1MM 4L” f f“

“

Eff,”

M

‘JWhere Revel calls, and Laughter loud,ha w k”

u ”

ffrFalse to the heart, distorts the hol low cheek ,To leave the flagging spirit doubly weak

“wSti l l o’er the features, which perforce they cheer, iM L’W

To feign the p leasure or conceal the pigueiw

C H ILDE H AROLD’S PILGRIMAGE.

XCVIII.

What is the worst of woes that wait on age ?“(WW W

What stamps the wrink le deeper on the brow “.l

To view each l oved one b lotted from life’

s/ pagAnd be alone on earth , as I am now .

Before the Chastener humbly let me

O ’er hearts divided and o ’er hopes destroy’

d raw/ {4 0 1 V

Ro l l on,vain days I fu l l reck less may ye flow,

S ince Time hath reft whate’er my soul enjoy’

d,

And with the m ine earl ier years alloy’

d.

M “ I ‘

M a, ”

s f. Jh ’ai a

‘f l b 4 I! ("fl -Nu -u t e s l tv k kL‘v ‘Lt”L”,

C ANTO TH IRD.

Is thy face l ike thy mother’s , my fair chi ldADA ! sole daughte r of my house and heart ?When last I Saw thy y oung blue eyes they sm i led

,

And then we parted,— not as now we

Bu t with a

Qho

l’iW W V (DM MAwaking with a sta rt

,

The wate rs heav e a und me and on high” a

The winds l ift up thei r voices : I depart, w“ “23“ N

Whithe r I know not ; bu t the hou r ’s gone by,When A lb ion’s le ssen ing shores cou ld gr ieve or glad m ine

I wr u

mid“Once more upon the wate rs ! ye t once more W N W

And the waves bound beneath me as a steedThat knows his r ider . We lcome to the ir roarSwift be the ir gu idance , wheresoe’e r it lead ! M u m /£

1 M W

Though the strain ’

d mast should qu ive r as a reed,

And the rent canvas flu ttering strew the gale,

Sti l l must I on ; fo r I am as a weed,

m

Flung from the rock,on O cean’s foam to sail

/“ fi f th

Whe re’er the surr

ge miyl

swgep, the tempes t’s b reath prevai l .

b a r b M a w-k c I .

m a, “ M uir 4

CH ILDE H AROLD’s PILGRIMAGE.

Again I seize the theme, then but begun ,

And bear it with me,as the rushing w ind

wthe c l oud onward s : in that Tale I find

“ Dcut

tf e furrows of long thought,and dried - up tears,

Which,ebbing

,leave a ste

éile track behind

,

WM ? “ O’

er w hich all heavily the Journeying yearsPlod the last sands of life

,—where not a flower appears.

H wy-(LU

IV.

j ar-m ated“:

S ince my y oung days of pass1on ,—Joy, or pain,

ba fijé'jPerchance my heart and harp have lost a string,And both

_may jar it may be, that in vainW

I wou l d assayas I have sung to sing.

Yet,though a dreary strain

,to this I cling

l

obd So that it w ean me from the w eary dreamO f selfish grief or gladness— so it fling w » m u s/WPForgetfulness around me—it shall seem

To me,though to none else

,a not ungrateful theme.

H e,who grown aged in this world of w oe .

In deeds,not years, piercing the depths of life, 6“

So that no w onder waits him ; nor belowC an love or sorrow

,fame

,ambition

,strife ,

réo'rvm

“at

CH ILDE H AROLD ’

S PILGRIMAGOEL

G’M 65A.

Yet must I think less wildly i—I have thoughtM W Pa m ‘a‘ “

Too long and darkly,till my brain became

,

In its own eddy boiling and o’

erwrougA whirling gu lf of «6 60 0566 0”M m

fi nd usA

ntaugh

My springs of life were poison’d late !

Y et am I changed ; though sti ll e same

In strength to bear w hat time cannot abate,

And feed on bitter fruits without accusing FatefioA/ ww fl ow 4

VIII.

W ” (S omething too much of this t—but now’

t'

is pastA nd the spell closes with its silentLong absent H AROLD re-appears at lastH e of the breast which fain no more w ou ld fee l

,

VVrung w ith the wounds w hich kill not, but ne’

e r healY et Time

,who changes all

,had alter

’

d him

In soul and aspect as in age years stealFire from the m ind as vigor from the limb ;

And life’

s enchanted cup but spark les near the brim .

IX. M M M 'Lw - “ wf

k '

H is had been quafi’

d too qu ickly,and he found

The (1regs w ere w ormw ood bu t he fill’

d again,Mu s e} . am 'ww

And from a purer fount, on holier ground ,“ “Li-“b ” m “

And deem’

d its spring perpetual but in vain !S till) round him clung iny/

isibly a chain M 5Which gall

’d for ever

,fetter ing though unseen

,

A nd heavy thofégh it clankidfin‘pt

vc rn w ith painf

/W ‘“W

Which pig edna hough it spokeM aud grew keen,

Entering with every step he took through m any a scene.

S ecure in guarded coldness,he had mix

’

d

Again in fancied safety with his kind,

And deem’d his spirit now so fi rm ly fix

’

d

And sheath’

d with an invulnerable m ind ,That, (if no j oy) no sorrow lurk

’

d behind {fig” W QAnd he

,asp ne, might

’

midst the many standUnheeded , searching through. the crowd to find“

I

m J /C”fv —é lf M W? {UL U-

‘

Cc o v '

, w €v 9

I

CH ILDE H AR OLD ’

S PILGRIMAGE .

Fit speculation ; su ch as in strange lande found in wonder-works of God and Nature’

s hand).5

,54.t

“ v ac. ML o y ri’

M w hv

’b¢a w u£

But who can v1ew the ripen d rose,nor seek

To w ear it ? who can cu riously behold w d m sw wThe smoothness and the sheen of beauty ’

s cheek ,Nor feel the heart can never all

firok olft?

Who can contemplate Fame through cloudsThe star which r ises o

’

er her steep,nor climb

'

.l

H arold,once more w ithin the vortex

,roll

’

d

On w ith the giddy circle,chasing Time

,

“f ilm 4“ M w

Yet with a nobler aim than in his youth’s fond prime.

Jb u C M LV

But soon he knew himself the most unfitO f men to herd with Man 3

’

w ith whom he held

W -HH is thoughts to others, though)

his soul w as que ll’d

Little in common ; untaught to dsgbfl

nc

io

ii /W ;I adv Wh y ‘d

}.

In youth by his ow n thoughts ; still uncompell’

défiw m JawH e w ould not yield dom inion of his m ind 7m 20tTo spirits against whom his own rebell

’

d“1

Proud though in desolation whi ch could find W e l w t

A life w ithin itself, todgreathe w ithout mankind JAN ? “ ”5°

v v C‘

B

-

‘

c i

H e had the passion and t

XIII.

Where rose the mountains, there to him were friendsWhere roll

’d the ocean ,

thereon was his home ;

Where a b lue sk and low in o lime ex tends M yy gfigfifvfir to

’

roam ;

The desert, forest , cavern ,breaker

’s,foam

, { Kl—o z, ow

Were unto him companionship ; they spakeA mu tual language, clearer than the tome (” flu/W

Of his land ’

s tongue,which he wou ld oft forsake

e w v‘»

”L For Nature’

s pages glass’d by sunbeams on the lake .

a tu iff

ta zu £4 ,W w fw w o fl

the C haldean ,he

i

could watch the stars,

Till he had peopled them w ith beings brightA s their own beams ; and earth

,and

And human frailties,were forgotten

CH ILDE HAROLD’S PILGRIMAGE.

H ow in an hour the power which gave annuls

Its gifts,transferring fame -as fleeting

a

to .o pt .)

In pride of place here last the eagle flew,w 1w 1

:MU”

Then tore w ith bloody talon the 1 ent plain, ”

LM MPierced by the shaft of banded nations throughAmbition ’

s life and labors all were vainH e wears the shatter

’d links of the world’

s broken chain .

M (l o c i L.) m u d-da H uba —v a , c h u m !“ ovm ' m «f og s q wcw i

XIX.

a“. Fit retribution ! Gaul may champ the bitA nd foam in fetters ;— but is earth more free ?Did nations combat to make One submit ;O r league to teach all kings true sovereignty ?What ! shall reviving Thraldom again beThe patch

’

d-up idol of enlighten’d days

'

.Z

Shall w e,who struck the Lip n down ,

shall w e fl ewm“; I rw .

Pay the Wolf homage proffering lowly gaze" 7

.3v n qzw lri’

And servile knees to thrones ? No p rove before ye pra1se

If not, o’er one fallen despot boast no more !

CH ILDE H AROLD ’

S PILGRIMAGE. 69

XXII.

Did ye not hear 1t —No ;’twas but the wind ,

O r the car rattling o ’er the stony street

On w ith the dance ! let j oy be unconfinedN0 sleep till morn

,when Y outh and Pleasure meet

To chase the glowing H ours with flying feetBut hark —that heavy sound breaks in once more,A s i f the clouds its echo would repeatA nd nearer

,clearer

,dead lier than before

Arm A rm it is - it is—the cannon’s opening roar

XXIII.Cu,

q 6

5 0Within a Windo that high hall (“t c 4Lew e m o

S ate Brunswick tain ; he did hearThat sound the first amidst the festival ,A nd caught its tone with Death ’

s prophetic ear w w w

And when they smiled because he deem’

d it near,

H is heart more truly knew that pea] too wellWhich stretched his father on a bloody bier

,

And roused the vengeance blood alone could quellg w

H e rush ’d into the field,and

,foremost fighting, fell .

n ymyum p u wfi a t

Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro,And gathering

“tears and tremblings of distress,

And cheeks all pale, which but an hour agoBlush

’d at the praise of their own loveliness

,

70 CH ILDE H AROLD’

S PILGRIMAGE.

Roused up the soldier ere the morning starWhile throng

’d the citizens with terror dumb

,

Or whispering,with white lips—“The foe ! they come they come

XXVI.

And wild and high the Cameron’

s gathering roseThe war- note of Lochiel, which Albyn

’

s hillsH ave heard , and heard , too, have her Saxon foesH ow in the noon of night that pibroch thrills,

‘

Savage and shrill But with the breath which fillsTheir mountain pipe

,so fill the mountaineers

With the fierce native daring which instilsThe stirring memory of a thousand years,

And Evan’s,Donald ’

s fame rings in each clansman’s ears

XXVII.

“

u ..

Andk

A rdennes waves above them her green leaves,

Dewy with nature’s tear-drops

,as they pass,

Grieving,if aught inanimate e

’

er grieves,O ver the unreturning brave,—alas

Ere evening to be trodden like the grassWhich now beneath them,

but above shall growIn its next verdure, when this fiery mass

Of living valor, rolling 0 11 the foe

A nd burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and

XXVIII.

Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,

And partly that bright names will hallow songA nd his was of the bravest

,and when shower

’

d

The death-bolts deadliest the thinn’

d files along,

Even where the thickest of war’

s tempest lower’

d,

They reached no nobler breast than thine,young gallant H oward

There have been tears and breaking hearts for thee,

A nd mine were nothing, had I such to giveBut when I stood beneath the fresh green tree

,

Which living w aves where thou didst cease to live,‘

A nd saw around me the wide field reviveWith fruits and fertile promise

,and the S pring

C ome forth her w ork of gladness to contriveWith all her reckless birds upon the wing

,

I turn’d from all she brought to those she could not bring.

I turn’d to thee, to thousands, of whom each

And offé'

fa‘su

all a ghastly gap did makeIn his own kind and kindred , whom to teach " A “

Forgetfulness were mercy for their sakeThe Archangel’s trump, not Glory

’s,must awake

Those whom they thirst jor though the sound of Fame

May for a moment soothe,it cannot slak

The fever of vain longing,and the name

So honor’d but assumes a stronger

,bitterer claim .

XXXII

They mourn,but smile at length and

,smiling

,mourn

The tree will wither long before it fallThe hull drives on

,though mast and sail be torn

roof—treer sinks, but moulders on the hall 1 f

In massyv hoariness the ruin’d wall

S tands when its wind-worn battlements are goneThe bars survive the captive they enthral ;The day drags through , though storms keep out the sun

And thus the heart w ill break. yet brokenly live on :

72 CH ILDE H AROLD’

S PILGRIMAGE.

XXXIII.

Even as a broken mirror,which the glass

In every fragment multiplies § and makesA thousand images of one that WfifiThe same

,

'

and still the more, the more it breaksAnd thus the heart wi ll do which not forsakes

,

Living in shatter’

d guise and still,and cold .

And bloodless, w ith its sleepless sorrow aches,

Yet withers on till all w ithout is old,

Showing no visible sign,for such things are untold .

XXXIV.

There is a very life in our despair,

V itality of poison,—a quick root

Which feeds thesedeadly branches foi it wereA s nothing did _we_

die but Life will suitItself to S orrow’

s most detested fruit,

Like to the apples on the Dead S ea’

s shore,

A ll ashes to the taste. Did man computeExistence by enj oyment

,and count o’

er

Such hours ’gainst years of life,— say, would he name threescore

XXXV.

The Psalmist number’d out the years of man

They are enough and if thy tale be true, qyaiztfiw

Thou,who didst grudge him even that fleeting span

,

eMore than enough,thou fatal Waterloo

Millions of tongues record thee,and anew

Their children’s lips shall echo them

,and say

H ere,where the sword united nations drew ,

a

Our equcntgymen were warring on that dayAnd thisis much

,and all which will not pass away.

XXXVI.

Thereq

siiii

nk

k,the greatestffib

’

rwtfhe worst of men

,

Whose spirit, antithetically mixt, cw 7 1 “ S‘W'

'

One moment of the mightiest,and agam

On little objects with like firmngussfiat;

Extreme in all things hadst tiiout

bi

een betw ixt,

Thy throne had still been thine,or never been ;


ni b”

For daring made thy rise as fall thou seek’st

Even now to re-assume the imperiaUnien, m . We”b f "?And shake again the world , the Thunderer of th 1m

l

l a

id . ”

M oM fl n w V/o r v » “ —L4 LM XXXVII

C onqueror and captive of the earth art thou 1,fflfwfl ,

’

4 .

She trembles at thee still,and thy wild nameW V -J’

FW M

Was ne’

er more bru ited in men’

s m inds than now X“

M That thou art nothing,save the jest of Fame dm v ; 1

0

232455w angd dmAVho woo

’d thee once,thy/L

iras‘s‘al apdhegame

”M” 30 am

The flatterer of thy fieifdéne s‘f’

till thou wert v .

A god unto thyself ; nor less the_same a t“ L

To the astounded kingdoms all inert,0 0 4w w m am ,

Who deem ’

d thee for a time (whate’er thou didst assert) 94

1:“fw d ! “

A }XXXVIII.

WWW M W e

. i'

w l s'

t vs MA.W y

fifl b d/

c mOh

,more or less than man—In bIg or low

Battling with nations,flying from the field

j. Now making monarchs’

necks thy footstool, nowdagé

k

hfm'fw

M’fiifi ore than thy meanest soldier taught to_y ield y

‘

i’

céa w a - b "ii; kw

An empire thou couldst crush,command

,rebu ild ,

But govern not thy pettiest passion,nor

,M ann a fiémkma n d cLa

x-n u

H owever deeply in men’

s spi rits skill’dr

n f‘“

Look through thine own,nor curb the lust of w ar

,

Nor learn that tempted Fate will leaye the loftiest star 0

144 N A «w a d /

4 \ W ¢ . 1 f -W j‘L{LA W OWV ‘V u i ‘ 'L“ o c u b w w P‘ U‘

q 'v q‘r l w

W W “. L n 4 1

d

Yet well thy soul hath brook’d the turning tide

With that untaught innate philosophy,

Which,be it wisdom

,coldness

,or deep pride

,

Is gall and wormwood to an enemy .

When the whole host of hatred stood hard by,

To watch and mock thee shrinking,thou hast smi led 424 4 +

With a sedate and all-enduring eyeWhen Fortune fled her spoil

’d and favorite child

,M M

Ig le stood unbow ’

d beneathfhe ills upon him piled .

u “ t-w -La eecu -L6L M A 4 ab

S ager than in thy fortunes for in themAmbition steel’d thee on too far to show

CHILDE H AROLD ’

S PILGRIMAGE.

That just habitual scorn,which could contemn

Men and their thoughts ’twas w ise to feel,not so

“4 w ear it ever on thy lip and brow,

I”! Q M . And Spurn the instruments thou w ert to use2M ’ Till they w ere turn ’

d unto thine overthrowat

’

Tis but a worthless w orld tow in or lose ;So ha

st/23’s

proved to thee,and all such lot who choose.

JrL: 1

XLI.

If,like a tower upon a headland rock

,

Thou hadst been made to stand or fall alone,

11 had hel’

d toghr

,Ve_t

_

he slip k, p a y

5 s illiic’

h’

fi’

avefiti

hyTheir admiration thy best weapon shoneThe part of Philip ’

s son w as thine,not then M W'WJWL“

(Unless aside thy pu_rple had been thrown )nw / ‘7m

Like stern Diogenes to mock at men ;

For sceptred cyn ics earth were far too w ide a den.

XLII.

But qu iet to quick bosoms is a hell,

A nd there hath been thy bane ; there is -Q <L6 "And motion/ of the soul which w ill not dwellIn its own narrow being

,but aspire

Beyond the fitting medium of desire ;And, but once kind led , quenchless evermore

,

40 ” Preys upon high adventure, nor can tire M /M M W JX VMOf aught but rest a fever at the core

,

“W Fatal to him who bears,to all who ever bore .

XLIII.


But they who fought are in a bloody shroud,

And those which waved are shredless dust ereAnd the bleak battlements shall bear

‘

Eo

XLVIII.

Beneath these battlements, within those walls,Power dwelt am idst her passions ; ( in proud state ” WM " (

22 ,wW

Each robber chief upheldl his armed halls,

h e“ V

Doing his evil will,nor less elate

Than m ightier heroes ofawlpnger date. ga w ‘b 'éM “"W

What w ant these outlaws,conquerors should have

But history’s purchased page to call them great ‘

l ufi d

A wider space , an ornamented grave’

.Z

Their hopes were not less warm ,their souls were full as brave.

XLIX .

if ” ?

In their baronial feuds and singlej elds, W a t t A W

kf

'M What deedsfi fp rowess unrecorded died M M L-‘QM '

And Love, which lent a blazon to their shieldsfim u lfw?

1 0W

With emblems w ell devised by amorous pride,

Through all the mail of iron hearts would glideBut still their flame was fierceness

,and drew on

K een contest and destruction near allied,

And many a tow er for some fair m ischief w on (MN c M ‘ bwt’“ "mil

Saw the discolor’d Rhine beneath its ruin run .

Thy tide wash’

d down the blood o f yesterday , just/ckAnd all w as stain less

,and on thy clear stream

W G lass’d,w ith its dancing l ight

,the sunny ray ;

But o’

er the blacken’

d memory ’

s blighting dreamThy waves w ou ld vain ly roll

,all sw eeping as they seem .

f’ h’ fiA -«p a. w alk :

4

WV riv / W W N V V LUI

' c

'‘t ‘

a4 4 4 2 ¢ 6

LUN GS} A il"!

U ‘ L I

/JWCANC u

/Q 0 “ T‘NV L‘f—f fié‘

fiw h

NOTES ON THE PRISONER OF CHILLON.

This beau tiful poem—styled by the poet A Fable —was composed in

June , 1816 , at a sm all inn ,in th e l i ttle village of O uchy , on the shores of

Lake Geneva , near Lausanne , where Byron happened to be detained for

two days by stress o f w eather .The poem owes its origin to the story of the incarceration of F ranco is

Bonnivard ,the great Genevese patriot. Born in France in 1496 , Bonn ivard

m ade Geneva the city of his adoption ,and took part in the defence of that

state against the attacks of the Duke of S avoy . In 1530, wh ile on his wayto Lausanne , he was sei zed by the m yrm idons of the Duke and Immured inthe C astle of C hill on . H ere he remained for six years , when he w as freed bythe Bernese who took possession of the castle . Thereafter he becam e the

most fam ous citizen of Geneva , ending a long and useful Me in 1 570 , at theage of 74 .

Byron knew but little of the historical Bonnivard . H e says : When thispoem w as composed I w as not suffi ciently aware of the history of Bonnivard

,

or I should have endeavored to dignify the subject by an attempt to

celebrate h is courage and his virtues .

”The poet

’

s hero,then , and the

historical hero are quite dIfierent. The cause o f Bonnivard’

s impri sonmen t

was pol i tical , not religious ; and further, the historical Bonnivard had nobrothers to share his fate .

In most editions the follow ing Sonnet on C hillon introduces the poem :

Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind !Bi ightest in dungeons, Liberty , thou art I

For the l e thy habitation IS the heartThe heart which love’

of thee alone can bindAnd when thy sons to fetters are consignedTo fetters, and the damp \ ault

’

s day less gloomTheir country conquers w ith their martyrdom,

And Freedom’

s fame finds Wings on every wmd .

C h i llon thy prison is a. holy place ,And thy sad floor an altar for

’

twas trod ,Unti l his very steps have left a traceWorn , as if thy cold pavement w ere a sod ,

By Bonnivard May none those marks eflace

For they appeal from tyranny to God.

I.

This was for my father’s faith .

—Notice the odd use of ‘this

’for ‘it .

’

For tenets, etc .—H e was a Protestan t.

In darkness, etc .

—R econcile this w ith “ One in fire and two in field .

Does it mean the sam e as Three w ere in a dungeon cast

Who now are 0ne.-Who is the one Who is the onein age

’

?

NOTES ON TH E PRISONER or CH ILLON. 79

Proud, etc .—The original MS . has

‘Braving rancor—chains—and rage ’

Show the superiority of the present reading .

Chil lon.—This famous Sw iss castle , on Lake Geneva ,

was built in 1218by a C ount of Savoy ,

and was once an important stronghold , guarding a

mountain pass .

What is the difference between pill ars and columns’ ‘

1

Crevice.—Is this synonymous w ith cleft

A marsh’s meteor lamp.

—This is the ignis f atuus , popularly known as

‘will - o

’- tl1 e - wisp or Jack-o

’-Lantern ,

’—a moving lumm ous appearanceseen on summ er nights over marshy places .

This new day.—See XIV

“ At length m en cam e to set m e free . The

prisoner ’

s life alternated betw een days of freedom and nights of dungeon

li fe , as this was h is second imprisonm ent. H e had previou sly ,by the order

of the Duke of S avoy ,Spent two years in prison at Grolée , from 1519 to 1521 .

A column stone.-C ompare w ith “ In each pillar there is a ring .

The pure elements of earth—Th e free air under the Open sky .

I ought to do.—H ere ‘

ought’has a past force . O riginally it had this

sense :‘owed .

’

The youngest for him.—Notice the redundant construction .

To view below.—This use of ‘below ’

is a m annerism of the poet’s .

C ompare0 Germany ! how much to thee we owe,

As heaven-born Pitt can testify below.

”

—The Waltz.

Nor belowCan love , or sorrow, fame

,ambition, strife ,

C ut to his heart, ”etc.

Childe H arold , III V. , 3.

H ad stood z w ould have stood .

But to pine.—Supply the ellipsis. Is the present construction per

m issible ?And so perchance.

—Is there not a conflict between ‘

perchance ’

and ‘in

sooth’

?

A gulf.—A bottomless pit an abyss .

VI .

Leman .—The Lake of Geneva (Laons Lem annus) , beside which is the

C hateau de C hillon , is 1 056 feet deep near its eastern extrem ity .

Meet and flOW.—The Rhone flows through the lake .

The happy sky.—Account for the epithet .

Rock hath rocked .—Notice that the noun rock and the verb ‘rock are

of very different origin . Does the word-

play enhance or weaken the effect ?

80 NOTES ON TH E PRISONER or CH ILLON.

Nearer brother .—In what sense nearer ’

For the like had little care —Their p rison fare was like their hunter ’

s

fare in being ‘coarse and rude

,

’stil l this w as a matter o f indifference to

them,What w ere these to u s or h im

To us or him.—What is the use of adding

‘or him

H ad grown z wou ld have grown .

But Why delay the truth'G—The original MS . bad

,

“ Bu t why withhold

the blow —he died .

”

To rend and gnash .—The original was To break o r bite .

” Discuss the

comparative value of the readings.

Empty Chaim—H ow can a chain be called‘empty

’

H is mother’s image .

—~ C ompare “ O ur mother ’

s brow was given to him(IV)The infant love, e ta —H e was the youngest of the fam ily and was the

most beloved of all .

Who yet , etc . Yet to this time .

Was struck—By what blow ?Those he left behind.

—O bserve the exqu isite delicacy in the use of the

plural . Mr . H ales’note is worth quoting : By su ch a fancifu l mul tiplying

of the survivors the elder brother prevents self- intrusion ; h imself and hisloneliness are

,as it were

,kept ou t of sight , and forgotten . There is a not

unlike sensitiveness in the S cotch phrase ‘them that

’

s awa of som e single

lost one . The grief is softened by vagueness. S o,too , the Greeks used the

plural . ”

I listen’d .—Note the accumulation of 1

’

s,and the climax of emphasis in

the last three .

But faith .—C ompare I .

, 1 1 :

But this was for my father’

s faithI suffered chains and counted death .

A selfish death .- The C hristian faith forbade a self- inflicted death .

S elfish’

m ay have reference to a death in the interests o f self , as Opposedto a death in defence of principles , or for the good of others .

Wist .—The past of an old verb ‘

to wit to know’

; present tense , wot .

’

A light broke ih .—The description of the awakening of the prisoner from

h is torpor at the carol of a bird is very like the passage in The A ncientMar iner , descrip tive of the breaking of the spell that boun d the mariner ina trance

0 happy living things ! no tongueTheir beauty might declare

A spring of love gushed from my heart,And I blessed them unaware.

”

Hadmadez would havemade.

NOTES ON OHILDE HAROLD’

S PILGRIMAGE.

A brief analysis of the earlier portion of the poem is here givenC ANTO FIRST .

P or tuga l and Sp ain .

I .—Invocation to the Muse .

II.—IX .

—C hilde H arold the H ero .

X .—XII.

—H is Departure on his Pi lgrimage .

XIII—H is Adieu to Eng land .

XIV .—XVII .

—H 1 s Arrival in Portugal : Lisbon .

XV III.- XXIII.

—C 1 ntra .

XXIV .- XXVI.

—The C onvention of C intra.

XXVII.~XXXIV.

—The C h i lde resumes h is Pilgrimage , and passes into

S ain .

XXXV .- XXXVIII.

—The S truggles of Spain against the Moors and

against Napo leon .

XXXIX .

—XLI .—The Battle of Talavera .

XLII .- XL1V.

—The Fo lly o f MilItary Ambition .

XLV .—XLVI.

—S eville .

XLVII.—LIII.

—S panish R esistance to Napoleon .

LIV .- LVI .

—The Maid of S aragossa .

LVII.- LIX .

—The Wom en of S pain .

LX .- LXIV .

—Invocation to Mount Parnassus—(a digression from the

main them e).LXV .

- LXVII.—C adiz and its R evelries .

LXVIII ,

-LXXI .—Sunday at C adiz and at London .

LXXII .- LXXX I .

—A Bull F ight.

LXXXII .

-LXXXIII.

—H arold ’

s Loves and Disappointments.

LXXXIV —S tanzas to Inez .

LXXXV .

—XC .—F arew ell to S pain and Lament over her Fate.

XC I .

—XC II.

—Death of Byron ’s F riend : Death of his Mother.

XC III .—C lose of the C anto .

CANTO SE C OND.

Gr eece .

I .—Invocation to the Goddess of Wisdom : the Parthenon.

II.

- IX .—The Fall of A thens : the Nothingness of Man : the

Immortality .

X .—The Temple of O lympian Jove .

XI .

—XV .—Lord E lgin ’

s Spoliation of the Parthenon.

XVI .—H arold ’

s Departure for Greece .

XVII.

-XXI.-The Frigate at Sea.

NOTES ON CH ILDE H AROLD ’

S PILGRIMAGE. 83

XXII—Gibral tar .XXIII.

—XXIV .—Night at S ea.

XXV.

- XXVII.—R eflections on S olitude.

XXVIII .—The Voyage .

XXIX .- XXXV .

—C alypso ’s Isles : F air Florence , the New C alypso .

XXXVI—H arold C ontinues the Voyage .

XXXVII.-Nature as a K ind Mother .

XXXVIII.—A1bania .

XXXIX .—XLI .

—Leucadia and Sappho .

XLII.-XLVII.

—The A lbanian C oast : the Gulf of Ambracia : Journeyth rough Albania.

XLVIII .—LII .

—The Monastery of Z itza .

LIII.—Dodona .

LIV .- LXI .

—Tepalen : the Palace of A li Pasha : his People .

LXII.—LXIV .

—A li Pasha.

LXV.- LXXI .

—The Virtues of the Albanians.LXXII.

—Albanian War- S ong .

LXXIn .—Lxxvn .

The Downfa ll and Degrada tion of Greece.

7 3.

Scattered children.

’

S catter’

d’ refers to the want of national unity.

Long bondage .—Greece had been subjec t to Turkish dom ination from the

cap tu re of C onstantinop le in 1 453, A .D . All the annoyances that ignor

ance , bru tality ,tyranny ,

and g reed could suggest, were practised by the

Turks on the much - enduring Greeks .

”

Whilome z fo rmerly ,—ah ar chazsm . The earlier parts of the poem have

many archaism s , but as the poet advanced w ith his work he seem s to havetired of them . In the S econd C anto there are very few ,

and in th e thirdand four th almost none .

Bleak Thermopylae.

—A celebrated pass leading from Thessaly into Locris .

It is the only pass by which the enemy can penetrate into Greece from the

north . It is noted for the h eroic de fence of Leonidas and his 300 Spartansagainst the g

reat army of Xerxes. The Persians discovered a path over themountains , attacked the Greeks in the rear , and cut them to pieces .

Bleak’has reference to the exposed b ill - side o f the pass .

In The Isles of Greece the poet again returns to th e immortal heroism of

the 300 Spartans :Must we but weep o

’

er days more blest ?Must we but blush —Our fathers bled.

Earth ! render back from out thy breastA remnant of our Spartan dead

O f the three hundred grant but three,To make a new Thermopylae

Eurotas’ banks. This river flow s past Sparta, the city of Leonidas.

74 .

Phylaa’s brow .

—Phylae was a fortified place on the confines of Boeotia

and Attica. It is m emorable as the place which Thrasybulus and the

A thenian patriots seized in 404 B. C .

, and from which they directed theiroperations against the thirty tyrants at Athens. It was from Phylae that

Byron obtained his first view of A thens .

Carle.—C hurl . A common rustic .

Inword.—See ‘

idly rail above ,


S PILGRIMAGE.

Gaul or Muscovite.—F rench or Russians.

Shades of the H elots.—The H elots were a class of ancient Spartan slaves .

The descendants of the old m asters o f these bondsm en have now them selvesbecome slaves , and the shades of the old H elots are called upon to enjoy therevenge wh ich time has brough t them .

Change thy lords.

—The imperative is equivalent to a conditional clause .

The city.—C onstantinople .

Won for Al lah .

—Won by the Mohamm edans for Allah ,—the Arabic nam e

of G od .

Giaour .—An infidel . A contemptuous epithet applied by the Turks toC hristians . One of Byron ’

s fines t poem s bears the title , The Giaour.othman’

s race.-The Ottom ans

, or Turks , of whose dynasty O thman was

th e founder .

Serai’s impenetrable tower .- The Sultan

’

s palace , or seraglio , which can

not be entered by ordinary mortals.

The fiery Frank —The Latins , who held the city from 1204 to 1261 A .D.

F rank IS used in’

l urkey as a collec tive expression for all persons fromWestern E urope . It o riginated in the extensive u se of the F rench languagethroughout the E gean in the. 13th century subsequen tly to the capture o f

C onstantinople by the Latins in

Wahab’s rebel brood . The A rab S heikh Wahab was the founder of

the sect of the Wahabees , the Pu ri tans of Mahom e tanism,who cap tured

and sacked Mecca in 1803, and Med ina in 1804 . Mecca is noted as thebirth -

place of Mohammed, and Medina con tains th e prophet’

s tomb .

”

’ious Sp0 i1.—The spoil won from the nations in the name of Allah .

LXXVLH .

—LXXXI .

The C arnw a l act C onstantinop le.

To shrive from man= to shrive man from .

Joyaunce.~—This and p leasaunce are archaism s from S penser .

Secret share. S ecret ’is explained by

‘m asking in the next l i ne .

Mimic train.—The costum es of the revellers im itated different characters.

Carnival . —A personifi cation of the -feast or festal season which is celebrated with much merrimen t in C atholic countries, and especially in Veniceand Rome , during the week preceding Lent.

Whose more rife With=whose (days of joyaunce) , or whose (carnival)more abounding in .

Stamboul . —The Turkish nam e of C onstantinople .

Empress of their reign.—C apital of the G reek empire . Their

'

reign

may , h owever , mean the reign of the days of joyaunce .

’

Sophia’s shrine.

—The famous mosque of S t. Sophia, which was originallya Christian church

,erected by Justinian.

86 NOTES ON CH ILDE H AROLD ’

S PILGRIMAGE.

Tritonia’s airy shrine.

—The ruins of the ancient temple of Minerva on

the prom onto ry of S unium, or C ape C olonna (from the round column s) .

C ompare Sunium’

s marbled steep in The I sles of Greece.

Only not.—All but, almost ; as in IV. , 135,

—“And on ly not to desperationdriven .

87 .

Thine olive —According to fable the goddess Minerva gave the olive toA ttica .

H ymettus.

—A mountain near A thens noted in ancient tim es for its bees .

C ompare Mil ton ’

s“F low ery hill H ymettus

,w ith the sound of bees'

industrious m urmur .

Apollo—The sun god.

Mendeli’s marbles.—Mendeli is the m odern nam e of Pentelicus, mentioned

above.

88

Muse’s tales.

—The tal es of ancient poetry.0 w ow s/ o

Athena’s tower .—The Parthenon . Age did much in the downfall of this

glorious temple , and m an completed the ruin . Again and again in his poetryByron attacks Lord E lgin for bringing the rem ains of Grecian ar t from theParthenon to E ngland . The C urse of Minerva ”

in m any a burning linebrands E lgin for his all eged sacrilege . In this very canto Of C hilde H arold(1 1—15) the poet lam ents the fact that one of A lbion ’

s sons

Tore down those remnants with a harpy’

s hand ,Which envious Eld forbore and tyrants left to stand.

Gray Marathon—On the plain of Marathon was fought the celebratedbattle between the Persians and the A thenians under Miltiades in 490 B C .

The tumu lus raised over the A thenians who fell in the battle is still to be

seen . Byron tell us that the p lain of Marathon was off ered to h im for sale

for nine hundred pounds ! “Alas !”he exclaim s

,

“was the dust Of Miltiades

w orth no m ore .

”

Gray i s an expressive epithet O ften used by the poets Of anything that

has venerable associations .

89.

First how’d.—On what subsequent occasions was Persia defeated by

Greece ?H ellas.

—The name by which the inhabitants of Greece designated theircountry .

90

Mede.

—H ere , as often in Latin poetry ,a synonym for Persian .

’

Mountains above—The plain is enclosed on three s ides by Parnes and

Pente li cus , while the fourth side faces the sea. C om pare in The I sle s ofGreece

The mountai ns look on Mai athonAnd Marathon looks on the sea .

Asia’s teen—The mourning of th e Persians .

Violated mound.

—Excavators had been recently at w ork searching in the

barrow for relics .

91 .

Ionian blast .—The w ind from the Ionian sea,com ing as d id C h i lde H arold

from the w est .

Annals and immortal tongue.

—The history and the language of Greece.

NOTES ON CH ILDE HAROLD’S PILGRIMAGE. 87

Pallas, etc—Athena or Minerva , the goddess of w isdom

,unveils her lore

to the sages ; the Muse , h ers to the bards. Notice the cross- construction .

(See 79 above . )92.

Delphi.—A small town in Phocis and the seat of the oracle of Apollo , the

most celebrated in Greece .

Greece is no lightsome 1and.

—This idea is fully w orked out in those

beautiful lines from The Giaour quoted elsewhere , He who hath benthim o

’

er the dead,

”etc .

The S econd C anto in the original MS . terminated here . The next five

stanzas were added after the canto had been sent to press.

93.

Busy.—Meddling. We have here another thrust at Lord Elgin for his

spoliation of the Parthenon .

xcrv .—xcvm .

Lam ent f or Lost F riends.

94 .

Idlesse.—An archaic form z idleness .

Soon shall thy voice be lost. -The poet was thoroughly conscious of hisbrilliant powers and of h is prospects of imm ortality ,

but after the accept

able manner of m odern poets he depreciates him self , at the sam e time

paying no striking compliment to his competitors for the ‘fading bays, ’

the thr ong of louder m instrels .

”

None are left to please—None are left for me to desire to please .

95 .

Thou too art gone—There is much difference of opinion as to the personreferred to here . It is generally conceded that these closing stanzas were

written at Newstead in O ctober , 1 81 1 . The poem s to Thyrza, w ritten inthis and the follow ing year (1811 probably refer to his cousin , MargaretParker , and she may be the one whose d e ath is h ere lam ented . A letterwritten by Byron to h is friend Dallas from New stead Abbey , O ctober 1 l th ,

181 1 , contains some l ines p robably referring to the death of the sam e

person : I have been again shocked w ith a dea th , and have lost one verydear to m e in happier times ; but

‘I have almost forgot the taste of grief , ’

and‘supped full of horro rs till I have become callous , nor have I a tear left

for an event wh ich five years ago would have bowed down my head to theearth . It seem s as tho

’

I w ere to experience in my youth the greatestm isery Of age . My friends fall around m e

,and I shall be left a lonely treebefore I am withered . O ther m en always take refuge in'their fam ilies ; I

have no resource but my own reflections,and they present no prospect here

or hereafter , except the selfish satisfaction of surviving my betters . I amindeed very w retched , and you will excu se my saying so , as you know I amnot apt to cant of sensibility .

”

In another of Byron ’

s letters of this period he alludes to the death of alady friend w ithout stating her name or giving us the slightest clue foridentification .

H is biographer Moore thinks that he refers in these stanzas to the deathby consumption of h is C am bridge friend , young Eddlestone , speaking o fwhom Byron says :

“ Th is makes the sixth Within four m onths of friendsand relatives that I have lost between May and the end o f August. ThisEddlestone is the young man of w hom Byron in 1807 had said :

“ I certainly love him more than any human being.

”

NOTES ON CH ILDE HAROLD’S PILGRIMAGE.

96 .

The parent, friend, etc—H is mother had died on August l st, and besides

young E ddlestone he had lost three o ther friends of h is youth ,Long,Wing

field and Matthews , and also the lady m entioned above whose name the

poet nowhere reveals.

97 .

That Peace,etc —The things that do not tend to preserve peace of mind .

False to the heart .—Not portraying the actual feelings.

To leave, etc

—Only to leave .

Stil l o’er

,etc .

—The punctuation of the latter part Of this stanza is verydoubtful . The present punctuation w ould lead us to interpret thus S till

i . e .,despite weariness) in the coun tenance which they (R evel and Laughter)force to look cheerful they (R . and L. ) distort th e cheek so as to feign ,

’

etc .

Or ‘still

’ may m ean ever . S om e editions have [1] at the end of the fi fthline , and at the end of the seventh l ine : they

’

Wi ll then refer to ‘sm iles .

’

With [1] at the end of the fi fth line,and at the end of the seventh , the

passage will bear either of the preceding interpretations.

98 .

The ills of Eld.—The woes incident to Old age.

C ANTO TH IRD .

I .

—XVI.

Ada The S econd P i lgrimage and the E xp eriences that led to it.

1

The poet go es back in though t to th e time when he left E ngland ,and

conceives O f h imself as sleep ing on shipboard and dream ing of his daughter .

My fair child .

—H is daugh ter‘

w as born on the l 0th of December, 1815 .

H er nam e w as Augusta Ada ,the second being an o ld fam ily name . Lady

Byron left her husband in the m iddle of January when Ada was only fi ve

weeks old ,and the poet never saw h is daughter again .

A s this canto begins w ith an address to his daughter , so it ends :My daughter w ith thy name this song begunMy daughte r ith thy name thus much shall end

I see thee not, I hear thee not , but none

C an be so wrapped in thee ; thou art the friendTo whom the shadows of far years extend

A lbeit my b l ow thou never should ’

st behold ,

My voice shall w ith thy future isions blend,

And reach into thy heart when m ine is cold .

A token and a tone , even from thy father’

s mou d

To aid thy mind’

s development,to watch

Thy dawn of little joys, to S it and see

A lmost thy very growth , to view thee catch

K nowledge of Objects—wonders yet to thee !To ho ld thee lightly on a gentle knee ,And print on thy soft cheek a parent’

s kiss,This, i t should seem ,

was not reserved for me

Yet th is was in my nature —as it is,

I know not what is there , yet someth ing like to this.

Yet , though dull hate as duty should be taught,I know that thou w ilt love me ; though my name

Should be shut from thee . as a. spell still fraughtWi th desolation , and a broken claim

Though the grave closed between us,

-’

t were the same,

NOTES ON CH ILDE HAROLD’S PILGRIMAGE.

96 .

The parent, friend, etc .—H is mother had died on August l st , and besides

young Eddlestone he had lost three o ther friends of h is youth ,Long,Wing

field and Matthews , and also the lady mentioned above whose name the

poet nowhere reveals.

97 .

That Peace,etc .

—The things that do not tend to preserve peace of mind .

False to the heart .—Not portraying the actual feelings.

To leave, etc.

—Only to leave .

Stil l o’er

,etc —The punctuation Of the latter part of this stanza is very

doubtful . The present punctuation w ou ld lead u s to interpret thus S till

i . e .,despite weariness) in the coun tenance which they (R evel and Laughter)force to look cheerful they (R . and L. ) distort th e cheek so as to feign ,

’

etc .

Or ‘still

’ may m ean ever . S om e editions have [I] at the end of the fi fthline , and at the end of the seventh line : they

’Wi ll then refer to sm iles .

’

With [I] at the end of the fi fth line,and at the end of the seventh

, the

passage will bear either of the preceding interpretations.

98 .

The ills of Eld.—The woes incident to old age.

C ANTO TH IRD .

i .—xv1 .

Ada The S econd P i lgrimage and the E xp er iences that led to it.

1

The poet go es back in thought to the time when he left E ngland ,and

conceives O f h imself as sleep ing on shipboard and dream ing of his daughte r .

My fair child .

—H is daugh ter'

w as born on the l 0th of Decem ber,1815 .

H er nam e was Augusta Ada, the second being an o ld fam ily name . LadyByron left her husband in the m iddle of January when Ada was only fi ve

weeks O ld , and the poet never saw h is daughter again .

A s this can to begins w ith an address to his daughter , so it ends :My daughter ! w ith thy name this song begunMy daughte r ith thy name thus much shal l end

I see thee not , I hear thee not , but none

C an be so wrapped in thee ; thou art the friendTo whom the shadows O f far years extend

A lbeit my b l ow thou never should ’

st beho ld ,

My voice shall w ith thy futu re isions blend,

And reach into thy heart when m ine i s cold ,

A token and a tone, even from thy father’

s mou'

d .

To aid thy mind’

s development,to watch

Thy dawn of little joys, to S it and see

A lmost thy very growth , to view thee catch

K nowledge of Objects, - wonders yet to thee lTo ho ld thee l ightly on a gentle knee ,And print on thy soft cheek a parent’

s kiss,

This, it should seem ,was not reserved for me

Yet th is was in my nature —as it is,

I know not hat is there , yet someth ing like to this.

Yet , though dull hate as duty should be taught,I k now that thou w i lt love me though my name

Should be shut from thee . as a spell still fraughtWi th desolation, and a broken claim

Though the grave closed between us,-

’

t were the same,

NOTES ON C H ILDE H AROLD ’

S PILGRIMAGE. 89

I know that thou wilt love me though to drainMy blood from out thy being w ere an aim

,

And an attainment,—all would be in vain,

Still thou would’

st love me, still that more than life retain.

The child of love , though born in bitterness,And nurtured in convu lsion. Of thy sireThese were the elements, and thine no less.

As yet such are around thee , but thy fire

Shall be more tempered ,and thy hope far higher.

Sweet be thy crad led slumbers O'

er the sea,

And from the mountains where I now respire ,Fain wou ld I waft such blessing upon thee

As, with a sigh ,I deem thou might

’st have been to me

I depart.—Byron left England the second time on April 25th ,1816 .

Fluttering .

—The original MS . has tattering.

’

Strew the gale.—Be swept along in tatters on the gale.

3.

Youth’s summer .

—When he w rote the preceding cantos of C hilde H arold .

Wandering outlaw ,etc .

—Does this mean that he was driven into exile byhis evil conscience , or that he was a fugitive from h is ev il conscienceThe stanzas from the First C anto descriptive of the C hilde w ill be found

on a subsequent page .

The furrows. etc .

—This is a metaphor from S outhern Europe , wherefrequently a dried-up torrent-bed serves as a sandy or sh ingly path .

5 .

Piercing the depths of 1ife .

—F athom ing the mysteries of human experience .

Below .

—In this world . C ompare P . of C . , Iv., Which he abhorr

’

d toview below .

”

The keen knife, etc —The keen knife that must be endured in silencealthough the suffering is acute .

Lone caves—The ideal world is meant.

Yet rife, etc . Yet’ marks the Opposition between lone and rife .

’

The soul ’s haunted cel l .—The

'

chambers of the brain peopled by the creatures of the fancy .

6 .

’Tis to create, etc —It is in order that we may create , and so live a lifeof greater intensity ,

that we invest ou r concep tions with reality , living an

ideal life wh ile imparting life to our fancies .

Not so art thou , etc .—Thou art a liv ing reality , creature of my

fancy .

Thy birth .

—_Thy nature .

7 .

Phantasy and fiame. Phantasy’

is the earl ier and uncontracted form ofc fancy so

‘ fancy and flame’

so‘flam ing ardent concep tions .

’

Untaught in youth , etc .—Untaught in

“h is you th

’

s fond prime”to put a,

check upon his im pulses .

’Tis too late, etc—Although it is too late to undo the past, yet its effects

upon m e must not be ignored .

8 .

Something toomuch of this.~ From H amlet

,III.

,ii, 69,


S PILGRIMAGE.

The spell closes, etc .

—The seal of silence is put upon a subject of whichsom e thing too much has been said .

9 .

A purer fount .—The love of nature and classical antiquity evoked and

fostered by h is travels, especially in Greece . See below :“Wonder-works

of God and Nature’s hand .

”There is no reference here to his m arriage .

Pined although it spoke not.—S ilently wasted him away .

‘Pined’is

here transi ti veEntering with every step—Like fetters chafing the ankles .

1 1 .

Curiously.—With close scrutiny .

Within the vortex —The vortex is regarded as driving time before it inits headlong current . In III .

,22

,w e have a sim ilar im age , To chase the

glow ing H ours w ith flying feet,”where tim e is impelled by the celerity of

the dance .

Fond .—Self-indulgent.

12.

Untaught to submit,etc.

—The passage is somewhat obscure . It maym ean : A lthough h i s springs of l ife had been poisoned because he had notbeen taugh t in youth to tam e h is heart (see 7 above) , although all the betterfeelings of his sou l had been overm astered (quell 'd) in you th by his own

im peri ous and erring resolutions , he was still unw illing to t ike counsel (tosubm it his thoughts to others) , he was still independent (uncompelled) .

A mutual language.—A language i ntelligible to h im . H e and they w ere

compan ions and understood each o ther .

C learer than the tome, etc .—C learer than what was found in the literatu re

o f h is native land .

The though t embodied in this stanza w e find in many places throughoutthe poem . Som e of the most striking passages are these :

To sit on rocks , to muse o’

er flood and fe l lTo slow ly trace the forest ’

s shady scene,

Where things that own not man’

s domnnon d e ll ,And mortal foot hath ne

’

er or rarely beenTo climb the track less mountain al l unseen,

With the W i ld flock that never ne eds a fold ;A lone o

'

er steeps and foam ing falls to leanThis is not solitude ;

’

tis but to ho ld

C onverse W ith Nature ’

s charms,and view her stores unrolled.

To me

n h mountains are a feelingthe soul can flee

And w ith the sky , the peak , the heaving plainO f ocean, or the stars

,mingle , and not in vain.

”

72

Are not the mountains, waxes, and skies a part

Of me and of my sou l , as I of them?

l s not the love of these deep in my heartWith a

'

pure passion

There is a pleasu re in the pathless woods,There is a raptu re on the lonely shore ,

There is society ,where none intrudes,

By the deep sea, and music in its roar :

NOTES ON CH ILDE H AROLD ’S PILGRIMAGE.

attack with their talons and notwith their beaks, Byronmade the necessaryemendation .

“ The eagle is Napoleon, as is shown by“Ambition’

s li fe and laborsbelow . The last line of this stanza and the first of the next would seem ,

however, to identify Napoleon with the land for which he fought.19.

The patched-up idol .

-There is here a probable reference to the H olyAlliance ,

—a league formed after the fall Of Napoleon by the sovereigns ofRussia, Austria, and Prussia, nom inally to regulate the relations of the

states of C hristendom by the principles of C h ristian charity, but really topreserve the power and influence of the existing dynasties. Most of the

other E uropean nations joined the alliance ,but subsequently both F rance

and England seceded from it . The“ banded nations had th rown down

the image of slavery in the person of Napoleon ,but they were now setting

up its broken fragm ents in the shape of the alliance .

Prove before ye praise.

—Before praisingWaterloo , discover of what valueit has been to the world .

20.

Europe’s flowers long rooted up.

—A striking metaphor describing thedesolation caused during the years (‘ long Of the Napoleonic wars.

H armodiuS .

—A young and beautiful A thenian who,with his friend Ar is

togeiton ,killed H ipparchus , the tyrant (514 The two selected for

their purpose the day of the great festival of the Panathenaea, their daggersbeing concealed in the myrtle-branches which were always carried on the

occasion Of that festival .21 .

The poet now passes to the description of the eve of Quatre -Bras,a battlefought on June 16th , 1815 , two days before Waterloo . A passage from Miss

Martineau’

s Introduction to the s tory of Peace is worth quoting hereIt was on the evening of the 15th of June that Wellington received the

new s at Brussels of the whereabout of the F rench . H e instantly perceivedthat the object was to separate his force from the Prussians. H e sent offorders to his troops in every direction to m arch upon Quatre -Bras . Thisdone , b e dressed and w ent to a ball , where no one would have discoveredfrom his m anner that he had heard any remarkable news. It was wh isperedabout the rooms

,however , that the F rench were not far ofi ; and som e

Ofii cers dropped off in the course of the evening,—called by their duty , andleaving heavy hearts behind them . Many parted so who neve r met again .

It was about m idnight when the general O fficers were summoned . Som e

what later , the younger officers were very quietly called away from theirpartners : and by sunrise Of the summer . m orning of the 16th all were on

their march .

Voluptuous swell . Voluptuous’ has its original signification Of ‘full of

pleasure .

’

To chase the glowing H ours.—See note on 1 1 .

As if the clouds, eta—Like the rumblings of thunder.

23.

Brunswick ’s fated chieftain.

—The Duk e of Brunsw ick was killed - atQuatre-Bras as his father had been at Jena in 1806 .

‘Fated tells us thathe was doom ed to die .

26 .

Cameron’s gathering.

—The slogan of the C ameron clan.

NOTES ON CH ILDE HAROLD’

S PILGRlMAGE . 93

Lochiel .—The most noted of the C am erons was Donald,the Lochiel of

C ampbell ’

s well -known poem ,Lochiel

’

s Warning , who aided the Pretenderin 1745 . Donald was a. descendant of the famous E van C ameron , called

the Ulysses O f the H igh lands ,"who lived from 1630 to 1 719.

Albyn.

—The Gaelic name of Scotland .

Saxon foes —The English .

So fill , etc .—It will be seen that

‘fills’is transitive , but ‘fill ’

intransitive ;and that

‘memory is the subject of instils.

’

27 .

Ardennes.—The forest Of Soignies _between Brussels and Waterloo is

treated by the poet as a part of the forest Of Ardennes , which is no t far off,

on the frontier of F rance and Belgium . Byron in his note says :“The

wood Of Soignies is supposed to be a remnant of the Forest O f Ardennes,irfimortal in Shakespeare ’

s As You Like I t.”

28.

Thunder-clouds.—The smoke of battle .

xxrx .—xxxv.

The Death of H oward and R eflections on Water loo.

29.

Loftier harps than mine.—The reference is especially to S cott’

s brill iantpoem ,

The Field ofWaterloo .

Blend me with his 1ine.—Make me a connex ion Of his.

I did his sire some wrong .—Major F rederick H oward

‘

was the son Of the

Earl of C arl isle , B ron’s guardian , whom he had satirized in the “ E nglish

Bards and S cotch eviewers.

30 .

The fresh green tree.—Byron’

s note is : “My guide over the field seemed

intelligent and accurate . The place w here Majo r H oward fell w as no t farfrom two tall and solitary trees wh ich stand a few yards from each o ther ata pathway

’

s side . Beneath these he died. and was buried.

”

31 .

One as all . —One like every other, i .e. , all al ike .

K ind and kindred. The first is the more general term ,referring to

society at large .

For their sake.—For the sake of the dead .

The Archangel’s trump, eta —The trumpet of Glory cannot

'

awaken‘

the

dead ; only the trumpet Of the Archangel can do that .

32 .

The roof-tree.—The beam supporting the roof.

Massy hoariness.—The beam is crusted with mould.

33.

All without .—The external appearance.

Such things.—The sorrows of the heart.

34 .

Life in our despair.—As if despair has the power of supporting and pro

longing life.

94 NOTES ON C H ILDE HAROLD’S PILGRIMAGE.

quick root. Quick ’ has its original meaning of ‘ living .

’

C ompare‘

quick and dead .

’

It were as nothing .—Death would not be an evil .

Like to the apples, etc . The (fabled) apples on the brink of the lake

Asphaltes were said to be fair without , and w ithin ashes.

- (Byron ’

s note . )The

“apple of S odom ”

is a kind of gall-nut growing on dwarf oaks .

Count o’er such hours.—Ih the poet

’

s“Euthanasia ”

we have a similarsentiment

C ount o'

er the joys thine hours ha \ e seen,C ount o

’

er thy days from angu ish -e,

And know ,whatever thou hast been,

’

Tis something better not to be.

”

35 .

The Psalmist . The days O f our years are three - score years and ten .

Ps . xc .

,10 .

They are enoughr—Seventy years is surely putting it high enough .

If thy tale be true. Tale here seems to have its unusual signification

of‘numbering ’

1‘If thy enum era tion be the true one

’

;‘If we are to

number man’

s days as thou wouldst have us do .

’ To be sure , we can get

this meaning from the ordinary use of ‘tale

’:

‘If we can judge by whatthou hast to tel l us of the duration of life .

’

United nations.—England and Prussia againstF rance .

This is much .—The renown that the battle will have with posterity

much .

xxxvr. .—a .

Nap oleon .

The poet l now engages in reflections on the fate of Napoleon . The student

should compare Byron ’

s estimate O f Napoleon as contained in the Ode to

Napoleon ,

" written two years prev iously , with the estimate O f the hero inthe present passage . The poet returns to the fate of Napoleon again in

W . 90- 92 :The fool of false dominion—and a kind

Of bastard Caesar, following h im of oldWith steps unequal

36 .

Whose spirit .—The construction Of this clause limps : spirit has no verb .

Antithetical ly mixt .—Made up of Opposing qualities .

H ad’st thou been betwixt.—An odd expression meaning, if thou had

’

st

fo llowed a m iddle course .

The Thunderer.—An allusion to a title of Jupiter, The Thunder“ ,

38 .

More or less.—At one time m ore , at another time less.

The loftiest star .—This language is pecul iarly apt when used of Napoleon

who was a firm believer in his destiny or star. ’

40 .

Just scorn . Just,’ because he says below ’

twas wise to feel it : it is the

exp ression of the scorn that the poet deprecates.

Spurn the instruments.—It is well known that Napoleon was brutallyrude to his subordinates

96 NOTES on C H ILDE HAROLD’

S PILGRIMAGE.

Through all the mail , etc—Love was wont to penetrate even their hard

natures.

Their flame, eta—Their love itself partook of their fierce nature .

Destruction near allied.—S ince destruction was nearly always the result

of 'the contest.

Fair mischief.—Mischief-making fair one .

50.

Thy bright creation.—The fertile shores are regarded as the creation of

the river .That it should Lethe be.—That it should make me forget the past.

51 .

b

Glass’d.—Vvss reflected. We have the transitive use of the verb in xm . , 9 ,

a ove .

But o’er the blacken’dmemory, eta - A lthough oblivion is everywhere at

work,it is unable to blot out H arold'

s past.

H ere must be quoted the poet’s beautiful adieu to the Rhine

,stanzas

59—61 of this cantoAdieu to thee, fair Rhine 1 H ow long deligh ted

The stranger fain would linger on his way IThine is a scene alike where souls unitedO r lonely C ontemplation thus m ight stay ;And could the ceaseless vultures cease to preyO n self-condemning bosoms, it were here,Where Nature , nor too sombre nor too gay ,

Wild but not rude, awful yet not austere,Is to the mellow earth as autumn to the year.Adieu to thee again I a vain adieu

There can be no farewell to scene like thine ;The mind is colored by thy every hue ,And if reluctantly the eyes resignTheir cherished gaze upon thee. lovely Rhine ,’

Tis with the thankful glance of parting praiseMore mighty spots may rise—more glaring shine,But none unite in one attaching maze

The bri lliant, fair, and soft,—the glories of old days.The negligently grand , the fru itful bloomO f coming ripeness, the white city’

s sheen,

The rolling stream ,the precipice’

s gloom ,

The forest ’

s growth , and Gochic walls between,

The wild rocks shaped as they had turrets beenIn mockery of man

’

s art and these withal

A race of faces happy as the scene,Whose fertile bounties here extend to all ,S till springing o

’

er thy banks, though empires near them fall. ”

OPINIONS, QUESTIONS, AND SELECTIONS.

(1) No one of Byron ’s poems is so purely narrative or has such a unity

of lo fty and tender interest, uninterrupted by a single distracting image .

”

Exam ine the truth of this statement as applied to the “Prisoner of

C hillon .

”

(2)“ The

‘Prisoner of C hillon

’is the only poem in which Byron is

left out.

”

Lord Byron never wrote without some reference , direct or indirect,to himself . ”

C omment on th ese statements.

(3)“ The ‘Prisoner of C hillon

’is one of the most perfect and purest of

h is poems, but perhaps the least like h is of anything that ever came fromhis pen . It is the one grand tribute which the great rebel of the age

paid to Wordsworth .

”

Explain this .

(4) The th ird C anto of C hilde H arold was published without a preface ,but with the following motto on the title -

page“Afin que cette application vous forcat de penser aautre chose ; il n

’

y a

en vérité de remede que celui- la et le temps.

"—Lettre du roi de P russe d

d’

A lember t (Sept. 7 ,

H

Tra

igslate the motto and show its bearing on the latter part of “ C hilde

aro

(5) C hilde H arold contains elements drawn from all the differentbranches of poetry ,—epic , idyll ic , lyric , dramatic.

”

Show this.

(6)“ In the great chorus of song w ith which England greeted the dawn

of this century individuality had full swing .

”

Apply this to Byron .

(7) H e is the only British poet of the 19th century who is also European .

E xplain what is m eant.

(8)“ There are two di stinct Byrons interpenetrative blended in his life

and work .

”

Develop this view.

(9)“H is writings do not reflect Nature in all its infinite change of

climate , scenery , and season . H e portrayed with surprising truth and forceonly such objects as were adapted to the sombre coloring of his pencil .The mountain , the cataract, the glacier , the ruin ,

—objects inspiring aweand melancholy ,

—seemed more congenial to his poetical disposition thanthose which led to joy or gratitude .

”

Apply this to the“ Prisoner of C hillon and to C hilde H arold .

(10)“There is no kindred with the mystic and unknown in the range of

his genius ; he belongs entirely to the solid earth,and h is mysteries are

those of the theatre and the tale , nothing greater or more .

WasByron like orunlike his poetic contemporaries in this respect?

98 OPINIONS, Q UESTIONS , AND SELECTIONS .

(11)“ The splendid and imperishable excellence which covers all his

Offences and outweighs all hi s defects is the excellence of sincerity and

strength .

”

Apply Swinburne’

s remark .

(12)“Byron often affected gloom and played w ith m isanthropy , and his

poem s reflecting these moods are all more or less in a falsetto tone.

”

Discuss this statement with respect to C hilde H arold .

”

(13)“ It is clear that many of his verses could not have been written if

he had really possessed a sensitive ear .

”

Re fer to passages which show this .

(14)“H e wanted both good taste and that critical discrimination which

has so much to do with personal dignity as well as w ith excellence in art.

”

“ H e had little of the artist’

s love of form ,and cared m ore for the

thoughts he desired to express than for the mould into which he cast them .

”

“ N0 such great poet has had so narrow an imagination : he could not

m etam o rphose h im self into another . ”

Exam ine the tru th of these strictures.

(15)“As the result of all my reading and meditation , I abstracted two

critical aphorisms , deeming them to comprise the conditions and criter ia. of

poetic style ; fi rst, that not the poem which we have read , but that to whichw e return w ith the greatest pleasure , possesses the genuine power and

claim s of essential poetry ; second , that whatever lines can be translatedinto other words of the sam e language , w ithout dim inution of their significance , either in sense or association

,or in any worthy feeling , are so far

vicious in their diction .- C oleridge.

H ow does Byron stand these tests

(16) S cott had created the public taste for animated poetry , and Byron ,

taking advantage of it, soon engrossed the whole fi eld .

What poems of S cott’

s had preceded C h ilde H arold What effect hadByron ’

s popularity on S cott’

s subsequent career ?(17)

“ The two primary and essential qualities of poetry are imagination

and harmony.

”—Sw z’

nburne .

To what extent are these qualities found in ByronC HILDE HAR OLD .

The following selections from C anto I . describe C hilde H arolddeparture on h is pilgrim age .

Whilome in A lbion’

s isle there dwelt a youth ,Who ne in virtue’

s ways did take delight,But spent his days in riot most uncouth

,

And vexed w ith m irth the drowsy ear of Night.

Ah me ! in sooth he was a shameless Wight ,Sore g iven to revel and ungodly glee .

”

C hilde Harold was he high t z—but whence his nameAnd lineage long, it suits me not to say ;Suffice it, that perchance they were of fame ,And had been glorious in another dayBut one sad losel soils a name for aye,H owever mighty in the olden timeNor all that heralds rake from coffined clay ,Nor florid prose, nor honeyed lies of rhyme

Can blazon evil deeds or consecrate a crnne.

”

For be th rough Sin’

s long labyrinth had run,Nor made atonement when he (lid amiss,H ad sighed to many though he loved but one,And that loved one

,alas ! could ne

’er be his,”

as. s. QEage 6c Qlofismiteratnre S at ire

A DD I S ON

SELECTIONS FROM ADDISON’

S PAPERS CONTRIBUTEDTO THE SPECTATOR

~EDITED

INTRODUCTION,NOTES , AND CR ITICAL

CHAPTER

F. H . SYK E’

S , M.A.

Of Parkdale Collegiate Institute, Toronto

TORONTO

W. J. GAGE COMPANY

1889

Entered accordmg to Act of Parliament o f C anada , in the year of our Lordeighteen hundred and eighty

-nine , by W . J. GAGE C o . ,

in the office o f the Minister of Agricu lture .

PREPA TORY NOTE .

The present edition of prose literature for University Matriculationand Departmental Exam inations differs materially from the editions

that have preceded it. The notes are no longer a medley of criticism ,

history , grammar, but are strictly explanatory . These explanatorynotes have been purposely made copious , and wherever info rmation

could be obtained they have been made complete . It is a sel f -evidenttruth that students should not spend , in searching for the meaning of

o bscure allusions and classical quotations, the little time at their disposalfor the study of English .

Bu t as to style , the text has been le ft w ithout annotation . The

advantage of this is obvious . To derive benefit from the study of style ,it must be pursued in a methodical way and in an investigating spirit .

“S ign

-

post criticism ”throughou t the notes would effectually prevent

this sort of study . The treatment of style has consequently been made

a separate chapter , and the t ext left as a field for investigation. The

mode of treatm ent w ill be found to simplify what has been a somewhat

abstruse subj ect . Its special advan tage is that by emphasizing the

cardinal qualities of style and the means to attain them , the study o f

composition may to some extent rest in the minds of pupils upon a

scientific instead of an empirical basis .

The text chosen is that of Pro fessorMorley ’

s edition ,which reprints

for the first time in the present century the tex t of the Spectator as its

authors left it .

”It has been felt that to modernize the text wou ld

m ean to give up some of the quaint charm of the essays, and to lose

opportunities for valuable lessons in some of the details of composition .

It w ill be noticed that there are occasional foot -notes giving a second

reading . The text as it stands is not that of the daily issue of the

Spectator , but that of the edition of the co llec ted Sp ectators as revisedby the authors. Where the rev ised edition differs from the daily issue

the text of the latter appears in the note .

The partial bib liography of Addison ,it is hoped , w il l be helpful to

those who desire to study Addison thoroughly .

Proo f -sheets of the critical chapter have been submitted to Mr . J .

S eath , Mr. Wm . H ouston ,and Pro fessor MacMechan , whose favorable

criticism renders the editor less d iffident in hoping also for the approbation of his fellow -teachers . May the new edition be some helptowards the solving of the difficult problem o f composition teaching,how best to inculcate the pu re and noble use of a noble and pure

language !

Toronto, July 6th , 1889.

“True ease in writing comes from art,not chance .

S ome practical result may be expected from a familiarity with the principles of

style.

”—Spencer .

Whoever wishes to attain an English style, familiar, but not coarse, and elegant,

but not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to the volumes of Addison.

”

—Johnson.

2 INTRODUCTION.

Joseph Addison was born in 1 672, just after his fathersettled in Milston . In the reverent and literary atmospheme

of the qu l et parsonage, his m ind received a leaning to virtueand literature, which it never lost. H is school days werespent in Amesbury and Salisbury

,in Lichfield among “ the

fertile vales and dewy medes of the sweet valley of the Avon ,and in the C harter-house in London. It was in the Charterhouse that Addison first met S teele

,and that between the

impulsive,lonely

,Irish boy and the shy, sensitive

,English

lad that friendship first arose which the work of their manhoodwas to enshrine . It was there

,too

,that Addison drank deep

of classical literature, which was to mould his m ind and his

style,to leave him superficial in positive know ledge

,but master

of the refinements and elegances of style.

In 1 687 , at the age of'

fifteen,Addison was entered at

Queen ’s C ollege

,Ox ford

,where before two years had passed

his Latin verse won him high distinction . H e w as nominatedDemy

,or S cholar

,in Magdalen C ollege and became afterwards

Fellow . Magdalen was still ablaze from James II.

’s insolent

attack on her. It is not surprising,therefore

,that the loyalty

to the S tuarts, which Addison had inherited from his father,

should have changed into theWhiggism w hich ever afterwardsguided his pub lic life . In Magdalen he spent ten years

,—years

of meditation within the venerable walls of his college and

beneath the qu iet elms that border the C herwell,

—years ofearnest work in studying his beloved classics

,in translating

Latin poetry , and in writing Latin and English verse.

Addison intended to enter the C hurch,but fortunately for

English literature he was diverted to politics. For reasonsthat w e shall give later, men of state had never before so muc hneeded or esteemed the men of letters. Addison’

s fame as a

scholar and poet had won him the friendship of D ryden,

C ongreve, and finally of Montague (afterwards Lord H alifax ) ,leader of the Whigs in the H ouse of C ommons. Nothing was

m ore natural than that Montague should endeavour to enlistthe clever Ox ford writer in the service of the Whig party.

The occasion soon came. Addison wrote a Latin p oem on the

Peace of Ryswick , in which he eulogized K ing William. A

pension of £300 was granted him to travel abroad to fit himselffor diplomatic service .

“ I am called,”said Montague

,

“an

enemy of the C hurch , but I will never do it any other injurythan keeping Mr. Addison out of it. ”

INTRODUCTION. 3

France was at that time the arbiter of manners and style.

The language of France had acquired through criticism and

conversation a correctness and brilliancy possessed by no othermodern tongue. It was then , as it is now

,the language of

diplomacy. Italy was revered as the mother of modern art

and of modern learning. Addison lived in France long enoughto know the people and to master their language. H e travelledslowly

,even in days when all travel was slow

,through the

principal cities of Italy and Switzerland. Three years he hadbeen abroad

,when the death of William cancelled his pension .

H e l ingered a few months longer in straitened circumstancesin Austria and Germany

,till the death of his father recalled

him to England in 1703. H is R emarks on Italy, Letter to Lord

H alefax, and Treatise onM'

edals are fru its of this foreign travel .

Addison returned ‘ poor,but in three years he was Under

Secretary of S tate and famous. The R evolution of 1 688 hadalready transferred the government from the hands of the K ingto the hands of the Parliament

,and regularity and responsibility

in public affairs had fol lowed. But with the rise of partygovernment, there also arose a most bitter and unscrupulousparty warfare. Both Whigs and Tories looked to influencingthe people ; yet the means at the command of the statesman

of to-day did not then exist . The age of great newspapersand short-hand reporters was not yet. The voice of the oratorwas not heard beyond the walls of Parliament

,and the

politician had to depend for the dissemination of his v iewsupon the writers of his party . The pen was mightier thanthe tongue.

” The accession of Anne,who had Tory leanings

,

made it all the more necessary for the Whigs to strengthenthemselves With the people . Addison’

s ability was too greatto be neglected . H e was made a member of the Kit- cat C lub

,

that most famous union ofWhig statesmen and Whig writers.

And the battle of Blenheim (1704) gave him the opportunityto help his party and to w in fame for himself.

Godolphin had been seeking for some one who could fittinglycommemorate the great victory

,but until he applied to Lord

H alifax he had sought in vain . H alifax suggested Addison,

as a gentleman who would celebrate the battle in a manner

worthy of the subject .” Addison was found willing to undertake the poem,

and the Campaign was accordingly written . It

was not a great poem,but in the excited state of party feeling

its successwas immediate. One passage in the poem,comparing

4 INTRODU CTION.

Marlborough to an angel guiding the whirlw ind,was especially

praised80 when an angel by divine commandWith rising tempests shakes a qu iet land,Such as of late o

’

er pale Britannia past ,C alm and serene he drives the furious blastAnd pleased th

’

Almighty’

s orders to perform,

R ides in the Whirlwind and directs the storm.

”

The Whigs w ere jubilant . The author rose in the eyes ofhis contemporaries to a level w ith the greatest poets of ourlanguage . A nd “ that angel

,that good angel

,flew off with

Mr. Addison, and landed him in the place of C omm issioner ofAppeals.

”

“Les lettres sont plus en honneur qu’ ici

,wrote Voltaire on

learning the long list of official p ositions held during this age

by Addison,S teele

,Prior

,Tickell

,C ongreve

,and Gay. But

of all these none rose higher than Addison . The elections of1705 were a victory for the Whigs. S omers and Montaguewere made members of the C ouncil. Addison became undertheir patronage Under- S ecretary of S tate. Three years laterhe entered Parliament

,and on the appointment of Lord

Wharton as Lord Lieutenant to Ireland,he j oined him as

C hief S ecretary. To relate the varying fortunes of“

the Whigparty and the political life of Addison is beyond the scope ofthe present sketch . Let it suffice to say that, after a career ofhonour and integrity

,he attained shortly before his death the

position of Secretary of S tate,

a post,the highest C hatham

or Fox ever reached .

The year in which Addison went to Ireland (1709) marksthe beginn ing of an important era in the history of Englishliterature . It was the year of the foundation of S teele’

s Tatler.

To understand the importance of the Tatler we must reviewthe then short history of English newspapers.

The printing of new s was begun in England in the reign ofElizabeth

,but it w as not till the reign of James that the new s

paper was issued under a fixed title and at regular intervals.

The Weekly News, in 1 622, was our first real newspaper. The

press laboured under many difiiculties,and none greater than

the severity of government control . So far did this control gothat after the R estoration all right of publishing news became

the monopoly of the C rown . In 1 66 1 the official paper, theLondon Gazette, commenced publication under the immediatecontrol of an Under-Secretary of State, a Gazetteer. But

6 INTRODUCTION.

and manners, which some papers,particularly DeFoe

’s Review,

occasionally touched . H e founded a new paper, and dedicatedit

,under the title of the Tatler

,to the “

new world of readers.

The Tatler was ostensibly published by Isaac Bickerstaff, andseveral numbers had been issued before Addison discovered thatIsaac was his friend S teele. H e at once sent his

'

ofl'

er Of aid,

and his Offer was at once accepted . From 1 709 until 17 14Addison wrote in the Tatter and Sp ectator the essays that havemade his name

“a household word ,

”and his fame durable and

great.“ It is probable

,as Macaulay savs

,

“ that Addison,when he

sent across S t. George’

s Channel his first contributions to theTatler, had no notion of the extent and variety of his own

powers. Yet he was the possessor of a vast_mine of a hun

dred ores. Upright and pure by nature and training,famous

as a classical scholar when classical culture was the only culture,refined by intercourse w ith the most polished men of the mostpolished countries Of Europe

,with his taste formed in the best

models of antiqu ity and by the keenest criticism of France ,w ith his literary powers cultivated in Latin and English verseand by his books of travel

,with powers of conversation that

suggested Terence and Catullus with something higher thaneither

,—Addison had read

,seen ,

studied , felt much,but of his

real thought, disposition, nature he had given to the worldlittle. H is mine of a hundred ores awaited but the revealingtouch to gleam forth pure, precious, and abiding. And

,as w e

know ,the revealing touch came from Steele.

The general purpose of the Paper,

runs the first number ofthe Tatler,

“ is to expose the false arts of life,to pull off the

disguises of cunning,vanity

,and affectation

,and to recommend a

general simplicity in our dress,our discourse

,our behaviour.

”

Under Addison’s influence the news element grew less and less,

and the finished essay,the satire

,criticism

,allegory, became the

essential part. The success Of the Tatler, with such an editor and

such a contributor,was great and increasing ; but in 17 1 1 ,

we know not why, the Tatler ceased publication . Perhaps itwas because Addison having returned from Ireland , the twofriends wished a new paper on a higher plan and with a widerfield . H owever it be

,in January

,17 1 1 , Isaac Bickerstaff bade

his subscribers farewell .On March 1

,17 1 1 , the first number of the Spectator was

published . The machinery of the new paper was an imaginary

INTRODUCTION. 7

society of representative characters, a country baronet,a city

merchant, a soldier, a clergyman,a lawyer

,a man of fashion ,

who “are supposed to take a lively interest in what their Odd

,

silent colleague, the Spectator, either publishes from his own

resources, or receives from his vari ous correspondents.

”

Turn over the leaves, not of this selection, but of your Sp ectator,and see the endless variety, freshness, originality Of it all . Now

it is a critical paper or a portrait, now a w itty satire on patchesor petticoats, or an allegory with all the imaginative charm of apoem. And throughout it all there is a sort of story

,the first

taste our ancestors had Of what, since R ichardson’

s novels, hasbeen the most powerful of literary pleasures. We follow WillH oneycomb

,boasting of his conquests among the reigning belles

of thirty years to his marriage at six ty with a farmer’

s daughter,and see kindly S ir Roger at home

,at the assizes

,in love

,at

Westminster,on his death -bed.

And throughout Addison’s work in the Spectator there is a

lofty abiding serenity, a conscious moral purpose . The greatand only end of these speculations,

”he wrote,

“ is to banishv ice and ignorance out of the territories of Great Britain.

”And

this he strove earnestly and well to do““ To m inds heated

with political contest, the Tatler and Sp ectator supplied coolerand more inoffensive reflections. They had a perceptible effectupon the conversation of that time, and taught the frolic and

the gay to unite merriment with decency . Addison,

” writesMacaulay

,

“ taught that the faith and morality of H all and

Tilletson m ight be found in company with wit more sparklingthan the wit of C ongreve, and with humour richer than the

humour OfVanburgh. So effectually,indeed

,did he retort on v ice

themockery which had recently been directed against virtue,that,

since his time,the

'

open v iolation of decency has always beenconsidered among us as the mark of a fool . And th is revolu

tion, the greatest and most salutary ever effected by any satirist,he accomplished

,be it remembered, without writing one per

sonal lampoon.

”

The daily publication of the Spectator went on till December6, 1 702, when

“all the Members of the imaginary S ociety

having disappeared,

” it was high time for the Sp ectator himself to go off the S tage.

”

In 17 13 Addison reached the climax of his reputation by theproduction of his tragedy of Cato, which his personal popularity and the excited state of political feeling conspired to

8 INTRODUCTION.

make an unprecedented success. The following year he revivedthe Sp ectator , which, though containing some Of his best pieces

,

lasted only four months.

TWO years later his “ grand but dismal ”union with the

C ountess of Warwick was celebrated . In 17 19, at the age offorty- seven

,Joseph Addison was borne to the Abbey in which

he loved to meditate, to wait for“ that great Day when we shall

all O f us be C ontemporaries and make our Appearance together.

Such is the life and literary work of the greatest of theessayists.

For his character, let his actions and the actions of his contemporaries speak .

When the Tories swept the country in the elections Of 17 10 ,Addison’

s election “ passed easy and undisputed,” wrote Swift,

and I believe if he had a mind to be chosen king he wouldhardly be refused . When on the accession of George I. the

Tories were in disgrace and Swift pelted in the streets Of Dub

lin,

” Addison was the first to hold out his hand to him. WhenPope bitterly assailed him

,he calmly praised Pope’

s translationof the Iliad . When he was on his death-bed

,he asked pardon of

Gay for an unknown Offense, and called his dissolute step-son,

Lord Warwick,to him,

that he might “see in what peace a

C hristian can die.

”

When he turns to H eaven,writes Thackeray Of one whose

character was so like his own,“a Sabbath comes over that

man’s mind

, and his face lights up from it with a glory Of thanksand prayer. H is sense of religion stirs through his Whole being.

In the fields,in the town : looking at the birds in the trees

at the children in the streets : in the morning or in the moonlight : Over his books in his own

.

room in a happy party in a

country merry-making or a town assembly, good will and peaceto God’

s creatures, and love and awe of H im who made them,

fill his pure heart and shine from his kind face. If Swift’s lifewas the most wretched

,I think Addison’

s was one of the mostenviable. A life prosperous and beautiful—a calm death— an

immense fame and affection afterwards for his happy and spotless name.

”

W AN

ESSAYS FROM THE SPEC TATOR.

morning In Term-time. Martial’

s description Of this Species ofLawyers is full Of H umour

Iras cl verba locant.W W rfi A /

Men that hire out theirW'

Oi'ds and Anger that are siifiore or less ,

passionate according as they are paid for it,and lallow their

C lient a quantity of ‘Wrath proportionable to the Fee which'they receive from him . I must

,however

,observegto the

that above three Parts of those whom“I reckon among the

Litigious, are such as are only quarrelsome‘

in their H earts,(and) b

have no Opportunity of showing their Passion at the Bar.

Nevertheless, as they do not know what S trifes may arise, theyappear at the H all every Day, that they may show themselvesin a Readiness

‘

to enter the Lists, jwhenever there shall be Occa

sion for them.

The Peaceable Lawyers are, in the first place, many of theBenchers of the several Inns of C ourt

,who seemto be the

Dignitaries Of the Law ,and are endowed with those Q ualifica

tions of Mind that (accomplishJa Man rather for a Ruler, than a

Pleader. These Men live peaceably in their H abitations, Eating

once a Day, and Dancing once a Year,for the H onour of their

Respective S ocieties.

Another numberless Branch Of Peaceable Lawyers, are thoseyoung Men who being placed at the Inns of C ourt in order tostudy the Laws Of their C ountry, frequent the Play-H ouse morethan Westminster -H a ll, and are seen in all, publick Assemblies,except in a C ourt Of Justice. I shall say nothing of those S ilentand Busie Multitudes that are employed within Doors in the

M "drawing up of Writings and C onveyances nor of those greater-Numbers that pallriate their want Of Business fwith

f-a Pretence to “4

1such Chamber-Practice.If, in the third place , w e look into the Profession Of Physick

,

we shall find a most formidable Body of Men : The S ight ofthem is enough to make a Man serious, for we may lay it downas aMaxim

,thatWhen a Nation abounds in Physicians

,it grows

thin of People. S ir William Temp le is very much puzzled tou eu find a Reason why the Northern H ive

,as he calls it, does not

3 send out such prodigious Swarms, and over—run the World withGoths and Vandals, as it did formerly but had that Excellentmwe

Author Observed that there were no S tudents in Physick amongthe Subjects Of Thor and Woden, and that this S cience verymuch flourishes in the North at present, he might have

'

found a

use Of. This Body of Men,in our own C ountry, may be

described like theBritish Army, in Cresar’

s time : S ome Of themslay in Chariots, and some on Foot. If the Infantry do lessExecution than the C harioteers, it is, because they cannot becarried so soon into all Quarters of the Town

,and dispatch

much Business in so short a Time. Besides this Body Of RegularTroops

,there are S tragglers, who, without being duly listed and M ,

enrolled,do infinite Mischief to those who are so unlucky as to ld ,

fall into their H ands. M u c '

Thereare, besides the above-mentioned , innumerable Retainers15) Physick: who, for want of other Patients, amuse themselveswith the stifl ing Of Cats in an A ir Pump

,cutting up Dogs alive ,

or impaling Of Insects upon the point of a Need le for Micro- {u,scopical Observations ; besides those that are employed, in the

rewi

gathering of VV_eeds, and the C hase of Butterflie’

si'iw

Natl

t- l

tion the C ockleshell-merchants and S pider- catchers.

When I consider how each of these Professions age crdudz

ed to

with Multitudes that seek their Livelihood (in them; and howmany Men Of Merit there are in each rof them) who may be

rather zsaid to be of the S cience, than the Profession ; I verymuch wonder at the H umour Of Parents

,who will not rather

chuse to place their S ons in a way of Life where an honestIndustry cannot but thrive

,than in S tations where the greatest

Probity, Learning and Good S ense may m iscarry. H ow many

Men are C ountry-C urates, that ,might have made themselves

Aldermen of London by a right Improvement of a smaller Sum

of Mony than what is usually laid out upon a learned Education ?lc?A sober

,frugal Person

,of slender Parts

“and3 slow Apprehension ,

might have thrived in Trade,tho’ he starves upgn Physick

as a Man wou ld be well enough pleased to buy S ilks Of one,

whom he would not venture to feel his Pulse . Vagelltas is m

careful, studious and obliging, but withal a little thi_ck -skull’

d ;he has not a single C lient, but might have had abundance ofC ustomers. The Misfortune is

,that Eartniaétati efijkiesfi fi if»

particular Profession,and therefore desire their S ons m y be Of

it . Whereas,in so great an Affair of Life, they should consider

the Genius and Abilities of their C hildren, more than their ownInclinations. 0;It

Y

is

fi

thew

g'

iiéat Advantage Of a trading . N there are

Very few in it so dull and heavy, (who! may not be placed in

ESSAYS FROM TH E SPECTATOR .

h f e/

‘ f w "

S tations of Life which may give them an Opportunity of makingtheir Fortunes. LA) well-regulated C ommerce is not, like Law ,

Physick or Divinity, to be overstocked with H ands but,on the

contrary, flourishes by Multitudes, and gives Employment to allits (Professors) Fleets Of Merchantmen are so manygSquafilrons) {61 Aof floating Shops, that vend our Wares and Manufactures in all

the Markets of the World,and find out C hapmen under lbothl u

the Tropicks. a . ( Jew . r t C . a4

NO. TUESDAY,MARCH 27 , 17 1 1 .

S cevz'

t atrox Volscens, nec teli consp icz'

t usquamA uctorem nec q

-ao se ardens immittere p osait. Vir.

There is.

nothing that more betrays a base,ungenerous S pirit,

than the giving of secret S tabs to aMan’s Reputation. Lampoons

and S atyrs, that are written with Wit and S pirit,are like

poison’

d Darts, which not only inflict a Wound,but make it

incurable. For th is R eason"

I am very much troubled when Isee the talents of H umour and R idicule in the possession Of an

ill-natured Man. There cannot be a greater Gratification to abarbarous and inhuman Wit, than to stirmp S orrow in the H eartOf a private Person ,

to raise Uneasiness among near Relations,

and to expose whole Families to Derision,at the same time that

he remains unseen and undiscovered . If,besides the Accom

plishments Of being Witty and Ill-natured,a man is vicious 'into

the bargain, he is one of the most mischievous C reatures thatcan enter into Ca, C ivil S ociety . H is satyr will then chiefiy fallupon those who ought to be the most exempt from it. V irtue

,

Merit, and everything that is (Praise-worthy}. will be made theSubject of R idicule and Buffoonry . It is impossible to enumerate the Evils which arise from these Arrows that fly in the dark ,and I know no other Excuse that is or can be made for them ,

than that the Wounds they give are only Imaginary, and producenothing more than /g. secret Shame or S orrow (in—the

snfier'

mg-P erson) It must indeed be confess

’

d, that a Lampoonor a Satyr do not

“

03n in them Robbery or Murder but at the

same time,how many are there that would not rather lose a

considerable Sum of Mony,or even Li fe it self

,than be set up

as a Mark of Infamy and Derision'

.l And in this Case a Man

should consider, that an Injury is not to be measured by the,

Notions of him that gives, but Of him that receives it.


from him,made the Discovery himself ; upon which the Pope

gave him the Reward he had promised,but at the same time

,to

disable the Satyrist for the future, ordered his Tongue to be cut

out,and both his hands to be chopped Off. A retine is too trite

an instance. Every one knows that all the Kings of Europewere his tributaries. Nay, there is a Letter of his extant, inwhich he makes his Boast that he had laid the S ophi of Persiaunder C ontribution.

J'

Though in the various Examples which I have here(drawriwtogether) these several great Men behaved themselves verydifferently towards the Wits of the Age who had reproachedthem,

they all of them plainly showed that they were verysensible Of their Reproaches, and consequently that they receivedthem as very great Injuries. For my own part

,I would never trust

a Man that I thought was capable of giving these secretWounds,and cannot but think that he would hurt the Person

, (whose

Reputation he thus assaults, in his Body or inhis Fortune, (could ap t, c

he do it with the same S ecurity. ) There is indeed somethingvery barbarous and inhuman in the ordinary Scriblers of “Lampoons. An Innocent young Lady shall be exposed, for an

unhappy Feature . A Father of a Family turned to Ridicule, forsome domestick C alamity . A Wife be made uneasy all her Life

,

for a m isinterpreted Word or Action. Nay, a good, a temperate,and a just Man, shall be put out of C ountenance, by the Representation Of those Qualities that should do him H onour. So

pernicious a thing is Wit,when it is not tempered with Virtue

and H umanity.

6 I have indeed heard of heedless, inconsiderate Writers, thatwithout any Malice have sacrificed the Reputation of theirFriends and Acquaintance to a certain Levity of Temper

,and a

silly Ambition of distinguishing themselves by a S pirit of Railleryand Satyr : As if it were not infinitely more honourable to be a

Good-natured Man than a Wit. Where there is this littlepetulant H umour in an Author, he is often very mischievouswithout designing to be so. For which Reason (I always lay itdown as a Rule) that an indiscreet Man is more hurtful than an

ill-natured one ; for as the fo rnier wi ll only attack his Enemies,and those he wishes ill to, the other inj ures indifl

'

erently bothFriends and Foes. I cannot forbear

,on this occasion,

transcrib

ing a Fable out of S ir Roger l’

flstrange, which accidently liesbefore me.

‘A company of Waggish Boys were watching of

ESSAYS FROM TH E SPECTATOR.

‘Frogs at the side of a Pond , and still as any of’em put up their

‘H eads, they’d be pelting them down againwith S tones. Children

‘

(says one of the Frogs) , you never consider that though thismay‘be Play to you,

’tis Death to us.

’

7 As this Week is in a manner set apart and dedicated toS erious Thoughts, I shall indulge (myself

' in such S peculations asmay not be altogether unsuitable _to the S eason ; and in the

mean time,as the settling in our selves a C haritable Frame of

Mind is a Work very proper for the Time,I have in this Paper

endeavoured to expose that , particular Breach Of Charitv whichhas been generally over- looked by Divines, because they are but

few who can be guilty of it.

No . 26 ] FRIDAY,MAR CH 30

,17 1 1 .

Pa llida mors eequo pulsat p ede paup erum tabernas

Regumque turres, O beate S ep ti,Vitae summa brevis sp em nos cetat inchoare tongam.

Jam te p remet nox , f abulcegue manes,Et domus emilis Plutonia —H or .

1When I am in a serious H umour, I very Often walk by myself in Westminster Abbey where the Gloominess of the Place,and the Use to which it is applied

,with the S olemnity of the

Building,and the C ondition Of the People who lye in it, are apt

to fill the Mind with a kind of Melancholy, or rather Thoughtfulness, that is not disagreeable . I Yesterday pass

’d a whole

Afternoon in the Church-

yard, the C loysters, and the C hurch ,amusing myself with the Tomb-stones and Inscriptions that Imet with in those several R egions of the Dead. Most Of themrecorded nothing else Of the buried Person, but that he was bornupon one Day and died upon another : The whole H istory Of hisLife, being comprehended in those two C ircumstances, that arecommon to all mankind . I could not but look upon _theseRegisters of Existence , whether

'

Of Brass or Marble,as a kind of

Satyr upon the departed Persons ; who had left no otherMemorial’

Of them; but that they were born and that they died. They putme in mind of several Persons mentioned in the Battles of H eroicPoems

,who have sounding Names given them,

for no otherReason but that they may be killed , and are celebrated fornothing but being knocked on the H ead .

Thai /cor T8,Medorra re

,Oepoihoxdv Te.

—H um .

Glaucumque, Medontaque, Thersilochumque.—Virg.

ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR.

The Life of these Men is finely described in H oly Writ bythe Path of an Arrow which is immediately closed up and lost.Upon my going into the C hurch , I entertain

’d my self with the

digging of a Grave ; and saw in every Shovel- full of it that wasthrown up, the Fragment of a Bone or Skull intermixt with (akind e flfresh mouldering earth that sometime or other had a Placein the C omposition Of an humane Body. Upon th is, I began toconsider (with my self) what innumerable Multitudesp

/gffi f ehpfi

lay con lus’

d under the Pavement of that ancientC athedral how

—Men andWomen

,Friends and Enem ies, Priests

and S oldiers, Monks and Prebendaries, were crumbled (amongst

one another,land blended together in the same common Mass ;

how Beauty, S trength , and Youth , with Old-age, Weakness, and

Deformity, lay undistinguished in the same promiscuous H eap

2f Matter.

“ cu / aw n [AM a ” ” 0 45 “ W “ “ F

After having thus surveyed this great Magazine of-

Mortality,as it were in the Lump

, I examined it more particularly by theAccounts which I found on several of the Monuments [which

l

]are raised in every Quarter of that ancient Fabrick. S ome ofthem were covered with such extravagant Epitaphs, that, if itwere possible for the dead Person“ to be acquainted w ith them,

he would blush at the Praises which his Friends [havez

]bestowedupon him. There are others so excessively modest, that theydeliver the Character Of the Person departed in Greek or H ebrew,

and by that Means are not understood once in a Twelve-month .

In the poetical Quarter, I found there were Poets [whoa]had no

Monuments,and Monuments [which

‘f

] had no Poets. I observedindeed that the present War had filled the C hurch with manyO f these uninhabited Monuments, which had been erected to theMemory of Persons whose Bodies were perhaps buried in thePlains of Blenheim, or in the Bosom of the Ocean.

5 I could not but be very much delighted with several modernEpitaphs

,which are written with great Elegance of Expression

and Justness of Thought, and therefore do H onour to the Living

as well as to the Dead. As a Foreigner is very apt to conceive .

an Idea Of the Ignorance or Politeness of a Nation from the

Turn of their publick Monuments and Inscriptions, they shouldbe submitted to the Perusal of Men of Learning and Geniusbefore they are put in Execution. S ir C loudesly Shovel

’

s Monument has very Often given me great O ffence : Instead of the

1 [that] 2 [had] 8 [that] 4 [that]

18 ESSAYS FROM TH E SPEC TATOR .

No . TUESDAY, APRIL 24 , 17 1 1 .

Ride si sap is—Mart .

Mr. H obbs, in his D i scourse of H uman Nature,which in my

humble Opin ion,is much the best of all his Works, after some

very curious Observations upon Laughter, concludes thus‘The Passion Of Laughter is, nothing else but sudden Glory‘arising from some sudden C on ception Of some Eminency inourselves by C omparison with the Infirmity of others, or with

‘our own formerly : For Men laugh at the Follies of themselves

‘past,when they come suddenly to R emembrance

,except they

bring with them any present Dishonour .

’

According to this Author,therefore, w hen we hear a Man

laugh excessively,instead of saying he is very Merry

,we ought

to tell him he is very Proud . And, indeed , if we look into the

bottom Of this Matter,w e shall meet with many Observations

t o confirm us in his Opin ion . Every one laughs at some Bodythat is in an inferior S tate of Folly to himself. It was formerlythe C ustom for every great H ouse in England to keep a tame

Fool dressed in Petticoats, that the H eir of the Family mighthave an Opportunity of j oking upon him,

and diverting himselfwith his Absurdities. For the same R eason Idiots are still inR equest in most of the C ourts of Germany, where there is nota Prince of any great Magnificenee , who has not two or threedressed

,distinguished , undisputed Fools In his R etinue

, :whomthe rest of the

O

'C ou 1 tiers are always breaking their Jests upon .

The Dutch, who are more famous for their Industry and

Application,than for Wit and H umour

,hang up in several of

their S treets what they call the S ign Of the Gap er, that is, theH ead of an Idiot dressed in a C ap and Bells

,and gaping in a.

most immoderate manner : This is a standing Jest at Amsterdam.

Thus every one diverts himself with some Person or otherthat is below him in Point of Understanding, and triumphs inthe S uperiority of his Genius, Whilst he has such Obj ects ofDerision before his Eyes . Mr. Dennis has very w ell expressedthis in a C ouple of humourous Lines, which are part of a Translation Of a Satire in Monsieur Boileau.

Thus one Fool lolls his Tongue out at another ,And shakes his emp ty Noddle at his Brother .

Mr. H obbs’

s Reflection gives us the Reason why the insignificant People above-mentioned are Stirrers up Of Laughter

ES SAYS FROM TH E SPECTATOR. 1 9

4.

among Men of a gross Taste : But as the more;V

understandingPa1 t of Mankind

t>

do not find their R isibility affected by suchordinai y Objects

,it may be worth the while to examine into

the several Provocatives Of Laughter in Men of superior Sense wand Know ledge .

L In the first Place I must Observe, that there is a Set of merryDrolls, Whom the common People Of all C ountries admire

,and

seem to love so well, that they could eat them,according to the

O ld Proverb I mean those circumforaneous Wits whom everyNation calls by the Name of that Dish Of Meat which it lovesbest . In H olland they are termed Pickled H errings in France,Jean Pottages ; in Italy, Maccaronies ; and in Great Britain, ,

Jack Puddings. These merry Wags, from whatsoever Foodthey receive their Titles, that they may make their Audienceslaugh

,always appear in a Fool’s C oat , and commit such Blunders

and Mistakes in every S tep they take, and every Word theyutter

, as those who listen to them would be ashamed of.'

\But this little Triumph Of the Understanding, under the

Disguise of Laughter,is no where more visible than in that

C ustom which prevails every where among us on the first Dayof the present Month

,when every Body takes it in their H ead

to make as many Fools as they can. In proportion as

are more F ollies discovered , so there is more laugh ter raisedon this Day than on any other in the whole Year . A Neighbour of mine

,who is a H aberdasher by Trade

,and a very

shallow conce ited Fellow,makes his Boasts that for these ten

Years successively he has not made lesshthan an hundred Ap rilFools. My Land lady had a falling out with him about a Fortnight ago, for sending every one

Lfi

of her C hildren upon someS leeveless E rrand, as she terms it . _H er eldest Son went to buyan H alf-penny worth Of Ink le at a Shoemaker’

s ; the eldestDaughter was dispateh

’

d half a Mile to see a Monster ; and,in

short,the whole Family of innocent Childremmade Ap ril Fools.

Nay, my Landlady herself did not escape him . This emptyFellow has laughed upon these C onceits ever S ince .

1 This A rt of Wit is well enough,when confined to one Day

in a Twelvemonth ; but there is an ingen ious _Tribe of Men

sprung up of late Y ears,who are for making Ap ril Fools every

Day in the Year. These Gentlemen are commonly distinguishedby the Name of Biters ,

a Race Of Men that are perpetuallyemployed 1 11 laughing at those Mistakes which are of their ownProduction.

20 ESSAYS FROM TH E SPECTATOR.

Thus we see,in proportion as one Man is more refined than

another,he chooses his Fool out of a lower or higher C lass of

Mankind or, to speak in a more Philosophical Language,

That secret Elation and Pride of H eart, which is generallycalled Laughter, arises in him from his comparing himself w ithan Object below him ,

whether it so happens that it be a Naturalor an Artificial Fool. It is indeed very possible, that thePersons we laugh at may in the main Of their C haracters"bemuch wiser men than ourselves ; but if they would have us

laugh at them ,they must fall short Of us . in those Respects

which stir up this Passion .

I am a fraid I shall appear too Abstracted in my Speculations, if I shew that when a Man Of Wit makes us laugh

, it is

by betraying some Oddness or Infirmity in his own Character,

or inthe R epresentation which he makes of others and thatwhen w e laugh at a. Brute or even [at] an inanimate thing

,it

is at some Action or Incident that bears a remote Analogy toany Blunder or Absurdity In reasonable C reatures.

“ r "

But to come into common Life : I shall pass by the C onside ration of those S tage C oxcombs that are able to shake a wholeAudience, and take notice of a part icular sort of Men who aresuch Provokers Of Mirth in C onversation, that it is impossiblefor a C lub or Merry-meeting to subsist without them]; I mean,

those honest Gentlemen that are always exposed to the Witand R aillery Of their Well-wishers and C ompanions

,that are

pelted by Men,Women ,

and C hildren , Friends and Foes, and,

in a word , stand as Butts in C onversation,for every one to

Shoot at 'that pleases) I know several of these Butts,who are

Men of Wit and S ense, though by some Odd Turnof H umour,

some unlucky C ast in their . Person or Behaviour,they have

always the Misfortune to make the C ompany merry . The

Truth of it is, a Man is not qualified for a Butt,who has not a

good deal of Wit and Vivacity , even in the ridiculous side ofhis C haracter. A stupid Butt is only fit for the C onversationOf ordinary People : Men Of Wit require one that will give themPlay

,and bestir himself in the absurd Part Of his Behaviour.

A Butt w ith these Accomplishments frequently gets the LaughOf his side

,and turns the R idicule upon him that attacks him .

Sir John Falstafi’

w as an H ero of this Species,and gives a good

Description of himself in his C apacity Of a Butt,after the

following manner ; Men of all Sorts (says that Inerry Knight)

~r

22 ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR .

Top of the H ill , which the Natives Of the C ountry (after having‘cut it into a kind of regular Figure) bored and hollowed with

‘ incredible Pains and Industry,’till they had wrought in it all

‘those beautiful Vaults and C averns into which it is divided at‘ this Day. As soon as this Rock was thus curiously S cooped to‘their Liking

,a prodigious number of H ands must have been

‘employed in clipping the Outside of it, which is now as smoothas the Surface of a Pebble 5

1

] and is in several Places hewn out‘into Pillars that stand like the Trunks of so many Trees bound‘about the Top wi th Garlands Of

when this great Work was begun, which must have beeh'

many‘

‘H undred Years ago, there was some Religion among this People‘for they give it the name of a Temple, and have a Tradition that‘it was designed for Men to pay their Devotions in. And indeed

,

‘there are several Reasons which make us think that the Nativesof this C ountry had formerly among them some sort ofWorship ;

‘for they set apart every seventh Day as sacred : But upon my‘going into one of [these

Q

] holy H ouses on that Day, I could not‘Observe any C ircumstance of Devotion in their BehaviourThere was indeed a Man in Black who was mounted above therest

,and seemed to utter something with a great deal of

‘Vehemence ; but as for those (underneath him, instead of paying their Worship to the Deity of the Place, they were most of

‘them bowing:and curtisying to one another, and a considerable

Number of them fast asleep .

The Queen of the C ountry appointed two Men to attend us,

‘that had enough of our Language to make themselves under‘stood in some few Particulars. But we soon perceived these

‘two were great Enemies to one another, and did not alwaysagree in the same S tory. We could make a Shift to gather outof one of them ,

that this Island was very much linfested withl a‘monstrous K ind of Animals

,in the shape ofMen

,called Whigs ;

‘and he often told us, that he hoped we should meet with noneOf them in our Way, for that if we did , they would be apt to

‘knock us down for being Kings. (M u

gswu w d an ” “ t

‘Our other Interpreter used to talk very much of a kind ofAnimal called a Tory ,

that was as great alYIgnster as the Whig,and would treat us as ill for being Fore ignsiijs.

wThese two

C reatures, it seems,are born with a secret Antipathy for one

‘another, and engage when they meet as naturally as the

‘Elephant and the Rhinoceros. But as we saw none of either of1 [polished Marble] 2 [those]


‘these S pecies,we are apt to think that our Guides deceived 11s

‘with Misrepresentations and Fictions,and amused us with an

‘Account of such Monsters as are not really in thei1 C ountry .

These Particulars we madeaSh1it to pick out from the D is‘course of our Inte1preters ,

whicl 1 we ut togethe1 as well as‘we could , being able to understar

idw

but;liere and there aWord

‘Of what they said

,and afterwards making up the Meaning of it

‘among ourselves. The Men of the C ountry are vei y cunning

‘and ingenious in handicraft (Works); but withal so ve1y id le ,

‘that we often saw young lusty raw -boned Fellows carried up‘and down the S treets in l ittle covered Rooms by a C ouple O f

‘Porters,who are hi1ed for that S ervice. Their Dress is likewise

‘very ba1ba1 ous for they almost strangle themselves about the‘Neck

, (and Bindtheir Bodies w ith many Ligaturesj that we are 4

‘apt to think are the Occasion Of several Distgmpers among H » e

‘them which our C ountry is entirely free from . Instead of thosebeautiful Feathers with which we adorn our H eads, they Often

‘buy up a monstrous Bush of H air,which covers their H eads,

‘and falls down in a large Fleece below the Middle of their

‘Backs ; with which they walk Up and down the S treets, and ”:

‘are as proud of itias if it was of their own growth .

UV}?

eénvited to one O f their publick Divei sions, where‘we Oped

e

gho have seen the great Men of their C ountry running‘down a S tag or pitching a Bai

,that we might have discovered

‘who were the [CPel sons of the g1 eatest Abilities )among thembut instead of that, they conveyed us into a huge Room lighted

‘up with abundance Of C and les, where this lazy

D

People sat stillabout three H ours -to see several Feats of Ingenuity performedby others, who it seems were paid for it.

‘As for the Women of the C ountry, not being able to talkPMwith them ,

w e could only make our Remarks upon them at 3.‘LM u

‘Distance. They let the H air of their H eads grow to a g1eat‘Length ° but as the Men make a great Show with H eads ofH air that are not Of their own

, the Women, who they say havevery fine H eads of H air

,tie it up in a Knot

,and cover it from

‘being Seen. The “Tomen look like Angels,and would be more

‘beautiful than the Sun,were it -

not for little black Spots thatare apt to break out in their Faces

,and sometimes rise in verv

‘Odd Figures. I have observed that those l ittle Blemishes wearoff very soon ; but when they disappear in one Part of the Fac

‘they are -very apt to break out in another,insomuch that I have

l lMen of the greatest Perfections in their C ountry]

24 ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR

‘seen a Spot upon the Forehead in the Afternoon, which was

‘upon the Chin in the Morning.

’

The Author then proceeds to shew the Absurdity of Breechesand Petticoats

,with many other curious Observations

,which I

shall reserve for another Occasion. I cannot however concludethis Paper without taking notice

,That amidst these wild Remarks

there now and then appears something very reasonable. (I can

not likewise forbear) Observing, That we are all guilty in some_J Measure of the same narrow way O f Thinking

,which we meet

with in this Abstract of the Indian Journal ; when we fancy theCustoms, Dress, and Manners of other C ountries are ridiculousand extravagant

,if they do not resemble those of our own. C .

NO . SATURDAY, MAY 1 9,17 1 1 .

H is segetes, illic reniant f elicias uvoeA rborei f oetus alibi, atqne injussa virescunt

Gramina . Nonne rides, croceos at Tmolus adores,India mittit ebur , molles sua thara Saboei

A t Chalybes nudi f errum ,virosaque P ontus

C astorea ,Eliadum palmas Epirus equarum

C o-ntinuo has leges ceternaquef oedera certis

Imp osuit Natura locis —Virg.

There is no Place in the Town which I so much love tofrequent as the Royal-Exchii

'

hy

ge. It gives me a secret Satisfaction

,and in some measure

, gratifies my Vanity, as I am an

Englishman, to see so rich an Assembly of C ountrymen and

Foreigners consulting together upon the private Business ofMankind

,and Making this Metrgpolis a kind of Empgzgium for

the whole Earth . I must confess I look upon H igh - C hange tob e a great C ouncil, in which all considerable Nations have theirRepresentatives. Factors in the Trading World arewyyhat

Ambassadors are in the Politick World”they negotiateAffairs,

conclude Treaties, and maintain a good C orreSp'

ohdence betweenthose wealthy S ocieties of Men that are divided from one anotherby S eas and Oceans, or live on the different Extremities of aC ontinent. I have often been pleased to hear Disputes adjustedbetween an Inhabitant of Japan and anAlderman of London, or tosee a Subject of the Great_Mogul entering into aLeague with oneof the Czar Of Muscovy. I am infinitely_ delighted in mixing w iththese several Ministers of C ommerce

,as they are distinguished

by their different Walks and different Languages : SometimesIII . I

'

26 ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR.

1 3m m W 44 0 M a i a

If w e consider our own C ountry in”p

ita

s

'

natural Prospect,w ithout any of the Benefits and Advantages of C ommerce ,w hat a barren uncomfortable Spot of Earth falls to our Share !Naturalfi fli stg ianls) tell us

,that no Fruit grows O riginally

among us,besides H ips and H aws

,Acorns and Pig/

Nutts,with

other Delicates of the like Nature,That our C limate of itself,

and Without the Assistance of A rt,can make 11 0 further

Advances towards a Plumb than to a S loe , and carries an

Apple to no greater a Perfection than a C rab : That [Our’

]Melons

,our Peaches

,our Figs

,ou r Apricots

,and C herries, are

S trangers among us,imported in different Ages

,and natura lized

in our English Gardens 5 and that they would all degenerateand fall away into the Trash of our own C ountry

,if they were

wholly neglected by the Plan ter,and left to the Mercy of our

Sun and S oil. Nor has Traffick m ore enriched our VegetableWorld

,than it has improved the whole Face of Nature among

us. Our Ships are laden w ith the H arvest of every C limate :Our Tables are stored w ith Spices

,and O ils

,and Wines : Our

R ooms are filled with Pyramids of China, and adorned w ith theWorkmanship of Japan : Our Morn ing

’

s Draught com es to usfrom the remotest C orners of the Earth : We repair

'

our Bodiesby the Drugs of America,

and repose ourselves under IndianC anopies. My Friend S ir ANDREW calls the V ineyards ofFrance our Gardens the Spice—Islands our H ot-beds ; the

Persians our S ilk -Weavers,and the Chinese ou r Potters. Nature

indeed furnishes us with the bare Necessaries of Life,but

Traffick gives us greater Variety of what’

is Useful. and at the

same time supplies us w ith eve1ything that is C onvenient andO rnamental . N0 1 is it the least Part of this our Happiness,that whilst w e enj oy the( r

'

emotestlProducts of the North and

S outh , w e are free from those Ex tremities ofWeather [whichflgive them Birth

,That ou r Eyes are refreshed with the g 1een

Fields of Britai,

n at the same time that ou 1 Palates are feastedwith Fru its that rise between the Tropicks.

For these R easons there are no more useful Members in a

C ommonwealth than Merchants. They kn it Mankind together“N “ in a mutual Intercourse of GOOd

f

Ofiices,distribute the Gifts of

Nature,

find Work for the Poor,add Wealth to

'

the “R ich , andMagnificence to the Great . Our English Merchant

_converts

the Tin of his own C ountry into Gold,and Exchanges his Wool

for Rubies. The Mahometans are clothed in our British Mann

1 [these Fruits, in their present State, as well as our]

Lands themselves.

9

NO . SATURDAY, JUNE 1 6,1 7 1 1 .

Sp em tongam reseces dum loquimur , fugerit invidazEtas carp e Diem , quam minimum credu la postero.

-H or .

We all aims complain of the Shortness of Time, saith S eneca,and yet have,

much more than we know what to do with .

” Our

Lives, says he, are spent either in doing n othing at all,or in

doing nothing to the Purpose,

'

Or in doing nothing that w eought to do : (We are alw ays complainingour Days are few

,and

fi t s though there w ou ld be no End of them . That noblePhilosopher has described our Inconsistency with our selves inthis Part icu lar

,by all those vari ous .Turns of Expression and

Thought which are peculiar to his Writings.

I often"

consider Mankind as wholly inconsistent with M rfiwin a Point that bears some Affinity - to the former. Though weseem grieved at the Shortness

'

of -Life in general,we are wish

ing every Period of it -at an end. The Minor longs to be at

A ge , then to be a Man of Business,then to make up an Estate

,

then to arrive at H onours,then to retire.

"

Thus although thewhole of

’

Life is allowed by every one to be short, the several

a-‘ju ‘

Divisions of it appear long and tedious. We are for lengthening our Span in general, but would fain contract the Parts of


which it -s composed. The Usurer would be very well satisfiedto have all the Time annihilated that l ies betw een the presentMoment and the nex t Quarter-day. The Politician would becontent to lose three Years in his Life

,could he place things in

the Posture which he fancies they will stand in after such a

R evolution of Time . The Lover would be glad to strike out ofhis Existence all the Moments that are t o pass away before thehappy Meeting . Thus, as fast as our Time runs, w e should bevery glad in most Parts of our Lives that i t ran much fasterthan it does. S everal hours of the Day hang upon our H ands

,

nay w e wish away whole Yearst, and travel through Time as

through a C oun try filled with many wild and empty Wastes,which w e w ould fain hurry over, that w e may arrive at thoseseveral little S ettlements or imaginary Points of R est whichare dispersed up and down in it .If w e divide the Life of most Men into twenty Parts, w e

shall find that a_t least nineteen’

of them are meer Gaps and‘M M C hasms

,which are neither filled

,W 1 Pleasure nor Business.

I do not how ever include in this C alculation the Life, f thoseMen who are in a perpetual H urry

'

of Affairs,but f those

only who are not always engaged in S cenes of Action ; and I

hope I shall not do an unacceptable Piece of Service to thesePersons

,i f I point out to them certain Methods for the filling

upltheir empty S paces of Life . The Methods I shall proposeto them are as follow .

I'

LL-e ‘r m “ J ’f 23{Mi-Q "

'

7 flm i l‘le first is the Exercise of Vigtue, in the most generalAcceptation of the Word. That particular Scheme which com

prehends the S ocial to the mostindustrious Temperll"most active S tation of Life

i

ify 'fd

the Needy , comfort the Afflicted , are Duties that fall in our

way labnos‘

t our Lives. A Man has frequent” ' D 'VOpportuniti the Fierceness of a Party ; of doing

Justice to the C haracter of a deserving Man of softening theEnvious

,qu ieting the Angry, and rectifying the Prejudiced ;t ”M

which are all of them Employments suited to a reasonableNature , and bring great Satisfaction to the Person who canbusy himself in them with Discretion .

There is another kind Of Virtue that may find Employmentfor those R etired H ours in which w e are altogether left to ourselves, and destitute of C ompany and C onversation I mean

”vi / M 4 0 4 ( “M y(M i r u o d o t n ,

Shi rW 4W °

kk mu.

(fin -ru ng


red Spots ranged together in different figures. Would not a

man laugh to hear any one of this S pecies complaining thaLife is short ?The S tage m ight be made a perpetual S ou rce of the most

noble and useful Entertainments,w ere it under proper R egu

lations .

But the Mind never unbends itself so agreeably as in the

C onversation of a w ell chosen Friend . There is indeed 11 0

Blessing of Life that is any/ w ay comparable to the Enj oymen t

of a discreet and v irtuous Friend . It eases and unloads theMind

,clears and improves the Understanding

,engenders

Thoughts and Know ledge,animates V irtue and good R esolu

t ion,sooths and allays the Passions

,and finds Employment for

most of the vacant H ou rs of Life .

Nex t to such an In timacy with a particular Person,one

w ould endeavour after a more general C onversation w ith suchas are able to entertain

'

and improve those with whom they

t ?"

converse,which are Qualifications that seldom go asunder . ,

m "

There are many other u seful amusements of Life,which one

w ould endeavour t o multiply,that one might on all O ccasions

have R ecourse t o something rather than suffer the mind to lieidle

,or run adrift w ith

'any Passion that chances t o rise in it .AMan that has a Taste ofMusick Painting

, or Architecture,is likg

l '

o'h

i

é

n

ti

ligt has compafedMilitant s:have no R elish of those Arts: The Florist, the Planter, theGardiner

,the H usbandman

,when they are only as Accomplish

ments'

tu

di

the Man of Fortune, are great R eliefs to a C ountryLife

,and many ways useful to those who are possessed of them .

But of all the Diversions of Life, there is none so proper tofill up its empty S paces as the reading of useful and entertaining A uthp rs Bu t this I shall only touch upon

,because it in

some Measure interferes with the third Method,which I shall

propose in another Paper, for the Employmen t of our dead

unactive H ours, and which I shall only,

mention in general tobe the Pursuit of K now ledge.

4 “ w it /“N “ “ ‘r

5 7 ”

9 LL

_{ c t i l t l a . a l a u l'l a

'9 ,

la‘C Q J-C Q P

I

No . TH UR SDAY,JULY 12, 1 7 1 1 .

—Ui sitMens sana in C orp ore sano.—Juv .

"a

Bodily Labour is of two kinds, either that which a Man

Ja ck

submits to for his Livelihood , or that which he undergci es fork i t“

I “ 3 L )

ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR .

his Pleasure. The latter of them generally Izliangi

e

i'

s

u

the Name

of Labour for that O f Exercise,but differs only from ordinary

Labour as it rises from another Motive.

A C ountry Life abounds in bott hese kinds of Labour ) andfor that R eason gives a Man a greater S tock of H ealth, andconsequently a more perfect Enj oymen t himself

,than any

other Way o f Life. I consider the Body as a System of Tubesand Glands, or to use a more Rustick Phra e

, a Bundle of Pipesand S trainers

,fitted to one another after So wonderfu l 3.Manner

as to make a proper Engine for the S oul to work with . ThisDescription does not only comprehend the Bow els

,Bones

,

endons,Veins

, Nerves and Arteries,but every Muscle and

every Ligaj u re, which is a'

C omposition of Fibres that are so an».

many imperceptible Tubes or Pipes interwoven on all S ideswith invisible G lands 0

“ ft “aw ay mag/M 1“ ,

This general Idea of W i thout considering itin its Niceties of Anatomy

,lets us see how absolutely necessary

Labour is for the right Preservation of it. There must befrequen t Motions and Agitations

,to mix

,digest

,and separate

the Ju ices contained in i t, as well as to clear and cleanse thatInfinitude of Pipes and S trainers of which it is composed

,and

to give their solid Parts a more firm and lasting Tone . Labouror Exercise ferments the H umours

,casts them into the ir proper Q ua rt »!

C hannels,throws o ff R edundancies

,and helps Natu i e In those

secret Distributions, without which the Bodycannot (subsist in 49Aits Vigou r ,l nor the S ou l act with C hearfulness.

I might here mention the Effects which this has upon all the f. .w

Faculties of the Mind,by keeping the Understanding clear

,the

32 ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR.

that are necessary for the Preservation of such a System of

Tubes and Glands as has been before mentioned .

“A“ndl they};we

might not wan t Inducements to engage us in such ,an Exei‘hi s'

e‘

Of r the Body (as is proper for itsWelfare) it is so ordered thatnothing valuable can be procured without it. Not to mentionR iches and H onour

,even Food and Raiment are not to be home

atfiw ithout the Toil of the H ands and weat of tige Brows.Providence furnishes Materials

,( but expectsfithatw

w e s ou ldwork them up ou r selves) The Earth must be labouredbefore i t gives its Encrease

,and when it is forced into its

several Products,how many H ands must they pass through

before they are fit for U se ? Manufactures, Trade, and Agriculture

,naturally employ more than n ineteen Parts of the

m a S pecies in twenty ; and as for those who are not obliged toLabour

,by the C ondition in which they are born, they are more

miserable than the rest of Mankind,(unless they indulge them

selves in'

that voluntary Labour which goes by the name ofExercise } w eb -w e 8 .1 . 3w-w

w wf My Friend S ir ROGER has been an indefatigable Man in

Business of this kind,and has hung several Parts of his H ouse

with the Trophies of his former Labours. The Walls of hisgreat H all are covered with the H orns of several kinds of Deerthat he has k illed in the C hace

,which he thinks the most

valuable Furniture of his H ouse,as they afford him frequent

Topicks of Discourse, and shew that he has not been Idle. Atthe lower End of the H all

,is a large O tter’

s Skin stuffed withH ay, which his Mother ordered to be hung up in that manner,

and,théKnight looks upon with great Satisfaction, because it

seems he was but n ine Years old when his Dog killed him . Al ittle R oom adj oining to the H all is a kind of Arsenal filledwith Guns of several S izes and Inventions, with which theK n ight has made great H avock in the Woods, and destroyedmany thousands of Pheasants

,Partridges and Wo

gd- cocks.

H is S table Doors are patched with Noses that belong1b v

o Foxesof the Knight’s own hunting down . S ir R OGER shewed me one

of them that for Distinction sake had a Brass Nail struckthrough it

,which cost him about fifteen H ours r iding

,carried

him through half a dozen C ounties, killed him a Brace ofGeldings, and lost above half his Dogs. This the Kn ight looksupon as one of the greatest Exploits of his Life. The perverseWidow, whom I have given some Account pf, was the Death

Mm 3M m ow {Ivan-M

,S

'

fw y {Va n

‘

i c (C w -‘PW a/ am occjew u

jc S

taESSAYS FROM TH E SPECTATOR. (fe w

No . 159. l SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 17 1 1 .

Omnem quoe nunc obducta tuenti

Mortales hebetat visus tibi, ci humida circumC aligat, nahem erip iam

—Virg .

When I was at I picked Up several Oriental“14? Manuscripts

,which I have still by me. Among others I met

4 with one entitled,The Visions of Mirzah, which I have read

over with great Pleasure. I intend to give it to the Publickwhen I have no other Entertainment for them and shall beginw ith the first Vision

,which I have translated Word for Word

as follows.

4 On the fifth Day of theMoon, which according to the C ustom‘Of my Forefathers I always keep t y, after having washedmy self

,and offered up my Morning Devotions, I ascended the

‘high H ills of Bagdat, in order to pass the rest of the Day inu m7 1

‘Meditation and Prayer. As I was here airirg my s_elf on theTops Of the Mountains, I fell into a profound C ontemplation

‘On the Vanity Of human Life ; and passing from one Thought

‘ to anotl1e1 , Sur ,ely said I, Man is

1 k

b1i‘

t a Shadow and Life a

D1e .am Whilst I was thus musing,I cast my Eyes towards

‘w ‘ the S ummit of a R ockLthat was not far from me} where Idiscovered one in the H abit of a Shepherd

,with a little Musical

Instrument in his H and. As I looked upon him he applied itto his Lips, and began to play upon it. The S ound of it was

‘exceeding sweet

,andf

/

Yvrought into a Variety of Tunes that‘were inexpi essibly melodious, and altogether different from anything I had ever heard : They putme inmind of those heavenlyA i1 s that me p layed to the depai ted S ouls of Good Men upontheir first Arrival ln Pa1adise

,to wear out the Impressions of

‘the last Agonies, and“qualify them for the Pleasures of that.u y

happy Place. My H eart melted away in secret Raptures.

’

am w ux waif

was the H aunt

who -byi t, but never heard that the Musician hadbefore made himself v isible. When he had raised my Thoughtsby those transporting Airs which he played , to taste thewPleasures of his C onversation, as I looked upon him l ike one

astonished;he beckoned to me, and by the waving of his H anddirected me to approach the Place where he sati I drew near

with that Reverence which is due to a superior Nature and as

‘my H eart was entirely subdued the captivating S trains IEt t a-

v ia In a L4. ma

1

33NU “ 0 . x

'

CI/u‘i u

146 ; c a l 11 , 6 6c 0 4—14 . [3 1 ‘ {f-4 L‘ 0 M

M rw

ESSr

AYS Efron THEJ

SPECTATOR . 35” Jaw/ n u , a? ” W a d /W

‘had heard , I fell down ai/ his Feet and wept . The Geniussmiled upon me with a Look of C ompassion and Affability that a A ,

‘ familiarized him to my Imagination,and at once dispelled all

‘the Fears and Apprehensions with which I approached him .

‘H e lifted me from the Ground , and taking me by the handMirzah, said he, I have heard thee in thy S olil oquies3 follow me.

“

‘H e then led me to the highest Pinnacle ot the zRock , and

placing me on the Top of it, C ast thy Eyes Eastward , said he,and tell me what thou seest. I see

,said I

, a huge Valley,and

a prodigious Tide of Water rolling through it. The Valley that‘thou seest, said he, is the Vale of Misery , and the Tide ofWater that thou seest is part of the great Tide of Eternity .

What is the Reason, said I, that the Tide I see rises out of a‘thick Mist at one End

, and again loses itself in a thick Mist at‘the other ? What thou seest, said he, is that Portion of Eternitywhich is called Time

,measured out by the S un,

and reachingfrom the beginning of theWorld to its C onsummation. Examine/ {mnow , said he, this S ea that is bounded with Darkness at bothEnds, and tell me what thou discoverest in it. I see a Bridge,said I, standing in the Midst of the Tide. The Bridge thouseest

,said he

,is human Life, consider it attentively . Upon a

more leisurely Survey of it,I found that it consisted of three

score and ten entire Arches, with several broken Arches, whichadded to those that were entire, made up the Number about anhundred . As I was counting the Arches, the Genius told me

‘that this Bridge consisted at first of a thousand Arches ; butthat a great Flood swept away the rest, and left the Bridge in

‘the ruinous C ondition I now beheld it : But tell me further,

‘said he, what thou discoverest on it. I see Multitudes of

‘People passing over it,said I, and a black C loud hanging

each End of it. As I looked more attentively, I saw several of‘the Passengers dropping thro’

the Bridge, into the Great Tidethat flowed underneath it and upon farther Examination, per

ceived there were innumerable Trap-doors that lay concealed inthe Bridge, which the Passengers no sooner trod upon, but theyma

‘fell thro’ them into the Tide and immediately disappeared .

‘These hidden Pit- falls were set very thick at the Entrance of‘the Bridge, so that he Throngs of People no sooner broke‘through the C loud

,many of=£hem fell into them . They

grew thinner towards the Middle, but multiplied and lay closertogether towards the End of the Arches that were entire.

f f"


There were indeed some Persons, but their Number was verysmall

,that continued a kind Of hobbling March on the broken

Arches, but fell through one after another,being quite tired

‘and spent with so long aWalk .

I passed some Time in the C ontemplation of this wonderfulS tructure, and the great Variety of Objects which it presented.

‘My H eart was filled with a deep Melancholy to see severaldropping unexpected ly in the Midst of Mirth and Jollity; andcatching at every thing that stood by them to save themselves.

S ome were looking up towards the H eavens in a thoughtfulPosture, and in the midst of a Specp lation stumbled and fell

‘out of S ight. Multitudes were very busy in the Pursuit ofBubbles that glittered in their Eyes and danced before them ;but often when they thought themselves within the reach ofthem their Footing failed and down they sunk . In this C on

‘ fusion of Objects, I observed some with Scymetars in theirH ands

,and others with Urinals, who ran to and fro upon the

Bridge, thrusting several Persons on Trap-doors which did notseem to [lie in their and which they might have escapedhad they not been forced upon them.

The Genius seeing me indulge my self .in this melancholyProspect

,told me I had dwelt long enough upon it Take thine

eyes Off the Bridge,said he

,and tell me if thou yet seest any

‘ thing thou dost not comprehend. Upon looking up, Whatmean,

said I,those great Flights of Birds that are perpetually

hovering about the Bridge, and settling upon it from time totime

’

.Z I see Vultures, H arpyes, Ravens, C ormorants, and

‘among many other feather’

d C reatures several little wingedBoys, that perch in great Numbers upon the

“

middle Arches.

These,said the Genius, are Envy ,Avarice, Superstition,Despair,

Love, with' the like Cares and Passions that infest human

Life. Lu v/L454, h , [a “ (a uu w éuj (r ge iL

'w L a , kjw 4’M ax/Ir

I here fetched” M t vain H ow i s be

able a

Prospect . Look no more, said he, on Man in the first S tage of‘his Existence, in his setting out for Eternity ,

but cast thineEye on that thick Mist into which the Tide bears the severalM aw}

J enerations Of Moi tals that fall into it. I directed my S ight

1 [have been laid for them.)


‘making me no Answer,I turned about to address myself to him

a second time,but I fo und that he had left me ; I then turned

again to the Vision whi ch I had been so long contemplating ;‘but Instead of the ro llingr Tide, the arched Bridge, and the

H appy Islands, I saw nothing but the long hollow Valley of‘Bagdat, w ith Oxen, Sheep , and C amels grazing upon the S idesof it.T113 End of fltefirst Vz

'

sien of Mirzah .

NO . 1 62 ] WEDNESDAY,S EPTEMBER 5 1 7 1 1 .

S ervetur ad imam, M ,W U

Q ua lis ab iwtcwp to p rocesserit, et sibz consfet.—H or .

Nothing that is not a real C rime makes a Man appear so'

contemptible and little in the Eyes of the World as Inconstancy

,

especially when it regards Religipp or Party. In either of theseC ases, tho

’

a Man perhaps doe‘

s bbflt his Duty in changing his

3S ide, he not only makes himself hated by

qt‘llqse he left, but isSN seldom heartily esteemed by lthosethe comes over to;kb °w a m ¢5

In these great Articles of Life, therefore, a Man’s C onviction

A ought to be very strong, and if possible so well -timed thatworldly Advantages may seem to have no Share in it

,or Man

kind w ill _be ill natured enough to think he does not change

hugS ides O 11W Principle

,but either out of (Levity of Temperl or

“LPProspects of Interest . C onverts and Renegadoes of all Kinds,

should take particular care to let the '

orld s e they act u onm ”

J honourable Motives ; or whatevepfi prgédfifi ffiey may recepive

_, from themselves,and Applauses firom thosathey converse

06 they may be very well assured that they are the S corn of all

5good Men,and the Publick Marks Of Infamy and Derision.

Irresolution on the S chemes of Life [whichl

] offer themselvesto our C hoice, and Inconstancy in pursuing them,

are the greatestand most universal Causes of all our Disquiet and Unhappiness.

( 7

When [Ambition‘

l

] pulls one Way, Interest another, Inclination 333 r

a third, and perhaps Reason contrary to all, a Man is likely tmpass his Time but ill who h

yaksauso many different Parties to pleases;

“ When the Mind hoy ersw

amw

ong such a Variety Of Allurements,

?one had better settle on a Way of Life that is not the very bestwe might have chosen

,than grow old without termining our

«3 C hoice, and go out of the World as the greatestj

fMankind do,

1 [that] 2 [H onour]

u,

“

“M

ESSAYS FROM TH E SPECTATOR. 39

before we have resolved how to live in it. There is but oneMethodof setting ourselves at Rest in this Particular, and that is by

f adhering steadfastly to one great End as the chief and ultimateAim of all our Pursu its. If we are firmly resolved to live up to

ithe Dictates of Reason,without any Regard to Wealth

,Reputa

i

tion,or the like C onsiderations, (any more than as they fall inw u'f

with our principal Design, we may go through ife with S teadiness and Pleasure ; but if w e act by several broken Views

,and

will not only be virtuous, but wealthy, popular, and every thing

3that has a Value set upon it by the World , we shall live and die

N

in Miser and Repentance

One take more than ordinary C are to o'uarrgjugkni

‘cself against this particular Imperfection ,because E

V

E rat w in a we d

our Nature very strongly inclines us to for if we examine our

selves thoroughly, we Shall find that we are the most changeableBeings in the Universe. (In respect tDour Understanding

,qoften embrace and rej ect the very same Opinions whereasBeings above and beneath us have probably no Opinions at all

,

or at least no Wavering and es in those they have.

Our Superiors are guided by and our Inferiors byInstinct. In respect of our Wills, we fall into C rimes and

recover out of them,are amiable or odious in the Eyes of our

great Judge, and pass our whole Life in offending and askingPardon. On the contrary, the Beings underneath us are not

capable of sinning, nor those above us of repenting. The one is

out of the Possibilities of Duty, (and the other fixed in an eternalC ourse Of S in) or an eternal C ourse

'

of Virtue.

There is scarcd‘la S tate of Life, or S tage in it which does not

produce Changes and Revolutions in the Mind Of Man. Our

S chemes of Thought in Infancy are lost in those of Youth ;these too take a different Turn in Manhood

,till old Age O ften

leads us back into our former Infancy. A new Title or an unex

pected Success throws us out of ourselves,and in a manner

destroys our Identity . A cloudy Day, or a l ittle S uns hine, have u s

as great an Influence on Many C onstitutions, as the Most realBlessings or Misfortunes. A Dream varies our Being

,and

changes our C ondition while it lasts and every Passion,not to

mention H ealth and S ickness, and the greater Alterations inBody and Mind, makes us appear almost different C reatures. If

a Man is so distinguished among other Beings by this Infirmity,what can we think Of such as make themselves remarkable for

3

I N 1

LW I—v o l/ a w

01 ” « v ~

1

u. e ou e w LUM11 Lb


afiw raqw W WW Wig A

it even among their own Species ? It is a very trifling C haracterto be one of the most variable Beings of the most variable Kind

,

especially if we consider that H e who is the great S tandard ofPerfection has in him no Shadow of C hange, but is the same

Yesterday, To-day ,and for ever.

A s this Mutability of Temper and Inconsistency with our

selves is the greatest Weakness of human Nature,so it makes

the Person who is remarkable for it in a very particular Manner

more ridiculous than any other Infirmity whatsoever, as it setshim in a greater Variety of foolish Lights

,and distinguish es him

from himself by an Opposition of party- coloured C haracters.

The most humourous C haracter in H orace is founded upon thisUnevenness of Temper and Irregularity of C onduct.

— Sardas habebat

Ille Tigellins hoc C aesar gi ti cogere posset

S i p eteret per amicitiam p atris, atque suam ,non

Q uidguam p roficeret S i collibu isset, ab ovo

Usque ad mala citaret, Io Bacche, mode summitVocc, mode hdc, resonat qua chordis quatuor ima.

Nil aequa le homini f uit illi Soepe velnt guiCurrebatfugiens kostem Perscepe vela i qni

Junonis sacra f erret H abebat soepe ducentos,S cep e decem servos MOdo reges atque tetrarchas,Omnia magna loguens Mod

‘

o sit mihi mensa trip es, et

C oncha salis puri, cl toga , quce def enderef rigus,Q uamvis crassa , queat. D ecies centena dedisses

H uic p arco paucis contento , quinque dichas

Nil erat in loculis. N octes vigilabat ad ipsum

Mane D iem lotam stertebat. N il f uit unquamS ic imp ar sibi —H or . Sat. 3, Lib . 1 .

Instead of translating this Passage in H orace, I shall entertainmy English Reader with the Description of a Parallel Character,that is wonderfully well finished by Mr. Dryden, and raised uponthe same Foundationtltw m u ».

3“ 7 M “

In thefirst Rank of these did Z imri stand : W e i / V 3 M d

éw fi

A A! an so various, that he seem’

d to be

Not one, but all Mankind’s Epitome. aim ? o

qw ojw

S tifirin Op inions, always in the wrongev

’

ry thing by S tarts, and nothing longBut, in the C ourse of one revolving Moon ,

I

Was Chemist, Fidler , S tatesman,and Bufioon Lad -Cob WM

Then a llf or Women, Painting, Rhyming, Drinking ;Besides ten thousand Freaks that dy

’

d in thinking,O M M a v-M Blgst Madman

,who coa

’

d ev’

ry H our emp loy,With something New to wish, or to enjoy

m 2 :Ld, m

mi M —wfla u etM M PWL [

l Cfl / l/ W

x}


Good-nature is generally born with us H ealth , Prosperity andkind Treatment from the World are great C herishers of it wherethey find it but nothing is capable Of forcing it up, where it doesnot grow of it self. It is one of the Blessipags of a happy Constitution

,which Education may improve buthnot produce.

h w

'

w 0

Xenophon in the Life of his Imaginary Prince, whom ne

describes as a Pattern for Real ones, is always celebrating thePhilanthropy or Good-nature of his H ero, which he tell us hebrought in the World with him

,and gives many remarkable

Instances of it in his C hildhood , as well as in all the severalParts of his Life. Nay, on his Death-bed

,he describes him as

being pleased , that while his S oul returned to him [whol

]made it,

his Body Should incorporate with the great Mother of all thingsand by that means become beneficial to Mankind. For which fi

lm

Reason,he gives his S ons a positive Order not to enshrine it in

Gold or S ilver, but to lay it in the Earth as soon as the Life wasgone out of it.An Instance of such an Overflowing Of H umanity

,such an

exuberant Love to Mankind, could not have entered into theImagination of aWriter

,who had not a S oul filled with great

Ideas,and a general Benevolence to Mankind .

In that celebrated Passage of Salasi, where Caesar and Cato

are placed in such beautiful,but

_

Opposite Lights Caesar’s

Character is chiefly made up of Good-nature, as it showed it selfin all its Forms towards his Friends or his Enemies, his Servantsor Dependants, the Guilty or the Distressed . As for Cato

’s

C haracter, it is rather awful than amiable . Justice seems mostagreeable to the Nature of God, and Mercy to that of Man. ABeing who has nothing to Pardon in himself

,may reward every

Man according to his Works ; but he whose very best Actionsmust be seen with Grains of Allowance, cannot be too mild ,moderate

,and forgiving. For this reason,

among all the monstrousC haracters in H uman Nature

,there is none so odious, nor indeed

so exquisitely R idiculous, as that of a rigid severe Temper in a

Worthless Man .

This Part of Good~nature, however, which consists in the

pardoning and overlooking Of Faults, is to be exercised only indoing our selves Justice, and that too in the ordinary C ommerceM 4C»

and Occurrences of Life for in the pub1 . ck Administrations ofJustice, Mercy to one may be C ruelty to others.

1 [that]


It isW almost into a Maxim, that Good-natured Men are

not always Men of the most Wit. This Ohsgrgagtion, in myOpinion, Q1as no Foundation inXNature .

G

litz greatest Wits Ihave conversed with are Men eminent for their H umanity . I

take therefore this Remark to have been occasioned by twoReasons. First

,Because Ill-nature among ordinary Observers

passes for Wit. A spiteful Saying gratifies SO many littlePassions in those who hear it, that it generally meets with a

good Reception . The Laugh rises upon it,and the Man who

utters it is looked upon as a shrewd Satyrist. This may be one

Reason,why a great many pleasant C ompanions appear so

surprisingly dull, when they have endeavoured to be Merry inPrint ; the Publick being more j ust than Private C lubs or

Assemblies,in distinguishing between what isWit and what is Ill

nature .

Another Reason why the Good-natured Man may sometimes

bring his Wit in _Question,is, perhaps, because he is apt to be

moved with C ompassion for those Misfortunes or Infirmities,

which another would turn into R idicule, and by that means gainthe Reputation of a Wit. The Ill-natured Man, though but ofequal Parts

,gives himself a larger Field to expatiate in ; he

exposes those Failings in H uman Nature which the other wouldcast a Veil over, laughs at Vices which the other either excusesor conceals

,gives utterance to Reflections which the other stifles

,

falls indifferently upon Friends or Enemies,exposes the Person

[whol

] has obliged him ,and

,in short

,sticks at nothing that may

establish his Character a Wit. It is no VVO iider therefore hesucceeds in it better than the Man of H umanity

, as a Personwho makes use of indirect Methods

,is more likely to grow R ich

than the Fair Trader.

NO. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 1 3, V‘

s -O W W ‘C ‘

Nr'

jirmi , oiid’

Zoaow 60 g.) nhéov ny lon) navrég,0 136

’

60 0 1) iv pahdxms asdogtodéhg.) péy’

Cretan—H es.

There is a S tory in the Arabian Nights Tales _of a King who

had long languished under an ill H abit of Body,and had taken

'l

lhv

fl '

.

{ t'

Z

abundance of Remedies to no purpose. At length,says the v w d w

Fable,a Physician cured him by the following Method : H e

took an hollow Bal l of Wood , and filled it with several D rugs

44 ESSAYS m om THE SPECTATOR.

a away

after which he clos’d it up, so artificially that nothing appeared.

H e likewise took a Mall,and after having hollowed the H andle,

and that part which strikes the Ball, he enclosed in them severalD rugs after the same Manner as in the Ball it self. H e thenordered the Sultan, who was his Patigng, to exercise himselfearly in the Morning with these rightly p rep ared Instruments

,

f w till sueh—time—as he should Sweat : When, as the S tory goes,-the .Vertue of the Medicaments perspiring through the Wood

,

had so good an Influence 0 11 the S ultan’

s C onstitution, that theycured him of an Indisposition which all the C ompositions he hadtaken inwardly had not been able to remove . This EasternAllegory is

'

finely contrived to show us how beneficial bodilyLabour is to H ealth

,and that Exercise is the most effectual

Physick. I have described in my H undred and Fifteenth Paper,

from the general S tructure and Mechanism of an H uman Body,

how absolutely necessary Exercise is for its Preservation. I

shall in this Place recommend another great Preservative ofH ealth , which in many C ases produces the same Effect as Exercise

,and may, in some measure

,supply its Place, where Oppor

tunities of Exercise me wanting. The Pr servative I am speakingof 1s Temperance, which has thuse partlcular Advantages aboveall other Means of H ealth , that it may be practised by all Ranksany}, C onditions, at any S eason or in any Place. It is a kind of

H “ Reg imen into which eve1 y M 11 may put himself,without Inter

ruption to Business,Ex

i

pcfiiéu

of Mony, or Loss of Time. If

Exercise th1 ows off all Superfluities, Temperance prevents them ;if Exercise clears the Vessels, Temperance neither satiates nor [rm

overstrains them ; if Exercise raises proper Ferments in the

H umours,and promotes the C irculation of the Blood , Temper

ance gives Nature her full Play, and enables her to exert herself in all her Force and Vigour if Exercise dissipates a growingDistemper, Temperance starves it.

Physick,for the most part, is nothing else but the Substitute

of Exercise or Temperance. Medicines are indeed absolutelynecessary in acute Distempers, that cannot wait the S low Operations of these two great Instruments of H ealth but did Men

live in an habitual C ourse of Exercise and Temperance,there

would be but little Occasion for them . Accordingly e figdthat those Parts of the World are the most healthy, Wigh

t /

they"subsist by the C hace and that Men lived longest when theirLives were employed in hunting, and when they had little Food

0M

9

M anama . awa—39am

all Sauces, (or at least,.such as are not the most plain and simple.)A Man could not be well guilty of Gluttony, -if he stuck to thesefew obvious and easy Rules. In the first Case there would beno Variety of Tastes to sollicit' his Pa atq gg ope i n Excess ;nor in the second any artificial PTOvocatlves tsre ieve Satiety,and create a FalseAppetite: Were I to prescribe a Rule for

Drinking,it should be form’

d upon a Saying quoted by S irWilliam Temp le ; The first Glass for myself , the second f or my

’

f iends, the third f or good H umour, and the fourth for mineEnemies. But because it is impossible for one who lives in theWorld to diet himself always in so Philosophical a manner

,I

think every Man should have his Day of Abstinence, accordingas his C onstitution will permit. These are great Reliefs toNature

,as they qualifie her for struggling with H unger and

Thirst, whenever any Distemper or Duty of Life may put her

upon Such Difficulties and at the same time give her an Oppori

tunity of extricating her self from her Oppressions, and recoveringthe several Tones and Springs of her distended Vessels. Besidesthat Abstinence well timed often ki lls a S ickness in Embryo, anddestroys the first S eeds of an Indisposition. It is observed by

La, dé-two or three Ancient Authors, that S ocrates,notwi thstanding he

ft‘

Wqlived in Athens during the great Plague, which has made so

much Noise through all Ages, and has been celebrated at differentTimes by such eminent H ands (I say, notwithstanding that helived in the time of

rthisgevouring Pestilence, _h@ never caughtthe least Infection, Writers unanimously ascribe tothat uninterrupted Temperance which he always observed .

And here I cannot but mention an Observation which I haveoften made

,upon reading theo Lives of the Philosophers

,and

comparing them with aiiyifSeriesof K ings or great Men of thesame—am ber. If we consider these Ancient S ages, a great Partuwof whose Philosophy consisted in a temperate and abstemious ou t

C ourse of Life, one would think the Life of a Phi losopher and

the Life of a Man were of two d ifferent Dates. For we find thatthe Generality of these w ise Men w e re nearer an hundred thansixty Years of Age at the Time of their respective Deaths. But

the most remarkable Instance of the Efficacy of Temperancetowards the procuring of long Life, is what we meet with in a

little Book published by Lewis Co-rnaro the Venetian ; which I

the rather mention, because it is of undoubted C redit, as the lateVenetian Ambassador, who was of the same Family, attested

‘é .


more than once in C onversation, when he resided in England

Cornaro, who was the Author of the l ittle Treatise I am men

tioning, was of an Infirm C onstitution, till about fo1 ty, when byobstinately persisting in an exact C ou1 se of Temperance, herecovered a perfect S tate of H ealth insomuch that at fourscorehe published his Book

,which has been translated into English

upon the Title of [S ure and certain Methods‘

]of attaining a longand healthy Life. H e lived to give a 3rd or 4th Edition of it

,

and after having passed his hundredth Year,died w ithout Pain

or Agony, and like one who falls asleep. The Treatise I mentionhas been taken notice of by several Em inent Authors

,and is

written with such a S pirit of Chearfulness, Religion ,and good

S ense,as are the natu1 al C oncomitants of Tempe1 ance

0

and MM

S obriety. The Mixture of the old Man m it is rathe1 a Recommendation than a Discredit to it.H aving designed this Paper as the S eguel to that upon Exer

cise,I have not here considered Tempe1 ance as «it—is a Mom ]

Virtue, which I shall make the Subj ect of a future S peculation,

but onl as ibi s the Me. s of H ealth . L.y an

sl i m w u la t t u J

No. 225 ] SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 1 7 , 17 1 1 . M WNullum numen abest si sit Prudentia .

—Juv .

W t

I have O ften thoughtdf the Minds of Men w ere laid open,

we should see but little Difference between that of theWiseMan

and that of the F0 0 1. There are infin ite Reveries,numberless

Extravagancies, and a perpetual Train of Van ities which passthrough both . The great Difference is that the first knows howto pick and cull his Thoughts for C onversation

,by suppressing M W

some,and communicating others whereas the other lets them

all indifferently fly out in Words. This sort of Discretion,

however, has no Place in private C onversation between intimateFriends. On such Occasions the wisest Men very often talklike the weakest , for indeed the Talking with a Friend is

gnothing else but thinking aloud.

CH3 Tully has therefore very justly exposed a Precept deliveredby some Ancient Writers, That a Man should live with hisEnemy in su ch a manner

,as might leave him room to become

his Friend ; and with his Friend in such a manner,that if he

became his Enemy , it should not be in his Power to hurt him .

1 [The S ure Way]


The first Part of this Rule, which regards our Behaviour towardsan Enemy

,is indeed very reasonable . as well as very prudential;W

but the latter Part of it which regards our Behaviour towardsa Friend, savours more of C unning than of Discretion

,and

would cut a Man off from the greatest Pleasures of Life,which

are t e Freedoms of C onversation with a Bosom Friend.

Besides, that when a Friend is turned into an Enemy,and (as

the S on of S irach calls him ) a Bew rayer of S ecrets,the World

is just enough to accuse the Perfidiousness of the Friend,rather

than the Indiscretion of the Person who confided in him .

Discretion does not only shew it self in Words,but in all

the C ircumstances of Action ; and is like an Under-Agen t ofProvidence

,to guide and direct us in the ordinary C oncerns

Of Life.«

and cThere are many more shining Qualities in the Mind of Man

,

but there is none so useful as Discretion,it is this indeed

which gives a Value to all the rest,which sets them at work

in their proper Times and Places,and turns them to the

Advantage of the Person who is possessed of them . Without i tLearning is Pedantry

,and Wit Im ertinence ; Virtue itself

looks like Weakness,the bestPaints only qualify a Man to be

more sprightly in Errors,and active to his own Prejudice .

Nor does Discretion only make a Man the Master of his ownParts

,but of other Mens. The discreet Man finds out the

Talents of he C onverses w_i_th , and knows how to applythem to proper U se

“(Accordingly if we look into particularC ommun ities andPTi/éismns of Men

,w e may Observe that fi rm

the discreet Man,not the Witty

,nor the Leaned nor the

Brave,who gu ides the C onversation

,and gives measures to the

S ociety . A Man with great Talents,but void of Discretion , is

like Polyphemus ln the Fable, S trong Blind,endued w ith

an irresistible Force , which for want of S ightm

is of no U se

to him.

Though a Man has all other Perfections,and wants Disere

tion,he will be of no great C onsequence 1 11 the World ; but if

he has this single Talent in Perfection,and but a comm on

Share of others,hemay do what he pleases in his particularS tation of Life.

MW

At the same time that I think Discretion the most usefulTalent a Man can be Master of

,I look upon C unning to be the

Accomplishment of little,mean

,ungenerous Minds .

t

Discretion

Md

“(m


I have,in this Essay upon Discretion

,considered it both as:

an A ccompl t and as a Virtue,and have therefore

describe full Extent } not only as it is conversantabou t worldly Affairs, but as it regards our whole Ex istencenot only as it is the Guide of a mortal C reature

,but as it is in

general the Director of a reasonable Being . It is in this Ligh tthat Discretion is represented by theWise Man

,who sometimes

mentions it under the Name of Discretion,and sometimes

under that of Wisdom . It is indeed (as described in the latterPart of this Paper) the greatest \Visdom ,

but at the same time(in the Pow er of every one to attain) Its Advantages areinfinite,but i% A9tguirsjt%

iweasy or to speak of her in the Words of

the Apocryplfa r1€r ivhom I quoted in my last S aturday’

s

Paper,Wisdom is glorious, and never fadeth away, yet she is

easily seen of them that love her, and f ound of such as seek her .

A hfw c She p revgnteth them that desire her,in making herself known

7AW ‘

,

unto them. H e that seeketh her early, shall have no great Travel

for he shall find her sitting at his Doors.

'

To think thereforeupon her is Perfection of Wisdom,

and whoso watcheth for hershall quickly be without Care. For she goeth about seeking s uch

as are worthy of her, sheweth her self favourably unto them in the

Ways, and meeteth them in every Thought. C .

No. 38 1 . SATURDAY MAY . 17 17 12,

f «1 c (GU/3 the Wit/ w eb W Lb y «n o M ar t/ La b

it, A4. J

E qilamimflé

’

ni

ihfftok

kebfi hi

h lm ;m fi io at M t

WServa re mentem , non seeds in bonis MA b insolenti temp eratam

Lcetitid, mor iture Deli. —H or .

I have always preferred C hearfulness to Mirth . The latter,I consider as an A ct

,the former as an H abit of the Mind .

Mirth is short and transient, C hearfulness fixed and per

manent . Those are often raised into the greatest Transportsof Mirth , who are subject to the greatest Depressions ofMelancholy : O n the contrary

,Chearfulness

,tho

’ it does notgive the Mind such an exqu isite Gladness, prevents us from

- w tl’fio falling into any Depths of S orrow. .Mirth is like a Flash of

Lightning, that breaks thro’a 9&3n C louds

,and glitters

far a Moment ; Chearfulness (keeps up a kind of) Day-light in

the Mind, and fills it with a steady and perpetual Serenityl l u£711 4 1 ! m c o d o TLau afl/F lLtW C W

Eu. t o“

ES SAYS FROM TH E SPECTATOR.

Men of austere Principles look upon Mirth as too wantonand dissolute for a S tate of Probation ,

and as filled with a

ce rtain Triumph and Insolence of H eart,that is inconsistent

w ith a Life which is every M o_xious to the greatest -OWDangers. Writers(of this ave Observed

,that

sacred Person who w as the great Pattern of Perfection was

never seen to Laugh .

Chearfulness of % d is not liable to any of these Excep l/a fi

tions it is of a Sdfious and composed Nature,it does not throw

the Mind into a C ondition improper for the present S tate ofH umanity

,and is very conspicuous in the C haracters of those

who are looked upon as the greatest Philosophers among theH eathens

,as well as among those who have been deservedly

esteemed as Saints and H oly Men among C hristians.

If we consider Chearfulness in three Lights,w ith regard to

our selves,to those w e converse with

,and to the great Author

of our Being,it will not a litt le recommend it self on each of

these Accounts. The Man whois possessed of this excellentFrame of Mind

,is not only easy in his Thoughts, but

”

a perfect - “W ”

Masterj of all the Powers and Faculties of his S oul : H isImagination is always clear

,and his Judgment undisturbed;at}

H iso

Temper is even and ui1 ruffled,whether in Action 0 1 m

S olitude . H e comes with a R elish to all those Goods whichNature has provided for him

,tastes all the Pleasures of the

C reation which are poured about him,and does not feel the ful

g wWeight of those accidental Evils which may befal himl.m

If w e consider him in relation to the Persons whom he con

verses with,i t natu rally produces Love and Good will towards

(him‘

w‘lA cliearful Mind i s not only disposed to be affable and

obliging, but raises the same good H umour ln those wh comewithin ts Influence . A Man finds himself pleasedffiffe oes

not kifbw why) w ith the Chearfulness of his C ompanion : It 1s

like a sudden S un Shine tha awakens a secret Delight m the

Mind,w ithout her attendmg to it . The H eart rejoices rof its

own accord} and naturally flows out into Friendship and

Benevolence towards the Person who has so kindly an Effect t tha t

upon it a tl ce r—im f'. a

When I consider this chearful S tate of Mind in its thirdR elation

,I cannot but look upon it as a constant habitual

Gratitude to the great Author of Nature An inward C hearfulness is an

[ implic

itPraise and Thanksgiving to Provideneefl s l m

I

52 ESSAYS FROM TH E SPEC TATOR .

under all its Dispensations. It is a kind of A cqriiescence inthe S tate whe rein w e are placed

,and a secret Approbation of

the Divine W ill in his C onduct towards Man .

There are but tw o things which,in my Opinion ,

canlreason- h v e le€4

m’

zblyj deprive us of this C hearfulnes of H eart . The first ofthese is the Sense of Guilt . A Man who lives in a S tate ofVice and Impenitence

,can have no Title to that Evenness and

Tranquillity of Mind which is the H ealth of the S oul,and the

natural Effect of V irtue and Innocence . Chearfulness in an

ill Man deserves a harder Nflléfi'gla‘n Language can furnish us

with,and is many degrees b

h

é‘

yond what w e commonly call Follyor Madness.

Atheism,by which I mean a Disbelief of a Supreme Being

,

and consequently of a future S tate , under whatsoever Title itshelters it self, may likew ise very reasonably deprive a Man ofthis C hearfulness of Temper . There is something so particularly

g loomy and O ffensive to human Nature in the Prospect of VonExistence , that w

cpap ng t 111317 wondernwithh Biff ? . exce llent

M “Writers,how it is poss

i

ilfl'

e orEM'

an t’

O'

ofitrflf‘

ve the xpecta~

tion of it . For my own Part, I think the Being of a God is so

little to be doubted , that it is almost the only Truth w e are

su re of,and such a Truth as w e meet with in every Object

,in

every O ccurrence, and in every Thought. If we look into theC ha racters of this Tribe of Infidels

,we generally find they are

made up of Pride , Sp leen, and C avil : It is indeed no wonder,that Men

,who a

’

ri

e“

state? to themselves,should be so to the

rest of the World and how is it possible for a Man to be otherw ise than uneasy in himself

,who is in danger every Moment

of losing his entire E x istence,and dropping into Nothing ?

The vicious Man andl"“

A theist have therefore no Pretence toC hearfulness, and would act very un reasonably

,shguldq ‘they t r

endeavou r after it. It is impossible for any oneftoi

live'

in

Good-H umour,and enj oy his present Existence

,who is appre

hensive either of Torment or of Ann ihilation ; of being miserable

,or of not being at all .

After having mention’d these two great Principles

,w hich . » “A

are dest1 uctive of Chearfulness in t heir—own Natu re,as w ell as

in R ight R eason,I cannot think of any othe r un

it“

ought tobanish this happy Temper from a V irtuous Mind . Pain and

S ickness, Shame and R eproach,Poverty and old Age , nay

Death it self, considering the Shortness of their Duration, and

54 ESSAYS FROM TH E SPECTATOR .

to our selves,to those w ith whom w e converse, and to him

whom we were made to please. I .

NO . SATURDAY,

-MAY

Q uid p uré tranquillet —H or .

In my last Saturday’

s Paper I spoke of C hearfulness as it isa Moral H abit of the Mind

,and accordingly mentioned such

moral mot ives as are apt to cherish and keep alive this happyTemper in the S oul of Man : I shall now consider Chearfulnessin its natural S tate, and reflect on those Motives te—i-t

,which

Ja u are indifferent e ither as to Virtue or V ice .

Chearfulness is, in the first place,

. the best Promoter ofH ealth . R epinings and secret Murmurs

“

Of H eart,give imper

ceptible fitrokes to those delicate Fibres of which the vital partsare composed

,and w ear out the Machine insensibly not to

mention those violent Ferments which they stir up in the

Blood,and those irregular distu rbed Motions

,which they raise

in the an imal Spirits. I scarce/wremembe r

,in my own Obse rvaJx M /W

tion,to have met w ith many o ld Men

,or w ith such

,w ho (to

use our English Phrase) wear'

well, that had not at least a certainIndolence in their H umour

,if not a more than ordinary Gaiety

and C hearfulness of H eart. The truth of it is,H ealth and

Chearfulness mutually beget each other with this diffe rence,

that w e seldom meet with a great degree of H ealth which isnot attended with a certain C hearfulness, bu t very Often see

C hearfulness where there is no great degree of H ealth .

C hearfulness bears the same friendly regard to the Mind as

ESSAYS FROM TH E SPECTATOR . 55

Those several ivi’

ng C reatures which are made for our

S ervice or Sustenance,c

at the same time either fill the Woodswith their Musick

,furn ish us w ith Game

,or raise pleasing

Ideas in us by the delightfulness of their Appearance. Fountains,Lakes

,and R ivers

,are as refreshing to the Imagination , as to

the S oil through which they pass.

There are Writers of great Distinction,who have made it an

Argument fi

div

'

f

6Providence,that the w liole Earth is covered ‘

.

w ith Green,rather than with any other C olour, as being such

a right Mixtu re of Light and Shade, that it comforts and

strengthens the Eye instead of w eakening or griey ing it ForMthis reason several Painters have a green C loth hanging nearthem

,to ease the Eye upon

,after too great an Application to

their C olouring. A famous modern Philosopher accounts forit in the following manner : A ll C olours that are more luminous,overpower and dissipate the an imal S pirits which are employ

’d

in S ight on the contrary,those that are more obscure do not

give the animal S pirits a sufficient Exercise whereas theR ays that produce in us the Idea of Green, fall upon the

Eye in such a due proportion,that they give the An imal Spirits

their proper Play,and by keeping up the strugg le 1 11 a just

Ballance, ex cite a ve 1y pleasing and agreeable Sensation . Let

the C ause bebvhat it will) the E ffect 1s certain,foi which reason ’6

the Poets ascribe to this particu lar C olour the Epithet ofChem ful

444 9 -0 vau l-Lr' “ Pi—o W k)boum

w“u . WWby “w “ H

l«M d ;

To consider further this double End in the WO 1 ks ofg

Natu re,

and how they are at the same timeSboth useful and entertaining, w e find that the most important Parts in the vegetableW

o

orld are those which are the most beautiful . (These are the ?“d

Seeds by which the several R aces of Plants are propagated andCfi

l

continued,and which-are always lodged in Flowers or Blossoms.

Natu re seems to hide her principal Design,and to be indus

trious in making the Ear th gay and delightful,while she is

carrying on her great Work,and intent upon her own Preser

vation . The H usbandman after the same manner is employedin laying out the whole C ountry into a kind of Garden or

Landskip,and making every thing sm ile abou t him

,whilst in

rea lity he thinks of nothing but of the H arvest,and Encrease

which is to arise from it .We may further Observe how Providence has taken care to

keep up this C hearfulness in the Mind of Man by havingf ace t /0

,

6 3 Lage r, Ch m mu cus.W V 3, V l‘ M l M "

film ‘

56 ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR

formed it after such a manner, as to make it capable of conL

fi ceiving Delight from several Objects which seem to have verylittle use in them as from the Wildness of R ocks and Desarts

,

and the like grotesque Parts of Nature . Those who are versedin Philosophy may still carry this C onsiderat ion higher

,by

observing that if Matter had appeared to us endowed only w iththose real Qualities which it actually possesses

,it would have

“made but a very j oyless and uncomfortable Figure ; and Whyhas Providence given it a Power of producing in us suchimaginary Qualities

,as Tastes and C olours

,S ounds and Smells

,

H eat and C old,but that El an

,while he is conversant in the

lower S tations of Nature,m ight have his Mind cheared and

delighted w ith agreeable Sensations ? In short,the whole

Un iverse is a kind of Theatre filled with Objects that eitherraise in us Ple‘

asure,

~Amusement, or Admiration .

The R eader ’

s own Thoughts W ill suggest to him the Vicissitude of Day and Night

,the Change of Seasons, with all that

Variety of Scenes which diversify the Face of Natu re,and fill

the Mind with a perpetual Succession of beautiful and pleasingImages .

I shall not here mention the several Entertainments of A rt,

with the Pleasu res of Friendship , Books, C onversation ,and

.M b'

other accidental Diversions of Life,because I would only take

notice of such Incitements to a C hearful Temper,as ofi

'

er

themselves to Persons of all R anks and C onditions, and whichmay su ffi ciently shew us that Providence did not design thisWorld should be filled w i th Murmurs and R epinings, or thatthe H eart of Man should be involved in Gloom and Melancholy .

I the more inculcate this C hearfuluess of Temper, as it is a

Virtue in which our C ountrymen are observed to be moredeficient than

‘

any othe r Nation . Melancholy is a kind ofDemon that haunts our Island

,and O ften conveys her self to

us in an Easterly Wind. A celebrated French Novelis t, inopposition to those who begin the ir R omances w ith the flow

’ry

Season of the Year,enters on his S tory thus : In the gloomy

Month of November, when the People of England hang and

drown themselves, a disconsolate Lover walked out into the

Fields, &c.

Every one ought to fence against the Temper of his C limateor C onstitution

,and frequently to indulge in himself those

C onsiderations which may give him a S erenity of Mind,and


the most abandoned Impudence,and is the more inexcusable to

Reason,because it acts to gratify others rather than it self

,and

is punished with a kind of Remorse,not only like other vicious

H abits when the C rime is over, but even at the very time thatit is committed .

Nothing is more amiable than true Modesty, and nothing ismore contemptible than the false. The one guards Virtue, theother betrays it. True Modesty is ashamed to do any thing thatis repugnant to the Rules O f right Reason : False Modesty isashamed to do any thing that is Opposite to the H umour of theC ompany. True Modesty avoids every thing that is criminal ,false Modesty every thing that is unfashionable. The latter isonly a general undetermined Instinct ; the former is that Instinct,lim ited and circumscribed by the Rules of Prudence and Religion.

“re may conclude that Modesty to be false and vici ous, which

engages a Man to do any thing that is ill or indiscreet, O r whichrestrains him from doing any thing that is of a contrary Nature.

H ow many Men,in the common C oncerns of Life, lend S ums of

Money which they are not able to spare,are bound for Persons

whom they have but little Friendship for, give R ecommendatoryC haracters of Men whom they are not acquainted with , bestowPlaces on those whom thev do not esteem,

live in such a Manner

as they themselves do not approve, and all this meerly becausethey have not the C onfidence to resist S olicitation ,

Importunityor Example

'

.Z

Nor does this false Modesty expose us only to such Actions asare indiscreet, but very often to such as are highly criminal. When

[Xenophanesl

] was called timorous, because he would no t venturehis Money in a Game at Dice : I confess, said he, that I am

exceed ing timorous, for I dare not do any ill thing. On the

contrary,a Man of vicious Modesty complies with every thing,

and is only fearful of doing what may look singular in the

C ompany where he is engaged . H e falls in with the Torrent,and

lets himself go to every Action or Discourse, however unjustifiable ih it self, so it be in Vogue among the present Party. This,tho

’

one of the most common,is one of the most ridiculous

Dispositions in H uman Nature,that Men should not be ashamed

O f speaking or acting in a dissolute or irrational Manner, but

that one who is in their C ompany should be ashamed of governing h imself by the Principles o f Reason and Virtue.

1 [Xenoyhon]

ESSAYS FROM TH E SPECTATOR. 59

In the second place w e are to consider false Modesty, as it

restrains a Man from doing what is good and laudable. MyReader’

s own Thoughts will suggest to him many Instances and

Examples under this H ead . I shall only dwell upon one Reflec

tion,which I cannot make w ithout a S ecret C oncern . We have

in England a particular Bashfulness in every thing that regardsReligion. A well-bred Man is obliged to conceal any SeriousS entiment of this Nature

,and very often to appear a greater

Libertine than he is,that he may keep himself in C ountenance

among the Men of Mode. Our Excess Of Modesty makes us

shamefaced in all the Exercises of Piety and Devotion. ThisH umour prevails upon us daily ; insomuch , that at many wellbred Tables

,the Master of the H ouse is so very Modest a Man,

that he has not the C onfidence to say Grace at his own Table :A Custom which is not only practised by all the Nationsabout us

,but was never omitted by the H eathens themselves.

English Gentlemen who travel into Roman-C atholick C ountries,are not a l ittle surprized to meet with People of the best Qualitykneeling in their C hurches, and engaged in their private Devotions, tho

’ it be not at the H ours of Publick -VVorShip. An

O fficer of the Army, or a Man Of Wit and Pleasure in thoseC ountries, would be afraid of passing not only for an irreligious

,

but an ill-bred Man,should he be seen to go to Bed

,or sit down

at Table, without Offering up his Devotions on such O ccasions.

The same Show of Religion appears in all the Foreign ReformedC hurches, and enters so much into their Ordinary C onversation,

that an Englishman is apt to term them H ypocritical and Precise.

This little appearance Of a Religious Deportment in ourNation,

may proceed in some measure from that Modesty which isnatural to us

,but the great occasion of it is certainly this.

Those Swarms of S ectaries that overran the Nation in the time

Of the great Rebellion ,carried their H ypocrisie so high

,that

they had converted our whole Language into a Jargon of Enthusiasm insomuch that upon the Restoration Men thought theycould not recede too far from the Behaviour and Practice ofthose Persons, who had made Religion a C loak to SO manyVillanies. This led them into the other Extream,

‘

every Appearance of D evotion was looked upon as Puritannical

,and falling

into the H ands of the R id iculers who flourished in that Reign,

and attacked every thing that was S erious, it has ever since beenout of C ountenance among us. By this means we are gradually


falling into that Vicious Modesty which has in some measure

worn out from among us the Appearance of Christianity inO rdinary Life and C onversation, and which distinguishes us

from all [our Neighboursl]

H ypocrisie cannot indeed be too much detested, but at the

same time is to be preferred to Open Impiety. They are bothequally destructive to the Person who is possessed with them ;but in regard to oth ers

,H ypocrisie is not so pernicious as bare

f aced Irrel igion. The due Mean to be observed is to be sincerelyVirtuous

,and at the same time to let the World see we are SO .

I do not know a more dreadful Menace in the H oly ‘Writings,

than that which is pronounced against those who have this perverted Modesty

,to be ashamed before Men in a Particular Of

such unspeakable Importance. C .

NO . SAfl

IRDfl M

S EPT. 1210 134134. fl w

Nec Deus intersit nisi

a

dignus vindice nodus—H or.

We cannot be guilty of a greater Act Of Uncharitableness,than to interpret the Affiictions which befal our Neighbours, asPunishments and Judgments. It aggravates the Evil to him whosuffers, when he looks upon himself as the Mark O f DivineVengeance, and abates the C ompassion of those towards him,

who regard him in so dreadful a Light. This H umour of turning every Misfortune into a Judgment

,proceeds from wrong

Notions of Religion,which

,in its own nature

,produces Good

will towards Men,and puts the mildest C onstruction upon every

Accident that befalls them. In this case,therefore

,it is not

Religion that sours aMan’

s Temper, but it is his Temper that sourshis Religion : People of gloomy uncheerful Imaginations

,or of

envious malignant Tempers,whatever kind of Life they are

engaged in,will discover their natural Tincture of Mind in all

their Thoughts, Words, and Actions. As the finest Wines haveOften the Taste Of the S oil, so even the most religious Thoughtsoften draw something that is particular from the C onstitution ofthe Mind in which they arise. When Folly or S uperstition strikein with this natural Depravity Of Temper, it is not in the powe1 ,even of Religion it self, to preserve the C haracter Of the Personwho is possessed with it, from appearing highly absurd and

ridiculous.I [the Nations that lie about us. )

C

ESSAYS FROM TH E SPEC TATOR .

William the Conqueror’s Race generally found their Judgments

in the New Forest, Where their Father had pulled down Churchesand Monasteries. In short

,(read one of the Chronicles written byan Author of this frame of Mind ,) and you would think youwere reading an H istory of the Kings of Israel or Judah

,where

the H istorians were actually inspired , and where, by a particu larS cheme of Providence, the Kings were distinguished by Judgments or Blessings

,according as they promoted Idolatry or the

Worship of the true God.

_L Ls» {a w W

I cannot but look upon this manner of judging ! Misfortunes, not on

clywto be very uncharitable

,in regard to the Person

whom they befall,but very presumptuous in regard to him who is

supposed to infl ict them. It is a strong Argument for a S tate ofRetribution hereafter

,that in this World virtuous Persons are

very often unfortunate, and vicious Persons prosperous ; WhiC lFL‘v f"

av

is wholly repfi

gnant to the Nature of a Being who appearsinfinitely wise and good in all hisWorks, unless w e may supposethat such a promiscuous and undistinguishing D istribution ofGood and Evil

,which was necessary for carrying on the Dyesigns

o f Providence in this Life,will be rectified and lniadg

o

gm‘

e iidfor in another) We are not therefore to expect that Fire shouldfall from H eaven in the ordinary C ourse of Providence ; norwhen we see triumphant Gui lt or depressed Virtue in particularPersons

,that Omnipotence will make bare its holy Arm in the

Defence of the one,or Punishment of the other. It is suffic ient

that there is a Day set apart for1tii’gml

f

aearing and requiting ofa w '

eboth according to their respective 33 {M a

yta g

Z.w i m4 ~u fi u M L 9 .

The Folly of ascribing Tempo/

rial Judgmen s to any particular

C rimes, may appear from several C onsiderations. I shall onlymention two : First, That, generally speaking

,there is no

C alamity or Afflic tion,which is supposed to have happened as a

Judgment to a vicious Man,which does not sometimes happen

to Men of approved Religion and Virtue. When D iagrn'

as the

Atheist was on board one of the A thenian Ships, there arose a

very violent Tempest ; upon which the Mariners told him,that

i t was a just Judgment upon them for having taken so impiousa Man on board . D /Lagoras begged them to look upon the restof the Ships that were in the same Distress

,and ask

’

d themwhether or no Diagoras was on board every Vessel in the Fleet.We are all involved in the same Calamities, and subj ect to thesame Accidents : and when we see any one of the SpeciesLet a/

64mm ild t

‘hoc l a w lam

Iif

l


any particular Oppression ,we Should look upon it as arising

from the common Lot of human Nature,rather than from the

Gui lt of the Person who suffers.

Another C onsideration ,that may check our Presumption in

putting such a C onstruction upon aMisfortune, is this, That itis impossible for us to know what are C alamities

,and what are

Blessings . H ow many Accidents have pass’d for Misfortunes

,

which have turned to the We lfare and Prosperity of the Persons ” l?”

in whose Lot they have fallen ? H ow many Disappointmentshave

,in their C o h sequences, saved a man from Ruin ? If we

could look into the l 1 tfects of every thing,we might be allowed

to pronounce bold ly upon Blessings and Judgments ; but for a

Man to give his Opinion of what he sees but in part, and in its at ,“

Beginnings,is an unj ustifiable Piece of Rashness and Folly.

The S tory of Biton and C litobus,which was in great Reputation

among the H eathens, (for we see it quoted by all the ancient

Authors,both Greek and Latin

,who have written upon the

Immortality of the Soul, ) may teach us a C aution in this Matter.

These two Brothers, being the S ons of a Lady who was Priestessto Juno, drew their Mother’

s Chariot to the Temple at the time

of a great S o lemnity, the Persons being absent who by theirO ffice were to have drawn her C hariot on that Occasion. The

Mother was so transported with this Instance of filial Duty, thatshe pe tition

’

d her Goddess to bestow upon them the greatestGift that could be given to Men ; upon which they were bothcast into a deep S leep, and the next Morning found dead in the

Temple. This w as such an Event, as would have been co 1St1 ued7 s~

into a Judgment, had it happen’d to the two Brothers after an

Act of Disobedience, and would doubtless have been representedas such by any Ancient H istorian who had given us an AccountOf it. “f “ n u

t" Myyu a n O .

No. FRIDAY, JULY 07N » bx v . and ! ( 4 l a vs ? p t a c g a Cat ”C " !

Non possidentem mu ta vocaveris { q JV-o W a. él c c‘

RectéBeatum,rectiits occupat rzéo m

Nomeri Beati, qui D eorum

Muneribus sap ienter uti

Duramque ca llet pauperiem pat

I was once engaged in Di course with a Rosicrasian about the

great Secret. As this—kin s Men (I mean those of them whoare not professed Cheats) ai e over- run with Enthusiasm and

64 ESSAYS FROM TH E SPECTATOR .

Philosophy,it was very amusing to hear this religious Zdep

M /

tu

‘ w w

descanting on his pretended Discovery . H e talked Of the S ecretas of a S pirit which lived within an Emerald

,and converted

every thing that was near it to the highest Perfection it iscapable of. It gives a Lustre, says he, to the S un, andWaterto the Diamond . It irradiates every Metal

,and enriches Lead

with all the Properties of Gold . It heightens Smoak into Flameffl f é"

Flame into Light, and Light into Glory. H e further added , that asingle Ray Of it dissipates Pain

,and C are, and Melancholy from

the Person on whom it falls. In short, says he, its Presencenaturally changes every Place into a kind of H eaven.

”Afterhehad gone on for some Time in th is unintelligible Gight, I foundthat he j umbled natural and moral Ideas together into the same

Discourse , and that his great S ecret was nething else but ContenttwThis Virtue does indeed produce, in some measure

,all those

Effects which the A lchymist usually ascribes to what he callsthe Philosopher

’s S tone ; and if it does not bring R iches, it does

the same thing,by banishing the Desire of them . If it cannot

remove the Disquietudes arising out of a Man’

s Mind , Body, orFortune

,it makes him casie under hemwl t has indeed a kindly

Influence on the S oul of Man,in respect of everweing to whom

he stands related . It extinguishes all Murmur,Re11 ining , and

Ingratitude towards that Being who has allotted him his Part toact in this \Vorld . It destroys all inordinate Ambition

,and

every Tendency to C orruption, with regard to the C ommunitywherein he is p laced . It gives Sweetness to his C onversation

,

and a perpetual S erenity to all his ThOBUSLhQ ; u , 4

Among the many Methods which might he made use of for“

the acquiring of this Virtue, I shall only mention the twofollowing. First of all

, A mMan Should always consider howmuch he has more than heA

wants and S econdly,H ow much

more unhappy he m ight be than he really is.

First of all, A Man should always consider how much he hasmore than he w ants. I am wonderfully pleased with the Replywhich A ristippus made to one who condoleLhim upon the Lossof a Farm,

Why, said he, I have three Farms still, and you havebut one so that I ought rather to be afilicte/ l for you, than you

for me. On the contrary, foolish Men are more apt to considerwhat they have lost than what they possess ; and to fix theirEyes upon those who are richer than themselves, rather than on

those who arepnder greater

(Difficulties. All the real Pleasures

IL( “fi él / Y 1 e

l

l ,

66 ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR .

I like the S tory of the honest Dutchman,who

,upon breaking

his Leg by a Fall from the Main-mast,told the S tanders-by, It

was a great Mercy that’twas not his Neck. To which , S ince I

1m got into Quotations, give me leave to add the S aying of‘

an

old Philosopher,who

,after having invited some of his Friends

to dine wi th him,was ruffled by his Wife that came into the

Room in a Passion,and threw down the Table that stood before

them Every one, says he, has his Calamity, and he is a happy[VIan that has no greater than this. We find an Instance to thesame Purpose in the Life of Doctor H ammond

,written by Bishop

Fell . As this good Man was troubled with a C ompl ication ofDistempers, when he had the Gout upon him ,

he used to thankGod that it was not the S tone ; and when he had the

'

S tone,that he had not both these Distempers on him at the same time.

I cannot conclude this Essay without observing that therewas never any System besides that of C hristianity, which couldeffectually produce in the Mind of Man the Virtue 'I have beenhi therto Speaking of. In order to make us content with our

present C ondition,many of the ancient Philgsol ihers tell us that

our Discontent Only hurts our selves,without being able to

make any Alteration in our C ircumstances ; others, that whatever Evil befalls us is derive d to us by a fatal Necessity

,to

which the Gods themselves are subject ; whilst others verygravely tell the Man who is m iserable

,that it is necessar

.

thathe Should be so to keep up the {H armony of the Universgand

that the S cheme of Providence would be troubled and pervertedwere he otherwise. These, and the like C onsiderations, rathersilence than satisfy theMan . Theymay shew him that hisDiscontent is unreasonable, but are by no means sufficient to relieve it.They rather give Despair than Q onsolation . In aWord , a Man

might reply to one of these C omforters, as Augustus did to his fl .

Friend who advised him not to grieve for the Death of a Personwhom he loved, because his Grief could not fetch him again It

is for that very R eason, said the Emperor, that I grieve.

On the contrary, Religion bears a more tender R egard to

humane Nature. It prescribes to every miserable Man the

Means of bettering his C ondition ; nay, it shews him, that thebearing of his Affiictions as he ought to do will naturally end in

the Removal of them : It makes him easie here , because it canmake him happy hereafter.

ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR . 67

Upon the whole, a contented Mind is the greatest Blessing a

Man can enj oy in this World ; and if in the presen t Life hisHappiness arises from the subduing of his Desires, it w i ll arisein the next from the Gratification of them.

No. FRIDAY, AUGUST 20 , 17 14.

Ipse thymum p ine-squef erens de montibus altis ,’j

'

eeta serat la te cir cum , cui ta /il t C nrce

Ipse labore manum duro terat, ipse f eracesFiyat humo p lantas, et amicos irriget Imbres .

—V irg.

Every S tation of Life has Duties which are proper to it.Those who are determined by Choice to any particular kind ofBus iness, are indeed more happy than those who are determinedby Necessity, but both are under an equal Obligation of fixingon Employments, which may be useful to themselves or beneficialto others. No one of the S ons of Adam ought to think himselfexempt from that Labour and Indus try which were denouncedto our first Parent

,and in him to all his Posterity. Those to

whom Birth or Fo rtune may seem to make such an Applicationunnecessary

,ought to find out some C alling or Profession for

themselves, that they may not lie as a Burden on the S pecies,and be the only useless Parts of the C reation.

Many of our C ountry Gentlemen in their busie H ours applythemselves wholly to the Chase, or to some other Diversionwhich they find in the Fields and Woods. This gave occasionto one of our most eminent English Writers to represent everyone of them as lying under a kind of C urse pronounced to themin the Words of Goliah, I will give thee to the Fowls of the Air,and to the Beasts of the Field .

Tho’Exercises Of this kind , when indulged with Moderation ,

may have a good Influence both on the Mind and Body,the

C ountry affords many other Amusements of a more noble kind.

Among these I know?none more delightful in itself, and beneficial to the Publ ick

,than that of PLANTING. I could mention

a Nobleman whose Fortune has placed him in several Parts ofEngland , and who has always left these visible Marks behindhim

,which Show he has been there : H e never hired a H ouse in

his Life, without leaving all about it the S eeds of Wealth,and

'

bestowing Legacies on the Posterity of the Owner. H ad all the

Gentlemen of England made the same Improvements upon their

“ A 7 5

I like the S to ry of th

his Leg by a Fall fa great Merr y

Dis tempers, when be

God that it m no t

that he had not both

I cannot conc lude:

hitherto apt-king of.

present Cond ition. mu

our Dir-mutant onlynu ke m y Alterationever Evil befalls 11.

which the God: the»

gravely te ll the 311he should he no to

that the Scheme of

were he otherwine.

tent inunm ahl

might u p]; to

Friend who adv

whom he loved,h for lhat m y

68 ESSAYS FROM"

THE SPECTATOR.

Estates, our whole C ountry would have been at this time as one

great Garden. Nor ought such an Employment to be lookedupon as too inglorious for Men of the highest Rank . Therehave been H eroes in this Art

,as well as in others. We are told

in particular of Cyrus the Great,that he planted all the Lesser

Asia. There is indeed something truly magnificent in th is kind

Wehof Amusement : It gives a nobler Air to several Parts'

of Nature :‘b'q

’

it fills the Earth with a Variety of beautiful S cenes, and has

(something in it like C reation. For this Reason the Pleasure ofone who Plants is something like that of a Poet

,who

,as Aristotle“?

Lobserves

,is more delighted with his Productions than any other

Writer or Artist whatsoever.

rim /mac

Plantations have one Advantage ("

Lif thefi i which is lnot to befound) in l; 0 l other Works, as they give a Pleasure of a morelasting Date, and continually improve in the Eye of the Planter.

When you have finished a Bui lding og gpy other Undertakingof the like Nature

,it immediately

’

ecaysy

upon your H ands ;you see it brought to its utmost Point of Perfection

, and fromthat time hastening to its Ruin. On the contrary, when you

have finished your Plantations, they are still arriving at greaterDegrees of Perfection as long as you live, and appear more

delightful in every succeeding Year (than they did in the fore

gOll lg.) m u n-l s )

But I do not only recommend this Art to Men of Estates as a

pleasing Amusgment, but as itz is ah

kind of Virtuous Enrployment, and may therefore be ir

i

c'

uldafitf

é'

d by moral Motivesfrom the Love which w e ought to have for our

0 ntry,)and the Regard which we ought to bear to our Posterity .

As for the first,I need only ment-ion what is frequently observed

by others, that the Increase of Forest-Trees does by no Means

bear a Proportion to the Destruction of them, insomuch that ina few Ages the Nation may be at a Loss to supply itself withTimber sufficient for the Fleets of England. I know when a

Man talks of Posterity in Matters of this Nature, he is lookedupon with an Eye of _Ridieule by the cunning and selfish (gil t ofMankind) Most People are of the H umour of an old Fel wtofa C ollege, who when he was pressed by the S ociety lto come in osomething ht redound to the good of their S uccessors,grew very We are always doing, says he, something f orPosterity, but I would fain see Posterity do something for us.

But I think Men are inexcusable,'

who fai l in a Duty of thisNature) Since it is so easily discharged. When a Man considers


that the putting a few Tw igs into the Ground , is doing good toone who will make his appearance in the World about FiftyYears hence, or that he is perhaps making one of his own

Descendants easy or rich,by so inconsiderable an Ex llence, if he

finds himself averse to it , he must conclude that he has a poorand base H eart, void of all generous Principles and Love toMankind .

There is one C onsideration, which may very much enforcewhat I have here said . Many honest M ndii hat are naturallydisposed to do good in the World , angbecome beneficial toMankind

,complain within themselves that they have not Talents

for it. This therefore is a good Office, which is suited to themeanest Capacities, and which may be performed by Multitudes

,

who have not Abilities sufficient to deserve well of their C ountryand to recommend themselves to their Posterity

,by any other 4 t

Method . It is the Phrase of a Friend of mine,when any useful

C ountry Neighbour dies,that you may trace llim which I look

upon as a good Funeral Oration,at the Death of an honest

H usbandman,who hath left the Impressions of his Industry

behind him,in the Place where he has lived .

Upgm the foregoing C onsiderations, I can scarce forbear repre

senting the S ubj ect of th is Paper as a kind of Moral VirtueWhich as I have already shown

,recommends it self likewise by

the Pleasure that attends it. It must be confessed,that this is aw

none of those turbulent Pleasures which is apt to gratifie a Man

in the H eats of Youth ; but if it be not so Tumultuous, it is m u t t “

more lasting. Nothing can be more delight ful than to entertainourselves wnh Prospects of our own making

,and to walk under ’

u—«Jethose Shades which our own Industry has raised. Amusementsof this Nature compose the Mind , and lay at Rest all thosePnssions which are uneasie to the S oul of Man

,besides that thev

naturally engender good Thoughts,and dispose us to laudable

C ontemplations. Many of the old Philosophers passed away the<f 1 eatest Parts of thei1 Lives among their Gardens. El zicui zis

’3v

hinciaself could not think sensual Pleasure attainable 1n any other a / w »

Scene. Eve1y Re uler who i s acquainted with H omer, Virgil

H orace, the g1 eatest Genius’

s of all Antiquity, knows ve1y wellwith how much Rapture they have spoken on this Subject ; andthat Virgil in particular has written a whole Book on the Art of };Planting.

This Art seems to have been more especially adapted to theNature of Man in his Primaeval S tate, when he had Life enoughW M “


to see his Prod uctions flo urish in their utmost Beauty,and

gradually decay with h im. One who lived before the F loodmight have seen a Wood of the tallest Oakes in the Accorn .

But I only mention this Particular, in order to introduce in mynext Paper, a. H istory which I h ave found among the Accountso f China ,

and which may be looked upon as an AntediluvianNovel. . u o m

No. FRIDAY,S EPT. 24 , 17 14.

Jamne igitur laudas, quod (le sap ientibus a lter

R izlebat, quoties a limine movera i mmm

P rotuleratqne p edem . fiebat contrar ius a l/er —Juv .

Mankind may be divided into the Merry and the Seriouswho

,both O f them

,make a very good Figure in the kSpeciesj so

long as they keep thei1 respective H umours from degeneratinginto the neighbouring Extreme there being

“

a hatural Te d

ency in the one to a melancholy Moroseness,

tb

and in the otherto a fantastick I evityThe merry Part of the World are very amiable

,whilst they

diffuse a Chearfu lness through C onversation at proper S easonsand on proper O ccasions ; but, on the contrary

,a great Griev

ance to S ociety,when they infect every Discourse w ith insipid

Mirth , and turn into R idicule such Subjects as are not suitedto it . For though Laughter is looked upon by the Philosophersas the Property of R eason ,

the Ex cess of it has been alwaysconsidered as the Mark of Folly .

On the other S ide , Ser iousness has its Beauty whilst it isattended w ith C hearfulness and H uman ity

,and does not come

in unseasonably to pall the good H umour of those with whomw e converse .

These two S ets of Men,notw ithstanding they each of them

shine in their respective C haracters, are apt to bear a naturalAversion and Antipathy to one another.

What is more usual,than to hear Men of serious Tempers

and austere Morals, enlarging upon the Vanities and Follies ofthe young and gayQPart of the S pecies); whilst they look witha kind of H orror upon such Pomps and Diversions as are

innocent in__th emselves, and only culpable when they draw the

Mind too mu ch '

l

I could not but smile upon reading a Passage in the Accountwhich Mr. Baxter gives of his own Life, wherein he represents

NOTES ON ESSAYS FROMTHESPECTATOR.

A noteworthy attempt in E ngland to treat in a literary way the civil,

political , and mercantile top ics o f the ordinary newspape r w as m ade in 1 704by Dan iel Defoe . H is R evi ew ,

how ever , is m ore rem arkable still as containing, under the title of

“ Adv ice from the S candalous C lub,

”light humorous

discussions of question s o f manners and m o rals . C rude as these discussion swere , they w ere suggestive ; and so we m ay regard the R evi ew as the pro

genitor of the Ta tlers , Sp ecta tors , Guardi ans of its own time , and the greatquarterlies and m onthlies o f ou rs .

S teele was the fi rst to feel the impulse , and to his Ta tler Addison con

tributed his fi rst periodical literature , giving such assistance that the editordescribes him self as faring “ l ike a distressed prince who calls in a powerfulneighbour to his aid . I w as undone by my auxiliary ; when I had once

called him in,I could not subsist w ithout dependence on h im .

”C ertainly

he did not do without his illustrious contributor . The success of the Ta tler

encouraged S teele to venture on the publication of a new paper, destined tobe the greatest of all h is periodical works , and to win for him self andAddison a lasting name .

The fi rst issue o f the S pectator , for so the new paper was called, was

published on March l st, 17 1 1 , and successive issues on each week -day con

tinned till December, 1 712. In all 555 num bers w ere published ,of wh ich

Addison and S teele contributed in equal proportions about 500 . In 1 714Add ison revived the Sp ecta tor , and during its brief life betw een June and

December , 80 additional numbers w ere issued , of wh ich 20 cam e from the

pen of the edi tor. F rom Addison’s num erous contributions to the S teele

Addison Sp ecta tor and to the revived Addison Sp ectator the foregoingessays are selected .

E S SAY No . 21 .

H orace , 1 Ep . v . 28 :

There’

s room enough and each may bring his friend.—C reech.

Professions of Divinity, Law ,and Physick

—Notice Addison’

s use o fcapital letters , generally w ith nouns , and occasionally w ith emphatic words .

R emark likew ise the italicising O f proper nouns and adjectives.

The spelling of the essays“ represents what was good usage between 171 1

and 17

Generals, Field-Officers, etc .

—In the army , Officers below the rank of

general and above the rank of captain (e .g ., co lonel , major) are field- Officers.

Those below the rank of captain are subalterns.

NOTES ON ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR. 73

Bishops, Deans, etc .—In the English C hurch the bishop is the highest

Officer. Under h im are the deans , usually either the ch ief O ffi cers of

cathedral churches,or the adm in istrators of a number of parishes .

Prebendaries.—A clergyman attach ed to a cathedral and receiving a prebend (salary) for h is services.

Scarfs.—The scarf or stole is the long narrow strip of lutestring (lustring ,

coarse silk) worn by the clergyman round h is neck .

Our Constitution preserves it from any R edundancy. There are two

archbishops and twenty- six bishops in E ngland , and two archbishops and

ten bishops in Ireland . A rchdeacons and rural deans assist the bishops inthe management of their dioceses .

”

Should our Clergy Elections in England—There are so m any clergy

men that if they should di vide their church land , as lay landholders dotheir land

,into holdings just large enough to secure the forty shillings

income entitling the holder to a vote , they would win every election in

E ngland—Arnold.

Virgil ’s Army .—The reference is to the lines of the Latin poet in Book X .

of the .ZEneidExtremi addensent aC ies ; nec turba moveri

Tela manusque Sinit.

Westminster-H al l .—This H all,standing between the Abbey and the

Thames, became in 1 224 the seat of the law courts .

Martial . - A Latin wit and poet (A.D . 43- 104) fam ed as the fi rst, and perhaps greatest, w riter of epigram s .

The Lists.—Lines enclosing a field for knightly combat. To enter the

lists figuratively for “to engage in combat.

”

Inns of Court~ Benchers.—C ertain societies

,such as the Inner Temple ,

Gray ’s Inn ,

have in England the exclu sive right of calling people to the

Engl ish bar . E ach society is governed by a comm ittee called ‘benchers, ’and has a

“ habitation in a large group of houses or chambers .

Sir William Temple.

—The negotiator of the famous T riple Alliance of

C harles II.

’S reign was the author of m any works remarkable for th eir fine

style . The essav Of H eroic Vir tue here alluded to runs : This part ofS cythia in its whole northern extent, I take to have been the vast H ive out

of wh ich issued so m any m ighty swarms of barbarous nations .

"Temple

attributes the abating of their warlike restlessness to the influence of

C hristianity .

Goths.—The Goths

,a Germanic tribe , are first heard of on the shores of

the Baltic . In the third century they were living near the Black Sea. Theydefeated the R omans

,ravaged AsiaMinor, captured Rome , and in A .D . 412

settled in Spain .

Vandals—The Vandals,also of Germ anic origin , occupied originally the

country around the sea O f A zof , but m igrated to the country south of theBaltic thence they swept devastating th rough Gaul into Spain , settling in

Anda lusia. In A .D . 455 the Vandals plundered Rom e (vanda lism) .

Thor and Woden.—Thor was the Teutonic god of thunder ; Woden

(Odin) , th e greatest of Teutonic gods. C f. Wednesday , Thursday .

British Army in Caesar’s time.

—In describing his campaign against theBritons (R C . 55) C aesar w rites : “ Genus hoc est ex essedis pugnaa:

quum se inter equitum turmas insinuaverint, ex essedis desiliunt et pedibus —De Bel la Ga l lico , lib . iv . cap . xxxiii.

Rather of the Science,than the Profession.

—They have knowledge, butare Without opportunity to put it into practice .

7 4 NOTES ON ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR.

Of slender parts —Oi little ability .

H e would not venture to feel .—Venture= trust .

Vagel lius.—A particular name is here taken because of the efiect produced

by the concrete .

Chapman z m erchant, customer . The word is from A. S . ceap ian , to buy .

The colloquial chap is an abbrev iation of Chapman .

C .

—S tee1e w rites in the last number of his Sp ectator the following explanation of the signatures to Addison ’

s contributions : “All the papers m arkedWi th a C , an L, an I , or an 0

,that is to say all the papers which I have

distinguished by any letter in the name of the Mu se , CLIO ,were given m e

by the Gen tleman, of whose assistance I formerly boasted in the Preface and

concluding Leaf of my Ta tlers .

”The essays in the Addison Sp ectator (see

NC S . 483, 574 , 583, 598) bear no signature.

E S SAY No . 23.

Virgil , E n . ix . 420 :“ Fierce Volscens foams with rage , and gazing round ,Descry

’

d not h im who gave the fatal wound ,Nor knew to fix revenge.

”

—Dryden .

A passage in Socrates’s Behavior .

—Socrates (B. C . 469- 399) was the most

original o f the great phiIO SOp li ers o f Greece . S pending his time in crossqu estio ning men to convince them O f their ignorance , he drew upon himselfm any enem ies and was condem ned for impiety . The passage alluded to is

found in Plato S Pliwdon : I reckon that no one who heard m e now ,not

even if he were one of my o ld enem ies the com ic poets , cou ld accuse me of

idle talking about matters in w hich I have no concern .

”

Aristophanes (B. C . 444- 380) w as the great Greek com ic dramatist. H e

ridiculed S ocrates and other philosophers in the C louds.

Catullus.

—C atullus (B. C . 87 - 47) was a Roman w riter of lyrics andepigram s .

Mazarine—Q uil let . —O f S icilian parentage , Mazarin (16024 661) became,

through his great talents , cardinal and ch ief m inister to Lou is XIV . C laude

Quillet in his poem C a l lip cedia complained of the power that Mazarin, aforeigner , had attained in F rance . For om itting the reference to the

cardinal , Quillet received nne jolie Abbaye de 400 pistoles .

”

Sextus Q uintus.—S extus V . rose from the position of sw ineherd to be

one of the greatest of popes. H is adm inistration was severe to the extent

Of cru elty . Though it does not seem that his sister was a laundress,his

aunt was , a fact that 1ent point to the satire .

The autho rity for this story in the essay is not good . Leti’s work , fromwhich it is taken , is said to be “ ful l of S illy tales, O f contradictory state

m ents,and Of palpable falsehoods.

Pasquin.

—Pasquin was a tailor in Rom e towards the close of the 15th

century , who by h is sarcastic humour drew many to his shop . After h isdeath a mutilated statue was dug up near his shop ,

and as it was in sportnamed after the tailor , the practice arose of secretly afi

‘ixing to it witty

comm ents on affairs of the day , or satire on the cardinals or pope. H ence

we have the word pasquinade.

’

Aretine.—Aretine (1492- 1 557) was an Italian writer distinguished by his

wit , impudence , and talents.

”By his satire , O ften most ribald, he won

the name of the Scourge of Princes.

7 6 NOTES ON ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR .

Beau=man of dress, dandy .

Rostral Crowns.—The R omans made great use of crowns as rewards of

valor : the corona obsidiona lis for rescu ing a besieged city , the corona civicafor saving the life of a Rom an citizen in battle . The cor ona rostra ta , thero stral crown of the text, w as probably given to the commander whodestroyed the fleet of the enemy or gained any special victory.

E S S AY No . 47 .

Martial“ Laugh if you are wise.

Mr . H obbs - Thom as H obbes (1588—1679) was the author ofmany importantph ilosophical works

,Widely influential

,such as De Give and Levi athan .

H e based h is system of moral ph ilosophy on self-interest.

Mr . Dennis—John Dennis (16 57—1734 was one of the school of English

critics w ho se m aster w as Boileau . H e as won immortality not by writingbu t by be ing w ritten about. Pope

'

s treatment o f h im in the Dunciad and

in the“Narrative of the F renzy o f John Dennis

”is savage .

Monsieur Boileau .

—Bo ileau (1636—17 1 1) was one of the greatest of F renchpo e ts . H e i nfluenced E nglish literature m ainly by his L

’

Ar t Poe'

tique ,w h ich gave rise to Pope '

s E ssay on C r itici sm and furnished the principlesof the French school of critics before mentioned .

Cir cumforaneous.

—A rare word (from circum,around , and f orum ,

the

market-place)= gom g from house to house .

April Fool’s Day .

—“The custom of sending one upon a bootless errand

on the first day of April is perhaps a travesty of the sending h ither and

thither of the S aviour from Annas to C aiaphas , and from Pilate to H erod,because during the m iddle ages this scene in C hrist’

s life was made the

subject of a m iracle -

play at E aster, which occurs in this m onth . It is

possible , however, that it m ay be a relic of some old heathen festival .Inkle= broad linen tape.

Conceits= notions,freaks.

The Name of Biters.—A ‘bite ’in eighteenth century parlance was m ani

fe s tly the‘sell

’

o f to -day . C f. Sw ift : “ I’

l l teach you a way to ou twit Mrs .

Johnson it is a new - fashioned w ay of being w itty, and they call it a bite.

You mu st ask a bantering question , or tell some lye in -a serious manner,

and. then she w ill answer or speak as if you were in earnest : then cry you ,

Madam,there ’

s a bite . I w ould no t have you undervalue this , for it is theconstant amusem ent at court

,and everywhere else among the great people ;

and I let you know it in order to have it obtain among you , and teach you a

new refinement .

”—Austin Dobson.

H umour .—The word is derived from th e Latin humere

,to be m oist. The

o riginal m eaning of the English w ord is near the root m eaning , denotingflu ids (of the body). In old m ed icine a humour was a fluid o f which therew ere four kinds —~blood

, phlegm , yellow bile , and black bile . On the conditions and proportions of these humours the bodily and mental health w as

supposed to depend ; hence the secondary meaning of disposition ,

’or

‘

pecu liarity of disposition.

’The adjective ‘humourous ’

often meant fantastic ,

’

wh imsical .’

Cast in their Person or Behaviour.—Peculiarity in personal appearance

ormanners

NOTES ON ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR. 77

Sir John Falstaff .

—F or th i s , the m ost famous of Shakespeare ’

s humorouscharac ters , see H enry IV.

,H enry V.

,M erry Wives of Windsor . The quo

tation is from H enry IV. , Part II. Act i. 2 .

To gird= to sneer , utter scornful jests.

E S SAY No . 50.

Juvenal , Sat. xix . 321

Good taste and nature always speak the same.

Swift w rote to S tella of th is essay : It was made of a noble h int I gavehim (S tee le) long ago for his Ta tlers , about an Indian supposed to w rite histravels into E ngland . The p lan of the essay ,

social sati re supposed to havebeen m ade by a foreigner , i s one that was much in fashion ; Witness the

Lettres P ersanes o f Mon tesquieu ,Goldsm i ths C itizen of the Wor ld

,La

C onte'

s Mémoi r es sur la“

C hine.

Four Indian K ings—The four kings , ’

J‘

e Yee Neen H o Ga Prow, Sa Ga

Yean Q ua Rash Tow ,E Tow O K oam ,

and O h Nee Yeath Ton Now Prow,

w ere ch i efs of the Iroquois Indians who had . been persuaded by adjacentBri tish colonists to com e and pay their respects to Queen Anne , and see for

them selves the untruth of the assertion m ade among them by the Jesuits,that the English and the other nations were vassals to the F rench king .

—Morley .

E Tow 0 K oam,K ing of Rivers.

—The R iver Indians were in alliancewith the Iroquois Indi ans .

Granajah .—In Boyer ’

s Anna ls of Q ueen A nne’

s R eign , Oh Nee Yeah TonNow Prow is described as the Ganajoh -hore sachem .

”Ganajoh -ho re ”

signifies C anajohara , an Ind ian village in New York S tate . Granajah is nodoubt Addison ’

s corruption of the nam e .

I could not see any Circumstance of Devotion. The behaviour,in S t.

Paul’

s during the cen tu ry m ay be further illustrated by Goldsm ith ’

s satire inLetter XL. of the C i tizen of the Wor ld :

“ I now looked abou t m e as hedirected, but saw noth ing o f that fervent devotion that he promised ; oneof the worshippers appeared to be ogling the company th rough a glass ;another was fervent , no t i n his addresses to H eaven

,bu t to h is m istress ; a

third whispered , a_fourth to ok snuff and the priest himself,in a drowsy

tone , read over the du ti es of the day.

Animals cal ledWhigs—Animal cal led a Tory.—The Sp ecta tor

’

s position,wh i le the b i tterest party s tri fe was raging , may be judged from these ex

pressions. I have all along declared th i s to be a neutral paper , ”says

Addison in E ssay 463.

Withal= likew ise .

Little covered Rooms = S edan - chairs.

Monstrous Bushy K ain—“You have undoubtedly heard of the Jew ish

champ ion , whose streng th lay in h is hair . One would think that the E ngl i sh were for placing all their w isdom there : to appear wise , nothing m oreis requisite here than for a man to borrow hair from the heads of all hisneighbou rs and clap it l ike a bush on his own .

”—Goldsm ith .

Little black Spots.—E ssay 81 of the S pecta tor Addison devotes to satiriz

ing the patches so plentifully worn by women of h is time . So Goldsm ithw ri tes : They like to have the face of various colours , as ani oncr theTartars of K oreki , frequently sti ck ing on with spittle , l i ttle black pa

t

tcheson every part of i t

, except on the tip of the nose .

” Mo rley mentions that“there was , among othe r fancies , a patch cu t to the pattern of a coach andhorses.

”S tars and half-moons were also in fashion .

78 NOTES ON ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR .

E S SAY NO . 69 .

Virgil , Georg . i. 54 :“ This g round with Bacchus, that with C eres suits ;That other loads the trees w ith happy fruits,A fou rth with grass, unbidden ,

decks the g round

Thus Tmolus is with yel low saff ron crown’

d

Ind ia. black ebon and wh ite iv’ry bearsAnd soft Idume weeps her od

’

rous tears

Thus Pontus sends her beaver stones from far

And naked Spaniards temper steel for warEp irus for th

’

Elean chariot breeds(In hopes of palms) a race of running steeds

This is th’

original contract these the laws

Imposed by nature , and by nature’

s cause .

”

—Dryden.

Royal Exchanger—The R oyal E xchange was founded in the reign o f

E l izabeth by S ir Thom as Gresham ,and marks the rise of England

’

s com

m e rcial suprem acy .

o

l '0H igh Change . Téi e t

ime?) yvpq vwb‘g

sm ess on C i ang e was at i ts hei g h t

S i bject of the Great Mogul .—The G reat Mogul was a ti t le of the Emperor

o f H i ndustan ,w hich em pire had been established in India during the

16 th century by the Mongols .

Muscovy .~—Great Russia, the central and northern portions of Russia in

Europe .

Armenians—Armenia is the country in Asia Minor to the south -

east ofthe Black S ea .

Like the old Philosopher Citizen of the World—In a work byLucian , called Biwv H pci m s (

“ Sale of we have the following dialogue :

Bergen—First, noble sir, what country do you come from ?

Diogenes —From all countries.

Eugen—What do you mean ?

D iogenes—You see in me a citizen of the world .

S o D iogenes Laertius, in his chapter on Diogenes the C ynic , tells us thatthe ph ilo sopher , when asked what countrym an he was

, replied, ‘A cosmo

polite . -\ rno ld .

My Friend, Sir Andrew .—This is the S ir Andrew F reeport of the imagi

nary S pectato r C lub . H e is described in E ssay 2 as“A m erchant of great

em inence in the city of London . A person of indefatigable industry , strongreason ,and great experience . H e abounds in several frugal m axim s

,

amongst which the greatest favou rite is , ‘A penny saved is a penny got.

’

Remitted me someMoney to Grand Cairo—The re fe rence is to a voyage of

the Spectator to E gypt , described in E ssay 1 : I made a voyage to GrandC airo , in purpose to take the m easu re of a pyram id ; and as so on as I had

set myself righ t in that particular , returned to my nati ve country w i th

great satisfaction .

”

Coptick .

—C optic is the language of the C opts, or descendants of an old

Egyptian race .

Barbadoes —The Barbadoes produce sugar .

Philippick Islands—The Ph i llipine Islands are ce lebr i ted for tobacco .

The Muff and the Fan come together . —The muff was o ften m ade fromfur o f all sorts , from o tter sk i n to

‘the cats fur .

”Addison in his paper

in the Ta l ler refers to o ther materials : “ I consider woman as a beautiful

NOTES ON ESSAYS FROM TH E SPECTATOR.

E S SAY No . 93.

H orace, 1 0 d. xi

Short is the span of life. On distant hopes rely not. Even as we speak , envioustime is fled . Seize the passing day, trusting no t at all the morrow .

”

Seneca.

—Seneca (B C . 5 to A .D . 65) was a R om an philosopher, au thor of

various w orks on m oral subjects , such as P rovidence , Tranqui l li ty of Mind ,A H appy Lif e , and The S hor tness of Lif e . The allusion in the text is fromD ial . x . De Brevitate Vi tae , § 1 .

S eneca’s style is antithetical , and apparently labou red .

The Q uarter-day .—The day looked upon as finishing a quarter of the‘

y e ar ; hence , one on which rent and interest becom e due .

The Politician to lose three years—The allusion is to the hope of win

ning a new e lection,the act o f William Il I.

’s reign limiting the duration of

parliament to three years .

Eternity is to take its colour .—C olour bears here an Older meaning,

‘character. ’

E S S AY NO . 1 15 .

Juvenal , Sat. x . 356 '

A healthy body and a mind at ease.

Ferments the H umours.—S ee note to E ssay 47 .

The Vapours. An o ld nam e for a nervous hypochondrical or hystericalaffection : the blues .

”

Earth must be laboured.-Must be cul tivated , worked .

My Friend Sir Roger .—S ir R oger de C overley is the m ost famous and themost lovable charac ter of the S pecta tor essays . The character was sketched

to some extent by S teele but filled in bv Addison’s m ore tender hand . H e

is pictured to us as a m odel o f the o ld E nglish country-gen tlem an , w ith all

the prej udices of h is class . but loved by h is servants , generous to the poor ,faithful in the duties of his position ,cherishing for the perverse w idow

the secret hopeless passion that wrought such havoc among the foxes ofhis neighborhood .

The perverse Widow .—S teele devotes E ssay 113 to a description of the

perverse w idow and her treatment of S ir R oger . You must understand ,S ir

,this perverse Wom an is one of tho se unacco untable C reatures , that

secretly re joice in the Adm iration of Men,bu t indulge them selves in no

further consequences .

”During the forty last years o f h is life , w ithout

ever being really rejected ,S i r Roger followed this beautiful Widow ,

her

tantalized but w illing slave .

Dr . Sydenham.

—Thomas Sydenham (1624—1689) was one of the greatestphysicians of his time . H is research and acute observation won him a.

name that is preserved still in the title of the Sydenham Socie ty .

Medicina Gymnastica.-The book referred to is entitled Medicina Gym

nastica ,or a, Trea tise C oncer ning the P ower of E x ercise

,by F rancis

Fu ller , M.A .

Latin Treatise of Exercises.—Ar tis Gym nasticae Apud Antiguos, Libr i

vi .

,by an Italian , calling h imself H ieronymusMercurialis, who died 1 606 .

Morley .

6moy axz'

a’.—Etymologically the word denotes fighting with a shadow

,

’

‘a mock fight

82 NOTES ON ES SAYS FROM TH E SPEC TATOR .

Yet not draw forth a note ; then, if the wh imTook him, he

’

d troll a Bacchanalian hymn,From top to bottom of the tet l aC hO l l i .

Till the last course was set upon th e board.

One mass of inconsistence , oft he’

d flyAs if the foe were follow ing in full cry ,

While oft he '

d stalk with a majestic gait,Like Juno

’

s priest in ceremonial state .

Now ,he would keep two hund i ed se iving-men,

And now , a bare establishment O f ten.

Of k ing’

s and tetrarchs with an equal’

s air

H e’

d tall<,—next dav he

’

d breathe the hermit’

s prayerA table W i th three leg s , a shell to hold

My salt , and clothes, th o ugh coai se , to keep out cold .

’

Yet g ive th is man, so frugal, so content,A thousand , in a week

’

twou ld all be spent.

A ll night he would sit up , all day would snoreSo strange a jumble ne'

er was seen before .

”

Dryden.—Dryden (1631 in his A bsa lom and A chitop hel , from which

the l ines are quoted , satirizes , under the title Z imri, Villiers, . Duke of

Buckingham .

E S SAY NO . 169.

Terence , Andr. Act i. sc. 1

“ H is manner of l ife was this : to bear with everybody’

s humours ; to comply with

the inclinations and pursuits of those he conversed w ith ; to contradict nobody ; neverto assume a superiority over others. This is a ready way to gain applause without

exciting envy .

”

The general curse they lie under.—Genesis iii. 17 .

Xenophon.—A Greek historian (B.C . 445—359) of great merit. In the

Cyr opcedia (Training of C yrus) , Bk. vii i . ch . 6 , he describes C yrus as

addressing his sons at h is death-bed : When I am dead , ch ildren , do not

en sh rine my body in gold , nor in silver , nor any thing else , but lay it in the'

earth as soon as possible ; for w hat can be mo re happy than to m ix with

the earth ,wh ich gives nourishm ent to all things excellent and good And

as I have always borne an affection to men,so it is now mo st pleasing to

me to incorporate w ith that w hich is m ost benefi cial to m en .

”

C yrus is called Xenophon ’

s Imaginary Prince , because the historian tookadvantage of cu rrent fables about the Persian king to make a picture of an

ideal prince and an ideal state, with little or no regard to historical fact.Passage of Salust .

- Sallust (B. C . 86—34) was a great R oman histo rian .

The passage refer red to is in his C atiline, ch . 54 . C ato (B. C . 95—46) wasthe great-grandson of C ato the censor. H is life was that of a theorist , u pright and honorable , but lacking in a p ractical know ledge of the condition

o f the R om an state of h is time . The tragedy of his su icide at U tica , afterthe vic to ry of C aesar, furnished Addison w ith the finest scene of his C ato .

In the ordinary Commerce of Life. C ommerce has the somewhat raremeaning of ‘ in tercourse .

’

Bringing hisWit in Q uestion=make people doubt that he possesses wit.The Ill -naturedMan of equal Parts

= of equal ability, natural gifts ,

NOTES ON ESSAYS FROM TH E SPECTATOR . 83

E S SAY No . 195.

H esiodFools not to know that half exceeds the whole ,

H ow blest the sparing meal and temperate bowl 1”Mall=hammer (cf. ma llet) .

Diogenes.—A Greek philosopher (B. C . 412—323) who , after a life of profii

gacy ,became the exponent of an austere philosophy of practical good . H e

lived in a tub .

Saying quoted by Sir Wil liam Temple.—This is not a quotation ,

- but a

remark m ade by Temple himself . H is E ssay on H ea lth and Long Lif eruns : A ll excess is to be avoided , especially in the common use of w ine ,whereof the first glass may pass for health , the second for good hum our

,

the third for one’s friends ; but the fourth is for one

’

s enem ies .

”

Athens during the great P1ague.—In B C . 430 a terrible plague , com ingfrom E th iopia and A sia, visited Athens and carried O ff a fourth of the

population . Thucydides , an eye-w itness O f the plague , gives us the most

vivid picture of it. Lucretius, the Latin poet, expanded the historian’s

account . Plutarch,in his life of Perikl es

,likewise gives an account of the

pestilence .

Generality were nearer an hundred.—Diogenes died at 90 , Plato at 81 ,

Z eno at 98 .

Lewis Cornaro.—Ludovico COrn aro (1467 a Venetian nobleman , w as

the author of a celebrated treatise , E ssay on Temp erate Living , to whichhis long life lent weight.

E S SAY No . 225 .

Juvenal , Sat. 1: 265 :

Prudence supplies the want of every go od .

Tully.—Marcus Tullius C icero (B. C . 106 the Roman philosopher and

orator .(As the Son of Sirach calls him) a Bewrayer of Secrets—See Wisdom of

Jesus the Son of Sirach (Apocrypha, xx vii .

“Love thy friend, and befaithful unto him ; but if thou bewrayest his secrets, follow no more afterhim .

”

Polyphemus.—H om er narrates that when U lysses landed in S icily hefound the island inhabited by the C yclops, one -eyed mon sters , of whom

Polyphemu s w as the chief. S ix of the companions of Ulysses were eaten

by the giant , but the hero him self escaped by blinding him with a burningtorch , thus rendering his great strength o f no avail.

As it is conversant about worldly Affairs—The word is now applied

chiefly to persons , as H e is conversant with men and things.”H ere it

means concerns , ’ relates to .

’

Represented by the Wise Mam—Solomon . See Proverbs,

'

i . 4 : ii. 3, 1 1 .

Apocryphal Writer whom I quoted.—S ee the Wisdom of Solomon (Apo

crypha) , vi. 12. The E ssay referred to is NO . 219.

She preventeth them= anticipates them (p res, venio, come be fore).

NOTES ON ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR.

E SSAY No. 881 .

Horace, 2 0 d. iii. 1

Be calm, my Delius, and serene,H owever fortune change the scene,In thy most dejected state,Sink not underneath the weightNor yet, when happy days begin,And the full tide comes rolling in,Let a fierce , unruly joy,The settled quiet of thy mind destroy.

Life every Moment obnoxious.—Obnoxious has the unusual meaningliable, exposed .

Of this complexion=of this kind.

E S SAY No . 887 .

H orace , 1 Ep. xviii . 103

What calms the breast, and makes the mind serene.“A. famous modern Philosopher .

—S ir Isaac Newton .

Garden or Landskip.—Landskip is an orthographical variation of land

cape (A . S . landscipe) .

Imaginary Q ualities, as Tastes and Colours. -The qualities of taste and

colour are rea l , but are generally imagined to be in some external Objectand not in ourselves. A little thought shows us , however, that such qualities are states of the sentient being ,—that sweetness is due to our feelingOf taste , that colour depends on the affection of our eye .

While he is conversant in the lower Stations of Nature=while he isoccupied w ith the common-place things of nature.

A celebrated French Novelist—TO what writer Addison refers , the con

tempt into which the F rench novels of his time have fallen , renders itdiffi cu lt to say .

Locke—John Locke (1632 by the essay alluded to,made an epoch inthe history of philosophy.

ES SAY No. 458.

Modesty that is not good.”

False shame.

”

Brutus—Marcus Junius Brutus, whom love of republicanism led to murder Julius C assar . His li fe is narrated by Plutarch .

Plutarch .—Plutarch (49—120 A .D .) was a Greek writer of biography whose

merit has rarely been equall ed .

Xenophanes.-The founder of theE leatic school of Greek philosophy (B.C .

580-490

So it be in Vogue.- Provided it be in fashion .

Swarms of Sectaries.—“Four years after the war [of the Rebellion] hadbegun a horror-stricken pamphleteer numbered sixteen religious sects as

en sting in defiance of the law.

- .NOTES ON ESSAYS FROM TH E SPECTATOR.

Rosicrusian.—The Rosicrucians were a secret society that sprang up in

Germany towards the end of the 1 7 th century . They pretended to a

great know ledge of the secrets of natu re , holding, for example , that light iswhat produces gold , and that dew is the greatest solvent of gold. The

name is derived from fros, dew , and crux ,a cross .

Philosopher’s Stone= the stone or preparation sought after by the old

” wchem ists thatwas to have the property of turning all baser metals into gold .

b aw d y istippuS .—Aristippus (B . C . 424 to was the founder of the C yrenaic

n

'

v vjW school of Greek philosophy , a school w ith an

“ethical system in harm ony

V W w ith th e gay , elf-

(possessed , worldly , and sceptical character of theirm aster .

CPi acu

‘

s’

f—g ittacds , who lived in the 7 th century B . C ., was one of the

seven w ise m en”O f ancient Greece . H e has ascribed to him many say

ings of p ractical w isdom such as“ K now the fitting mom ent

,

” “ It is a

m isfortune to be em inent.

Lydia w as one of the ancient divisions of Asia Minor.Bion the Philosopher .

—Bion flourished at Athens about B. C . 250. H e

embraced the C yrenaic ph ilosophy , and was noted for h is Sharp sayings .

Life of Doctor H ammond,written by Bishop Fel l .—Dr . H ammond wasan

able w ri ter, chaplain to C harles 1 . Bishop Fell was Dean of C hrist C hurch .

Augustus (B. C . 63 to A .D .—The first R oman emperor .

E S SAY NO . 583.

Virgil , Georg . iv . 1 12 :

With his own hand the guardian of the bees,For Slips of pine may search the mountain trees,And With Wi ld thyme and sav

’

ry plant the plain,

Till his hard , horny fingers ache with pain

And deck W ith fruitful trees the fields around ,

And with refreshing waters drench the ground .

—Dryden .

The Sons of Adam.—The periph rasis is , of course , to call attention to the

curse pronounced against Adam ,—Gen . iii. 19.

Words of Goliah .~ See 1 Sam . xvii . 44 .

Cyrus the Great .

—C yrus to B C . 529) was king of Persia, and con

quered for him self an empire from the H ellespont to the Indus.

Aristotle (B. C . 384 —The great Greek philosopher.Timber for the Fleets of England.

—Addison evidently had no idea of the

present steel ships ever taking the place of the Old “wooden walls of

E ngland .

Epicurus (B. C . 341 - 274) was the founder of an important school O f

philosophy that held the pursu it O f happiness as the great aim of life . It

was in a garden that he held his school in Athens.

H omer lived in the ninth century B.C .,writing the I liad and Odyssey , two

of the World ’

s greatest epic poems .

Virgil has written a Whole book .—The second book of the Georgics is

occup i ed Wi th the culture of trees and the vine .

Wood of the tallest Oakes —The reference is , of course , to the reproduc

tive power of the acorn . One who lived before the flood w ould be ableto see the forest, obviously because of the great length of h is

My next Paper.—Essay 584 narrates the loves of Eilpe, an antediluvian

Woman.

NOTES ON ESSAYS FROM THE SPECTATOR.

E S SAY No. 598 .

Juvenal , Sat. x 28 :Q

Will ye not the pair of sag es praise ,Who the same end pursued by several ways ?

One pity’

d , one condemn’

d , the w ofu l times

One laugh’

d at follies, one lamented crimes. —D7‘

yden .

Statesman in Q ueen Elizabeth’s Days.

—Probably Walsingham .

Mr Baxter .—Baxter (1615- 1691 ) was one of the m ost eminent of Noncon

form i S t m inisters .

Trophonius’ Cave.

—Trophonius was, according to Greek legend , the m o st

skilfu l architect of h is day . H e w as w orshipped after his death ,his oraclebeing a cave in the summit of a m ountain .

Bridewel ls.—H ouses of correction for di sorderly persons.

Pausanias .—Pausanias was an eminent Greek historian and geogr apher

of the second century.

STUDIES IN PROSE LITERATURE.

I. T H E S T UDY O F T H E MEANING .

The Meaning of the Piece.

—The study o f the m eaning of the authormust precede all other study . Not till we have grasped h is thought maywe seek to investigate the form in which the thought has found expression .

Meaning may be subdivided into Genera l Meaning and Par ticu lar

Meaning.

I .

The S tudy of the General Meaning w ill furnish in a concise form the

subject treated in the E ssay under examination , and the relation of its

various parts to the whole .

So we may treat Essay 21 .The subject-matter of this EssayThe crowded condition of the learned professions, and the consequent advantage of

trade as a vocation.

The relation of the parts to the wholeThe first paragraph states the first part of the theme. The professions of Divinity,

Law , and Med icine are sad ly overcrowded.

The second paragraph discusses the overcrowded condition of the profession firstment ioned . Though the Church is restricted as to the number of its bishops and deans,it has lately been receiving vast accessions of clergymen and deacons.

The third , fourth , and fifth paragraphs deal respectively with three branches of the

profession of Law . The lawyers, too, are so numerous that many are in enforced , manyin voluntary idleness.

The fifth and sixth paragraphs treat of the profession of Medicine. H ere a mostformidable body of men are affl icting humanity. In occupations connected with med icine there are also innumerable people.

The seventh paragraph contains the application of these facts to the choice of a profession. Why, therefore , do parents continue to educate their sons for these professionswhen trade offers easier and safer means of livelihood ?The e ighth paragraph shows the advantage of Trade. Unlike the professions, tradeflourishes by the very numbers of those it employs.

Exercises of this kind pursued with assiduity will aid greatly in the development ofmethod and the power to generalize. The question of the completeness of the treatment , or of the truth and sufficiency of the n ews advanced , are, perhaps, beyond thescope of a Literature class.

The S tudy of the Particu lar Meaning embraces(a) The study of the relation of sentences to the paragraph of which

they form part.

90 STUDIES IN PROSE LITERATURE.

Clearness as to Words is obtained —(a) By precision in the choice o f

words . Many words have a comm on element of m eaning, but have also

shades of difference which we must respect. To w rite clearly , we must haveclean , accurate use of language .

With respect to the attainment of precision, the discussion of synonyms is mostvaluable .

In the following instances of precise use of words, clearness of meaning is attained at

the expense of simplicity .

“Men of the S cience , rather than the Prof ession.

H e has not a single C lien t, though he might have had Abundance of Customers.

Though I am always ser ious, I do not know what it is to be melancholy,”etc.

(6) By avoiding words that do not at once suggest the m eaning intended .

A word often has several m eanings : if the required meaning does not easilysuggest itself , another word must be chosen .

C areful writers of tod ay would scarcely say :

Q ualification of mind that accomp lish [fit] a man rather for a Ruler.The Inscription is answerable to [suitable to ,

in keeping with] the Monument.

Any the most Comic Genius [any genius however comic] can censure him.

”

I have left the Repository [H enry VII. ’

s Chapel , the repository] of our Englishkings.

”

Ambigui ty often results from the careless use of pronouns and modifyingwords. Pronouns should follow the nouns to which they refer w ithou tthe intervention of another noun .

” “Modifying words should stand nearthe words meant to be m odified .

”

Addison is, in this respect, most careful. Notice in No . 225 , Vi i . and No . 458 , ii. the

means taken to avoid all possible ambiguity . Occasionally rather and only are not

well placed, but this is a m inor fault .

Clearness in the Sentence.—The great means to clearness in the sentence

is Uni ty . There mu st be only one main statem ent, to which everythingelse shall be clearly subservient.

Show the cause of the confusion in such a sentence as the following“ There are . besides the above-mentioned , innumerable Retainers to Physick , who,

for want of-other Patients, amuse themselves with the stifl ing of C ats in an A ir Pump,

cutting u p Dogs alive , or impaling of Insects upon the point of a Needle for Microscopica l Observations ; besides those that are employed in the gathering of Weeds, and

the Chase of Butterflies : Not to mention the C ockleshell-merchants and Spidercatchers.

”

Clearness by Good Paragraph StructureUnity

When the sentences bearing on one part of the theme are grouped intoone paragraph , there is a distinct gain in intelligibility . The eye at once

grasps their connection and clearness results.

* Digressions destroying unityare consequently faulty .

Op eningS entenceWhen theopening sentence indicates the subject of the paragraph ,

the

mind is at once prepared for the di scussion. There can be no possibledoubt as to the subject of the parag raph .

“ Perhaps the most prevalent fault of young writers is; leaving the topics 0

paragraphs indeterminate or too diffusive . The production accordingly is lacking incharacter ; it seems to have no backbone, no rigor and sharpness of thought. The

conforming of each paragraph sternly to a distinct t0 pic goes further than anythingelse to obviate this, one of the worst blemishes of composition.

” —Genung.

STUDIES m PROSE LITERATURE. 91

No tice in Essay 21 how easily we understand the subject-matter of the paragraphsby the initial WO ids ,

“We may divide the C lergy ,” “ The Body of the Law ,

” " ThePeaceable Lawyers , " Profession of Physick etc .

Sometimes it is impossible to state the subject at once . A sentence , then, obviouslyconnective or preparatory , precedes it. S ee No . 26 , v.A rare instance of departure from the above rules may be seen in the last paragraph

of No . 69 , where with a structure analogous to that of the periodic sentence the paragraph-subject comes last.

C ontinui ty

An orderly plan is clear. The various thoughts in the paragraph must

therefore so succeed one another that they may be recognized as the

consecutive steps in a p rogressing thought.

This may be illustrated from any paragraph . For example , take No . 21 , i i . First,the classes in the clergy. Second , consecutive explanations of the classes. Third ,consecutive statements as to the numbers in the classes. Last , statement as to thenumber of clergy in general.E xp licit R ef er ence

The expression of relations between sentences is a great aid to clearness.These relations m av be indicated by

(a) C onjunctions and conjunctional ph rases .

(b) Dem onstrative words or ph rases repetition o f word or idea.

These means may be illustrated in No. 381 . i

I have always preferred C heerfulness to Mirth. The latter , I consider as an Act ,the f orm er as a H abit of the Mind . Mir th is short and transient. Cheer fu lness fixedand permanent . Those are often raised into the greats -t transports of ill ir th , who are

subject to the greatest Depressions of Melancholy On the Contrary , Cheerf u lness , tho’

i t does not gise the mind such an exqu isi te Gladness, etc.

(0) By inversion of the order of words , so as to adjust the thought to thepreceding sentence .

This is a subtle but prevalent mode of connection. In the paragraph just quoted ,we have an instance of adjustment in The la tter I consider as an A ct, the f ormer

as a H abit of the Mind . The ordinary order would have been “ I consider the latteras,

”

An excellent study of clearness through explicit reference may be had in No. 21 , ii.

(d) By parall el construction . It is possible, when successive sentences

have a common bearing, to secure clearness by forming them alike .

An excellent illustration in No. 485, i i

Nothing is more amiable than true Modestv, and nothing is more contemptiblethan the false. The one guardsVirtue , the other betrays it. True Modesty is ashamed

to do anything that is repugnant to the Rules of right Reason : False Modesty is

ashamed , etc.

Prop ortion

We are naturally led to think that part of a paragraph most importantabout which m ost is said, or which is rendered most emphatic . In o rder ,therefore , that the reader may readily see the relative value of the differentparts , they should have bulk and prom inence , according to their importance .

Clearness as to the whole Composition.—As with the paragraph ,

so with

the whole composition . Unity, continuity , connection from paragraph toparagraph , lend clearness to the whole .

This part can be well studied only in connection with an entire essay .

II . MEANS TO FOR C E .

Clearness as a Means to Force—If our attention is w ithdrawn from thethought of the writer to the obscurities and ambiguities of his language, it

92 STUDIES IN PROSE LITERATURE

is plain that thethought can make but little impression on us. When theexpression is clear there are no such obstacles between the writer’

s thought

and our mind : the thought seizes all our attention ,impresses itself on us

,

persuades , rouses , subdues us , w ith whatever strength it possesses. E verystep to clearness is , th erefore , a step to fo rce .

Simplicity as a Means to Force.—A similar argument may be used to

show that simple words and simple structure are , generally speaking ,means to force . If our attention is not absorbed in solving th e meaning of

abstruse terms and intricate constructions, the thought has greater freedomto affect us.

‘

S implicity is gained by

(a) A simple vocabulary z—Short terms rather than long ones ; definite ,concrete term s rather than vague, abstract onesInstances of force by simple terms are easily foundH ow many Men are Country Curates [in poverty], thatmight havemade themselves

A ldermen of London [won high positions in mercantile

We are always complaining that our days are f ew"[of the shortness of human

life], etc .

(b) The use of simple structure ; such as, short sentences.

(0 ) The use of figurative language, illustrative sto ry, etc.

Notice the use of the fable from L’Estrange in No. 23.

In theVision of Mirza what simplicity there is in the representation of life, death ,

and immortality ,and yet how forcible that simplicity 1

Force by Amplification.

- Ih respect to the number of words used, the

great virtue of w riting is brevity : to employ just words enough to give fullexpression to the thought. To use m ore than enough resul ts in the weaknesses of tau to logy , p leonasm ,

verbosity ; to use too few , in obscurity.

Apart from such faults as th ese , mu st be kept that amplification orrepetition of words and ideas by which thought o ften becomes moreimpressive . We dwell on it longer, it affects us the more .

Meditating on the dead inWestminster Abbey , Addison naturally thus reiterates thegreat thought of the common fate of man

What innumerable multitudes of People lay confused together under the Pavementof that ancient C athedral ; how Men and Women, Friends and Enemies, Priests and

Soldiers. Monks and Prebendaries , were crumbled amongst one another and blended inthe same common mass ; how Beauty , Strength , and Youth , with O ld Age, Weakness

and Deformity , lay undistinguished in the same promiscuous H eap of Matter. ”

No . 159 afi ords excellent opportunity for remarking the efiects of amplification bymeans of epithets.

Force by Contrast .-The quick succession of opposites affects us forcibly.

This may be Play to you ,

’tis Death to us.

”

‘Wh en a Nation abounds in Physicians, it grows thin of People.

A k ind of splendid Poverty .

Nothing is more amiable than true Modesty , and nothing is more contemptiblethan the false. The one guardsVirtue , the other betrays it,” etc.

C ontrast is frequently employed as a means to clearness . (See No . 62,where the disadvantages of inconsistency are made clear by contrast withthe advantages of consistency

A reader or a listener has at each moment but a limited amount of mental poweravailable. H ence, the more time and attention it takes to receive and understandeach sentence , the less time and attention can be given to the contained idea ,

and the

less vis idly will it be conceived. Whatever force is absorbed by the machine isdeducted from the result. ”—H erbert Sp encer.

94 STUD IES IN PRoSE LITERATURE.

language , quotation ,allusion , humor

, pathos, all go to lend variety, toplease , interest , and impress us.

III . MEANS TO TA STE .

Taste.

—The full consideration of the v a r ious ways in which a good w ritermakes his work conform to the princ i p les of good taste goes beyond thescope of the pres ent discussion . It is sufiicient for our purpose to recognizethe follow ing e ssential particu larsTaste in the Choice of Words.

—The use of slang , of vulgarism s of word or

construction ,the want of grammatical correctness , are repugnant to every

cultivated m ind . Good taste demands that our language should be pureE nglish . Pure English implies that the words are English ,

that the

construc tions are according to English idi om ,and that the meanings of the

w ords are the meanings that good use has sanctioned.

Violations of these requirements bear the names of Barbarism , S olecism ,

Imp rop r i ety.

The

;{rtistic use of archaic forms of language is a. noteworthy feature of the Vision of”l a .

Taste and Melody .

—Writing should read well . What is disagreeable tothe ear afiects u s almost as unpleasantly as what is vulgar or incorrect inlanguage . In good writing w e find a smoothness of flow in the words, aring to the sentences

,a rhythm to the paragraph , in the highest degree

p lea s ing to the m ind .

Minor ins tances of m elodious expression , such as the Balance , may be

got by ru le .

‘int the higher qual ities of m elodious language can be attained

only thro u h f -m i liarity with the sound of the language of our best authors.

OTH ER QUALITIE S OF STYLE .—CLAS SIFICATION.

Melody and H armony.

- A good w riter unconsciously changes the charai ter of the rhythm of his composition to su it his theme. The sound ism ade more or less to echo the sense . Such is the quality of H armony .

(C ompare No . 21 and No . Melody treats simply of the music of language .

Elegance.

—What has so far been said as to taste is m ostly negative .

There is , however , a large positive side that constitutes the great and

las ting charm in w ri ting intended merely to please . Th is positive side , in

which our taste is not merely not offended but de ligh ted and charmed , is

termed E legance . There can be no be tter instance of an elegant orbeautiful style than the Vision of M i rza . The nobil i ty of the thought ,the beauty of the suggested scenes , the calm

,serene atm osphere that

pervades it, the perfec t finish that characterize s it in the H IQ lOdy of itslanguage , and the proportion of its parts , - an elegance , i n short, of thoughtexpressmn , and form gives to th is essay a charm wh i ch time canno t efiace .

Pathos.—The Ludicrous.

—C lassification of Q ualities

The qualities of C learness,S implic i ty , A bs ti useness , as invo lving the

consideration of s tyle w ith regard to the u nde rs t ind i ng , are te rmedIn tellectual Qualities . F orce , in i ts fo l’ in \ o f animatio n andvivacity , as w ell as in its greates t of lofti ne ss a nd sublim ity ,

i s connec ted

w ith feeling and term ed there fo re an E mo ti o na l Q ual i ty . T he gen tle r ,

passive feelings o f love , p i ty , f riendsh ip , reverence ,a re grouped u nder th e.

term P a thos . Wi t,H umour , and S a tire , invo lv ing the fee ling o f the

ludicrous , are likew i se em o tional qual i t ie s . Me lody ,H arm ony , and E legance.

as the chief sources o f the fine-ar t ple as ures in li terature,are term ed

E sthetic Qualities, but depending on feel ing they are also emotional.

STUDIES IN PROSE LITERATURE.

“

95

CLAS S IF ICATION OF THE Q UALITIE S .

‘K

S implicity or Abstruseness .

In tellectual Qual itiesC learness or C onfusion ,

Ambiguity .

Force .

Pathos.

Wit .

The Ludicrous H umor .Emoti onal Qual i ties

S atire .

Melody .

H arm ony of Sound andThe E sthetic

Taste . [S enseE legance .

ADDISON’

S STYLE .

We have now exam ined the qualities of style that are essential to good

w riting and the means by which they are attained . We have also noti ced

certain adventitious qualities ,—hum our , pathos , elegance , e tc .,

—the most

pleasing that literature possesses , which depend ,how ever

,largely upon the

cardinal qualities for their efiectiveness . There remains still the exam i

nation of Addison’

s style .

This exam ination to be of benefit must be the work of the individualpupil . H e should investigate the elements of his style

—h is vocabu lary as

to copiousness , origin , puri ty ; his sentences as to the kinds he employs

and the kind that predom inates ; his paragraph s as to the m erits and

defects of their construction ; his use of figures of speech . The investigation of th e quali ties of his style should follow the table o f the qualities

given above . The subj oined criticism s w ill guide the pupil without, it is

to be hoped , restricting his own freedom of Opinion .

ELEMENTS OF STYLE .

To judge from his critical papers, we should pronounce Addison’

s command of

language rather under than above the average of eminent literary men. Upon lighterthemes hi s vocabulary is more varied . C hoiceness and not profusion is at all times his

characteristic ; yet we find him varying his expression with the greates t ease on

simple themes.

H is writings are conversations .

The mere choice and arrangement of his words would have sufficed to make his‘

essays classical .

“ H e drags in long and too uniform phrases ; his periods are too square ; we migh tcu ll a load of useless words.

”

“ Addison is the standing example of a loose style. H e is ostentatiously easy andflowing , making no eff ort to be period ic. but rather studiously ai oiding the pe i iodic

structure. Sometimes, but not often, he makes the effort of a careful balancedcomparison.

THE Q UALITIE S OF STYLE .

Simplicity has been alleged as the great merit of Addison’s style.

H is prose is the model of the m iddle style on grave subjects not formal on light

* A distinction is sometimes made between the qualities of style as Subj ective andObj ective . The subjective qualities are the qualit ies of discourse from the w riter’

s

point of view. H e must Speak sense ; hiswrit ing must have S ignifica nce . H is thoughts

must be properly connected and developed ; his w riting must have C on tinuousness.

H e must not be constrained , but true to his real natu i e ; his wri t ing must haveNaturalness. The objective qualities or the qua l l t les from the point of view of the

reader, are those outlined above. This classification has doubtful value.

96 STUDIES IN PROSE LITERATURE.

occasions not grovelling ; pure without scrupulosity , and exact without apparentelaboration ; always equable and always easy.

”

“Th i oughout we have precise contrasts, which serve only for clearness.

H e makes comparatively little use of contrast for the purpose of giving clearnessto his views.

”

There is some coldness and monotony in Addison’

s style.

Strength is not a feature of Addison’

s prose. H e has neither sublimity nor vigour.H e is never feeble, and he did not wish to be energetic ; he is never rapid , and he

never stagnates .

It is upon the witty vein in his w ritings that Addison’

s fame is durably founded .

H is e legant satires on the manners of his t ime will be read when his grave essays are

glanced at as productions too superficial to be permanent . H e is the g reatEnglish example of polite ridicule .

“ H is humour, which is peculiar to himself, is so happily diffused so as to give thegrace of novelty to domestic scenes and daily occurrences

“ Addison’

s mirth a m irth consistent With tender compassion for all that is frail ,and with profound reverence for all that is sublime.

”

H is tone is that of a gentleman ,in whom the quickest sense of the ludicrous is

constantly tempered by good nature and good breed ing .

”

“ Instead of the new wit of the coffee-house , men found themselves smiling witha humourist who came nearer than any man

,before or since , to the humour

of Shakespeare.

”

It was his principal endeavor to avoid all harshness and severity of diction.

Elegance is the ruling quality of Addison’

s style. H e sacrifices everything to theunctious junction of syllables and the harmonious combination of ideas.

”

Th ere is an undercurrent of poetry in al l th is. It has flowed through h is prose athousand times more sincere and beautiful than in his verses. R ich oriental fanciesare displayed , not with a shower of sparks as inVoltai re , but in a calm and abundantlight. The music of the vast cadenced and tranquil phrases leads the mindgently amidst romantic splendors and enchantments, and the deep sentiment of everyoung nature recalls the happy quietude of Spenser. Through gentle railleries or

moral essays we feel that the author’

s imagination is happy ,delighted in the contem~

plation of the swaying to and fro of the forest -tOps which clothe the mountains, the

eternal verdure of the val leys invigorated by fresh Springs, and the wide viewundulating far away on the d istant ho rizon. Great and simple sentiments naturallyjoin these noble images, and their measured harmony creates a. unique spectacle ,worthy to fascinate the heart of a good man by its gravity and sweetness. Such are

the Visions of Mirza.

98 BIBLIOGRAPHY.

BIBLIO GR A PH Y

TEXTS .

T ickell , The Works of Addison.

In four volumes . The first edition . London : Jacob Tonson,1 721 .

H urd,R , The Works of Addison .

In S ix volumes ; London , 181 1 . Also four volumes ; London: H . G .

Bohn ,1854 .

Morley , H .

,The S pectator.

A new edition ,reproducing the original text as first issued and as cor

rected by its autho rs . (This edition should be in the hands of everystudent of Addison . ) London : Routledge Sons.

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Selected E ssays, w ith Introduction . London : MacMillan C o . , 1885 .

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Aikin , Lucy, Life of Joseph Addison . London Longmans C o . ,1843.

Johnson , Dr . Samuel,Lives of the Poets (Art. Addison).

Macaulay ,E ssays (Art . Addison) .

Thackeray ,E nglish H umourists (C ongreve and Addison) .

C ourthope , W. J Life of Addison (English Men of Letters) .Taine , H i story of English Literature .

Ashton , J . , Social Life in R eign of Queen Anne . London : C hattoWindus , 1883.

Burton , J. H . , H istory of the Reign of Queen Anne. EdinburghSons , 1880.

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