The Peabody lectures led to the appointment of Lanier
as lecturer in English literature at Johns Hopkins University.
As early as the fall of 1876, he had written to President Gilman,
asking for a catalogue of the institution. In answer to
his first letter of inquiry, President Gilman, who had followed with interest
his Centennial poem, and had been from the first an admirer of his poetry,
requested an interview for the purpose of discussing with him
the possibility of identifying him with the University.
Lanier had then talked with him about the advisability of establishing
a chair of music and poetry, a plan which appealed to Dr. Gilman.
In a letter to his brother he writes of this interview:
"He invited me to tea and gave up his whole evening to discussing
ways and means for connecting me officially with the University."
He had been delayed in suggesting the matter to him before
by his "ignorance as to whether I had pursued any special course of study
in life." Dr. Gilman recommended to the trustees that Lanier
be appointed to such a chair, and the latter looked forward
to a "speedy termination of his wandering and a pleasant settlement
for a long time." For some reason, however, the plan did not materialize,
and we find Lanier a year later writing a letter applying for a fellowship: --
Washington, D.C., Sept. 26, 1877.
Dear Mr. Gilman, -- From a published report of your very interesting address
I learn that there is now a vacant Fellowship. Would I be able to discharge
the duties of such a position?
My course of study would be: first, constant research
in the physics of musical tone; second, several years' devotion
to the acquirement of a thoroughly scientific GENERAL view of Mineralogy,
Botany, and Comparative Anatomy; third, French and German Literature.
I fear this may seem a nondescript and even flighty process;
but it makes straight towards the final result of all my present thought,
and I am tempted, by your great kindness, to believe that you would have
confidence enough in me to await whatever development should come of it.
Sincerely yours,
Sidney Lanier.
Such a plan of study did not fit in with the scheme of graduate courses,
and so he was not awarded it. President Gilman had, however,
heard with much satisfaction Lanier's lectures at Mrs. Bird's,
and had cooperated with him in the series of lectures
at the Peabody Institute. Finally, the trustees, convinced of
Lanier's scholarship, and conscious of his growing influence in Baltimore,
agreed to his appointment as lecturer in English literature,
and Dr. Gilman had the rare pleasure of announcing the fact
on the poet's thirty-seventh birthday -- February 3, 1879.
Lanier responded in a letter, indicative at once of the spirit
in which he received the appointment and of his high personal regard
for the president of the University. No story of Lanier's life
would be adequate that did not pay tribute to the uniform kindness
and thoughtful consideration of the poet's welfare manifested by Dr. Gilman.
He has his place in that inner circle of Lanier's friends
who meant much to him in opening up new fields of endeavor,
and who after his death zealously promoted his fame.
Lanier occupies a place in the history of Johns Hopkins University
that has perhaps not been fully appreciated. His appointment
was not a merely nominal one, for he threw himself with zeal and energy
into the life of the University. He breathed its atmosphere. He was
a personal friend of the president, of nearly every member of the faculty,
and of the university officers. He caught its spirit and grew with it
into a real sense of the ideals of University work. While his poem
written on the fourth anniversary of the opening of the University,
is not one of his best, it indicates the great love that he had
for the institution: --
How tall among her sisters, and how fair, --
How grave beyond her youth, yet debonair
As dawn! . . .
Has she, old Learning's latest daughter, won
This grace, this stature, and this fruitful fame.
What the University meant to Lanier can be realized only by those
who have noted the eager spirit with which he responded
to every great influence brought into his life, and who realize
what "those early days of unbounded enthusiasm and unfettered ideality,"
characteristic of the newly founded University, meant to
the American educational system. Her sister institutions have in later days
gone far beyond Johns Hopkins in equipment and in opportunities
for research, but students of American education can never forget
the pioneer work of the University in the line of graduate study.
Fortunately its benefactor had left a board of trustees
absolutely untrammeled by any condition or reservation,
political, religious, or literary. A body of unusually strong men,
they were fortunate in securing the services of Daniel Coit Gilman,
whose experience in educational matters had commended itself
to the judgment of the four leading university presidents of the country
to such an extent that each of them without consulting with the others
advised his election. The newly elected president and the trustees
were accessible to ideas, and finally decided that the wisest thing
that could be done was to make possible what had been previously wanting
in American universities, a graduate school with high standards.
American professors had studied in German universities
and distinguished European scholars had been called to chairs
in American universities, but neither had succeeded in essentially modifying
the type of higher education. Dr. Gilman himself had tried in vain
to secure the opportunity for graduate work in this country.
Now, without any traditions to bind them, the organizers of the University
had the opportunity "which marked the entrance of the higher education
in America upon a new phase in its development." "The great work of Hopkins,"
said President Eliot at the twenty-fifth anniversary of its foundation,
"is the creation of a school of graduate studies, which not only
has been in itself a strong and potent school, but which has lifted
every other university in the country in its departments
of arts and sciences."
The trustees were very wise in choosing as the first faculty
men who had the training and the aspiration to make this work possible:
the "soaring-genius'd Sylvester", --
That, earlier, loosed the knot great Newton tied,
And flung the door of Fame's locked temple wide;
Gildersleeve, who combined the best classical traditions of the old South
with recent methods of German scholarship; Morris, who came from Oxford,
"devout, learned, enthusiastic;" accomplished Martin,
who "brought to this country new methods of physiological inquiry;"
Rowland, "honored in every land, peer of the greatest physicists of our day;"
and Adams, "suggestive, industrious, inspiring, ductile, beneficent,"
who, though at first holding a subordinate position, built up
a department of history and economics which has had a potent influence
throughout the South, and indeed throughout the country.*
These men did much original work themselves, and put before the public
in popular articles and scientific journals the ideals of
their several departments. It is noteworthy that for every department
a special scientific journal was established. The library, though small,
was composed of special working collections and of foreign periodicals,
which, when supplemented by the Peabody Library, gave an opportunity
for the most diligent research. The students, who came from
all parts of the country, were shown "how to discover the limits of the known;
how to extend, even by minute accretions, the realm of knowledge;
how to cooperate with other men in the prosecution of inquiry."
Reviewing the work done by the faculty and students of the University,
the leading scientific journal of England said, July 12, 1883:
"We should like to see such an account of original work done and to be done
issuing each year from the laboratories of Oxford and Cambridge."
--
* The account of the first faculty is based largely on
ex-President Gilman's article, "The Launching of a University",
in `Scribner's Magazine', March, 1902.
--
In addition to the regular courses offered by members of the faculty,
the University provided for series of lectures to be given
by distinguished scholars from both American and European universities.
These lectures, suggested by those given at the College de France,
appealed at once to the University community and to the citizens of Baltimore.
In the course of the first five years they had the chance to hear Lord Kelvin,
Freeman, Bryce, Von Holst, Edmund Gosse, William James, Hiram Corson,
and shorter series of lectures by Phillips Brooks, Dean Stanley, and others.
The most notable of all were delivered in 1877 by Lowell and Child,
while at the same time Charles Eliot Norton was lecturing
at the Peabody Institute, -- "the three wise men of the East."
From far the sages saw, from far they came
And ministered to her.
Lowell lectured on Romance poetry, with Dante as the central theme,
while Child had "a four weeks' triumph" in Chaucer, producing a corner
on that poet's works in all the bookstores of the city.
Readers of Lowell's letters will remember the joy that he had
in renewing his association with Child and in forming new acquaintances
in the circles of Johns Hopkins and Baltimore. Unfortunately,
Lanier was at that time in Florida, seeking the restoration of his health,
and so missed the opportunity which he would have coveted, of hearing,
and of being closely associated with, these eminent scholars.
To what degree was Lanier a scholar, worthy to be named
in connection with such men? There are some who would deny him such a rank;
and indeed, when one finds in his books inaccuracies, conceits,
and hasty generalizations, one is apt to grow impatient with him.
But there are points which connect him with the modern English scholar.
In the first place, he was a very hard and systematic student.
He had none of the slipshod methods of many men of his type.
He had respect for the most recent investigations in his special line of work,
-- he knew the value of scholarship. The Peabody Library enabled him
to have at hand the most recent publications of the learned societies,
and there is no question that he steadfastly endeavored to keep in touch
with the authorities in any special field of investigation
in which he happened to be interested. The footnotes
in the "Science of English Verse" and in the Shakespeare lectures indicate
that he had a knowledge of the bibliography of any subject he touched.
Furthermore, he consulted with men who were living in Baltimore
and had the special information that he desired. While writing
the "Science of English Verse", he often talked with Professor Gildersleeve
as to Greek metrics. "We never became intimate," says the latter,
"and yet we were good friends and there was much common ground.
Our talks usually turned on matters of literary form. He was eager,
receptive, reaching out to all the knowable, transmuting all
that he learned. He would have me read Greek poetry aloud to him
for the sake of the rhythm and the musical effect."* When the book
was finished, he wrote to Mr. Scribner: "I have had no opportunity whatever
to submit this book to any expert friend and have often wished
that I might do so before it goes finally forth, in order
that I might avail myself of any suggestions which would be likely to occur
to another mind, approaching the book from another direction.
This being impossible, it has occurred to me that perhaps
you have sent the manuscript to be read by some specialist in these matters,
and that possibly some such suggestions might be offered by him.
Pray let me know if you think this worth while." On questions of Anglo-Saxon
he conferred with Professor A. S. Cook, at that time instructor
in the University, and on matters of scientific interest,
such as he pursued in his investigation into the physics of sound,
he sought advice from the scientists of the University,
even taking courses with them.
--
* Letter to the author.
--
For Child, Furnivall, Hales, Grosart, and other workers
in the field of English literature he had the greatest reverence.
In his preface to the "Boy's Percy", in commenting on
the accuracy of modern scholarship, he speaks of the "clear advance
in men's conscience as to literary relations of this sort . . .
the perfect delicacy which is now the rule among men of letters,
the scrupulous fidelity of the editor to his text. . . .
I think there can be no doubt that we owe this inestimable uplifting
of exact statement and pure truth in men's esteem to the same vigorous growth
in the general spirit of man which has flowed forth, among other directions,
into the wondrous modern development of physical science.
Here the minutest accuracy in observing and the utmost faithfulness
in reporting have been found in the outset to be absolutely essential,
have created habits and requirements of conscience which extend themselves
into all other relations." It may be seen from such quotations
that Lanier had respect for the most minute investigations;
he had no tirades to make against the peeping and botanizing spirit
that many men of his type have found in the modern scholar.
Speaking of the monumental work of Ellis on the pronunciation of English
in the time of Shakespeare, he pays tribute to his "wonderful skill,
patience, industry, keenness, fairness, and learning."
Furthermore, Lanier himself had the spirit of research and original work
which we have seen was characteristic of Johns Hopkins University.
He not only had the desire to investigate, but he also gave form and shape
to his investigations. In this he was in striking contrast
with many Southern scholars. Joseph Le Conte, in his recent autobiography,
tells of a friend of his who had the making of a great scientist.
He met him at Flat Rock in 1858, and heard him talk most intelligently
on the origin of species. At that early date this South Carolina planter
had Darwin's idea. "Why didn't he publish it?" asks Le Conte,
the answer to which question leads him to comment on
the lack of productive scholars in the South. "Nothing could be
more remarkable than the wide reading, the deep reflection,
the refined culture, and the originality of thought and observation
characteristic of them, and yet the idea of publication
never even enters their minds. What right has any one to publish
unless it is something of the greatest importance, something that
would revolutionize thought?" Now Lanier was filled
with the spirit of making contributions, however insignificant,
to the development of scholarship in some one direction.
He restates, for instance, with remarkable insight and conciseness,
the investigations of Fleay, Edward Dowden, and other members
of the New Shakespeare Society, as to the metrical development
seen in Shakespeare's plays. But he adds to their investigations a suggestion
as to the greater freedom with which Shakespeare shifted the accent
in his later plays: "Several reasons may be urged for the belief
that this might prove one of the most valuable of all metrical tests.
In fact, when we consider that the matter of rhythmic accent is one
which affects every bar of each line, while the four tests just now applied
affect only the LAST bar of each line; and when we consider further
that the real result of this freedom in using the rhythmic accent
is to vary the monotonous regularity of the regular system
with the charm of those subtle rhythms which we employ
in familiar discourse, so that the habit of such freedom might grow
with the greatest uniformity upon a poet, and might thus present us
with a test of such uniform development as to be reliable
for nicer discrimination than any of the more regular tests can be pushed to,
-- it would seem fair to expect confirmation of great importance
from a properly constructed Table of Abnormal Rhythmic Accents in Shakspere."
Lanier not only made these investigations himself, but incited his students
to do so, especially those in the smaller classes of the University.
A good illustration is in the suggestion he made to a class that they might
together work out some interesting etymological and dialectical points.
"Why should not some of the intelligent ladies of this class," he asks,
"go to work and arrange the facts -- as I have called them -- so that
scholars might have before them a comprehensive view of all the word-changes
which have occurred since the earliest Anglo-Saxon works were written?
The other day a young lady -- one of the very brightest young women
I have ever met -- asked me to give her a vocation. She said
she had studied a good many things, of one sort or another; that she was
merely going over ground which thousands of others had trodden;
that she wanted some original work, some method by which
she could contribute substantially to the world's stock of knowledge:
having this kind of outlet she felt sure she had a genuine desire,
a working desire, to go forward. Well, of the numerous plans
which I can imagine for women to pursue, I have suggested to you one
which would combine pleasure with profitable work in a most charming manner.
Suppose that some lady -- or better a club of ladies -- should set out
to note down the changes in spelling -- and if possible in pronunciation --
which have occurred in every word now remaining to us
from the Anglo-Saxon tongue. The task would not be a difficult one.
All that would be required would be to portion out to each member of the club
a specific set of books to be read, each set consisting of
some books in Anglo-Saxon, some in Middle English, and some in Modern English.
Each member would take her books and fall to reading.
As she would come to each word she would write it down;
and whenever she would happen on the same word in a book of a later century
she would write it down under the first one; if she came upon the same word
in a book of a still later century she would write it down
under the other two, and so on. As each member of the club
would rapidly accumulate material, the whole body might meet once a month
to collate and arrange the results. In this way a pursuit which
would soon become perfectly fascinating would in no long time collect material
for a thorough and systematic view of the growth of English words
for the last thousand years. The most interesting questions concerning
the wonderful and subtle laws of word-change might then be solved."*
--
* `Shakspere and His Forerunners', vol. i, p. 134.
--
In his zeal for publishing and editing books he conceived of
a rather quixotic plan for starting a publishing house.
In a letter written June 8, 1879, to his brother, Lanier urges him
to come to Baltimore and go into the publishing business with him.
They can then both become writers, and thus resume the plan
of working together that they had formed just after the war.
Lanier himself expects to send forth at least two books a year
for the next ten years. "These are to be works, not of one season,
but -- if popular at all -- increasing in value with each year.
Besides these works on language and literature and the science of verse, --
which I hope will be standard ones, -- my poems are to be printed. . . .
If you would only be my publisher! Indeed, if we could be a firm together!
I have many times thought that `Lanier Brothers, Publishers',
might be a strong house, particularly as to the Southern States."
He then outlines his scheme in detail: they would need only an office,
a clerk and a porter, as they could have their printing done elsewhere.
He closes with a strong appeal to him to leave the South,
inasmuch as political conditions at that time seemed to render
the future of that section extremely doubtful.
A still more noteworthy characteristic of Lanier's scholarship
is the modernness of his work. It is a striking fact that every subject
he wrote about has more and more engaged the attention of scholars
since his time. One may not agree with any of his ideas,
and may be convinced of the superficiality of his treatment of literature,
but there is no question of the insight manifested by him
in seizing upon those subjects that have been of notable interest
to recent scholars. When he lectured about Shakespeare, for instance,
he did not indulge in any of the moralizing that had been
characteristic of German commentators. On the other hand,
he put himself in thorough accord with the work outlined
by Dr. Furnivall and his fellow workers in their efforts
to study and interpret Shakespeare as a whole. "The first necessity,"
said Dr. Furnivall in the introduction to the Leopold Shakespeare (1877),
"is to regard Shakespeare as a whole, his works as a living organism,
each a member of one created unity, the whole a tree of healing and of comfort
to the nations, a growth from small beginnings to mighty ends."
And again: "As the growth is more and more closely watched and discerned,
we shall more and more clearly see that his metre, his words,
his grammar and syntax, move but with the deeper changes of mind and soul
of which they are outward signs, and that all the faculties of the man
went onward together. . . . This subject of the growth,
the oneness of Shakespeare . . . is the special business of the present,
the second school of Victorian students . . . as antiquarian illustration,
emendation, and verbal criticism were of the first school.
The work of the first school we have to carry on, not to leave undone;
the work of our own second school we have to do." Into this study,
thus outlined by the founder of the New Shakespeare Society,
Lanier threw himself with unabated zeal.
The fact is all the more remarkable when we compare his writing on Shakespeare
with Swinburne's book published during the same year. Swinburne has
only words of contempt for the investigations of the New Shakespeare Society,
whom he characterizes as "learned and laborious men who could hear
only with their fingers. They will pluck out the heart, not of Hamlet's,
but of Shakespeare's mystery by the means of a metrical test; and this test
is to be applied by a purely arithmetical process. . . . Every man,
woman, and child born with five fingers on each hand was henceforward
better qualified as a critic than any poet or scholar of time past."
He calls them "metre-mongers" and the "bastard brood of scribblers".
Lanier, however, while carefully avoiding the methods and principles
of a mere dry-as-dust, spiritualizes all their facts,
and works out in passages of remarkable beauty and eloquence
the growth of Shakespeare's mind and art. To Lanier a metrical test or a date
is no insignificant thing. "Many a man," he says, "may feel inclined to say,
Why potter about your dates and chronologies? . . . But it so happens
that here a whole view of the greatest mind the human race has yet evolved
hangs essentially upon dates." Lanier's reverence for exact scholarship
and his application of seemingly technical standards do not interfere at all
with his deeper appreciation of Shakespeare's plays. While he overstated
the autobiographical value of a chronological study of the plays,
-- reading into this study meanings that are not warranted
by the facts, -- it must be said that it is difficult to find
in the writings of Americans on Shakespeare more significant passages
than chapters xx-xxiv of "Shakspere and His Forerunners".
Other illustrations of the modernness of Lanier's scholarly work are easy
to cite. His plan for the publication of a book of Elizabethan sonnets,
while not realized by him, has been carried out during the past year
in a far more extensive and scholarly way than he could have done it
by Mr. Sidney Lee. In the light of the recent scholar's investigation,
many of Lanier's ideas with regard to the autobiographical
value of the sonnets vanish, but his insight into the need
of the study of the Elizabethan sonnets is none the less notable.
He was the first American to indicate the necessity for the study of the novel
as a form of literature that was worthy of serious thought.
Lecture courses and books on the novel have multiplied at a rapid rate
during the past decade. Whatever may be one's idea of the permanent value
of the "Science of English Verse", it is evident that it was a pioneer book
in a field which has been much cultivated within recent years.
The thesis of the book will be discussed in a later chapter;
here it needs to be said that it is one of the best pieces of original work
yet produced by an English scholar in America, -- in it are seen at their best
the qualities that have been noted as distinctive in the author's work.
All these very essential characteristics of a scholar Lanier had.
He had not the time to secure results from the plans that he clearly saw.
He was moving in the right direction. No scholar should ever speak of him
but with reverent lips. Without the training, or the equipment, or the time,
of more fortunate scholars of our own day, he should be an inspiration
to all men who have scholarly ideals. If not a great scholar himself,
he wanted to be one, and he had the finest appreciation of all who were.
And besides, did he not have something which is often lacking in scholars?
There is more science, more criticism now in American universities,
but it would be well to keep in view the ideals of men who saw
the spiritual significance of scholarship. President Gilman realized this
when he wrote to Lanier: "I think your scheme (of winter lectures) may be
admirably worked in, not only with our major and minor courses in English,
but with all our literary courses, French and German, Latin and Greek.
The teachers of these subjects pursue chiefly LANGUAGE courses.
We need among us some one like you, loving literature and poetry,
and treating it in such a way as to enlist and inspire many students. . . .
I think your aims and your preparation admirable."
Dr. Gilman refers here to a scheme for a course in English literature
outlined by the poet in the summer of 1879. Lanier indicated
three distinct courses of study which would tend to give to students
(1) a vocabulary of idiomatic English words and phrases,
(2) a stock of illustrative ideas, (3) acquaintance with
modern literary forms. To secure the first point, he suggests
that students should read with a view to gathering strong and homely
English words and phrases from a study of authors ranging from
the Scotch poets of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries
to Swift and Emerson. To secure ideas, the student should study
systems of thought, ancient and modern. "The expansion of mental range,
as well as special facilities in expression, attainable by such a course,
cannot be too highly estimated." Under the third head he suggests
the study of various forms of writing, -- an idea which has been carried out
in recent years. The ultimate end of all this study, however,
is "the spiritual consolation and refreshment of literature
when the day's work is over, the delight of sitting with
a favorite poet or essayist at evening, the enlargement of sympathy,
derivable from powerful individual presentations such as
Shakespeare's or George Eliot's; the gentle influences
of Sir Thomas Browne or Burton or Lamb or Hood, the repose of Wordsworth,
the beauty of Keats, the charm of Tennyson should be brought out
so as to initiate friendships between special students and particular authors,
which may be carried on through life."*
--
* `The Independent', March 18, 1886.
--
In another letter he wrote still further of his plans, clearly distinguishing
between the popular lectures and the more technical work
of the University class-room. It is a long letter, but gives so well
Lanier's idea of his work in the University and his plans for the future
that it serves better than much comment: --
180 St. Paul Street, Baltimore, Md.,
July 13, 1879.
My dear Mr. Gilman, -- I see, from your letter, that I did not
clearly explain my scheme of lectures.
The course marked "Class Lectures" is meant for advanced students,
and involves the hardest kind of University work on their part.
Perhaps you will best understand the scope of the tasks
which this course will set before the student by reading the inclosed theses
which I should distribute among the members of the class as soon as I
should have discovered their mental leanings and capacities sufficiently,
and which I should require to be worked out by the end of the scholastic year.
I beg you to read these with some care: I send only seven of them,
but they will be sufficient to show you the nature of the work which I propose
to do with the `University student'. I should like my main efforts
to take that direction; I wish to get some Americans at hard work
in pure literature; and will be glad if the public lectures in Hopkins Hall
shall be merely accessory to my main course. With this view,
as you look over the accompanying theses, please observe: --
1. That each of these involves original research and will
-- if properly carried out -- constitute a genuine contribution
to modern literary scholarship;
2. That they are so arranged as to fall in with various other studies
and extend their range, -- for example, the first one being suitable
to a student of philosophy who is pursuing Anglo-Saxon,
the second to one who is studying the Transition Period of English,
the sixth to one who is studying Elizabethan English, and so on;
3. That each one necessitates diligent study of some great English work,
not as a philological collection of words, but as pure literature; and
4. That they keep steadily in view, as their ultimate object,
that strengthening of manhood, that enlarging of sympathy,
that glorifying of moral purpose, which the student unconsciously gains,
not from any direct didacticism, but from this constant association
with our finest ideals and loftiest souls.
Thus you see that while the course of "Class Lectures" submitted to you
nominally centres about the three plays of Shakspere* therein named,
it really takes these for texts, and involves, in the way
of commentary and of thesis, the whole range of English poetry.
In fact I have designed it as a thorough preparation
for the serious study of the poetic art in its whole outcome, hoping that,
if I should carry it out successfully, the Trustees might find it wise
next year to create either a Chair of Poetry or a permanent lectureship
covering the field above indicated. It is my fervent belief that
to take classes of young men and to preach them the gospel according-to-Poetry
is to fill the most serious gap in our system of higher education;
I think one can already perceive a certain narrowing of sympathy
and -- what is even worse -- an unsymmetric development of faculty,
both intellectual and moral, from a too exclusive devotion to Science
which Science itself would be the first to condemn.
--
* `Midsummer Night's Dream', `Hamlet', and `The Tempest'.
--
As to the first six class lectures on "The Physics and Metaphysics of Poetry":
they unfold my system of English Prosody, in which I should
thoroughly drill every student until he should be able to note down,
in musical signs, the rhythm of any English poem. This drilling
would continue through the whole course, inasmuch as I regard
a mastery of the principles set forth in those lectures as vitally important
to all systematic progress in the understanding and enjoyment of poetry.
I should have added, apropos of this class course, that there ought to be
one examination each week, to every two lectures.
In the first interview we had, after my appointment, it was your intention
to place this study among those required by the University for a degree.
I hope sincerely you have not abandoned this idea; and the course
outlined in "Class lectures" forwarded to you the other day,
and in the theses of which I send the first seven herewith,
seems to me the best to begin with. If it should be made
a part of the "Major Course in English" (where it seems properly to belong),
I could easily arrange a simpler and less arduous modification of it
for the corresponding "Minor Course".
I am so deeply interested in this matter -- of making a finer fibre
for all our young American manhood by leading our youth in proper relations
with English poetry -- that at the risk of consuming your whole vacation
with reading this long and unconscionable letter I will mention
that I have nearly completed three works which are addressed
to the practical accomplishment of the object named, by supplying
a wholly different method of study from that mischievous one
which has generally arisen from a wholly mistaken use of the numerous
"Manuals" of English literature. These works are my three text-books:
(1) "The Science of English Verse", in which the student's path
is cleared of a thousand errors and confusions which have
obstructed this study for a long time, by a very simple system
founded upon the physical relations of sound; (2) "From Caedmon to Chaucer",
in which I present all the most interesting Anglo-Saxon poems
remaining to us, in a form which renders their literary quality appreciable
by all students, whether specially pursuing Old English or not,
thus placing these poems where they ought always to have stood,
as a sort of grand and simple vestibule through which
the later mass of English poetry is to be approached; and (3) my "Chaucer",
which I render immediately enjoyable, without preliminary preparation,
by an interlined glossarial explanation of the original text,
and an indication (with hyphens) of those terminal syllables
affecting the rhythm which have decayed out of the modern tongue.
I am going to print these books and sell them myself,
on the cheap plan which has been so successfully adopted by Edward Arber,
lecturer on English literature in University College, London.
I have been working on them for two months; in two more they will be finished;
and by the middle of November I hope to have them ready for use as text-books.
If they succeed, I shall complete the series next year with (4) a "Spenser"
on the same plan with the "Chaucer", (5) "The Minor Elizabethan Song-Writers",
and (6) "The Minor Elizabethan Dramatists"; the steady aim of the whole being
to furnish a working set of books which will familiarize the student
with the actual works of English poets, rather than with
their names and biographers.
Pray forgive this merciless letter. I could not resist the temptation
to unfold to you all my hopes and plans connected with my University work
among your young men which I so eagerly anticipate.
I will trouble you to return these notes of theses when you have examined them
at leisure.
Faithfully yours,
Sidney Lanier.*
--
* Published in `South Atlantic Quarterly', April, 1905.
--
He endeavored to make his courses fit in with other courses of the curriculum
in Greek, Latin, and modern literatures: --
My dear Sir, -- I had been meditating, as a second course of public lectures
during next term, if you should want them, -- twelve studies
on "The English Satirists"; and on my visit to the University to-day
I observed from the bulletin that Mr. Rabillon is now lecturing
on "The French Satirists". It occurs to me, therefore, that perhaps
some additional interest in the subject might be excited if my course
on the English satirists should follow the completion of Mr. Rabillon's
-- which I suppose will not be before the holidays -- and should be given
in January and February, instead of the course mentioned in my note to you
this morning. I may add that if some other gentleman would offer courses
on the Greek and Latin satirists, we might make a cyclus of it.
Faithfully yours,
Sidney Lanier.
435 North Calvert Street,
Saturday evening.
Lanier's public lectures were largely attended. What has been said
of the Peabody lectures applies to the University lectures.
Of the effect produced by him in his smaller University classes,
one of his students writes: --
"I think that it was in the winter of 1879-80 that I heard
that Mr. Lanier was to conduct a class in English Literature
at the Johns Hopkins University, where I was then a Fellow. My field of work
was Aesthetics and the History of Art, and as I was eagerly searching
for chances to broaden and deepen my ideas, I enrolled myself in the class.
We were not many, and I have no recollection of individuals in the group.
Neither can I distinctly recall either the topics taken up
or the method followed, except that most of the hours consisted of
extended readings by Mr. Lanier with all sorts of interjected remarks,
often setting aside the reading altogether. That the course
was a real source of intellectual profit to me I cannot doubt,
but not in the form of definite information or systemized opinion.
The benefit lay in a subtle expansion of the power of appreciation
and an undefinable exaltation of the instincts of taste
that I have since learned were more precious than any
precise increments of cold knowledge.
"What I do remember vividly is the fact that often, almost regularly,
I used to wait for Mr. Lanier after the class (which was held in the evening)
and walk home with him a mile or so, sometimes walking up and down
for a long time. On these occasions we doubtless talked
of all manner of things. I was only a student trying to `find himself'
in reference to the vast areas of thought. I was eager
for sympathy and for inspiration. My life-work was still unchosen,
but I was conscious of an intense drawing toward artistic topics --
not much with the creative impulse of the artist, but rather with
the analytic and rational desire of the student. I was beginning to have
a profound sense of the interrelations of the fine arts with each other
and of all of them with the movement of history. I wanted a chance
to talk out what I was thinking and to get new lights and promptings.
So in our slow strolls homeward I presume that I often babbled freely
of my studies in architecture and music, and my inconsequent remarks often
led Mr. Lanier to speak somewhat freely, too, of his speculations and fancies.
I now recall with wonder how he put me on such a footing of equality
that I often quite forgot the difference in age and experience between us
and almost felt him to be a companion student. I now see that this
was the sign of two notable traits, -- the extreme native Southern courtesy
that clothed him always in all his dealings with every one,
and the essential youthfulness of his mind when moving among
his favorite subjects. His was surely one of the finest of sympathies,
delicate, sensitive, elastic, vital to the highest degree,
the like of which is all too rare among men, though hardly described
by the term `feminine'. In it breathed a genuine capacity for love
in the most noble sense, for he was ready to identify himself
with the interests of another, to etherealize and dignify
what he thought he saw in them, and thus absolutely to transform them
by the alchemy of his touch. And, the more I think of it,
the more I recognize that his soul was incapable of aging. . . .
This absolute freshness of heart and spirit seems to me to have been
one of the highest notes of Mr. Lanier's genius. Here he was clearly allied
to many a more famous poet or painter or musician."*
--
* Letter to the author from Professor Waldo S. Pratt,
now of Hartford Theological Seminary.
--
Among American poets Lanier has the same place with regard
to the teaching of English that Lowell and Longfellow have
in the study of modern languages. There were, to be sure,
some greater English scholars in this country during the seventies
than Lanier was, just as there were more scientific
students of modern languages in the time of Longfellow and Lowell.
Professors Child of Harvard, Lounsbury of Yale, March of Lafayette,
Corson of Cornell, and Price of Randolph-Macon College
-- afterwards of Columbia University -- have a commanding place
in the development of English teaching which has become
such a marked feature of educational progress since, say, 1870.
Throughout schools and colleges and universities English is now
firmly established as perhaps the most important branch of study.
It is to the credit of Lanier that before much had been done in this direction
he saw the great need of such work. Indeed, as early as 1868,
while examining the catalogue of a Southern university,
he jotted down in his note-book a suggestion that the most serious defect
in the curriculum was the lack of any English training.
It is true that there had been from time immemorial chairs of belles lettres
in institutions of learning, but the department had rather to do
with things in general. Even where English was studied there was a tendency
to use manuals of literature rather than the works of authors themselves;
and there is now a tendency to use literature as the basis for
philological work. Lanier's ideas strike one as singularly balanced and sane,
suggesting a compromise between the warring camps of recent years.
By reason of Lanier's sympathy with the ideals of the University,
and his influence over some few students, he has a permanent place
in the history of Johns Hopkins. Mr. Edmund Clarence Stedman
wrote to President Gilman: "It is a fine thing that such an institution
as your University should have its shrines -- and among them that of
its own poet, in a certain sense canonized, and with his most ideal memory
a lasting part of its associations." The University has, indeed,
kept the fame and the personality of Lanier fresh in its memory.
As one enters McCoy Hall and notices the life-size portraits
of the first president and the first members of the faculty,
he misses the face of Lanier; but on entering Donavan Hall,
just at the end of the main hallway, he finds himself in a room
dedicated to the highest uses of poetry. There are pictures of men
who have delivered lectures on the Percy Turnbull and Donavan foundations,
manuscript letters of distinguished American poets and critics,
and the bust of Lanier, whose spirit seems to dominate the surroundings.
It is the best of the likenesses of the poet, and is the source of admiration
to all visitors, as well as an inspiration to all who labor at Johns Hopkins.
Those who were never thrilled by the lustre of his dark eyes or never heard
the tones of his voice as he interpreted passages of great poetry,
may find some satisfaction in such an image.