THE AGE OF POPE
TIME-CHART OF THE CHIEF AUTHORS
_The thick line shows the period of active literary work_
1700 1710 1720 1730 1740 1750
| ║ [142]║ | | | ║ |
Pope |......║=======║================================║ |
(1688–1744) | | ║ | | | |
| ║ | | ║ | | |
Prior |......║=================║ | | |
(1664–1721) | | | | | |
| | ║ | | | ║[143]║ |
Young |..........|...║==============================║=====║..|
(1683–1765) | | | | | |
| ║ | | ║[144]| ║ | ║ |
Swift |...║======================║============║...|.....║ |
(1667–1745) | | | ║ | | |
| ║ |║[145] ║ | | | |
Addison |...║=======║======║ | | | |
(1672–1719) | |║ | | | |
| ║ |║[145] | ║ | | |
Steele |.....║=====║=================║ | | |
(1672–1729) | |║ | | | |
|║ | ║[146] | ║ | |
Defoe |║=================║===============║ | |
(1659–1731) | | ║ | | | |
| | | | | |
THE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND (1700–50)
In the beginning of the eighteenth century the old quarrels take on new
features.
=1. The Rise of the Political Parties.= In the reign of Charles II
the terms “Whig” and “Tory” first became current; by the year 1700 they
were in everybody’s mouth. About that time domestic politicians became
sharply cleft into two groups that were destined to become established
as the basis of the British system. Domestic affairs, while they never
approached the stage of bloodshed, took on a new acrimony that was
to affect literature deeply. Actual points of political faith upon
which the parties were divided are not of great importance to us here;
but, generally speaking, we may say that the Whig party stood for the
pre-eminence of personal freedom as opposed to the Tory view of royal
divine right. Hence the Whigs supported the Hanoverian succession,
whereas the Tories were Jacobites. The Tories, whose numbers were
recruited chiefly from the landed classes, objected to the foreign war
upon the score that they had to pay taxes to prolong it; and the Whigs,
representing the trading classes generally, were alleged to be anxious
to continue the war, as it brought them increased prosperity. In the
matter of religion the Whigs were Low Churchmen and the Tories High
Churchmen.
=2. The Foreign War.= This War of the Spanish Succession was
brilliantly successful under the leadership of Marlborough, who,
besides being a great general, was a prominent Tory politician. The
Tories, as the war seemed to be indefinitely prolonged, supplanted
(1710) the Whigs, with whom they had been co-operating in the
earlier stages of the war, and in 1713 they concluded the war by
the unfortunate Treaty of Utrecht. Contemporary literature is much
concerned both with the war and the peace.
=3. The Succession.= When Anne ascended the throne the succession
seemed to be safe enough, for she had a numerous family. Nevertheless,
her children all died before her, and in 1701 it became necessary to
pass the Act of Settlement, a Whig measure by which the crown was
conferred upon the House of Hanover. On the death of Anne, in the
year 1714, the succession took effect, in spite of the efforts of the
Tories, who were anxious to restore the Stuarts. The events of this
year 1714 deeply influenced the lives of Addison, Steele, Swift, and
many other writers of lesser degree.
THE AGE OF PROSE
The age of Pope intensified the movement that, as we have seen, began
after the Restoration. The drift away from poetical passion was more
pronounced than ever, the ideals of “wit” and “common sense” were
more zealously pursued, and the lyrical note was almost unheard. In
its place we find in poetry the overmastering desire for neatness
and perspicuity, for edge and point in style, and for correctness in
the technique of the popular forms of poetry. These aims received
expression in the almost crazy devotion to the heroic couplet, the
aptest medium for the purpose. In this type of poetry the supreme
master is Pope; yet even the most ardent admirer of Pope must admit his
defects as a poet of the passions. Indeed, one of his most competent
biographers[147] asserts that “most of his work may be fairly described
as rhymed prose, differing from prose not in substance or in tone of
feeling, but only in the form of expression.”
Thus the poet who is admitted to be far and away the most important
of the age is considered to be largely prosaic. On the other hand,
the only other great names of the period--Swift, Addison, Steele,
Defoe--are those of prose-writers primarily, and prose-writers of a
very high quality.
The main reason for this temporary predominance of prose is hard to
discover. One can put it down only to the mysterious ebb and flow, the
alternate coming and going, of the spirit of poetry. This alternation
is noticeable through all the stages of our literary history, and
nowhere is it more distinct than in the century we are discussing. The
spirit of poetry was soaring to its culmination in the Elizabethan age;
during the era of Dryden it was fluttering to earth; in Pope’s lifetime
it was crouching “like veiled lightnings asleep”; but it was soon to
arise with new and divine strength.
Some other outstanding conditions of the age remain to be considered.
Most of them, it will be noticed, help to give prose its dominating
position.
=1. Political Writing.= We have already noticed the rise of the two
political parties, accompanied by an increased acerbity of political
passion. This development gave a fresh importance to men of literary
ability, for both parties competed for the assistance of their pens,
bribed the authors with places and pensions (or promises of them), and
admitted them more or less deeply into their counsels. In previous ages
authors had had to depend on their patrons, often capricious beings,
or upon the length of their subscription lists; they now acquired an
independence and an importance that turned the heads of some of them.
Hardly a writer of the time is free from the political bias. Swift
became a virulent Tory, Addison a tepid Whig; Steele was Whig and Tory
in turn. It was indeed the Golden Age of political pamphleteering, and
the writers made the most of it.
=2. The Clubs and Coffee-houses.= Politicians are necessarily
gregarious, and the increased activity in politics led to a great
addition to the number of political clubs and coffee-houses, which
became the _foci_ of fashionable and public life. In the first
number of _The Tatler_ Steele announces as a matter of course that
the activities of his new journal will be based upon the clubs. “All
accounts of Gallantry, Pleasure and Entertainment shall be under
the article of White’s Chocolate-House; Poetry under that of Will’s
Coffee-House; Learning under the title of Grecian; Foreign and Domestic
News you will have from Saint James’ Coffee-House.” These coffee-houses
became the “clearing-houses” for literary business, and from them
branched purely literary associations such as the famous Scriblerus and
Kit-Cat Clubs, those haunts of the fashionable writers which figure so
prominently in the writings of the period.
=3. Periodical Writing.= The development of the periodical will be
noticed elsewhere (see pp. 267–8). It is sufficient here to point
out that the struggle for political mastery led both factions to
issue a swarm of _Examiners_, _Guardians_, _Freeholders_, and similar
publications. These journals were run by a band of vigorous and facile
prose-writers, who in their differing degrees of excellence represent
almost a new type in our literature.
=4. The New Publishing Houses.= The interest in politics, and
probably the decline in the drama, caused a great increase in the size
of the reading public. In its turn this aroused the activities of a
number of men who became the forerunners of the modern publishing
houses. Such were Edmund Curll (1675–1747), Jacob Tonson (1656–1736),
and John Dunton (1659–1733). These men employed numbers of needy
writers, who produced the translations, adaptations, and other popular
works of the time. It is unwise to judge a publisher by what authors
say of him, but the universal condemnation leveled against Curll and
his kind compels the belief that they were a breed of scoundrels who
preyed upon authors and public, and (what is more remarkable) upon one
another. The miserable race of hack-writers--venomously attacked by
Pope in _The Dunciad_--who existed on the scanty bounty of such
men lived largely in a thoroughfare near Moorfields called Grub Street,
the name of which has become synonymous with literary drudgery.
=5. The New Morality.= The immorality of the Restoration, which
had been almost entirely a Court phenomenon and was largely the
reaction against extreme Puritanism, soon spent itself. The natural
process of time was hastened by opinion in high quarters. William
III was a severe moralist, and Anne, his successor, was of the same
character. Thus we soon see a new tone in the writing of the time,
and a new attitude to life and morals. Addison, in an early number of
_The Spectator_, puts the new fashion in his own admirable way:
“I shall endeavour to enliven morality with wit, and to temper wit
with morality.” Another development of the same spirit is seen in the
revised opinion of women, who are treated with new respect and dignity.
Much coarseness is still to be felt, especially in satirical writing,
in which Swift, for instance, can be quite vile; but the general upward
tendency is undoubtedly there.
JONATHAN SWIFT (1667–1745)
=1. His Life.= Swift was born in Dublin, and, though both his parents
were English, his connection with Ireland was to be maintained more or
less closely till the day he died. His father dying before Jonathan’s
birth, the boy was thrown upon the charity of an uncle, who paid for
his education in Ireland. He seems to have been very wretched both
at his school at Kilkenny and at Trinity College, Dublin, where his
experiences went to confirm in him that savage melancholia that was to
endure all his life. Much of this distemper was due to purely physical
causes, for he suffered from an affection of the ear that ultimately
touched his brain and caused insanity. In 1686, at the age of nineteen,
he left Trinity College (it is said in disgrace), and in 1689 entered
the household of his famous kinsman Sir William Temple, under whose
encouragement he took holy orders, and on the death of Temple in 1699
obtained other secretarial and ecclesiastical appointments. His real
chance came in 1710, when the Tories overthrew the Marlborough faction
and came into office. To them Swift devoted the gigantic powers of his
pen, became a political star of some magnitude, and, after the manner
of the time, hoped for substantial rewards. He might have become a
bishop, but it is said that Queen Anne objected to the vigor of his
early writings; and in the wreck of the Tory party in 1715 all he
could save was the Deanery of St. Patrick’s, in Dublin. An embittered
man, he spent the last thirty years of his life in gloom, and largely
in retirement. He was involved in obscure but not dishonorable
philanderings with Esther Johnson (Stella) and Esther Vanhomrigh
(Vanessa), whose names figure prominently in his personal writings.
His last years were passed in silence and lunacy, and he expired (in
Johnson’s words) “a driveller and a show.”
=2. His Poetry.= Swift would have been among the first to smile at
any claim being advanced for him on the score of his being a great
poet, yet in bulk his verse is considerable, and in quality it is
striking. His poems were to a large extent recreations: odd verses
(sometimes humorously doggerel) to his friends; squibs and lampoons
on his political and private enemies, including the famous one on
Partridge, the quack astrologer; and one longish one, _Cadenus and
Vanessa_ (1730), which deals with his fancy for Esther Vanhomrigh.
In his poems he is as a rule lighter of touch and more placable in
humor than he is in his prose. His favorite meter is the octosyllabic
couplet, which he handles with a dexterity that reminds the reader of
Butler in _Hudibras_. He has lapses of taste, when be becomes coarse
and vindictive; and sometimes the verse, through mere indifference, is
badly strung and colloquially expressed.
The following is from some bitter verses he wrote (1735) on his own
death just before the final night of madness descended. Note the fierce
misery inadequately screened with savage scorn.
Yet thus, methinks, I hear them speak:
“See, how the Dean begins to break!
Poor gentleman, he droops apace!
You’ll plainly find it in his face.
That old vertigo in his head
Will never leave him, till he’s dead.
Besides, his memory decays:
He recollects not what he says;
He cannot call his friends to mind;
Forgets the place where last he dined;
Plies you with stories o’er and o’er;
He told them fifty times before.
How does he fancy we can sit
To hear his out-of-fashion wit?
But he takes up with younger folks,
Who for his wine will bear his jokes.
Faith, he must make his stories shorter,
Or change his comrades once a quarter:
In half the time he talks them round,
There must another set be found.”
=3. His Prose.= Almost in one bound Swift attained to a mastery of
English prose, and then maintained an astonishing level of excellence.
His first noteworthy book was _The Battle of the Books_, published
in 1704. The theme of this work is a well-worn one, being the dispute
between ancient and modern authors. At the time Swift wrote it his
patron, Sir William Temple, was engaged in the controversy, and Swift’s
tract was in support of his kinsman’s views. Swift gives the theme a
half allegorical, mock-heroic setting, in which the books in a library
at length literally contend with one another. The handling is vigorous
and illuminating, and refreshed with many happy remarks and allusions.
The famous passage where a bee, accidentally blundering into a spider’s
web, argues down the bitter remarks of the spider, is one of Swift’s
happiest efforts.
_The Tale of a Tub_, also published in 1704, though it was written as
early as 1696, is regarded by many as Swift’s best work. It certainly
reveals his power at its highest. It is a religious allegory, perhaps
suggested by the work of Bunyan, on three men: Peter, who stands for
the Roman Catholic Church; Jack, who represents the extreme Protestant
sects; and Martin, the personification of the Anglican and Lutheran
Churches. Each of the three has a coat left to him by his father, and
they have many experiences, beginning with the changes that they make
on the coats that have been left to them. As a narrative the book
soon loses clearness and coherence; but later a ferocious assault is
developed by Swift upon Peter and Jack. Martin escapes more lightly
than the others, and this is unusually discriminating on the part of
the author. The chief interest in the book lies in Swift’s uncanny
penetration of intellect, which thrusts itself into all manner of human
activities, and also in the weight and blighting scorn of his comment
upon those activities. The satire is irresistible. Nothing escapes
it; nothing can resist it. When he has finished we feel he has made a
wilderness of everything we call sacred and beautiful.
The great strength of Swift’s satiric method lies in its cosmic
elemental force. Unlike that of Pope, it is never paltry or mean. It
has a terrifying intensity, caused by an aloofness that is inflexible,
dominating, and unchallengeable. Yet _The Tale of a Tub_, while it
fully reveals the power that stamps him as a writer of the first rank,
throws into prominence the faults that seriously mar his achievement.
His satire is too indiscriminate, lashing out at whatever comes in
the way, whether it be good or bad. Secondly, it is often violent and
revoltingly cruel. Thirdly, it can be coarse and indecent. These flaws,
partly the common vices of the time, are likewise the fruit of his
mental malady, and they deepen as he grows older.
The following extract shows the suggestiveness of his allegory, the
corrosive power of his satire, and his redoubtable style:
Whenever it happened that any rogue of Newgate was condemned to
be hanged, Peter would offer him a pardon for a certain sum of
money; which when the poor caitiff had made all shifts to scrape
up, and send, his lordship would return a piece of paper in this
form:
“To all mayors, sheriffs, jailors, constables, bailiffs,
hangmen, etc. Whereas we are informed that A. B. remains in the
hands of some of you, under the sentence of death: We will and
command you, upon sight hereof to let the said prisoner depart
to his own habitation whether he stands condemned for murder,
etc., etc., for which this shall be your sufficient warrant; and
if you fail hereof, God damn you and yours to all eternity; and
so we bid you heartily farewell. Your most humble man’s man,
Emperor Peter.”
The wretches, trusting to this, lost their lives and money too.
Peter, however, became outrageously proud. He has been seen
to take three old high-crowned hats and clap them on his head
three-storey high, with a huge bunch of keys at his girdle, and
an angling-rod in his hand. In which guise, whoever went to
take him by the hand in the way of salutation, Peter, with much
grace, like a well-educated spaniel, would present them with
his foot; and if they refused his civility, then he would raise
it as high as their chops, and give them a damned kick in the
mouth, which has ever since been called a salute.
_The Tale of a Tub_
The next period of his life (1704–14) was occupied mainly in the
composition of political tracts, some of which are of great power.
Several of them were written for _The Examiner_, a Tory journal. They
include _Remarks on the Barrier Treaty_ (1712) and _The Public Spirit
of the Whigs_ (1714). To this period also belongs the _Journal to
Stella_, which is a kind of informal private log-book written by him
and sent regularly to Esther Johnson. It has all Swift’s shrewdness and
vivacity, without much of the usual scorn and coarseness. It is not
as intimate and revealing as the diary of Pepys, yet it gives us many
glimpses of the inner man: vain and arrogant, ambitious and crafty, but
none the less a generous and considerate friend and a loyal ally.
During the third period--that of his final stay in Ireland--the shadow
deepens. The earlier years produce one of the most compelling efforts
of his pen. He supported the Irish in their revolt against “Wood’s
halfpence,” writing in their cause his _Drapier’s Letters_ (1724).
This gained for him an almost embarrassing popularity. Then followed
some miscellaneous political work, and then his longest and most famous
book, _Gulliver’s Travels_ (1726). The main idea of this book is
an old one, being at least as old as the time of Lucian, a Greek writer
of the second century: it deals with imaginary voyages, in Gulliver’s
case among the pigmies (Lilliputians), the giants (Brobdingnagians),
the moonstruck philosophers (Laputans), and the race of horses, with
their human serfs the Yahoos.
_Gulliver’s Travels_ resembles its fellow-allegory _The Pilgrim’s
Progress_ in its popularity and human interest; but in temper the two
books are worlds apart. Bunyan views human failings with a discerning
eye, but he accepts them with a benign quiescence, and with a tempered
faith in man’s ultimate redemption. Swift, on the other hand, said to
Pope, “I heartily hate and detest that animal called man,” and this
book is an elaboration of that attitude. He magnifies man into a giant,
and then he diminishes him into a mannikin, and he finds him wicked
and insolent and mean; he regards man in his wisdom, and he finds him
a fool; in despair, in the last book of the _Travels_, he turns from
man altogether, and in the brute creation he discovers a charity and
sagacity before which humanity grovels as a creature beastly beyond
measure. The last stages of the book are morbid and revolting to the
point of insanity.
The two earlier stages of the _Travels_ have a charm and vivacity
that delight old and young. The bitterness of the satire lurks in the
allegory, but it is so delicately tinseled over that it does not repel.
The crowded incidents are plausible and lively, and they are often
spiced with a quaint and alluring humor; his comments upon mankind are
shrewd and arresting, as well as satirical, and are yet not brutal nor
obscene. The style is Swift’s best: not mannered or labored; clean,
powerful, and tireless; easy without being slovenly, and as clear as
summer noonday.
The queen, who often used to hear me talk of my sea-voyages,
and took all occasions to divert me when I was melancholy,
asked me whether I understood how to handle a sail or an oar,
and whether a little exercise of rowing might not be convenient
for my health. I answered, that I understood both very well;
for although my proper employment had been to be surgeon or
doctor to the ship, yet often upon a pinch I was forced to work
like a common mariner. But I could not see how this could be
done in their country, where the smallest wherry was equal to
a first-rate man-of-war among us, and such a boat as I could
manage would never live in any of their rivers. Her majesty
said, if I would contrive a boat, her own joiner should make
it, and she would provide a place for me to sail in. The
fellow was an ingenious workman, and, by my instructions, in
ten days finished a pleasure-boat, with all its tackling, able
conveniently to hold eight Europeans. When it was finished,
the queen was so delighted that she ran with it in her lap to
the king, who ordered it to be put in a cistern full of water
with me in it by way of trial; where I could not manage my two
sculls, or little oars, for want of room. But the queen had
before contrived another project. She ordered the joiner to
make a wooden trough of three hundred feet long, fifty broad,
and eight deep, which being well pitched, to prevent leaking,
was placed on the floor along the wall in an outer room of the
palace. It had a cock near the bottom to let out the water, when
it began to grow stale; and two servants could easily fill it in
half an hour. Here I often used to row for my own diversion, as
well as that of the queen and her ladies, who thought themselves
well entertained with my skill and agility. Sometimes I would
put up my sail, and then my business was only to steer, while
the ladies gave me a gale with their fans; and when they were
weary, some of the pages would blow my sail forward with their
breath, while I showed my art by steering starboard or larboard,
as I pleased. When I had done, Glumdalclitch always carried back
my boat into her closet, and hung it on a nail to dry.
JOSEPH ADDISON (1672–1718)
=1. His Life.= Educated at the Charterhouse, Addison went to Oxford,
where he became a Fellow of Magdalen College. He early made his mark
as a serious and accomplished scholar, and seems to have attracted
the notice of the Whig leaders, who marked him out as a future
literary prop of their faction. He obtained a traveling scholarship of
three hundred pounds a year, and saw much of Europe under favorable
conditions. Then the misfortunes of the Whigs in 1703 reduced him to
poverty. In 1704, it is said at the instigation of the leaders of the
Whigs, he wrote the poem _The Campaign_, praising the war policy of
the Whigs in general and the worthiness of Marlborough in particular.
This poem brought him fame and fortune. He obtained many official
appointments and pensions, married a dowager countess (1716), and
became a Secretary of State (1717). Two years later he died, at the age
of forty-seven.
=2. His Poetry.= In his Latin verses Addison attained early
distinction. These verses were highly praised at a time when praise
for proficiency in such a medium was of some significance. Then his
_Campaign_ in 1704 gave him a reputation as one of the major poets of
the age. The poem is poor enough. It is written in the heroic couplet,
and with some truth it has been called a “rhymed gazette.” The story
is little more than a pompous catalogue of places and persons; the
style is but mediocre, and warms only when it is feebly stirred by the
ignorant enthusiasm that a sedentary civilian feels for the glory of
war. The hero is Marlborough, who is drawn on a scale of epic grandeur.
The most famous passage of the work is that comparing the general to
the angel that rides the storm. The poem literally made Addison’s
fortune; for after reading it the Whig Lord Treasurer Godolphin gave
him the valuable appointment of Commissioner of Appeals.
’Twas then great Marlbro’s mighty soul was prov’d,
That, in the shock of charging hosts unmov’d,
Amidst confusion, horror, and despair,
Examin’d all the dreadful scenes of war;
In peaceful thought the field of death survey’d,
To fainting squadrons sent the timely aid,
Inspir’d repuls’d battalions to engage,
And taught the doubtful battle where to rage.
So when an angel by divine command
With rising tempests shakes a guilty land,
Such as of late o’er pale Britannia past,
Calm and serene he drives the furious blast;
And pleas’d th’ Almighty’s orders to perform,
Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm.
His only other poetical works worthy of notice are his hymns, which are
melodious, scholarly, and full of a cheerful piety. The one that begins
“The spacious firmament on high” is among the best.
=3. His Drama.= Addison was lucky in his greatest dramatic effort, just
as he was lucky in his longest poem. In 1713 he produced the tragedy of
_Cato_, part of which had been in manuscript as early as 1703. It is of
little merit, and shows that Addison, whatever his other qualities may
be, is no dramatist. It is written in laborious blank verse, in which
wooden characters declaim long, dull speeches. But it caught the ear
of the political parties, both of which in the course of the play saw
pithy references to the inflamed passions of the time. The play had
the remarkable run of thirty-five nights, and was revived with much
success. Addison also attempted an opera, _Rosamond_ (1706), which was
a failure; and the prose comedy of _The Drummer_ (about 1715) is said,
with some reason, to be his also. If it is, it adds nothing to his
reputation.
=4. His Prose.= Several political pamphlets are ascribed to Addison,
but as a pamphleteer he is not impressive. He lacked the brutal
directness of Swift, whose pen was a terror to his opponents. It is in
fact almost entirely as an essayist that Addison is justly famed.
These essays began almost casually. On April 12, 1709, Steele published
the first number of _The Tatler_, a periodical that was to appear
thrice weekly. Addison, who was a school and college friend of Steele,
saw and liked the new publication, and offered his services as a
contributor. His offer was accepted, and his first contribution, a
semi-political one, appeared in No. 18. Henceforward Addison wrote
regularly for the paper, contributing 42 numbers, which may be compared
with Steele’s share of 188. _The Tatler_ finished in January, 1711;
then in March of the same year Steele began _The Spectator_, which was
issued daily. The paper had some variations of fortune, price, and
time of issue, but eventually it ran until December, 1712; obtained
an unprecedented popularity (it was said that in its palmiest days
it sold ten thousand copies of each issue), and exercised a great
influence upon the reading public of the period. In _The Spectator_
Addison rapidly became the dominating spirit, wrote 274 essays out
of a complete total of 555, and wholly shaped its policy when Steele
tired of the project. Steele wrote 236 essays. In March, 1713, Addison
assisted Steele with _The Guardian_, which Steele began. It was
only a moderate success, and terminated after 175 numbers, Addison
contributing 53.
In all, we thus have from Addison’s pen nearly four hundred essays,
which are of nearly uniform length, of almost unvarying excellence of
style, and of a wide diversity of subject. He set out to be a mild
censor of the morals of the time, and most of his compositions deal
with topical subjects--fashions, headdresses, practical jokes, polite
conversation. Deeper themes were handled in a popular and sketchy
fashion--immorality, jealousy, prayer, death, and drunkenness. Politics
were touched, but gingerly. Sometimes he adopted the allegory as a
means of throwing his ideas vividly before his readers; and so we
have the popular _Vision of Mirza_ and the political allegory of
_Public Credit_. Literary criticism, of a mild and cautious kind,
found a prominent place in the essays, as well as many half-personal,
half-jocular editorial communications to the readers. And, lastly,
there was the famous series dealing with the Spectator Club.
It is certain that Steele first hit on the idea of Sir Roger de
Coverley, an imaginary eccentric old country knight who frequented
the Spectator Club in London. Around the knight were grouped a number
of contrasted characters, also members of the mythical club. Such
were Will Honeycomb, a middle-aged beau; Sir Andrew Freeport, a city
merchant; Captain Sentry, a soldier; and Mr. Spectator, a shy, reticent
person, who bears a resemblance to Addison himself. Addison seized
upon the idea of the club; gave it life, interest, and adventure;
cast over it the charm of his pleasantly sub-acid humor; and finished
up by making the knight die with affecting deliberation and decorum.
Sandwiched between essays on other topics, this series appeared at
intervals in the pages of _The Spectator_, and added immensely to
the popularity of the journal. In literature it has an added value.
If Addison had pinned the Coverley papers together with a stronger
plot; if, instead of only referring to the widow who had stolen the
knight’s affections, he had introduced a definite love-theme; if he had
introduced some important female characters, we should have had the
first regular novel in our tongue. As it is, this essay-series brings
us within measurable distance of the genuine eighteenth-century novel.
We give an extract to illustrate both his humor and his style. His
humor is of a rare order. It is delicate, almost furtive; sometimes it
nearly descends to a snigger, but it seldom reveals anything that is
not gentlemanly, tolerant, and urbane. To Swift, with his virile mind,
such a temper seemed effeminate and priggish. “I will not meddle with
_The Spectator_,” he wrote to Stella; “let him _fair sex_ it to the
world’s end.”
His style has often been deservedly praised. It is the pattern of the
middle style, never slipshod, or obscure, or unmelodious. He has an
infallible instinct for the proper word, and an infallible ear for
a subdued and graceful rhythm. In this fashion his prose moves with
a demure and pleasing grace, in harmony with his subject, with his
object, and with himself.
As I was yesterday morning walking with Sir Roger before his
house, a country fellow brought him a huge fish, which, he told
him, Mr William Wimble had caught that very morning; and that he
presented it with his service to him, and intended to come and
dine with him. At the same time he delivered a letter, which my
friend read to me as soon as the messenger left him.
“SIR ROGER,
“I desire you to accept of a jack, which is the best I have
caught this season. I intend to come and stay with you a week,
and see how the perch bite in the Black river. I observed with
some concern, the last time I saw you upon the bowling-green,
that your whip wanted a lash to it; I will bring half a dozen
with me that I twisted last week, which I hope will serve you
all the time you are in the country. I have not been out of the
saddle for six days last past, having been at Eton with Sir
John’s eldest son. He takes to his learning hugely.
“I am, Sir, your humble servant,
“WILL WIMBLE”
This extraordinary letter, and message that accompanied it,
made me very curious to know the character and quality of the
gentleman who sent them; which I found to be as follow:--Will
Wimble is younger brother to a baronet, and descended of the
ancient family of the Wimbles. He is now between forty and
fifty; but being bred to no business and born to no estate,
he generally lives with his eldest brother as superintendent
of his game. He hunts a pack of dogs better than any man in
the country, and is very famous for finding out a hare. He is
extremely well versed in all the little handicrafts of an idle
man. He makes a May-fly to a miracle; and furnishes the whole
country with angle-rods. As he is a good-natured, officious
fellow, and very much esteemed on account of his family, he is a
welcome guest at every house, and keeps up a good correspondence
among all the gentlemen about him. He carries a tulip root in
his pocket from one to another, or exchanges a puppy between a
couple of friends, that live perhaps in the opposite sides of
the country. He now and then presents a pair of garters of his
own knitting to their mothers or sisters; and raises a great
deal of mirth among them, by inquiring as often as he meets
them, how they wear? These gentleman-like manufactures and
obliging little humours make Will the darling of the country.
_The Spectator_
SIR RICHARD STEELE (1672–1729)
=1. His Life.= Steele had a varied and rather an unfortunate
career, due largely to his own ardent disposition. Like Addison, he was
educated at the Charterhouse, and then proceeded to Oxford, leaving
without taking a degree. His next exploit was to enter the army as
a cadet; then he took to politics, became a member of Parliament,
and wrote for the Whigs. Steele, however, was too impetuous to be a
successful politician, and he was expelled from the House of Commons.
He became a Tory; quarreled with Addison on private and public
grounds; issued a number of periodicals; and died ten years after his
fellow-essayist.
=2. His Drama.= Steele wrote some prose comedies, the best of which are
_The Funeral_ (1701), _The Lying Lover_ (1703), _The Tender Husband_
(1705), and _The Conscious Lovers_ (1722). They follow in general
scheme the Restoration comedies, but are without the grossness and
impudence of their models. They have, indeed, been criticized as being
too moral; yet in places they are lively, and reflect much of Steele’s
amiability of temper.
=3. His Essays.= It is as a miscellaneous essayist that Steele finds
his place in literature. He was a man fertile in ideas, but he lacked
the application that is always so necessary to carry those ideas to
fruition. Thus he often sowed in order that other men might reap. He
started _The Tatler_ in 1709, _The Spectator_ in 1711, and several
other short-lived periodicals, such as _The Guardian_ (1713), _The
Reader_ (1714), _The Englishman_ (1715), and _The Plebeian_ (1718).
After the rupture with Addison the loss of the latter’s steadying
influence was acutely felt, and nothing that Steele attempted had any
stability.
Steele’s working alliance with Addison was so close and so constant
that the comparison between them is almost inevitable. Of the two
writers, some critics assert that Steele is the worthier. In
versatility and in originality he is at least Addison’s equal. His
humor has none of Addison’s simpering prudishness; it is broader
and less restrained, with a naïve, pathetic touch about it that is
reminiscent of Goldsmith. His pathos is more attractive and more
humane. But Steele’s very virtues are only his weaknesses sublimed;
they are emotional, not intellectual; of the heart, and not of the
head. He is incapable of irony; he lacks penetration and power; and
much of his moralizing is cheap and obvious. He lacks Addison’s care
and suave ironic insight; he is reckless in style and inconsequent in
method. And so, in the final estimate, as the greater artist he fails.
The passage given illustrates Steele’s easy style, the unconstrained
sentences, the fresh and almost colloquial vocabulary, and the genial
humor.
(_Mr Bickerstaff, the Mr Spectator of “The Tatler,” visits an
old friend._)
As soon as we were alone, he took me by the hand. “Well, my good
friend,” says he, “I am heartily glad to see thee; I was afraid
you would never have seen all the company that dined with you
to-day again. Do not you think the good woman of the house a
little altered since you followed her from the playhouse, to
find out who she was, for me?” I perceived a tear fall down his
cheek as he spoke, which moved me not a little. But, to turn the
discourse, said I, “She is not indeed quite that creature she
was, when she returned me the letter I carried from you; and
told me, she hoped as I was a gentleman I would be employed no
more to trouble her, who had never offended me; but would be so
much the gentleman’s friend as to dissuade him from a pursuit
which he could never succeed in. You may remember I thought
her in earnest; and you were compelled to employ your cousin
Will, who made his sister get acquainted with her, for you. You
cannot expect her to be for ever fifteen.” “Fifteen!” replied
my good friend: “Ah! you little understand, you that have lived
a bachelor, how great, how exquisite a pleasure there is in
being really beloved! It is impossible that the most beauteous
face in nature should raise in me such pleasing ideas as when I
look upon that excellent woman. That fading in her countenance
is chiefly caused by her watching with me in my fever. This was
followed by a fit of sickness, which had like to have carried
her off last winter. I tell you sincerely, I have so many
obligations to her that I cannot, with any sort of moderation,
think of her present state of health. But as to what you say of
fifteen, she gives me every day pleasures beyond what I ever
knew in the possession of her beauty, when I was in the vigour
of youth. Every moment of her life brings me fresh instances of
her complacency to my inclinations, and her prudence in regard
to my fortune. Her face is to me much more beautiful than when
I first saw it; there is no decay in any feature which I cannot
trace from the very instant it was occasioned by some anxious
concern for my welfare and interests.”
DANIEL DEFOE (1659–1731)
=1. His Life.= Much of Defoe’s life is still undetermined, but it
is certain that he was born, lived, and died in poor and somewhat
disreputable circumstances. He was born in London, became a soldier,
and then took to journalism. He is one of the earliest, and in some
ways the greatest, of the Grub Street hacks. He entered the service
of the Whigs, by whom he was frequently employed in obscure and
questionable work. He died in London, a fugitive from the law, and in
great distress.
=2. His Prose.= This is of amazing bulk and variety, and for
convenience can be divided into two groups.
(_a_) _Political Writings._ Like most of the other writers of his time,
Defoe turned out a mass of political tracts and pamphlets. Many of them
appeared in his own journal, _The Review_, which, issued in 1704, is in
several ways the forerunner of _The Tatler_ and _The Spectator_. His
_Shortest Way with the Dissenters_ (1702) brought upon him official
wrath, and caused him to be fined and pilloried. He wrote one or two
of his political tracts in rough verses which are more remarkable for
their vigor than for their elegance. The best known of this class is
_The True-born Englishman_ (1701). In all his propaganda Defoe is
vigorous and acute, and he has a fair command of irony and invective.
(_b_) _His Fiction._ His works in fiction were all produced in the
latter part of his life, at almost incredible speed. First came
_Robinson Crusoe_ (1719); then _Duncan Campbell_, _Memoirs of a
Cavalier_, and _Captain Singleton_, all three books in 1720; in 1722
appeared _Moll Flanders_, _A Journal of the Plague Year_, and _Colonel
Jack_; then _Roxana_ (1724) and _A New Voyage round the World_ (1725).
This great body of fiction has grave defects, largely due to the
immense speed with which it was produced. The general plan of the novel
in each case is slatternly and unequal; as, for example, in _Robinson
Crusoe_, where the incomparable effect of the story of the island is
marred by long and sometimes tedious narratives of other lands. Then
the style is unpolished to the verge of rudeness. In homely and direct
narrative this may not be a grave drawback, but it shuts Defoe out from
a large province of fiction in which he might have done valuable work.
But at its best, as in the finest parts of _Robinson Crusoe_, his
writing has a realism that is rarely approached by the most ardent of
modern realists. This is achieved by Defoe’s grasp of details and his
unerring sense of their supreme literary value, a swift and resolute
narrative method, and a plain and matter-of-fact style that inevitably
lays incredulity asleep. To the development of the novel Defoe’s
contribution is priceless.
In the passage now given note Defoe’s completely unadorned style, the
loosely constructed sentences, and the almost laughable attention to
the minutest detail:
I went to work upon this boat the most like a fool that ever man
did who had any of his senses awake. I pleased myself with the
design, without determining whether I was able to undertake it;
not but that the difficulty of launching my boat came often into
my head; but I put a stop to my own inquiries into it, by this
foolish answer: Let us first make it: I warrant I will find some
way or other to get it along when it is done.
This was a most preposterous method; but the eagerness of my
fancy prevailed, and to work I went. I felled a cedar-tree,
and I question much, whether Solomon ever had such a one for
the building of the Temple at Jerusalem; it was five feet ten
inches diameter at the lower part next the stump, and four feet
eleven inches diameter at the end of twenty-two feet, where it
lessened, and then parted into branches. It was not without
infinite labour that I felled this tree; I was twenty days
hacking and hewing at the bottom, and fourteen more getting
the branches and limbs and the vast spreading head of it cut
off; after this it cost me a month to shape it and dub it to a
proportion, and to something like the bottom of a boat, that
it might swim upright as it ought to do. It cost me near three
months more to clear the inside, and work it out so as to make
an exact boat of it: this I did indeed without fire, by mere
mallet and chisel, and by the dint of hard labour, till I had
brought it to be a very handsome periagua, and big enough to
have carried six-and-twenty men, and consequently big enough to
have carried me and all my cargo.
_Robinson Crusoe_
OTHER PROSE-WRITERS
=1. John Arbuthnot (1667–1735).= Arbuthnot was born in
Kincardineshire, Scotland, studied medicine at Oxford, and spent the
latter part of his life in London, where he became acquainted with
Pope and Swift. His writings are chiefly political, and include the
_Memoirs of Scriblerus_ (1709), which, though published in the
works of Pope, is thought to be his; _The History of John Bull_
(1712 or 1713), ridiculing the war-policy of the Whigs; and _The Art
of Political Lying_ (1712).
Arbuthnot writes with wit and vivacity, and with many pointed
allusions. At his best he somewhat resembles Swift, though he lacks the
great devouring flame of the latter’s personality.
=2. Lord Bolingbroke (1678–1751).= Henry St. John, Viscount
Bolingbroke, was one of the chief political figures of the period. At
the age of twenty-six he was Secretary for War in the Tory Government;
was thereafter implicated in Jacobite plots; was compelled to flee to
France; was pardoned, and permitted to return to England in 1723; had
once more to return to France in 1735; then, after seven years’ exile,
was finally restored to his native land.
Bolingbroke prided himself on being both a patron of letters and a man
of letters. He influenced Pope, not always to the latter’s advantage.
In 1753 appeared his _Letter to Windham_ (written in 1717); then in
1749 he produced _Letters on the Spirit of Patriotism_ and _The Idea
of a Patriot King_. These reflect the Tory sentiments of their author,
are written with a vigor that is often near to coarseness, and have all
the tricks and vices of the rhetorician.
=3. George Berkeley (1685–1753).= Born in Ireland, Berkeley was
educated at Dublin, where he distinguished himself in mathematics.
Taking holy orders, he went to London (1713), and became acquainted
with Swift and other wits. He was a man of noble and charitable mind,
and interested himself in many worthy schemes. He was appointed a dean,
and then was made Bishop of Cloyne in 1734. He was a man of great
and enterprising mind, and wrote with much charm on a diversity of
scientific, philosophical, and metaphysical subjects.
Among his books are _The Principles of Human Knowledge_, a notable
effort in the study of the human mind that appeared in 1710,
_Dialogues of Hylas and Philonous_ (1713), and _Alciphron, or the
Minute Philosopher_ (1733). He is among the first, both in time and
in quality, of the English philosophers who have dressed their ideas
in language of literary distinction. He writes with delightful ease,
disdaining ornament or affectation, and his command of gentle irony is
capable and sure.
=4. Lady Mary Wortley Montagu (1689–1762).= This lady, famous in
her day for her masculine force of character, was the eldest daughter
of the Duke of Kingston. In 1712 she married Edward Wortley Montagu,
and moved in the highest literary and social circles. In 1716 her
husband was appointed ambassador at Constantinople, and while she was
in the East she corresponded regularly with many friends, both literary
and personal. She is the precursor of the great letter-writers of the
later portion of the century. Her _Letters_ are written shrewdly
and sensibly, often with a frankness that is a little staggering. She
had a vivid interest in her world, and to a certain extent she can
communicate her interest to her reader.
=5. Earl of Shaftesbury (1671–1713).= Anthony Ashley Cooper,
third Earl of Shaftesbury, is another example of the aristocratic
_dilettante_ man of letters. He had little taste for the politics
of the time, and aspired to be famous as a great writer. He traveled
much, and died at Naples in 1713.
His books are written with great care and exactitude, and are pleasant
and lucid without being particularly striking. His _Characteristics
of Men, Manners, Opinions, and Times_ (1716), though it contains
nothing very original or profound, suited the taste of the time and
was widely popular. Pope drew upon it for much of his matter in his
_Essay on Man_.
ALEXANDER POPE (1688–1744)
=1. His Life.= Pope was born in London, the only child of a
considerable city tradesman. From his birth two conditions were to
influence very deeply the career of the future poet: first, he was puny
and delicate, and, secondly, he was baptized into the Roman Catholic
faith. His bodily infirmity, which amounted almost to deformity, caused
him to be privately educated; and to the end of his life his knowledge
had that extensive range, joined to the liability to make the grossest
blunders, which is so often the mark of an eager and precocious
intelligence imperfectly trained. Pope’s religious faith, though he
was never excessively devout as a Roman Catholic, closed to him all
the careers, professional and political, in which a man of his keen
intelligence might have been expected to succeed. He was thus forced
into the pursuit of letters as his only road to fame. From his earliest
youth we find him passionately desirous of making his name as an author.
His youth was passed at Binfield, his father’s small estate near
Windsor Forest. Before he was twenty years old he got into touch with
Wycherley, now old and besotted. Through him Pope became acquainted
with Addison, Swift, and Steele, whose friendship he eagerly
cultivated. His early verses, admirably attuned to the ear of the age,
brought him recognition and applause; his translation of Homer brought
him wealth; and from that point he never looked back. He became the
dominating poetical personality of the day. In 1718 he removed to his
house at Twickenham, whose pinchbeck beauties became the wonder, envy,
and derision of literary and social London. It remained his home till
“that long disease, his life,” was finished in 1744.
=2. His Character.= In this book it is fortunately seldom that we
are called upon to analyze the character of an English writer in any
detail, but in the case of Pope it is necessary. With no man more than
Pope are such personal considerations relevant and cogent; for in no
writings more than in Pope’s do we find the author’s vices and his
weaknesses--as well as his virtues--so fully portrayed.
By the time he was thirty Pope’s hands were full of the gifts of
fortune, but he was far from being happy. He was so easily stung that
his numerous detractors were irresistibly impelled to sting him; and
his agonies, his vicious petulance, and his wild retaliation were so
pathetic and yet so ludicrous that his foes were incited to try his
temper again. Hence much of Pope’s life was a series of skirmishes
with friends and foes alike. His disposition, too, had so many flaws
that it trembled at the pressure of a finger. His stinginess, though
he was rich beyond the dreams of a poet’s avarice, was a byword. His
snobbishness was extreme; he fawned before lords, and he assailed his
less fortunate poetical brethren with a rancor whose very coarseness
blunts its edge. His vanity was egregious, and shrank from criticism
as a raw nerve shrinks from fire. His nature stooped to actions so
tortuous and reprehensible that his biographers confess, with a sigh
of relief, that they cannot get quite to the bottom of them. His
procedure in the publication of some of his work almost stupefies the
investigator with its combination of duplicity, bad faith, and sheer
cross-grained perversion of the truth.
Yet he had his virtues, to which his friends testified with a curious
half-laughing mixture of contempt and admiration. He could sometimes
be generous in a crabbed, distorted fashion; and if only his friends
allowed for his weaknesses, he repaid their consideration with a
devoted cordiality that defied the shocks of fortune. At bottom his
nature was not unkindly, but it was corroded and overlaid with the
effects of his physical weakness, with his natural vanity, and with a
shrinking self-criticism. And, above all, he was an artist. He lived
for his art; everything he wrote was stamped with the joy of creation
and his desire for perfection and permanency; and it is as an artist
that he will finally be judged.
=3. His Poetry.= “I lisped in numbers,” he tells us. But his earliest
work of any importance is his _Pastorals_. According to his own
statement (which need not be believed) they were begun when he was
sixteen years old. They appeared in 1709, when he was twenty-one. They
contain the usual trumpery of “sylvan strains,” “warbling Philomel,”
and other expressions that are the bane of the artificial pastoral. Yet
though the work is immature in some respects, it shows that Pope has
found his feet with regard to his metrical method. The poem is written
in the heroic couplet, which is neat, effective, and melodious in a
namby-pamby fashion. We give a specimen of his earliest numbers:
And yet my numbers please the rural throng,
Rough satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the song:
The nymphs, forsaking ev’ry cave and spring,
Their early fruit, and milk-white turtles bring;
Each am’rous nymph prefers her gifts in vain,
On you their gifts are all bestowed again.
For you the swains the fairest flow’rs design,
And in one garland all their beauties join;
Accept the wreath which you deserve alone,
In whom all beauties are compris’d in one.
In 1711 appeared the _Essay on Criticism_, also written in heroic
couplets. The poem professes to set forth the gospel of “wit” and
“nature” as it applies to the literature of the period. The work is
clearly immature. There is nothing novel in its theories, which are
conventionality itself; but it dresses the aged theories so neatly
and freshly that the poem is a lasting monument to the genius of the
writer. It is full of apt, quotable lines that have become imbedded in
the language:
A little learning is a dangerous thing!...
And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art....
To err is human: to forgive, divine....
True wit is nature to advantage dressed....
_Windsor Forest_ (1713) is another pastoral in the familiar meter.
Artificial still, it nevertheless shows a broader treatment, and a
still stronger grip of the stopped couplet.
By this time Pope was well known, and he set about his ambitious scheme
of translating the _Iliad_, which was eventually issued in 1720. For
the book, as he was zealously assisted by his literary friends, he was
successful in compiling a phenomenal subscription list, which (with
the additional translation of the _Odyssey_) brought him more than ten
thousand pounds. Such a triumph produced the inevitable reaction on
the part of his critics, who maintained that Pope knew little Latin
and less Greek, and that the translation was no translation at all. It
certainly bears no close resemblance to the original Greek. Bentley,
the famous classical scholar, remarked to the chagrined author, “A
pretty poem, Mr. Pope, but you must not call it Homer.” The line of
Pope has none of the great lift of the Homeric line, but it is often
vigorous and picturesque, and answers with fair facility to the demands
he makes upon it.
The troops exulting sat in order round,
And beaming fires illumined all the ground.
As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night,
O’er heaven’s pure azure spreads her sacred light,
When not a breath disturbs the deep serene,
And not a cloud o’ercasts the solemn scene,
Around her throne the vivid planets roll,
And stars unnumber’d gild the glowing pole,
O’er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed,
And tip with silver every mountain’s head:
Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise,
A flood of glory bursts from all the skies;
The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight,
Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light.
In 1712, in a volume of Lintot’s _Miscellanies_, appeared _The
Rape of the Lock_, one of the most brilliant poems in the language.
The occasion of it was trivial enough. A Lord Petre had offended a
Miss Fermor by cutting off a lock of her hair; dissensions between the
families had followed, and Pope set about to laugh both parties back
into good-humor. He makes of the incident a mock-heroic poem, and,
rather unwisely, invents elaborate machinery of sylphs, gnomes, and
other airy beings that take part in the mortals’ misdemeanors. The
length becomes disproportionate to the theme, but the effect is quite
dazzling. The style is highly artificial and mannered; but we must
remember that Pope is jocular all through, and that he is purposely
pitching his style as high as the subject permits. It abounds in
rhetorical devices, such as climax, antithesis, and apostrophe. The
effect produced is like that of a crackle of colored fireworks; smart
epigrams explode in almost every line, and conceits dazzle with their
brilliance. Yet so great an artist is Pope that by sheer skill he
prevents the work from being flashy or vulgar: the workmanship is too
delicate and precise.
But when to mischief mortals bend their will,
How soon they find fit instruments of ill!
Just then, Clarissa drew, with tempting grace,
A two-edged weapon from her shining case;
So ladies, in romance, assist their knight,
Present the spear, and arm him for the fight.
He takes the gift with reverence, and extends
The little engine on his fingers’ ends;
This just behind Belinda’s neck he spread,
As o’er the fragrant steams she bent her head.
Swift to the lock a thousand sprites repair,
A thousand wings, by turns, blow back the hair!
And thrice they twitched the diamond in her ear;
Thrice she looked back, and thrice the foe drew near.
Just in that instant, anxious Ariel sought
The close recesses of the virgin’s thought:
As on the nosegay in her breast reclined,
He watched the ideas rising in her mind,
Sudden he viewed, in spite of all her art,
An earthly lover lurking at her heart.
Amazed, confused, he found his power expired,
Resigned to fate, and with a sigh retired.
The peer now spreads the glittering forfex wide
To enclose the lock; now joins it, to divide.
E’en then, before the fatal engine closed,
A wretched sylph too fondly interposed;
Fate urged the shears, and cut the sylph in twain
(But airy substance soon unites again),
The meeting points the sacred hair dissever
From the fair head, for ever, and for ever!
_The Dunciad_ appeared in 1728, with many subterfuges to conceal the
authorship, and it reappeared in a larger, though not in an improved
form, in 1742. In this poem he turns to rend the host of minor writers
who had been making his life a misery with their pin-pricks. It shows
his satirical powers at their best and at their worst. It is charged
with a stinging wit, but is too spiteful and venomous, and confounds
the good with the bad. Yet here as elsewhere Pope has many fine
passages. The conclusion is probably the noblest that he ever composed:
In vain, in vain--the all-composing hour
Resistless falls: the Muse obeys the Power.
She comes! She comes! The sable throne behold
Of Night primeval and of Chaos old!
Before her, Fancy’s gilded clouds decay,
And all its varying rainbows die away.
Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires,
The meteor drops, and in a flash expires....
See skulking Truth to her old cavern fled,
Mountains of casuistry heaped o’er her head!...
See Mystery to Mathematics fly!
In vain! They gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die.
Religion blushing veils her sacred fires,
And unawares Morality expires....
Lo! thy dread empire, CHAOS! is restored;
Light dies before thy uncreating word;
Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall,
And universal darkness buries all.
The last years of his life were occupied chiefly in the composition of
poetical epistles and satires (1731–35). Some of these are of great
power, and show Pope’s art at its best. The _Epistle to Arbuthnot_
contains the famous satirical portrait of Addison, with whom Pope had
quarreled:
Peace to all such; but were there one whose fires
True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires;
Blest with each talent and each art to please,
And born to write, converse, and live with ease:
Should such a man, too fond to rule alone,
Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne,
View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes,
And hate for arts that caused himself to rise;
Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,
And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer;
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,
Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike;
Alike reserved to blame, or to commend,
A timorous foe, and a suspicious friend;
Dreading even fools, by flatterers besieged,
And so obliging, that he ne’er obliged;
Like Cato, give his little senate laws,
And sit attentive to his own applause;
While wits and templars every sentence raise,
And wonder with a foolish face of praise:--
Who but must laugh, if such a man there be?
Who would not weep, if Atticus were he?
In this passage, though he does not perceive it, Pope is holding up a
glass to his own method. Observe how he “damns with faint praise”; how
he is “willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike.” Nearly the whole
extract might be applied to its author.
The last considerable poem is the _Essay on Man_ (1734), which
owes much to the suggestions of Bolingbroke. At the beginning of the
poem he says “The proper study of mankind is man,” and then proceeds
with a long and confused treatment of man and his place in the
universe. As a contribution to philosophy it is contemptible, but from
it we can detach clusters of passages full of force and beauty. The
verse has all its author’s care and lucidity. In some places, indeed,
the style is cut to the very bone, as it is in the well-known line,
“Man never is but always to be blessed.”
=4. His Prose.= As a writer of prose Pope is of secondary importance.
His _Letters_, published under a cloud of devious tricks, clearly
are written with an eye on the public. They are addressed chiefly to
notable persons, such as Swift and Gay, and consist of pompous essays
upon abstract subjects. Sometimes in other letters he forgets himself,
and writes easily and brightly, especially when he is telling of his
own experiences.
=5. Summary.= It is now useful to draw together the various features of
the work of this important poet.
(_a_) Both in subject and in style his poems are _limited_. They
take people of his own social class, and they deal with their common
experiences and their common interests and aspirations. Pope rarely
dips below the surface, and when he does so he is not at his best. With
regard to his style, we have seen that it is almost wholly restricted
to the heroic couplet, used in a narrative and didactic subject. He
is almost devoid of the lyrical faculty, and the higher artistic
emotions--“passion and apathy, and glory and shame”--are beyond his
artistic grasp.
(_b_) Within these limits his work is _powerful_ and _effective_. The
wit is keen; the satire burns like acid; and his zeal is unshakable.
In serious topics, as in the _Essay on Man_, he can give imperishable
shape to popular opinions.
(_c_) His work is _careful_ and almost _fastidious_, and thus confers
an enormous benefit upon English poetry. He cured poetry of the
haphazard methods of the earlier ages. With inspiration lacking, care
was more than ever necessary, and in this Pope led the way. His verse
reads so easily owing to the great care he took with it.
True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,
As those move easiest who have learned to dance.
_Essay on Criticism_
(_d_) His _meter_ is among the most discussed in our literature. Its
merits and demerits are quite clear to view. Against it we can urge its
artificiality, its lack of originality, and the vile creeping paralysis
that it communicated to the other metrical forms. Yet in its favor we
must recognize its strength, unbreakable and pliable, like a strong
bow, its clearness, point, and artistic brevity, and its incomparable
excellence in some forms of satire and narrative. It is unprofitable to
compare it with blank verse and other forms. We must recognize it as in
a class apart.
OTHER POETS
=1. Matthew Prior (1664–1721).= Born in Dorsetshire, Prior studied
at Cambridge, and was early engaged in writing on behalf of the Tories,
from whom he received several valuable appointments. In 1701 he entered
the House of Commons; and in 1715, becoming involved in Jacobite
intrigues, he was imprisoned. He was liberated in 1717, and died in
1721.
His first long work is _The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse_ (1687),
written in collaboration with Charles Montagu, and ridiculing _The Hind
and the Panther_. Other longer works are _Alma_ (1716) and _Solomon_
(1718). The first imitates Butler in _Hudibras_, and with fair success;
the second, written in the heroic couplet, aims at being a serious
poem, but its seriousness is often marred with levity, and it shows no
wisdom or insight.
Prior’s chief distinction lies in his miscellaneous verse, which is
varied, bulky, and of a high quality. In some respects it resembles
the verses of Swift, for much of it is composed in the octosyllabic
couplet, and it has a fair amount of Swift’s force and dexterity. Prior
lacks Swift’s deadly power and passion, but he surpasses the Dean in
versatility, in an easy wit and impudence, and in sentimentality. In
this pleasant ease of verse and sentiment he is rarely approached. Some
of the best of his shorter pieces are _The Chameleon_, _The Thief and
the Cordelier_, and _To Chloe_.
=2. John Gay (1685–1732).= Gay was born in humble circumstances, and
was apprenticed to a silk-mercer; but, being ambitious, he entered the
service of the Duchess of Monmouth (1713). His poems having brought
him some fame, he sought a public appointment. He was only moderately
successful in this search, and his lazy and indifferent habits spoiled
the chances that came in his way. He died in London, an amiable and
shiftless idler.
His chief works are _Rural Sports_ (1713), written in the heroic
couplet, and resembling Pope’s _Pastorals, The Shepherd’s Week_ (1714),
and _What d’Ye Call it?_ (1715), a pastoral farce. _Trivia, or The
Art of Walking the Streets of London_ (1715) is a witty parody of the
heroic style, and it contains bright descriptions of London streets;
then came two plays, _Acis and Galatea_ and _The Beggar’s Opera_
(1728). This last play had a great success, which has lasted to the
present day. It became the rage, and ran for sixty-two performances.
It deserved its success, for it contains some pretty songs and much
genuine though boisterous humor. Gay had the real lyrical gift, which
was all the more valuable considering the age he lived in. His ballad
_Black-eyed Susan_ is still popular.
=3. Edward Young (1683–1765).= Young had a long life, and produced
a large amount of literary work of variable quality. He was born in
Hampshire, went to Oxford, and late in life (about 1730) entered the
Church. He lived much in retirement, though in his later years he
received a public appointment.
His major works are _The Last Day_ (1713) and _The Force of Religion_
(1714), which are moralizings written in the heroic couplet; _The Love
of Fame_ (1724), which shows an advance in the use of the couplet; and
a poem in blank verse, _The Complaint, or Night Thoughts_ (1742). This
last poem, which was inspired by the death of his wife, had a great and
long-enduring popularity, which has now vanished. Like Young’s other
poems, it shows some power of expression and somber satisfaction at his
own misery. In the history of literature it is of some consequence, for
the blank verse is of considerable strength, and as a reaction against
the dominance of the couplet its value is undeniable.
=4. Sir Samuel Garth (1661–1719).= Garth was an older man than most of
the other poets mentioned in this chapter. He was a popular physician,
assisted Pope in the young man’s first efforts, and was knighted when
George I ascended the throne.
_The Dispensary_, published in 1699, is the one work which gives
him his place. It deals with a long-defunct squabble between physicians
and apothecaries, and its importance is due to its being written in a
kind of heroic couplet that is a link in style between Dryden and Pope.
=5. Richard Savage (1697–1743).= Savage’s melancholy fate, and his
early friendship with Johnson, have given him a prominence that he
scarcely deserves. He was born in London, and, according to his own
story, was the child of Richard Savage, Earl Rivers. Savage passed
his youth in miserable circumstances, took to hack-work with the
publishers, besotted himself with drink and debauchery, and died in a
debtor’s prison in Bristol.
His two chief poems are _The Bastard_ (1728) and _The Wanderer_ (1729).
Both are written in the heroic couplet, and consist of long frenzied
moralizings of his own unhappy lot. These works have much energy and
some power of expression, but they are diffuse and rhetorical in style.
Savage cannot rid himself of his personal grievances, which, inflamed
by his dissipations, produce a morbid extravagance that ruins his work
as poetry.
=6. Lady Winchilsea (1661–1720).= Born in Hampshire, the daughter of
Sir William Kingsmill, Anne, Countess of Winchilsea, passed most of
her life in London, where she became acquainted with Pope and other
literary notables. Some of her poems, which were of importance in their
day, are _The Spleen_ (1701), a Pindaric ode; _The Prodigy_ (1706); and
_Miscellany Poems_ (1714), containing the _Nocturnal Reverie_.
Wordsworth says, “It is remarkable that, excepting the _Nocturnal
Reverie_ and a passage or two in _Windsor Forest_ of Pope, the poetry
of the period intervening between the publication of _Paradise Lost_
and _The Seasons_ does not contain a single new image of nature.” This
statement is perhaps an exaggeration, but there is no doubt that Lady
Winchilsea had the gift of producing smooth and melodious verse, and
she had a discerning eye for the beauties of nature.
=7. Ambrose Philips (1675–1749).= Philips was a Shropshire man, was
educated at Cambridge, and became a considerable figure in the literary
world. He was a friend of Pope, and wrote _Pastorals_ (1709), which
Pope damned with faint praise. The two poets quarreled, and Pope gave
the other immortality in _The Dunciad_. Philips obtained several posts
under the Government, and passed a happy and prosperous life.
He wrote three tragedies, the best of which is _The Distressed
Mother_ (1712). He produced a fair amount of prose for the
periodicals, and his miscellaneous verse, of a light and agreeable
kind, was popular in its day. His poetry was called “namby-pamby,”
from his Christian name; and the word has survived in its general
application.
=8. Sir Richard Blackmore (1650–1729).= Blackmore was an industrious
physician, and an industrious and unsuccessful poet. His name became a
byword by reason of his huge, dreary epics, which he composed in his
spare time. Some of them are _Prince Arthur_ (1695), _Job_ (1700), and
_The Creation_ (1712). They are written in tolerable heroic couplets.
=9. Thomas Parnell (1679–1718).= Parnell was born in Ireland, entered
the Church, became an archdeacon, and prospered in his post. His poems
consist of miscellaneous work, and were extremely popular in their day.
The best of his work is contained in _The Hermit_ (1710), which is
written in heroic couplets, and in places reminds the reader of _The
Deserted Village_. He shows skill as a versifier, and he has a genuine
regard for nature.
=10. Allan Ramsay (1686–1758).= Born in Lanarkshire, Ramsay came
to Edinburgh at the age of fifteen, and became a wig-maker. He soon
took to writing verses, which admitted him into the society of the
Edinburgh wits. He started a bookseller’s shop in the city, and became
a kind of local unofficial Poet Laureate. His ballads became very
popular, and he brought upon himself the notice of the leaders of the
literary world in London.
Ramsay published much miscellaneous writing, of which a large amount
was issued to satisfy a passing demand. The quality can be poor
enough; but some of it is more meritorious. A piece like _Lochaber
No More_ is quite noteworthy, and others reveal his freakish and
pleasing sense of humor. His _Gentle Shepherd_ (1725), a pastoral
drama, has many of the vices of its species; but on the other hand
it contains pleasing natural descriptions, some delightful though
sentimental characters, and a few charming lyrics. As a literary
ancestor of Burns, Ramsay is important. He influenced the poetry of the
Ayrshire man, who freely acknowledged the aid he obtained. Ramsay also
shows how the natural genius of Scotland, while bowing to the supremacy
of the school of Pope, nevertheless diverged on lines natural to itself.
THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS
The period under review marks a hardening of the process discernible
in the last chapter. The secession from romanticism is complete; the
ideals of classicism reign supreme. Yet so unsleeping is the sense of
progress in our literature that, even at the lowest ebb of the romantic
spirit, a return to nature is feebly beginning. In the next chapter we
shall notice this new movement, for in the next period we shall see it
becoming full and strong.
=1. Poetry.= In no department of literature is the triumph of
classicism seen more fully than in poetry.
(_a_) The _lyric_ almost disappears. What remains is of a light and
artificial nature. The best lyrics are found in some of Prior’s shorter
pieces, in Gay’s _Beggar’s Opera_, and in Ramsay’s _Gentle Shepherd_.
(_b_) The _ode_ still feebly survives in the Pindaric form. Pope wrote
a few with poor success, one of them being _On St. Cecilia’s Day_,
in imitation of Dryden’s ode. Lady Winchilsea was another mediocre
exponent of the same form.
(_c_) The _satiric_ type is common, and of high quality. The best
example is Pope’s _Dunciad_, a personal satire. Of political satire in
poetry we have nothing to compare with Dryden’s. Satire tends to be
lighter, brighter, and more cynical. It is spreading to other forms
of verse besides the heroic couplet, and we can observe it in the
octosyllabic couplet in the poems of Swift, Prior, and Gay. A slight
development is the epistolary form of the satire, of which Pope became
fond in his latter years. Such is his _Epistles of Horace Imitated_.
(_d_) _Narrative Poetry._ This is of considerable bulk, and contains
some of the best productions of the period. Pope’s translation of Homer
is a good example, and of the poorer sort are Blackmore’s abundant
epics. We have also to notice a slight revival of the ballad, which was
imitated by Gay and Prior. Their imitations are bloodless things, but
they are worth noticing because they show that the interest is there.
(_e_) _The Pastoral._ The artificial type of the pastoral was highly
popular, for several reasons. It gave an air of rusticity to the most
formal of compositions; it was thought to be elegant; it was easily
written; and it had the approval of the ancients, who made free use
of the type. Pope and Philips have been mentioned as examples of the
pastoral poets.
=2. Drama.= Here there is almost a blank. The brilliant and exotic
flower of Restoration comedy has withered, and nothing of any merit
takes its place. In tragedy Addison’s _Cato_ is almost the only
passable example. In comedy Steele’s plays are an expurgated survival
of the Restoration type. The only advance in the drama is shown in
_The Beggar’s Opera_, whose robust vitality, sprightly music, and
charming songs make it stand alone in its generation.
=3. Prose.= In prose we have to chronicle a distinct advance. For
the first time we have periodical literature occupying a prominent
place in the writing of the time. At this point, therefore, it is
convenient to summarize the rise of periodical literature.
(_a_) _The Rise of the Periodical Press._ The first periodical
published in Europe was the _Gazetta_ (1536), in Venice. This was a
manuscript newspaper which was read publicly in order to give the
Venetians information regarding their war with the Turks. In England
news-sheets were published during the reign of Elizabeth, but they were
irregular in their appearance, being issued only when some notable
event, such as a great flood or fire, made their sale secure. The
first regular English paper was _The Weekly Newes_ (1622), issued by
Nathaniel Butter. The sheet contained some items of news from abroad,
and was devoid of editorial comment or literary matter.
During the Civil War of the middle of the seventeenth century both
Royalists and Roundheads issued their newspapers, which appeared
spasmodically and seldom survived for any length of time. A Royalist
journal was the _Mercurius Anglicus_, which was succeeded by several
others of somewhat similar names. The Roundhead publications were the
_Mercurius Pragmaticus_, the _Mercurius Politicus_, and others. After
the Restoration newspaper-writing became so popular and so troublesome
that the Government in 1662 suspended all private sheets and issued in
their place the one official organ, _The Public Intelligencer_. This
became _The Oxford Gazette_ (1665), and finally _The London Gazette_
(1666). The office of Gazetteer became an official appointment, and
Steele held it for a time.
In 1682 the freedom of the Press was restored, and large numbers of
_Mercuries_ and other periodicals appeared and flourished in their
different fashions. Advertisements began to be a feature of the papers.
In _The Jockey’s Intelligencer_ (1683) the charge is “a shilling for a
horse or coach, for notification, and sixpence for renewing.” In 1702
_The Daily Courant_, the first daily newspaper, was published, and it
survived until 1735. Then in the early years of the eighteenth century
the fierce contests between the Whigs and the Tories brought a rapid
expansion of the Press. The most famous of the issues were Defoe’s
_Review_ (1704), a Whig organ whose writings brought its editor into
disrepute; and its opponent _The Examiner_, the Tory paper to which men
like Swift and Prior contributed regularly. These newspapers are almost
entirely political, but they contain satirical work of much merit.
Then in 1709 Steele published _The Tatler_. At first it was Steele’s
intention to make it entirely a _news_-paper; but under the pressure
of his own genius and of that of Addison its literary features were
accentuated till the daily essay became the feature of leading
interest. _The Spectator_, begun in March, 1711, carried the tendency
still farther. The literary journal has come to stay. Steele’s
_Plebeian_ (1718) is an early example of the political periodical.
(_b_) _The Rise of the Essay._ Johnson defines an essay as “a loose
sally of the mind, an irregular indigested piece, not a regular or
orderly performance.” This definition is not quite complete, for it
does not cover such an elaborate work as Locke’s _Essay concerning
Human Understanding_. But for the miscellaneous prose essay, which
it is our immediate business to consider here, the definition will
do. An essay, therefore, must in other words be short, unmethodical,
personal, and written in a style that is literary, easy, and elegant.
The English essay has its roots in the Elizabethan period, in the
miscellaneous work of Lodge, Lyly, and Greene, and other literary
free-lances (see p. 142). Sir Philip Sidney’s _Apologie for
Poetrie_, published about 1580, is a pamphlet that attains a
rudimentary essay-form. But the first real essayist in English is
Francis Bacon (1561–1626), who published a short series of essays in
1597, enlarged in two later editions (1612 and 1625). His work follows
that of the French writer Montaigne, whose essays appeared about 1580.
In Bacon we have the miscellany of theme and the brevity, but we lack
the intimacy of treatment and of style. Bacon’s essays are rather the
disconnected musings of the philosopher than the personal opinions of
the literary executant.
The defects of Bacon were remedied by Abraham Cowley (1618–67), who
writes on such subjects as _Myself_, _The Garden_, and other familiar
themes. His style is somewhat heavy, but he has a pleasant discursive
manner, different from the dry and distant attitude of Bacon. He
provides the link between Addison and Bacon. Another advance is marked
by a group of character-writers who flourished in the first half of
the seventeenth century. They gave short character-sketches, often
very acute and humorous, of various types of people. The best known of
such writers are Joseph Hall (1574–1656), John Earle (1601–65), and
Sir Thomas Overbury (1581–1613). Overbury wrote short accounts of such
types as the _Tinker_, the _Milkmaid_, and the _Franklin_. His sketches
are short, are pithily expressed, and reveal considerable knowledge and
insight.
During the Restoration period we have Dryden’s _Essay of Dramatic
Poesie_ (1666), Locke’s _Essay concerning Human Understanding_ (1690),
and Temple’s _Essay on Poetry_ (1685). The two first works are too
long to be called essays proper, and fall rather under the name of
treatises. Temple’s essay, one of many that he published, is rather
long and formal, but it is nearer the type we are here considering.
With the development of the periodical press the short essay takes
a great stride forward. It becomes varied, and acquires character,
suppleness, and strength. The work of Addison and Steele has already
been noticed at some length. In _The Tatler_ (1709) and _The
Spectator_ (1711) they laid down the lines along which the essay
was to be developed by their great successors. Other essayists of the
time were Swift and Pope, who contributed to the periodicals, and
Defoe, whose miscellaneous work is of wide range and of considerable
importance.
(_c_) _Prose Narrative._ Much of the narrative is still disguised as
allegory, as in Swift’s _Gulliver’s Travels_ and Addison’s _Vision of
Mirza_. In his method Swift shows some advance, for he subordinates the
allegory and adds to the interest in the satire and the narrative. The
prominence given to fiction is still more noticeable in the novels of
Defoe, such as _Robinson Crusoe_. We are now in touch with the novel
proper, which will be treated in the next chapter.
(_d_) _Miscellaneous Prose._ There is a large body of religious,
political and philosophical work. Much of it is satirical. In
political prose Swift is the outstanding figure, with such books as
the _Drapier’s Letters_; and in religious writing his _Tale of a Tub_
has a sinister importance. Other examples are Bolingbroke’s _Spirit of
Patriotism_ (political), Berkeley’s _Alciphron_ (philosophical), and
Steele’s _The Christian Hero_ (religious).
THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY STYLE
=1. Poetry.= In poetry we have to chronicle the domination of the
_heroic couplet_. This meter produced a close, clear, and almost
prosaic style, as we have noticed in the work of Pope. Blank verse is
still found in Young’s _Night Thoughts_. Another example of blank
verse is found in the mock epic of =John Philips (1676–1708)=
called _The Splendid Shilling_ (1703). The use of blank verse at
this time is important, for it marks both a resistance to the use of
the couplet and a promise of the revival of the freer forms of verse.
The following is a fair example of the blank verse of the period. In
style it is quite uninspired, and is philosophically dull, but it is
metrically accurate and has a certain dignity and force.
Amidst my list of blessings infinite
Stands this the foremost, “That my heart has bled.”
’Tis Heaven’s last effort of goodwill to man;
When pain can’t bless, Heaven quits us in despair.
Who fails to grieve, when just occasion calls,
Or grieves too much, deserves not to be blest;
Inhuman, or effeminate, his heart:
Reason absolves the grief, which reason ends.
May Heaven ne’er trust my friend with happiness,
Till it has taught him how to bear it well,
By previous pain; and made it safe to smile!
YOUNG, _Night Thoughts_
The _lyric_ still survives as a pale reflection of the Caroline
species. A short specimen will suffice to show the facile versification
and the lack of real passion that marks the treatment of the almost
universal love-theme:
Blessed as the immortal gods is he,
The youth who fondly sits by thee,
And hears and sees thee all the while,
Softly speak, and sweetly smile.
’Twas this deprived my soul of rest,
And raised such tumults in my breast;
For while I gazed, in transport tossed,
My breath was gone, my voice was lost.
AMBROSE PHILIPS, _Sappho_
The only other kind of meter of any consequence is the _octosyllabic
couplet_, which is largely employed in occasional and satirical
compositions. Its style is neat, sharp, and dexterous, as can be
observed in Swift’s and Prior’s verses.
=2. Prose.= In prose the outstanding feature is the emergence of the
middle style. Of this the chief exponent is Addison, of whom Johnson
says, “His prose is of the middle style, always equable, and always
easy, without glowing words and pointed sentences.” We now find
established a prose suitable for miscellaneous purposes--for newspaper
and political work, for the essay, for history and biography. The step
is of immense importance, for we can say that with Addison the modern
era of prose is begun.
Along with this went the temporary disappearance of ornate prose. Prose
of this style, though it had its beauties, was yet liable to be full
of flaws, and was unacceptable to the taste of the age of Pope. It
was therefore avoided. When ornate prose re-emerged later in the work
of Johnson and Gibbon it was purged of its technical weaknesses, a
development largely due to the period of maturing that it had undergone
in the time we are now considering.
While the school of Addison represents the middle style, the plainer
style is represented in the work of Swift and Defoe. Swift reveals the
style at its best--sure, clean, and strong. Defoe’s writing is even
plainer, and often descends to carelessness and inaccuracy. This is due
almost entirely to the haste with which he wrote. We give an example of
this colloquial style:
“Well,” said I, “honest man, that is a great mercy, as things
go now with the poor. But how do you live then, and how are you
kept from the dreadful calamity that is now upon us all?” “Why,
sir,” says he, “I am a waterman, and there is my boat,” says he,
“and the boat serves me for a house; I work in it in the day,
and I sleep in it in the night, and what I get I lay it down
upon that stone,” says he, showing me a broad stone on the other
side of the street, a good way from his house; “and then,” says
he, “I halloo and call to them till I make them hear, and they
come and fetch it.”
DEFOE, _A Journal of the Plague Year_
TABLE TO ILLUSTRATE THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS
+----+--------------------------------+--------------------+-------------------------------------+
| | POETRY | DRAMA | PROSE |
| +---------+----------+-----------+----------+---------+------------+----------+-------------+
|DATE| | | Satirical | | | | | |
| | Lyric |Narrative | and | Tragedy | Comedy | Narrative | Essay |Miscellaneous|
| | | | Didactic | | | | | |
+----+---------+----------+-----------+----------+----- ---+------------+----------+-------------+
|1700| |Blackmore |Garth | |Steele[148]| | | |
| | | | | | | | |Defoe[149] |
| | |Addison[150]|Lady | | | |Defoe |Swift[151] |
| | | | Winchilsea| | | | | |
|1710| |Pope[152] | | | |Addison[154]|Steele[153]|Addison |
+----+---------+----------+-----------+----------+---------+------------+----------+-------------+
| | | |Pope[155] |A. Philips| |Steele[153] |Addison[154]|Steele |
| | | | | | | |Swift |Arbuthnot |
| |Gay | |Young |Addison[156]| | | |Bolingbroke |
| | | | | | | | |Berkeley |
|1720|Prior | | | | |Defoe[157] | | |
+----+---------+----------+-----------+----------+---------+------------+----------+-------------+
| | | | | | | | |Lady M. W. |
| | | |Swift | |A. Ramsay| | | Montagu |
| |A. Ramsay| | | | |Swift[158] | | |
| | | |Savage | |Gay | | | |
|1730| | |Pope[159] | | | | | |
+----+---------+----------+-----------+----------+---------+------------+----------+-------------+
| | | | | | | | | |
| | | | | | | | | |
| | | | | | | | | |
|1740| | | | | | | | |
+----+---------+----------+-----------+----------+---------+------------+----------+-------------+
EXERCISES
1. Compare the two following passages as examples of satire. They
represent the bitterest passages from Dryden and Pope respectively.
Remark upon the two methods--whether they are personal or general,
vindictive or magnanimous. Add a note on the style of Dryden contrasted
with that of Pope, and compare their handling of the heroic couplet.
Say which passage you prefer, and why you prefer it.
(1) Doeg,[160] though without knowing how or why,
Made still a blundering kind of melody;
Spurred boldly on, and dashed through thick and thin,
Through sense and nonsense, never out nor in;
Free from all meaning, whether good or bad,
And, in one word, heroically mad,
He was too warm on picking-work to dwell,
But faggoted his notions as they fell,
And, if they rhymed and rattled, all was well.
Spiteful he is not, though he wrote a satire,
For there still goes some thinking to ill-nature;
He needs no more than birds and beasts to think,
All his occasions are to eat and drink.
If he call rogue and rascal from a garret,
He means you no more mischief than a parrot;
The words for friend and foe alike were made,
To fetter them in verse is all his trade.
DRYDEN, _Absalom and Achitophel_ (_Part II_)
(2) _Pope._ A lash like mine no honest man shall dread,
But all such babbling blockheads in his stead.
Let Sporus[161] tremble--
_Arbuthnot._ What? that thing of silk,
Sporus, that mere white curd of ass’s milk?
Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel?
Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?
_Pope._ Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings,
This painted child of dirt, that stinks and stings;
Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys,
Yet wit ne’er tastes, and beauty ne’er enjoys:
So well-bred spaniels civilly delight
In mumbling of the game they dare not bite.
Eternal smiles his emptiness betray,
As shallow streams run dimpling all the way:
Whether in florid impotence he speaks,
And, as the prompter breathes, the puppet squeaks;
Or at the ear of Eve, familiar toad,
Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad,
In puns, or politics, or tales, or lies,
Or spite, or smut, or rhymes, or blasphemies.
His wit, all see-saw between _that_ and _this_,
Now high, now low, now master up, now miss,
And he himself one vile antithesis.
Amphibious thing! that, acting either part,
The trifling head or the corrupted heart,
Fop at the toilet, flatt’rer at the board,
Now trips a lady, and now struts a lord.
Eve’s tempter thus the Rabbins have exprest,
A cherub’s face, a reptile all the rest;
Beauty that shocks you, parts that none will trust;
Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust.
POPE, _Epistle to Arbuthnot_
2. The two following extracts are from love-lyrics of the period.
Comment upon the treatment of the theme, paying attention to the
strength of feeling expressed, and the naturalness of the expression.
Is the English or the Scottish poem the more natural? Write a note on
the style of each, and say if it suits the subject.
(1) All in the downs the fleet was moored,
The streamers waving in the wind,
When black-eyed Susan came aboard,
“Oh! where shall I my true-love find?
Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true,
If my sweet William sails among the crew?”
William, who high upon the yard
Rocked with the billow to and fro,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard,
He sighed, and cast his eyes below:
The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands,
And, quick as lightning, on the deck he stands.
* * * * *
“O Susan, Susan, lovely dear,
My vows shall ever true remain;
Let me kiss off that falling tear;
We only part to meet again.
Change as ye list, ye winds! my heart shall be
The faithful compass that still points to thee.”
* * * * *
The boatswain gave the dreadful word,
The sails their swelling bosom spread;
No longer must she stay aboard;
They kissed, she sighed, he hung his head.
Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land,
“Adieu!” she cries, and waved her lily hand.
GAY, _Black-eyed Susan_
(2) Hear me, ye nymphs, and every swain,
I’ll tell how Peggy grieves me;
Though thus I languish and complain,
Alas! she ne’er believes me.
My vows and sighs, like silent air,
Unheeded, never move her;
At the bonnie bush aboon Traquair,
’Twas there I first did love her.
* * * * *
Yet now she scornful flies the plain,
The fields we then frequented;
If e’er we meet she shows disdain,
She looks as ne’er acquainted.
The bonnie bush bloomed fair in May,
Its sweets I’ll aye remember;
But now her frowns make it decay--
It fades as in December.
Ye rural powers, who hear my strains,
Why thus should Peggy grieve me?
Oh, make her partner in my pains,
Then let her smiles relieve me!
If not, my love will turn despair,
My passion no more tender;
I’ll leave the bush aboon Traquair--
To lonely wilds I’ll wander.
ROBERT CRAWFORD (_died 1733_)
3. The following three extracts are from the works of Swift, Addison,
and Defoe. Ascribe each piece to its author, in each case giving
distinctly your reasons for the selection of the authorship.
(1) When we were arrived upon the verge of his estate, we
stopped at a little inn to rest ourselves and our horses. The
man of the house had it seems been formerly a servant in the
knight’s family; and to do honour to his old master, had some
time since, unknown to Sir Roger, put him up in a sign-post
before the door; so that the knight’s head had hung out upon
the road about a week before he himself knew anything of the
matter. As soon as Sir Roger was acquainted with it, finding
that his servant’s indiscretion proceeded wholly from affection
and goodwill, he only told him that he had made him too high
a compliment; and when the fellow seemed to think that could
hardly be, added with a more decisive look, That it was too
great an honour for any man under a duke; but told him at the
same time, that it might be altered with a very few touches, and
that he himself would be at the charge of it.
(2) I turned away over the fields, from Bow to Bromley, and down
to Blackwall, to the stairs that are there for landing or taking
water.
Here I saw a poor man walking on the bank or sea-wall, as
they call it, by himself. I walked awhile also about, seeing
the houses all shut up; at last I fell into some talk, at a
distance, with this poor man. First I asked him how people did
there-abouts? “Alas! sir,” says he, “almost desolate; all dead
or sick: here are very few families in this part, or in that
village,” pointing at Poplar, “where half of them are not dead
already, and the rest sick.” Then pointing to one house, “There
they are all dead,” said he, “and the house stands open; nobody
dares go into it. A poor thief,” says he, “ventured in to steal
something, but he paid dear for his theft, for he was carried to
the churchyard too, last night.”
(3) I arrived at the fleet in less than half an hour. The enemy
was so frightened when they saw me that they leapt out of their
ships, and swam to shore, where there could not be fewer than
thirty thousand souls. I then took my tackling, and fastening
a hook to the hole at the prow of each, I tied all the cords
together at the end. While I was thus employed, the enemy
discharged several thousand arrows, many of which stuck in my
hands and face; and besides the excessive smart, gave me much
disturbance in my work. My greatest apprehension was for my
eyes, which I should have infallibly lost, if I had not suddenly
thought of an expedient.
4. We give two extracts, one dramatic and one non-dramatic, from the
blank verse of the time. Does the verse strike you as being passionate,
interesting, or profound? How would you describe it? Discuss the
meter--its regularity, melody, and power.
(1) It must be so--Plato, thou reason’st well,
Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing after immortality?
Or whence this secret dread and inward horror
Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul
Back on herself and startles at destruction?
--’Tis the Divinity that stirs within us;
’Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter,
And intimates Eternity to man.
ADDISON, _Cato_
(2) Be wise to-day: ’tis madness to defer;
Next day the fatal precedent will plead;
Thus on, till wisdom is push’d out of life.
Procrastination is the thief of time;
Year after year it steals till all are fled,
And to the mercies of a moment leaves
The vast concerns of an eternal scene.
If not so frequent, would not this be strange?
That ’tis so frequent, _this_ is stranger still.
YOUNG, _Night Thoughts_
5. What is the object of Swift in the following satirical passage?
How does he achieve it? How are the style, figures of speech, and
meter suited to his purpose? Compare this extract with that from
_Hudibras_ given on pp. 208–9. Which is the wittier and more
deadly? How is the superiority gained?
Hobbes clearly proves that every creature
Lives in a state of war by nature.
The greater for the smallest watch,
But meddle seldom with their match.
A whale of moderate size will draw
A shoal of herrings down his maw:
A fox with geese his belly crams;
A wolf destroys a thousand lambs:
But search among the rhyming race,
The brave are worried by the base.
If on Parnassus’ top you sit,
You rarely bite, are always bit.
Each poet of inferior size
On you shall rail and criticise,
And strive to tear you limb from limb;
While others do as much for him.
The vermin only tease and pinch
Their foes superior by an inch.
So, naturalists observe, a flea
Hath smaller fleas that on him prey;
And these have smaller still to bite ’em,
And so proceed _ad infinitum_.
Thus every poet in his kind
Is bit by him that comes behind:
Who, though too little to be seen,
Can tease, and gall, and give the spleen.
_Rhapsody on Poetry_
6. We give an example of Swift’s prose satire, a passage in which he
describes the progress of a political lie. What is the figure of speech
underlying the passage, and how does it assist his purpose? Compare
this passage with the poetical one given in the last exercise: do the
two passages correspond in style, figurativeness, and force? Which
strikes you as being the more effective?
No wonder if an infant so miraculous in its birth should be
destined for great adventures: and accordingly we see it hath
been the guardian spirit of a prevailing party for almost twenty
years. It can conquer kingdoms without fighting, and sometimes
with the loss of a battle. It gives and resumes employments;
can sink a mountain to a mole-hill, and raise a mole-hill to
a mountain; hath presided for many years at committees of
elections; can wash a blackmoor white; make a saint of an
atheist, and a patriot of a profligate; can furnish foreign
ministers with intelligence, and raise or let fall the credit
of the nation. This goddess flies with a huge looking-glass in
her hands, to dazzle the crowd, and make them see, according as
she turns it, their ruin in their interest, and their interest
in their ruin. In this glass you will behold your best friends,
clad in coats powdered with _fleurs de lis_, and triple
crowns; their girdles hung round with chains, and beads, and
wooden shoes; and your worst enemies adorned with the ensigns of
liberty, property, indulgence, moderation, and a cornucopia in
their hands. Her large wings, like those of a flying-fish, are
of no use but while they are moist; she therefore dips them in
mud, and soaring aloft scatters it in the eyes of the multitude,
flying with great swiftness; but at every turn is forced to
stoop in dirty ways for new supplies.
_The Examiner_
7. “The bulk of your natives appear to me to be the most pernicious
race of odious little vermin that Nature ever suffered to crawl
upon the face of the earth.” The King of Brobdingnag says this to
Gulliver. How far does this represent Swift’s attitude in _Gulliver’s
Travels_, and how far does he succeed in conveying this impression?
8. “I fared like a distressed prince who calls in a powerful neighbour
to his aid: I was undone by my auxiliary; when I had once called him
in, I could not subsist without dependence on him.” This is Steele’s
own estimate of Addison’s contribution to _The Tatler_ and _The
Spectator_. As far as you can, estimate the share of each writer in
the production of the two periodicals, and apportion their relative
importance.
9. How much of their personal peculiarities and weaknesses appears in
the writings of Swift, Pope, and Steele? How far does the nature of
their literary work drive them to this self-revelation?
10. Account for the decline of the drama during the first half of the
eighteenth century.
11. From an examination of the table given on p. 273 answer the
following questions: What branches of poetry are most weakly
represented during the age of Pope? Why is that so? What branch of
prose-writing is the strongest? Why is that so?
12. Why is the period of Pope called “the Age of Prose”? Does this
description of the time need modification?
13. Give reasons for the rise of periodical literature during this
period.
14. The humor of Addison “is that of a gentleman, in which the quickest
sense of the ridiculous is constantly tempered by good nature and good
breeding.... He preserves a look of demure serenity.... The mirth of
Swift is the mirth of Mephistopheles.... Swift moves laughter, but
never joins in it.” (Macaulay.) Compare the humor of Swift with that of
Addison. Which of the two does Pope more closely resemble in humor?
15. “Fancy, provided she knows her place, is tolerated; but Imagination
is kept at a distance.” (Saintsbury.) Show how far this statement
applies to the poetry of this time.