III. THE PROGRESS OF SENTIMENTALISM

(1751-1775)

During the 1750's sentimental poetry did not fulfill the expectations

which the outburst of 1744 had seemed to promise. It sank to lower

levels, and its productions are noteworthy only as signs of the times and

presages of the future. Richard Jago wrote some bald verses intended to

foster opposition to hunting, and love for the lower animals,--according

to the sentimental view really the "little brothers" of Man. John

Dalton's crude _Descriptive Poem_ apostrophized what was regarded as the

"savage grandeur" of the Lake country; it is interesting only because it

mentions Keswick, Borrowdale, Lodore, and Skiddaw, half a century

later to become sacred ground. The practical dilemma of the

sentimentalist,--drawn toward solitude by his worship of Nature, and

toward society by his love for Man,--was described by Whitehead in _The

Enthusiast_, the humanitarian impulse being finally given the preference.

Though the last of these pieces is not contemptible in style, none

of these writers had sufficient ardor to compel attention; and if

sentimentalism had not been steadily disseminated through other literary

forms, especially the novel, it might well have been regarded as a lost

cause.

The great poet of this decade was Gray, whose _Elegy Written in a Country

Churchyard_, by many held the noblest English lyric, appeared in 1751.

His classical ideal of style, according to which poetry should have,

in his words, "extreme conciseness of expression," yet be "pure,

perspicuous, and musical," was realized both in the _Elegy_ and in the

otherwise very different _Pindaric Odes_. The ethical and religious

implications of the _Elegy_, its piety, its sense of the frailties as

well as the merits of mankind, are conservative. Nor is there in the

_Pindaric Odes_ any violation of classical principles. Gray never

deviates into a pantheistic faith, a belief in human perfection, a

conception of poetry as instinctive imagination unrestrained, or any

other essential tenet of sentimentalism. Yet the influence of the new

spirit upon him may be discerned. It modified his choice of subjects, and

slightly colored their interpretation, without causing him to abandon the

classical attitude. The _Elegy_ treats with reverence what the Augustans

had neglected,--the tragic dignity of obscure lives; _The Progress of

Poesy_ emphasizes qualities (emotion and sublimity) which the _Essay on

Criticism_ had not stressed; and _The Bard_ presents a wildly picturesque

figure of ancient days. Gray felt that classicism might quicken its

spirit and widen its interests without surrendering its principles, that

a classical poem might be a popular poem; and the admiration of posterity

supports his belief.

An astounding and epochal event was the publication (1760 ff.) of

the poems attributed to Ossian. Their "editor and translator," James

Macpherson, author of a forgotten sentimental epic, alleged that Ossian

was a Gaelic poet of the third century A.D., who sang the loves and wars

of the heroes of his people, brave warriors fighting the imperial legions

of Rome; and that his poems had been orally transmitted until now,

fifteen centuries later, they had been taken down from the lips of Scotch

peasants. It was a fabrication as ingenious as brazen. As a matter of

fact, Macpherson had found only an insignificant portion of his extensive

work in popular ballads; and what little he had found he had expanded and

changed out of all semblance to genuine ancient legend. Both the

guiding motive of his prose-poem (it is his as truly as _King Lear_

is Shakespeare's), and the furore of welcome which greeted it, may be

understood by recalling the position of the sentimental school on the eve

of its appearance. The sentimentalists were maintaining that civilization

had corrupted tastes, morals, and poetry, that it had perverted Man from

his instinctive goodness, and that only by a return to communion with

Nature could humanity and poetry be redeemed. But all this was based

merely on philosophic theory, and could find no confirmation in history

or literature: history knew of no innocent savages; and even as

unsophisticated literature as Homer was then supposed to be, disclosed no

heroes perfect in the sentimental virtues.

_Ossian_ appeared; and the truth of sentimentalism seemed historically

established. For here was poetry of the loftiest tone, composed in the

unlearned Dark Ages, and answering the highest expectations concerning

poetry inspired by Nature only. (Was not a distinguished Professor of

Rhetoric saying, "Ossian's poetry, more perhaps than that of any other

writer, deserves to be styled the poetry of the heart"?) And here was

the record of a nature-people whose conduct stood revealed as flawless.

"Fingal," Macpherson himself accommodatingly pointed out, "exercised

every manly virtue in Caledonia while Heliogabalus disgraced human nature

in Rome." More than fifty years afterwards Byron compared Homer's Hector,

greatly to his disadvantage, with Ossian's Fingal: the latter's conduct

was, in his admirer's words, "uniformly illustrious and great, without

one mean or inhuman action to tarnish the splendor of his fame." The

benevolent magnanimity of the heroes, the sweet sensibility of the

heroines, their harmony with Nature's moods (traits which Macpherson had

supplied from his own imagination), were the very traits that won

the enthusiasm of the public. The poem in its turn stimulated the

sentimentalism which had produced it; and henceforth the new school

contended on even terms with the old.

One of the effects of the progress of sentimentalism was the decline of

satire. Peculiarly the weapon of the classical school, it had fallen into

unskillful hands: Churchill, though keen and bold, lacked the grace of

Pope and the power of Johnson. Goldsmith might have proved a worthier

successor; but though his genius for style was large, his capacity for

sustained indignation was limited. Even his _Retaliation_ is humorous in

spirit rather than satiric. He was a being of conflicting impulses; and

in his case at least, the style is not precisely the man. His temperament

was emotional and affectionate; by nature he was a sentimentalist. But

his inclinations were restrained, partly by the personal influence of Dr.

Johnson, partly by his own admiration for the artistic traditions of

the classicists. He despised looseness of style, considered blank verse

unfinished, and cultivated what seemed to him the more polished elegance

of the heroic couplet. The vacillation of his views appears in the

difference between the sentiments of _The Traveller_ and those of _The

Deserted Village_. The former is a survey of the nations of Europe, the

object being to discover a people wholly admirable. Merit is found in

Italians, Swiss, French, Dutch, and English,--but never perfection; even

the free and happy Swiss are disgusting in the vulgar sensuality of their

pleasures; happiness is nowhere. One is not surprised to learn that Dr.

Johnson contributed at least a few lines to a poem with so orthodox a

message.

In _The Deserted Village_, on the other hand, Goldsmith employed the

classical graces to point a moral which from the classical point of view

was false. His sympathetic feelings had now been captivated by the notion

of rural innocence. The traits of character which he attributed to the

village inhabitants,--notably to the immortal preacher who, entertaining

the vagrants,

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