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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of On the Art of Writing, by Arthur Quiller-Couch
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: On the Art of Writing
+ Lectures delivered in the University of Cambridge 1913-1914
+
+Author: Arthur Quiller-Couch
+
+Release Date: January 5, 2006 [EBook #17470]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON THE ART OF WRITING ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by James Tenison
+
+
+
+
+
+ON THE ART OF WRITING
+
+
+
+CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS
+C.F. CLAY, Manager
+London: FETTER LANE, E.C.
+Edinburgh: 100 PRINCES STREET.
+
+
+
+Bombay, Calcutta and Madras: MACMILLAN & CO. LTD.
+Toronto: J.M. DENT AND SONS, LTD.
+Tokyo: THE MARUZEN-KABUSHIKI-KAISHA.
+
+
+Copyrighted in the United States of America by
+G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS,
+2, 4 AND 6, WEST 45TH STREET, NEW YORK CITY.
+
+
+All rights reserved
+
+
+
+
+ON THE ART OF WRITING
+
+LECTURES DELIVERED IN THE
+UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE
+1913-1914
+
+BY
+
+SIR ARTHUR QUILLER-COUCH, M.A.
+Fellow of Jesus College
+King Edward VII Professor of English Literature
+
+
+
+
+Cambridge: at the University Press
+1917
+
+
+First Edition 1916
+Reprinted 1916,1917
+
+
+
+TO JOHN HAY LOBBAN
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+By recasting these lectures I might with pains have turned them into a
+smooth treatise. But I prefer to leave them (bating a very few
+corrections and additions) as they were delivered. If, as the reader will
+all too easily detect, they abound no less in repetitions than in
+arguments dropped and left at loose ends--the whole bewraying a man
+called unexpectedly to a post where in the act of adapting himself, of
+learning that he might teach, he had often to adjourn his main purpose
+and skirmish with difficulties--they will be the truer to life; and so
+may experimentally enforce their preaching, that the Art of Writing is a
+living business.
+
+Bearing this in mind, the reader will perhaps excuse certain small
+vivacities, sallies that meet fools with their folly, masking the main
+attack. _That_, we will see, is serious enough; and others will carry it
+on, though my effort come to naught.
+
+It amounts to this--Literature is not a mere Science, to be studied; but
+an Art, to be practised. Great as is our own literature, we must consider
+it as a legacy to be improved. Any nation that potters with any glory of
+its past, as a thing dead and done for, is to that extent renegade. If
+that be granted, not all our pride in a Shakespeare can excuse the
+relaxation of an effort--however vain and hopeless--to better him, or
+some part of him. If, with all our native exemplars to give us courage,
+we persist in striving to write well, we can easily resign to other
+nations all the secondary fame to be picked up by commentators.
+
+Recent history has strengthened, with passion and scorn, the faith in
+which I wrote the following pages.
+
+ARTHUR QUILLER-COUCH
+November 1915
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE
+
+I INAUGURAL
+
+II THE PRACTICE OF WRITING
+
+III ON THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN VERSE AND PROSE
+
+IV ON THE CAPITAL DIFFICULTY OF VERSE
+
+V INTERLUDE: ON JARGON
+
+VI ON THE CAPITAL DIFFICULTY OF PROSE
+
+VII SOME PRINCIPLES REAFFIRMED
+
+VIII ON THE LINEAGE OF ENGLISH LITERATURE (I)
+
+IX ON THE LINEAGE OF ENGLISH LITERATURE (II)
+
+X ENGLISH LITERATURE IN OUR UNIVERSITIES (I)
+
+XI ENGLISH LITERATURE IN OUR UNIVERSITIES (II)
+
+XII ON STYLE
+
+
+ INDEX
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE I.
+
+INAUGURAL
+
+Wednesday, January 29, 1913
+
+
+In all the long quarrel set between philosophy and poetry I know of
+nothing finer, as of nothing more pathetically hopeless, than Plato's
+return upon himself in his last dialogue 'The Laws.' There are who find
+that dialogue (left unrevised) insufferably dull, as no doubt it is
+without form and garrulous. But I think they will read it with a new
+tolerance, may-be even with a touch of feeling, if upon second thoughts
+they recognise in its twisting and turnings, its prolixities and
+repetitions, the scruples of an old man who, knowing that his time in
+this world is short, would not go out of it pretending to know more than
+he does, and even in matters concerning which he was once very sure has
+come to divine that, after all, as Renan says, 'La Verité consiste dans
+les nuances.' Certainly 'the mind's dark cottage battered and decayed'
+does in that last dialogue admit some wonderful flashes,
+
+ From Heaven descended to the low-roofed house
+ Of Socrates,
+
+or rather to that noble 'banquet-hall deserted' which aforetime had
+entertained Socrates.
+
+Suffer me, Mr Vice-Chancellor and Gentlemen, before reaching my text, to
+remind you of the characteristically beautiful setting. The place is
+Crete, and the three interlocutors--Cleinias a Cretan, Megillus a
+Lacedaemonian, and an Athenian stranger--have joined company on a
+pilgrimage to the cave and shrine of Zeus, from whom Minos, first
+lawgiver of the island, had reputedly derived not only his parentage but
+much parental instruction. Now the day being hot, even scorching, and the
+road from Cnossus to the Sacred Cave a long one, our three pilgrims, who
+have foregathered as elderly men, take it at their leisure, and propose
+to beguile it with talk upon Minos and his laws. 'Yes, and on the way,'
+promises the Cretan, 'we shall come to cypress-groves exceedingly tall
+and fair, and to green meadows, where we may repose ourselves and
+converse.' 'Good,' assents the Athenian. 'Ay, very good indeed, and
+better still when we arrive at them. Let us push on.'
+
+So they proceed. I have said that all three are elderly men; that is, men
+who have had their opportunities, earned their wages, and so nearly
+earned their discharge that now, looking back on life, they can afford to
+see Man for what he really is--at his best a noble plaything for the
+gods. Yet they look forward, too, a little wistfully. They are of the
+world, after all, and nowise so tired of it, albeit disillusioned, as to
+have lost interest in the game or in the young who will carry it on. So
+Minos and his laws soon get left behind, and the talk (as so often
+befalls with Plato) is of the perfect citizen and how to train him--of
+education, in short; and so, as ever with Plato, we are back at length
+upon the old question which he could never get out of his way--What to do
+with the poets?
+
+It scarcely needs to be said that the Athenian has taken hold of the
+conversation, and that the others are as wax in his hands. 'O Athenian
+stranger,' Cleinias addresses him--'inhabitant of Attica I will not call
+you, for you seem to deserve rather the name of Athene herself, because
+you go back to first principles.' Thus complimented, the stranger lets
+himself go. Yet somehow he would seem to have lost speculative nerve.
+
+It was all very well in the 'Republic,' the ideal State, to be bold and
+declare for banishing poetry altogether. But elderly men have given up
+pursuing ideals; they have 'seen too many leaders of revolt.' Our
+Athenian is driving now at practice (as we say), at a well-governed State
+realisable on earth; and after all it is hard to chase out the poets,
+especially if you yourself happen to be something of a poet at heart.
+Hear, then, the terms on which, after allowing that comedies may be
+performed, but only by slaves and hirelings, he proceeds to allow serious
+poetry.
+
+ And if any of the serious poets, as they are termed, who write tragedy,
+ come to us and say--'O strangers, may we go to your city and country,
+ or may we not, and shall we bring with us our poetry? What is your will
+ about these matters?'--how shall we answer the divine men? I think that
+ our answer should be as follows:--
+
+ 'Best of strangers,' we will say to them, 'we also, according to our
+ ability, are tragic poets, and our tragedy is the best and noblest: for
+ our whole state is an imitation of the best and noblest life.... You are
+ poets and we are poets, both makers of the same strains, rivals and
+ antagonists in the noblest of dramas, which true law alone can perfect,
+ as our hope is. Do not then suppose that we shall all in a moment allow
+ you to erect your stage in the Agora, and introduce the fair voices of
+ your actors, speaking above our own, and permit you to harangue our
+ women and children and the common people in language other than our
+ own, and very often the opposite of our own. For a State would be mad
+ which gave you this license, until the magistrates had determined
+ whether your poetry might be recited and was fit for publication or
+ not. Wherefore, O ye sons and scions of the softer Muses! first of all
+ show your songs to the Magistrates and let them compare them with our
+ own, and if they are the same or better, we will give you a chorus; but
+ if not, then, my friends, we cannot.'
+
+Lame conclusion! Impotent compromise! How little applicable, at all
+events, to our Commonwealth! though, to be sure (you may say) we possess
+a relic of it in His Majesty's Licenser of Plays. As you know, there has
+been so much heated talk of late over the composition of the County
+Magistracy; yet I give you a countryman's word, Sir, that I have heard
+many names proposed for the Commission of the Peace, and on many grounds,
+but never one on the ground that its owner had a conservative taste in
+verse!
+
+Nevertheless, as Plato saw, we must deal with these poets somehow. It is
+possible (though not, I think, likely) that in the ideal State there
+would be no Literature, as it is certain there would be no Professors of
+it; but since its invention men have never been able to rid themselves of
+it for any length of time. _Tamen usque recurrit._ They may forbid
+Apollo, but still he comes leading his choir, the Nine:--
+
+ [Greek: Akletos men egoge menoimi ken es de kaleunton
+ Tharsesas Moisaisi snu amepeaisin ikoiman.]
+
+And he may challenge us English boldly! For since Chaucer, at any rate,
+he and his train have never been [Greek: akletoi] to us--least of all
+here in Cambridge.
+
+Nay, we know that he should be welcome. Cardinal Newman, proposing the
+idea of a University to the Roman Catholics of Dublin, lamented that the
+English language had not, like the Greek, 'some definite words to
+express, simply and generally, intellectual proficiency or perfection,
+such as "health," as used with reference to the animal frame, and
+"virtue," with reference to our moral nature.' Well, it is a reproach to
+us that we do not possess the term: and perhaps again a reproach to us
+that our attempts at it--the word 'culture' for instance--have been apt
+to take on some soil of controversy, some connotative damage from
+over-preaching on the one hand and impatience on the other. But we do
+earnestly desire the thing. We do prize that grace of intellect which
+sets So-and-so in our view as 'a scholar and a gentleman.' We do wish as
+many sons of this University as may be to carry forth that lifelong stamp
+from her precincts; and--this is my point--from our notion of such a man
+the touch of literary grace cannot be excluded. I put to you for a test
+Lucian's description of his friend Demonax--
+
+ His way was like other people's; he mounted no high horse; he was just
+ a man and a citizen. He indulged in no Socratic irony. But his
+ discourse was full of Attic grace; those who heard it went away neither
+ disgusted by servility, nor repelled by ill-tempered censure, but on
+ the contrary lifted out of themselves by charity, and encouraged to
+ more orderly, contented, hopeful lives.
+
+I put it to you, Sir, that Lucian needs not to say another word, but we
+know that Demonax had loved letters, and partly by aid of them had
+arrived at being such a man. No; by consent of all, Literature is a nurse
+of noble natures, and right reading makes a full man in a sense even
+better than Bacon's; not replete, but complete rather, to the pattern for
+which Heaven designed him. In this conviction, in this hope, public
+spirited men endow Chairs in our Universities, sure that Literature is a
+good thing if only we can bring it to operate on young minds.
+
+That he has in him some power to guide such operation a man must believe
+before accepting such a Chair as this. And now, Sir, the terrible moment
+is come when your [Greek: xenos] must render some account--I will not say
+of himself, for that cannot be attempted--but of his business here. Well,
+first let me plead that while you have been infinitely kind to the
+stranger, feasting him and casting a gown over him, one thing not all
+your kindness has been able to do. With precedents, with traditions such
+as other Professors enjoy, you could not furnish him. The Chair is a new
+one, or almost new, and for the present would seem to float in the void,
+like Mahomet's coffin. Wherefore, being one who (in my Lord Chief Justice
+Crewe's phrase) would 'take hold of a twig or twine-thread to uphold it';
+being also prone (with Bacon) to believe that 'the counsels to which Time
+hath not been called, Time will not ratify'; I do assure you that, had
+any legacy of guidance been discovered among the papers left by my
+predecessor, it would have been eagerly welcomed and as piously honoured.
+O, trust me, Sir!--if any design for this Chair of English Literature had
+been left by Dr Verrall, it is not I who would be setting up any new
+stage in your agora! But in his papers--most kindly searched for me by
+Mrs Verrall--no such design can be found. He was, in truth, a stricken
+man when he came to the Chair, and of what he would have built we can
+only be sure that, had it been this or had it been that, it would
+infallibly have borne the impress of one of the most beautiful minds of
+our generation. The gods saw otherwise; and for me, following him, I came
+to a trench and stretched my hands to a shade.
+
+For me, then, if you put questions concerning the work of this Chair, I
+must take example from the artist in Don Quixote, who being asked what he
+was painting, answered modestly, 'That is as it may turn out.' The course
+is uncharted, and for sailing directions I have but these words of your
+Ordinance:
+
+ It shall be the duty of the Professor to deliver courses of lectures
+ on English Literature from the age of Chaucer onwards, and otherwise
+ to promote, so far as may be in his power, the study in the
+ University of the subject of English Literature.
+
+And I never even knew that English Literature had a 'subject'; or,
+rather, supposed it to have several! To resume:
+
+ The Professor shall treat this subject on literary and critical
+ rather than on philological and linguistic lines:
+
+--a proviso which at any rate cuts off a cantle, large in itself, if not
+comparatively, of the new Professor's ignorance. But I ask you to note
+the phrase 'to promote, so far as may be in his power, the study'--not,
+you will observe, 'to teach'; for this absolves me from raising at the
+start a question of some delicacy for me, as Green launched his
+"Prolegomena to Ethics" upon the remark that 'an author who seeks to gain
+general confidence scarcely goes the right way to work when he begins
+with asking whether there really is such a subject as that of which he
+proposes to treat.' In spite of--mark, pray, that I say _in spite
+of_--the activity of many learned Professors, some doubt does lurk in
+the public mind if, after all, English Literature can, in any ordinary
+sense, be taught, and if the attempts to teach it do not, after all,
+justify (as Wisdom is so often justified of her grandparents) the
+silence sapience of those old benefactors who abstained from endowing
+any such Chairs.
+
+But that the study of English Literature can be promoted in young minds
+by an elder one, that their zeal may be encouraged, their tastes
+directed, their vision cleared, quickened, enlarged--this, I take it, no
+man of experience will deny. Nay, since our two oldest Universities have
+a habit of marking one another with interest--an interest, indeed,
+sometimes heightened by nervousness--I may point out that all this has
+been done of late years, and eminently done, by a Cambridge man you gave
+to Oxford. This, then, Mr Vice-Chancellor--this or something like this,
+Gentlemen--is to be my task if I have the good fortune to win your
+confidence.
+
+Let me, then, lay down two or three principles by which I propose to be
+guided. (1) For the first principle of all I put to you that in studying
+any work of genius we should begin by taking it _absolutely_; that is to
+say, with minds intent on discovering just what the author's mind
+intended; this being at once the obvious approach to its meaning (its
+[Greek: to ti en einai], the 'thing it was to be'), and the merest duty
+of politeness we owe to the great man addressing us. We should lay our
+minds open to what he wishes to tell, and if what he has to tell be noble
+and high and beautiful, we should surrender and let soak our minds in it.
+
+Pray understand that in claiming, even insisting upon, the first place
+for this _absolute_ study of a great work I use no disrespect towards
+those learned scholars whose labours will help you, Gentlemen, to enjoy
+it afterwards in other ways and from other aspects; since I hold there is
+no surer sign of intellectual ill-breeding than to speak, even to feel,
+slightingly of any knowledge oneself does not happen to possess. Still
+less do I aim to persuade you that anyone should be able to earn a
+Cambridge degree by the process (to borrow Macaulay's phrase) of reading
+our great authors 'with his feet on the hob,' a posture I have not even
+tried, to recommend it for a contemplative man's recreation. These
+editors not only set us the priceless example of learning for learning's
+sake: but even in practice they clear our texts for us, and
+afterwards--when we go more minutely into our author's acquaintance,
+wishing to learn all we can about him--by increasing our knowledge of
+detail they enchance our delight. Nay, with certain early writers--say
+Chaucer or Dunbar, as with certain highly allusive ones--Bacon, or
+Milton, or Sir Thomas Browne--some apparatus must be supplied from the
+start. But on the whole I think it a fair contention that such helps to
+studying an author are secondary and subsidiary; that, for example, with
+any author who by consent is less of his age than for all time, to study
+the relation he bore to his age may be important indeed, and even highly
+important, yet must in the nature of things be of secondary importance,
+not of the first.
+
+But let us examine this principle a little more attentively--for it is
+the palmary one. As I conceive it, that understanding of literature which
+we desire in our Euphues, our gracefully-minded youth, will include
+knowledge in varying degree, yet is itself something distinct from
+knowledge. Let us illustrate this upon Poetry, which the most of us will
+allow to be the highest form of literary expression, if not of all
+artistic expression. Of all the testimony paid to Poetry, none commands
+better witness than this--that, as Johnson said of Gray's Elegy 'it
+abounds with images which find a mirror in every mind, and with
+sentiments to which every heart returns an echo.' When George Eliot said,
+'I never before met with so many of my own feelings expressed just as I
+should like them,' she but repeated of Wordsworth (in homelier, more
+familiar fashion) what Johnson said of Gray; and the same testimony lies
+implicit in Emerson's fine remark that 'Universal history, the poets, the
+romancers'--all good writers, in short--'do not anywhere make us feel
+that we intrude, that this is for our betters. Rather it is true that, in
+their greatest strokes, there we feel most at home.' The mass of
+evidence, of which these are samples, may be summarised thus:--As we
+dwell here between two mysteries, of a soul within and an ordered
+Universe without, so among us are granted to dwell certain men of more
+delicate intellectual fibre than their fellows--men whose minds have, as
+it were, filaments to intercept, apprehend, conduct, translate home to us
+stray messages between these two mysteries, as modern telegraphy has
+learnt to search out, snatch, gather home human messages astray over
+waste waters of the Ocean.
+
+If, then, the ordinary man be done this service by the poet, that (as Dr
+Johnson defines it) 'he feels what he remembers to have felt before, but
+he feels it _with a great increase of sensibility_'; or even if, though
+the message be unfamiliar, it suggests to us, in Wordsworth's phrase, to
+'feel that we are greater than we know,' I submit that we respond to it
+less by anything that usually passes for knowledge, than by an
+improvement of sensibility, a tuning up of the mind to the poet's pitch;
+so that the man we are proud to send forth from our Schools will be
+remarkable less for something he can take out of his wallet and exhibit
+for knowledge, than for _being_ something, and that 'something,' a man of
+unmistakable intellectual breeding, whose trained judgment we can trust
+to choose the better and reject the worse.
+
+But since this refining of the critical judgment happens to be less easy
+of practice than the memorising of much that passes for knowledge--of
+what happened to Harriet or what Blake said to the soldier--and far less
+easy to examine on, the pedagogic mind (which I implore you not to
+suppose me confusing with the scholarly) for avoidance of trouble tends
+all the while to dodge or obfuscate what is essential, piling up
+accidents and irrelevancies before it until its very face is hidden. And
+we should be the more watchful not to confuse the pedagogic mind with the
+scholarly since it is from the scholar that the pedagogue pretends to
+derive his sanction; ransacking the great genuine commentators--be it a
+Skeat or a Masson or (may I add for old reverence' sake?) an Aldis
+Wright--fetching home bits of erudition, _non sua poma_, and announcing
+'This _must_ be the true Sion, for we found it in a wood.'
+
+Hence a swarm of little school books pullulates annually, all upside down
+and wrong from beginning to end; and hence a worse evil afflicts us, that
+the English schoolboy starts with a false perspective of any given
+masterpiece, his pedagogue urging, obtruding lesser things upon his
+vision until what is really important, the poem or the play itself, is
+seen in distorted glimpses, if not quite blocked out of view.
+
+This same temptation--to remove a work of art from the category for which
+the author designed it into another where it can be more conveniently
+studied--reaches even above the schoolmaster to assail some very eminent
+critics. I cite an example from a book of which I shall hereafter have to
+speak with gratitude as I shall always name it with respect--"The History
+of English Poetry," by Dr Courthope, sometime Professor of Poetry at
+Oxford. In his fourth volume, and in his estimate of Fletcher as a
+dramatist, I find this passage:--
+
+ But the crucial test of a play's quality is only applied when it is
+ read. So long as the illusion of the stage gives credit to the
+ action, and the words and gestures of the actor impose themselves on
+ the imagination of the spectator, the latter will pass over a
+ thousand imperfections, which reveal themselves to the reader, who,
+ as he has to satisfy himself with the drama of silent images, will
+ nor be content if this or that in any way fall short of his
+ conception of truth and nature,
+
+--which seems equivalent to saying that the crucial test of the frieze of
+the Parthenon is its adaptability to an apartment in Bloomsbury. So long
+as the illusion of the Acropolis gave credit to Pheidias' design, and the
+sunlight of Attica imposed its delicate intended shadows edging the
+reliefs, the countrymen of Pericles might be tricked; but the visitor to
+the British Museum, as he has to satisfy himself with what happens
+indoors in the atmosphere of the West Central Postal Division of London,
+will not be content if Pheidias in any way fall short of _his_ conception
+of truth and nature. Yet Fletcher (I take it) constructed his plays as
+plays; the illusion of the stage, the persuasiveness of the actor's
+voice, were conditions for which he wrought, and on which he had a right
+to rely; and, in short, any critic behaves uncritically who, distrusting
+his imagination to recreate the play as a play, elects to consider it in
+the category of something else.
+
+In sum, if the great authors never oppress us with airs of condescension,
+but, like the great lords they are, put the meanest of us at our ease in
+their presence, I see no reason why we should pay to any commentator a
+servility not demanded by his master.
+
+My next two principles may be more briefly stated.
+
+(2) I propose next, then, that since our investigations will deal largely
+with style, that curiously personal thing; and since (as I have said)
+they cannot in their nature be readily brought to rule-of-thumb tests,
+and may therefore so easily be suspected of evading all tests, of being
+mere dilettantism; I propose (I say) that my pupils and I rebuke this
+suspicion by constantly aiming at the concrete, at the study of such
+definite beauties as we can see presented in print under our eyes; always
+seeking the author's intention, but eschewing, for the present at any
+rate, all general definitions and theories, through the sieve of which
+the particular achievement of genius is so apt to slip. And having
+excluded them at first in prudence, I make little doubt we shall go on to
+exclude them in pride. Definitions, formulć (some would add, creeds) have
+their use in any society in that they restrain the ordinary
+unintellectual man from making himself a public nuisance with his private
+opinions. But they go a very little way in helping the man who has a real
+sense of prose or verse. In other words, they are good discipline for
+some thyrsus-bearers, but the initiated have little use for them. As
+Thomas ŕ Kempis 'would rather feel compunction than understand the
+definition thereof,' so the initiated man will say of the 'Grand Style,'
+for example--'Why define it for me?' When Viola says simply:
+
+ I am all the daughters of my father's house,
+ And all the brothers too,
+
+or Macbeth demands of the Doctor
+
+ Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
+ Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow..?
+
+or Hamlet greets Ophelia, reading her Book of Hours, with
+
+ Nymph, in thy orisons
+ Be all my sins remembered!
+
+or when Milton tells of his dead friend how
+
+ Together both, ere the high lawns appear'd
+ Under the opening eyelids of the morn,
+ We drove afield,
+
+or describes the battalions of Heaven
+
+ On they move
+ Indissolubly firm: nor obvious hill,
+ Nor strait'ning vale, nor wood, nor stream divide
+ Their perfect ranks,
+
+or when Gray exalts the great commonplace
+
+ The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
+ And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
+ Awaits alike th' inevitable hour;
+ The paths of glory lead but to the grave,
+
+or when Keats casually drops us such a line as
+
+ The journey homeward to habitual self,
+
+or, to come down to our own times and to a living poet, when I open on a
+page of William Watson and read
+
+ O ancient streams, O far descended woods,
+ Full of the fluttering of melodious souls!...
+
+'why then (will say the initiated one), why worry me with any definition
+of the Grand Style in English, when here, and here, and again here--in
+all these lines, simple or intense or exquisite or solemn--I recognise
+and feel the _thing_?'
+
+Indeed, Sir, the long and the short of the argument lie just here.
+Literature is not an abstract Science, to which exact definitions can be
+applied. It is an Art rather, the success of which depends on personal
+persuasiveness, on the author's skill to give as on ours to receive.
+
+(3) For our third principle I will ask you to go back with me to Plato's
+wayfarers, whom we have left so long under the cypresses; and loth as we
+must be to lay hands on our father Parmenides, I feel we must treat the
+gifted Athenian stranger to a little manhandling. For did you not
+observe--though Greek was a living language and to his metropolitan mind
+the only language--how envious he showed himself to seal up the well, or
+allow it to trickle only under permit of a public analyst: to treat all
+innovation as suspect, even as, a hundred odd years ago, the Lyrical
+Ballads were suspect?
+
+But the very hope of this Chair, Sir (as I conceive it), relies on the
+courage of the young. As Literature is an Art and therefore not to be
+pondered only, but practised, so ours is a living language and therefore
+to be kept alive, supple, active in all honourable use. The orator can
+yet sway men, the poet ravish them, the dramatist fill their lungs with
+salutary laughter or purge their emotions by pity or terror.
+The historian 'superinduces upon events the charm of order.'
+The novelist--well, even the novelist has his uses; and I would warn you
+against despising any form of art which is alive and pliant in the hands
+of men. For my part, I believe, bearing in mind Mr. Barrie's "Peter Pan"
+and the old bottles he renovated to hold that joyous wine, that even
+Musical Comedy, in the hands of a master, might become a thing of
+beauty. Of the Novel, at any rate--whether we like it or not--we have to
+admit that it does hold a commanding position in the literature of our
+times, and to consider how far Mr. Lascelles Abercrombie was right the
+other day when he claimed, on the first page of his brilliant study of
+Thomas Hardy, that 'the right to such a position is not to be disputed;
+for here, as elsewhere, the right to a position is no more than the
+power to maintain it.' You may agree with that or you may not; you may
+or may not deplore the forms that literature is choosing now-a-days; but
+there is no gainsaying that it is still very much alive. And I would say
+to you, Gentlemen, 'Believe, and be glad that Literature and the English
+tongue are both alive.' Carlyle, in his explosive way, once demanded of
+his countrymen, 'Shakespeare or India? If you had to surrender one to
+retain the other, which would you choose?' Well, our Indian Empire is
+yet in the making, while the works of Shakespeare are complete and
+purchasable in whole calf; so the alternatives are scarcely _in pari
+materia_; and moreover let us not be in a hurry to meet trouble half
+way. But in English Literature, which, like India, is still in the
+making, you have at once an Empire and an Emprise. In that alone you
+have inherited something greater than Sparta. Let us strive, each in his
+little way, to adorn it.
+
+But here at the close of my hour, the double argument, that Literature is
+an Art and English a living tongue, has led me right up to a fourth
+principle, the plunge into which (though I foresaw it from the first) all
+the coward in me rejoices at having to defer to another lecture. I
+conclude then, Gentlemen, by answering two suspicions, which very likely
+have been shaping themselves in your minds. In the first place, you will
+say, 'It is all very well for this man to talk about "cultivating an
+increased sensibility," and the like; but we know what that leads to--to
+quackery, to aesthetic chatter: "Isn't this pretty? Don't you admire
+that?"' Well, I am not greatly frightened. To begin with, when we come to
+particular criticism I shall endeavour to exchange it with you in plain
+terms; a manner which (to quote Mr Robert Bridges' "Essay on Keats") 'I
+prefer, because by obliging the lecturer to say definitely what he means,
+it makes his mistakes easy to point out, and in this way the true
+business of criticism is advanced.' But I have a second safeguard, more
+to be trusted: that here in Cambridge, with all her traditions of austere
+scholarship, anyone who indulges in loose distinct talk will be quickly
+recalled to his tether. Though at the time Athene be not kind enough to
+descend from heaven and pluck him backward by the hair, yet the very
+_genius loci_ will walk home with him from the lecture room, whispering
+monitions, cruel to be kind.
+
+'But,' you will say alternatively, 'if we avoid loose talk on these
+matters we are embarking on a mighty difficult business.' Why, to be sure
+we are; and that, I hope, will be half the enjoyment. After all, we have
+a number of critics among whose methods we may search for help--from the
+Persian monarch who, having to adjudicate upon two poems, caused the one
+to be read to him, and at once, without ado, awarded the prize to the
+other, up to the great Frenchman whom I shall finally invoke to sustain
+my hope of building something; that is if you, Gentlemen, will be content
+to accept me less as a Professor than as an Elder Brother.
+
+The Frenchman is Sainte-Beuve, and I pay a debt, perhaps appropriately
+here, by quoting him as translated by the friend of mine, now dead, who
+first invited me to Cambridge and taught me to admire her--one Arthur
+John Butler, sometime a Fellow of Trinity, and later a great pioneer
+among Englishmen in the study of Dante. Thus while you listen to the
+appeal of Sainte-Beuve, I can hear beneath it a more intimate voice, not
+for the first time, encouraging me.
+
+Sainte-Beuve then--_si magna licet componere parvis_--is delivering an
+Inaugural Lecture in the École Normale, the date being April 12th, 1858.
+'Gentlemen,' he begins, 'I have written a good deal in the last thirty
+years; that is, I have scattered myself a good deal; so that I need to
+gather myself together, in order that my words may come before you with
+all the more freedom and confidence.' That is his opening; and he ends:--
+
+ As time goes on, you will make me believe that I can for my part be
+ of some good to you: and with the generosity of your age you will
+ repay me, in this feeling alone, far more than I shall be able to
+ give you in intellectual freedom, in literary thought. If in one
+ sense I bestow on you some of my experience, you will requite me,
+ and in a more profitable manner, by the sight of your ardour for
+ what is noble: you will accustom me to turn oftener and more
+ willingly towards the future in your company. You will teach me
+ again to hope.
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE II.
+
+THE PRACTICE OF WRITING.
+
+Wednesday, February 12
+
+
+We found, Gentlemen, towards the close of our first lecture, that the
+argument had drawn us, as by a double chain, up to the edge of a bold
+leap, over which I deferred asking you to take the plunge with me. Yet
+the plunge must be taken, and to-day I see nothing for it but to harden
+our hearts.
+
+Well, then, I propose to you that, English Literature being (as we
+agreed) an Art, with a living and therefore improvable language for its
+medium or vehicle, a part--and no small part--of our business is _to
+practise it._ Yes, I seriously propose to you that here in Cambridge we
+_practise writing_: that we practise it not only for our own improvement,
+but to make, or at least try to make, appropriate, perspicuous, accurate,
+persuasive writing a recognisable hall-mark of anything turned out by our
+English School. By all means let us study the great writers of the past
+for their own sakes; but let us study them for our guidance; that we, in
+our turn, having (it is to be hoped) something to say in our span of
+time, say it worthily, not dwindling out the large utterance of
+Shakespeare or of Burke. Portraits of other great ones look down on you
+in your college halls: but while you are young and sit at the brief
+feast, what avails their serene gaze if it do not lift up your hearts and
+movingly persuade you to match your manhood to its inheritance?
+
+I protest, Gentlemen, that if our eyes had not been sealed, as with wax,
+by the pedagogues of whom I spoke a fortnight ago, this one habit of
+regarding our own literature as a _hortus siccus_, this our neglect to
+practise good writing as the constant auxiliary of an Englishman's
+liberal education, would be amazing to you seated here to-day as it will
+be starkly incredible to the future historian of our times. Tell me,
+pray; if it concerned _Painting_--an art in which Englishmen boast a
+record far briefer, far less distinguished--what would you think of a
+similar acquiescence in the past, a like haste to presume the dissolution
+of aptitude and to close accounts, a like precipitancy to divorce us from
+the past, to rob the future of hope and even the present of lively
+interest? Consider, for reproof of these null men, the Discourses
+addressed (in a pedantic age, too) by Sir Joshua Reynolds to the Members
+and Students of the Royal Academy. He has (as you might expect) enough to
+say of Tintoretto, of Titian, of Caracci, and of the duty of studying
+their work with patience, with humility. But why does he exhort his
+hearers to con them?--Why, because he is all the time _driving at
+practice_. Hear how he opens his second Discourse (his first to the
+Students). After congratulating the prize-winners of 1769, he desires 'to
+lead them into such a course of study as may render their future progress
+answerable to their past improvement'; and the great man goes on:--
+
+ I flatter myself that from the long experience I have had, and the
+ necessary assiduity with which I have pursued these studies in which
+ like you I have been engaged, I shall be acquitted of vanity in
+ offering some hints to your consideration. They are indeed in a
+ great degree founded upon my own mistakes in the same pursuit....
+
+Mark the noble modesty of that! To resume--
+
+ In speaking to you of the Theory of the Art, I shall only consider
+ it as it has relation to the method of your studies.
+
+And then he proceeds to preach the Old Masters.--But how?--why?--to what
+end? Does he recite lists of names, dates, with formulae concerning
+styles? He does nothing of the sort. Does he recommend his old masters
+for copying, then?--for mere imitation? Not a bit of it!--he comes down
+like a hammer on copying. Then for what, in fine, will he have them
+studied? Listen:--
+
+ The more extensive your acquaintance is with the works of those who
+ have excelled, the more extensive will be your powers of invention.
+
+Yes, of _invention_, your power to make something new:
+
+ --and what may appear still more like a paradox, _the more original
+ will be your conceptions_.
+
+There spake Sir Joshua Reynolds: and I call that the voice of a true
+Elder Brother. He, standing face to face with the young, thought of the
+old masters mainly as spiritual begetters of practice. And will anyone in
+this room tell me that what Reynolds said of painting is not to-day, for
+us, applicable to writing?
+
+We accept it of Greek and Latin. An old Sixth Form master once said to
+me, 'You may give up Latin Verse for this term, if you will: but I warn
+you, no one can be a real scholar who does not constantly practise
+verse.' He was mistaken, belike. I hold, for my part, that in our Public
+Schools, we give up a quite disproportionate amount of time to
+'composition' (of Latin Prose especially) and starve the boys' reading
+thereby. But at any rate we do give up a large share of the time to it.
+Then if we insist on this way with the tongues of Homer and Virgil, why
+do we avoid it with the tongue of Shakespeare, our own living tongue? I
+answer by quoting one of the simplest wisest sayings of Don Quixote
+(Gentlemen, you will easily, as time goes on, and we better our
+acquaintance, discover my favourite authors):--
+
+ The great Homer wrote not in Latin, for he was a Greek; and Virgil
+ wrote not in Greek, because he was a Latin. In brief, all the
+ ancient poets wrote in the tongue which they sucked in with their
+ mother's milk, nor did they go forth to seek for strange ones to
+ express the greatness of their conceptions: and, this being so, it
+ should be a reason for the fashion to extend to all nations.
+
+Does the difference, then, perchance lie in ourselves? Will you tell me,
+'Oh, painting is a special art, whereas anyone can write prose passably
+well'? Can he, indeed?... Can _you,_ sir? Nay, believe me, you are either
+an archangel or a very bourgeois gentleman indeed if you admit to having
+spoken English prose all your life without knowing it.
+
+Indeed, when we try to speak prose without having practised it the result
+is apt to be worse than our own vernacular. How often have I heard some
+worthy fellow addressing a public audience!--say a Parliamentary
+candidate who believes himself a Liberal Home Ruler, and for the moment
+is addressing himself to meet some criticism of the financial proposals
+of a Home Rule Bill. His own vernacular would be somewhat as follows:--
+
+ Oh, rot! Give the Irish their heads and they'll run straight enough.
+ Look at the Boers, don't you know. Not half such a decent sort as
+ the Irish. Look at Irish horses, too. Eh? What?
+
+But this, he is conscious, would hardly suit the occasion. He therefore
+amends it thus:--
+
+ Mr Chairman--er--as regards the financial proposals of His Majesty's
+ Government, I am of the deliberate--er--opinion that our national
+ security--I may say, our Imperial security--our security as--er--a
+ governing people--lies in trusting the Irish as we did in the--er
+ --case of the Boers--H'm Mr Gladstone, Mr Chairman--Mr Chairman, Mr
+ Gladstone----
+
+and so on. You perceive that the style is actually worse than in the
+sample quoted before; it has become flabby whereas that other was at any
+rate nervous? But now suppose that, having practised it, our candidate
+was able to speak like this:--
+
+ 'But what (says the Financier) is peace to us without money? Your plan
+ gives us no revenue.' No? But it does--for it secures to the subject
+ the power of Refusal, the first of all Revenues. Experience is a cheat,
+ and fact is a liar, if this power in the subject of proportioning his
+ grant, or of not granting at all, has not been found the richest mine
+ of Revenue ever discovered by the skill or by the fortune of man. It
+ does not indeed vote you 152,750 pounds 11 shillings 2 3/4 pence, nor
+ any other paltry limited sum--but it gives you the strong box itself,
+ the fund, the bank, from whence only revenues can arise among a people
+ sensible of freedom: _Positâ luditur arcâ_.... Is this principle to be
+ true in England, and false everywhere else? Is it not true in Ireland?
+ Has it not hitherto been true in the Colonies? Why should you presume
+ that in any country a body duly constituted for any function will
+ neglect to perform its duty and abdicate its trust? Such a presumption
+ would go against all Governments in all nations. But in truth this
+ dread of penury of supply, from a free assembly, has no foundation in
+ nature. For first, observe that, besides the desire which all men have
+ naturally of supporting the honour of their own Government, that sense
+ of dignity, and that security to property, which ever attend freedom,
+ have a tendency to increase the stock of a free community. Most may be
+ taken where most is accumulated. And what is the soil or climate where
+ experience has not uniformly proved that the voluntary flow of
+ heaped-up plenty, bursting from the weight of its own luxuriance, has
+ ever run with a more copious stream of revenue than could be squeezed
+ from the dry husks of oppressed indigence by the straining of all the
+ politic machinery in the world?
+
+That, whether you agree or disagree with its doctrine, is great prose.
+That is Burke. 'O Athenian stranger,' said the Cretan I quoted in my
+first lecture,--'inhabitant of Attica I will not call you, since you
+deserve the name of Athene herself, because you go back to first
+principles!'
+
+But, you may object, 'Burke is talking like a book, and I have no wish to
+talk like a book.' Well, as a fact, Burke is here at the culmen of a long
+sustained argument, and his language has soared with it, as his way
+was--logic and emotion lifting him together as upon two balanced majestic
+wings. But you are shy of such heights? Very well again, and all credit
+to your modesty! Yet at least (I appeal to that same modesty) when you
+talk or write, you would wish to _observe the occasion_; to say what you
+have to say without impertinence or ill-timed excess. You would not
+harangue a drawing-room or a subcommittee, or be facetious at a funeral,
+or play the skeleton at a banquet: for in all such conduct you would be
+mixing up things that differ. Be cheerful, then: for this desire of yours
+to be appropriate is really the root of the matter. Nor do I ask you to
+accept this on my sole word, but will cite you the most respectable
+witnesses. Take, for instance, a critic who should be old enough to
+impress you--Dionysius of Halicarnassus. After enumerating the qualities
+which lend charm and nobility to style, he closes the list with
+'appropriateness, which all these need':--
+
+ As there is a charming diction, so there is another that is noble;
+ as there is a polished rhythm, so there is another that is
+ dignified; as variety adds grace in one passage, so in another it
+ adds fulness; _and as for appropriation, it will prove the chief
+ source of beauty, or else of nothing at all_.
+
+Or listen to Cicero, how he sets appropriateness in the very heart of his
+teaching, as the master secret:--
+
+ Is erit eloquens qui poterit parva summisse, modica temperate, magna
+ graviter dicere.... Qui ad id quodcunque decebit poterit accommodare
+ orationem. Quod quum statuerit, tum, ut quidque erit dicendum, ita
+ dicet, nec satura jejune, nec grandia minute, nec item contra, sed
+ erit rebus ipsis par et aequalis oratio.
+
+ 'Whatever his theme he will speak as becomes it; neither meagrely
+ where it is copious, nor meanly where it is ample, nor in _this_ way
+ where it demands _that_; but keeping his speech level with the
+ actual subject and adequate to it.'
+
+I might quote another great man, Quintilian, to you on the first
+importance of this appropriateness, or 'propriety'; of speaking not only
+to the purpose but _becomingly_--though the two as (he rightly says) are
+often enough one and the same thing. But I will pass on to what has ever
+seemed, since I found it in one of Jowett's 'Introductions' to Plato, the
+best definition known to me of good style in literature:--
+
+ The perfection of style is variety in unity, freedom, ease,
+ clearness, the power of saying anything, and of striking any note in
+ the scale of human feelings, without impropriety.
+
+You see, O my modest friend! that your gamut needs not to be very wide,
+to begin with. The point is that within it you learn to play becomingly.
+
+Now I started by proposing that we try together to make appropriate,
+perspicuous, accurate, persuasive writing a hall-mark of anything turned
+out by our English School here, and I would add (growing somewhat
+hardier) a hall-mark of all Cambridge style so far as our English School
+can influence it. I chose these four epithets _accurate, perspicuous,
+persuasive, appropriate_, with some care, of course as my duty was; and
+will assume that by this time we are agreed to desire _appropriateness_.
+Now for the other three:--
+
+_Perspicuity._--I shall waste no words on the need of this: since the
+first aim of speech is to be understood. The more clearly you write the
+more easily and surely you will be understood. I propose to demonstrate
+to you further, in a minute or so, that the more clearly you write the
+more clearly you will understand yourself. But a sufficient reason has
+been given in ten words why you should desire perspicuity.
+
+_Accuracy._--Did I not remind myself in my first lecture, that Cambridge
+is the home of accurate scholarship? Surely no Cambridge man would
+willingly be a sloven in speech, oral or written? Surely here, if
+anywhere, should be acknowledged of all what Newman says of the classics,
+that 'a certain unaffected neatness and propriety and grace of diction
+may be required of any author, for the same reason that a certain
+attention to dress is expected of every gentleman.' After all, what are
+the chief differentiae between man and the brute creation but that he
+clothes himself, that he cooks his food, that he uses articulate speech?
+Let us cherish and improve all these distinctions.
+
+But shall we now look more carefully into these twin questions of
+perspicuity and accuracy: for I think pursuing them, we may almost reach
+the philosophic kernel of good writing. I quoted Newman playfully a
+moment ago. I am going to quote him in strong earnest. And here let me
+say that of all the books written in these hundred years there is perhaps
+none you can more profitably thumb and ponder than that volume of his in
+which, under the title of "The Idea of a University," he collected nine
+discourses addressed to the Roman Catholics of Dublin with some lectures
+delivered to the Catholic University there. It is fragmentary, because
+its themes were occasional. It has missed to be appraised at its true
+worth, partly no doubt by reason of the colour it derives from a religion
+still unpopular in England. But in fact it may be read without offence by
+the strictest Protestant; and the book is so wise--so eminently wise--as
+to deserve being bound by the young student of literature for a frontlet
+on his brow and a talisman on his writing wrist.
+
+Now you will find much pretty swordsmanship in its pages, but nothing
+more trenchant than the passage in which Newman assails and puts to rout
+the Persian host of infidels--I regret to say, for the most part Men of
+Science--who would persuade us that good writing, that style, is
+something extrinsic to the subject, a kind of ornamentation laid on to
+tickle the taste, a study for the _dilettante_, but beneath the notice of
+_their_ stern and masculine minds.
+
+Such a view, as he justly points out, belongs rather to the Oriental mind
+than to our civilisation: it reminds him of the way young gentlemen go to
+work in the East when they would engage in correspondence with the object
+of their affection. The enamoured one cannot write a sentence himself:
+_he_ is the specialist in passion (for the moment); but thought and words
+are two things to him, and for words he must go to another specialist,
+the professional letter-writer. Thus there is a division of labour.
+
+ The man of words, duly instructed, dips the pen of desire in the ink of
+ devotedness and proceeds to spread it over the page of desolation. Then
+ the nightingale of affection is heard to warble to the rose of
+ loveliness, while the breeze of anxiety plays around the brow of
+ expectation. That is what the Easterns are said to consider fine
+ writing; and it seems pretty much the idea of the school of critics to
+ which I have been referring.
+
+Now hear this fine passage:--
+
+ Thought and speech are inseparable from each other. Matter and
+ expression are parts of one; style is a thinking out into language.
+ That is what I have been laying down, and this is literature; not
+ _things_, but the verbal symbols of things; not on the other hand mere
+ _words_; but thoughts expressed in language. Call to mind, gentlemen,
+ the meaning of the Greek word which expresses this special prerogative
+ of man over the feeble intelligence of the lower animals. It is called
+ Logos; what does Logos mean? it stands both for _reason_ and for
+ _speech_, and it is difficult to say which it means more properly. It
+ means both at once: why? because really they cannot be divided.... When
+ we can separate light and illumination, life and motion, the convex and
+ the concave of a curve, then will it be possible for thought to tread
+ speech under foot and to hope to do without it--then will it be
+ conceivable that the vigorous and fertile intellect should renounce its
+ own double, its instrument of expression and the channel of its
+ speculations and emotions.
+
+'As if,' he exclaims finely, 'language were the hired servant, the mere
+mistress of reason, and not the lawful wife in her own house!'
+
+If you need further argument (but what serves it to slay the slain?) let
+me remind you that you cannot use the briefest, the humblest process of
+thought, cannot so much as resolve to take your bath hot or cold, or
+decide what to order for breakfast, without forecasting it to yourself in
+some form of words. Words are, in fine, the only currency in which we can
+exchange thought even with ourselves. Does it not follow, then, that the
+more accurately we use words the closer definition we shall give to our
+thoughts? Does it not follow that by drilling ourselves to write
+perspicuously we train our minds to clarify their thought? Does it not
+follow that some practice in the deft use of words, with its
+correspondent defining of thought, may well be ancillary even to the
+study of Natural Science in a University?
+
+But I have another word for our men of science. It was inevitable,
+perhaps, that Latin--so long the Universal Language--should cease in time
+to be that in which scientific works were written. It was impossible,
+perhaps, to substitute, by consent, some equally neat and austere modern
+language, such as French. But when it became an accepted custom for each
+nation to use its own language in scientific treatises, it certainly was
+not foreseen that men of science would soon be making discoveries at a
+rate which left their skill in words outstripped; that having to invent
+their terms as they went along, yet being careless and contemptuous of a
+science in which they have no training, they would bombast out our
+dictionaries with monstrously invented words that not only would have
+made Quintilian stare and gasp, but would affront the decently literate
+of any age.
+
+After all, and though we must sigh and acquiesce in the building of
+Babel, we have some right to examine the bricks. I was waiting, the other
+day, in a doctor's anteroom, and picked up one of those books--it was a
+work on pathology--so thoughtfully left lying in such places; to persuade
+us, no doubt, to bear the ills we have rather than fly to others capable
+of being illustrated. I found myself engaged in following the manoeuvres
+of certain well-meaning bacilli generically described as 'Antibodies.' I
+do not accuse the author (who seemed to be a learned man) of having
+invented this abominable term: apparently it passed current among
+physiologists and he had accepted it for honest coin. I found it, later
+on, in Webster's invaluable dictionary: Etymology, 'anti' up against
+'body', some noxious 'foreign body' inside your body or mine.
+
+Now gin a body meet a body for our protection and in this gallant spirit,
+need a body reward him with this hybrid label? Gratitude apart, I say
+that for our own self-respect, whilst we retain any sense of intellectual
+pedigree, 'antibody' is no word to throw at a friendly bacillus. Is it
+consonant with the high dignity of science to make her talk like a cheap
+showman advertising a 'picture-drome'? The man who eats peas with his
+knife can at least claim a historical throwback to the days when forks
+had but two prongs and the spoons had been removed with the soup. But
+'antibody' has no such respectable derivation. It is, in fact, a
+barbarism, and a mongrel at that. The man who uses it debases the
+currency of learning: and I suggest to you that it is one of the many
+functions of a great University to maintain the standard of that
+currency, to guard the _jus et norma loquendi_, to protect us from such
+hasty fellows or, rather, to suppeditate them in their haste.
+
+Let me revert to our list of the qualities necessary to good writing, and
+come to the last--_Persuasiveness_; of which you may say, indeed, that it
+embraces the whole--not only the qualities of propriety, perspicuity,
+accuracy, we have been considering, but many another, such as harmony,
+order, sublimity, beauty of diction; all in short that--writing being an
+art, not a science, and therefore so personal a thing--may be summed up
+under the word _Charm_. Who, at any rate, does not seek after Persuasion?
+It is the aim of all the arts and, I suppose, of all exposition of the
+sciences; nay, of all useful exchange of converse in our daily life. It
+is what Velasquez attempts in a picture, Euclid in a proposition, the
+Prime Minister at the Treasury box, the journalist in a leading article,
+our Vicar in his sermon. Persuasion, as Matthew Arnold once said, is the
+only true intellectual process. The mere cult of it occupied many of the
+best intellects of the ancients, such as Longinus and Quintilian, whose
+writings have been preserved to us just because they were prized. Nor can
+I imagine an earthly gift more covetable by you, Gentlemen, than that of
+persuading your fellows to listen to your views and attend to what you
+have at heart.
+
+Suppose, sir, that you wish to become a journalist? Well, and why not? Is
+it a small thing to desire the power of influencing day by day to better
+citizenship an unguessed number of men, using the best thought and
+applying it in the best language at your command?... Or are you, perhaps,
+overawed by the printed book? On that, too, I might have a good deal to
+say; but for the moment would keep the question as practical as I can.
+
+Well, it is sometimes said that Oxford men make better journalists than
+Cambridge men, and some attribute this to the discipline of their great
+School of _Literae Humaniores_, which obliges them to bring up a weekly
+essay to their tutor, who discusses it. Cambridge men retort that all
+Oxford men are journalists, and throw, of course, some accent of scorn on
+the word. But may I urge--and remember please that my credit is pledged
+to _you_ now--may I urge that this is not a wholly convincing answer?
+For, to begin with, Oxford men have not changed their natures since
+leaving school, but are, by process upon lines not widely divergent from
+your own, much the same pleasant sensible fellows you remember. And,
+next, if you truly despise journalism, why then despise it, have done
+with it and leave it alone. But I pray you, do not despise it if you mean
+to practise it, though it be but as a step to something better. For while
+the ways of art are hard at the best, they will break you if you go
+unsustained by belief in what you are trying to do.
+
+In asking you to practise the written word, I began with such
+low but necessary things as propriety, perspicuity, accuracy.
+But _persuasion_--the highest form of persuasion at any rate--cannot be
+achieved without a sense of beauty. And now I shoot a second rapid--_I
+want you to practise verse, and to practise it assiduously_.... I am
+quite serious. Let me remind you that, if there ever was an ancient
+state of which we of Great Britain have great right and should have
+greater ambition to claim ourselves the spiritual heirs, that state was
+Imperial Rome. And of the Romans (whom you will allow to have been a
+practical people) nothing is more certain than the value they set upon
+acquiring verse. To them it was not only (as Dr Johnson said of Greek)
+'like old lace--you can never have too much of it.' They cultivated it
+with a straight eye to national improvement. Among them, as a scholar
+reminded us the other day, you find 'an educational system deliberately
+and steadily directed towards the development of poetical talent. They
+were not a people of whom we can say, as we can of the Greeks, that they
+were born to art and literature.... The characteristic Roman triumphs
+are the triumphs of a material civilisation.' Rome's rôle in the world
+was 'the absorption of outlying genius.' Themselves an unimaginative
+race with a language not too tractable to poetry, they made great
+poetry, and they made it of patient set purpose, of hard practice. I
+shall revert to this and maybe amplify reasons in another lecture. For
+the moment I content myself with stating the fact that no nation ever
+believed in poetry so deeply as the Romans.
+
+Perpend this then, and do not too hastily deride my plea that you should
+practise verse-writing. I know most of the objections, though I may not
+remember all. _Mediocribus esse poetis_, etc.--that summarises most of
+them: yet of an infliction of much bad verse from you, if I am prepared
+to endure it, why should anyone else complain? I say that the youth of a
+University ought to practise verse-writing; and will try to bring this
+home to you by an argument convincing to me, though I have never seen it
+in print.
+
+What are the great poetical names of the last hundred years or so?
+Coleridge, Wordsworth, Byron, Shelley, Landor, Keats, Tennyson, Browning,
+Arnold, Morris, Rossetti, Swinburne--we may stop there. Of these all but
+Keats, Browning, Rossetti were University men; and of these three Keats,
+who died young, cut off in his prime, was the only one not fairly
+well-to-do. It may seem a brutal thing to say, and it is a sad thing to
+say: but, as a matter of hard fact, the theory that poetical genius
+bloweth where it listeth, and equally in poor and rich, holds little
+truth. As a matter of hard fact, nine out of those twelve were
+University men: which means that somehow or other they procured the
+means to get the best education England can give. As a matter of hard
+fact, of the remaining three you know that Browning was well-to-do, and
+I challenge you that, if he had not been well-to-do, he would no more
+have attained to writing "Saul" or "The Ring and the Book" than Ruskin
+would have attained to writing "Modern Painters" if his father had not
+dealt prosperously in business. Rossetti had a small private income;
+and, moreover, he painted. There remains but Keats; whom Atropos slew
+young, as she slew John Clare in a madhouse, and James Thomson by the
+laudanum he took to drug disappointment. These are dreadful facts, but
+let us face them. It is--however dishonouring to us as a nation--certain
+that, by some fault in our commonwealth, the poor poet has not in these
+days, nor has had for two hundred years, a dog's chance. Believe me--and
+I have spent a great part of the last ten years in watching some 320
+Elementary Schools--we may prate of democracy, but actually a poor child
+in England has little more hope than had the son of an Athenian slave to
+be emancipated into that intellectual freedom of which great writings
+are born.
+
+What do I argue from this? I argue that until we can bring more
+intellectual freedom into our State, more 'joy in widest commonalty
+spread,' upon you, a few favoured ones, rests an obligation to see that
+the springs of English poetry do not fail. I put it to you that of this
+glory of our birth and state _you_ are the temporary stewards. I put it
+to the University, considered as a dispenser of intellectual light, that
+to treat English poetry as though it had died with Tennyson and your
+lecturers had but to compose the features of a corpse, is to abnegate
+high hope for the sake of a barren convenience. I put it to the Colleges,
+considered as disciplinary bodies, that the old way of letting Coleridge
+slip, chasing forth Shelley, is, after all, not the wisest way. Recollect
+that in Poesy as in every other human business, the more there are who
+practise it the greater will be the chance of _someone's_ reaching
+perfection. It is the impetus of the undistinguished host that flings
+forward a Diomed or a Hector. And when you point with pride to Milton's
+and those other mulberry trees in your Academe, bethink you 'What poets
+are they shading to-day? Or are their leaves but feeding worms to spin
+gowns to drape Doctors of Letters?'
+
+In the life of Benvenuto Cellini you will find this passage worth your
+pondering.--He is telling how, while giving the last touches to his
+Perseus in the great square of Florence, he and his workmen inhabited a
+shed built around the statue. He goes on:--
+
+ The folk kept on attaching sonnets to the posts of the door....I believe
+ that, on the day when I opened it for a few hours to the public, more
+ than twenty were nailed up, all of them overflowing with the highest
+ panegyrics. Afterwards, when I once more shut it off from view,
+ everyone brought sonnets, with Latin and Greek verses: for the
+ University of Pisa was then in vacation, and all the doctors and
+ scholars kept vying with each other who could produce the best.
+
+I may not live to see the doctors and scholars of this University thus
+employing the Long Vacation; as perhaps we shall wait some time for
+another Perseus to excite them to it. But I do ask you to consider that
+the Perseus was not entirely cause nor the sonnets entirely effect; that
+the age when men are eager about great work is the age when great work
+gets itself done; nor need it disturb us that most of the sonnets were,
+likely enough, very bad ones--in Charles Lamb's phrase, very like what
+Petrarch might have written if Petrarch had been born a fool. It is the
+impetus that I ask of you: the will to try.
+
+Lastly, Gentlemen, do not set me down as one who girds at your
+preoccupation, up here, with bodily games; for, indeed, I hold
+'gymnastic' to be necessary as 'music' (using both words in the Greek
+sense) for the training of such youths as we desire to send forth from
+Cambridge. But I plead that they should be balanced, as they were in the
+perfect young knight with whose words I will conclude to-day:--
+
+ Having this day my horse, my hand, my lance
+ Guided so well that I obtained the prize,
+ Both by the judgment of the English eyes
+ And of some sent by that sweet enemy France;
+ Horsemen my skill in horsemanship advance,
+ Town-folk my strength, a daintier judge applies
+ His praise to sleight which from good use doth rise;
+ Some lucky wits impute it but to chance;
+ Others, because of both sides I do take
+ My blood from them who did excel in this,
+ Think Nature me a man-at-arms did make.
+ How far they shot awry! the true cause is,
+ Stella looked on; and from her heavenly face
+ Sent forth the beams which made so fair my race.
+
+'Untrue,' you say? Well, there is truth of emotion as well as of fact;
+and who is there among you but would fain be able not only to win such a
+guerdon but to lay it in such wise at your lady's feet?
+
+That then was Philip Sidney, called the peerless one of his age; and
+perhaps no Englishman ever lived more graciously or, having used life,
+made a better end. But you have seen this morning's newspaper: you have
+read of Captain Scott and his comrades, and in particular of the death of
+Captain Oates; and you know that the breed of Sidney is not extinct.
+Gentlemen, let us keep our language noble: for we still have heroes to
+commemorate![1]
+
+
+[Footnote 1: The date of the above lecture was Wednesday, February 12th,
+1913, the date on which our morning newspapers printed the first
+telegrams giving particulars of the fate of Captain Scott's heroic
+conquest of the South Pole, and still more glorious, though defeated,
+return. The first brief message concerning Captain Oates, ran as
+follows:--
+
+'From the records found in the tent where the bodies were discovered it
+appeared that Captain Oates's feet and hands were badly frost-bitten,
+and, although he struggled on heroically, his comrades knew on March 16
+that his end was approaching. He had borne intense suffering for weeks
+without complaint, and he did not give up hope to the very end.
+
+"He was a brave soul. He slept through the night hoping not to wake; but
+he awoke in the morning.
+
+"It was blowing a blizzard. Oates said: 'I am just going outside, and I
+may be some time.' He went out into the blizzard, and we have not seen
+him since.
+
+"We knew that Oates was walking to his death, but though we tried to
+dissuade him, we knew it was the act of a brave man and an English
+gentleman."']
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE III.
+
+ON THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN VERSE AND PROSE
+
+Wednesday, February 26
+
+
+You will forgive me, Gentlemen, that having in my second lecture
+encouraged you to the practice of verse as well as of prose, I seize the
+very next opportunity to warn you against confusing the two, which differ
+on some points essentially, and always so as to demand separate rules--or
+rather (since I am shy of the word 'rules') a different concept of what
+the writer should aim at and what avoid. But you must, pray, understand
+that what follows will be more useful to the tiro in prose than to the
+tiro in verse; for while even a lecturer may help you to avoid writing
+prose in the manner of Milton, only the gods--and they hardly--can cure a
+versifier of being prosaic.
+
+We started upon a promise to do without scientific definitions; and in
+drawing some distinctions to-day between verse and prose I shall use only
+a few rough ones; good, as I hope, so far as they go; not to be found
+contrary to your scientific ones, if ever, under another teacher you
+attain to them; yet for the moment used only as guides to practice, and
+pretending to be no more.
+
+Thus I go some way--though by no means all the way--towards defining
+literature when I remind you that its very name (_litterae_--letters)
+implies the written rather than the spoken word; that, for example,
+however closely they approximate one to the other as we trace them back,
+and even though we trace them back to identical beginnings, the
+Writer--the Man of Letters--does to-day differ from the Orator. There was
+a time, as you know, when the poet and the historian had no less than the
+orator, and in the most literal sense, to 'get a hearing.' Nay, he got it
+with more pains: for the orator had his senate-house or his law-court
+provided, whereas Thespis jogged to fairs in a cart, and the Muse of
+History, like any street acrobat, had to collect her own crowd. Herodotus
+in search of a public packed his history in a portmanteau, carted it to
+Olympia, found a favourable 'pitch,' as we should say, and wooed an
+audience to him much as on a racecourse nowadays do those philanthropic
+gentlemen who ply a dubious trade with three half-crowns and a gold
+chain. It would cost us an effort to imagine the late Bishop Stubbs thus
+trying his fortune with a bag full of select Charters at Queen's Club or
+at Kempton Park, and exerting his lungs to retrieve a crowd that showed
+some disposition to edge off towards the ring or the rails.
+
+The historian's conditions have improved; and like any other sensible man
+he has advanced his claim with them, and revised his method. He writes
+nowadays with his eye on the printed book. He may or may not be a dull
+fellow: being a dull fellow, he may or may not be aware of it; but at
+least he knows that, if you lay him upside down on your knee, you can on
+awaking pick him up, resume your absorption, and even turn back some
+pages to discover just where or why your interest flagged: whereas a
+Hellene who deserted Herodotus, having a bet on the Pentathlon, not only
+missed what he missed but missed it for life.
+
+The invention of print, of course, has made all, or almost all, the
+difference.
+
+I do not forget that the printed book--the written word--presupposes a
+speaking voice, and must ever have at its back some sense in us of the
+speaking voice. But in writing prose nowadays, while always recollecting
+that prose has its origin in speech--even as it behoves us to recollect
+that Homer intoned the Iliad to the harp and Sappho plucked her passion
+from the lyre--we have to take things as they are. Except Burns, Heine,
+Béranger (with Moore, if you will), and you will find it hard to compile
+in all the lyrical poetry of the last 150 years a list of half a dozen
+first-class or even second-class bards who wrote primarily to be sung. It
+may help you to estimate how far lyrical verse has travelled from its
+origins if you will but remind yourselves that a _sonnet_ and a _sonata_
+were once the same thing, and that a _ballad_ meant a song accompanied by
+dancing--the word _ballata_ having been specialised down, on the one line
+to the _ballet_, in which Mademoiselle Genée or the Russian performers
+will dance for our delight, using no words at all; on the other to "Sir
+Patrick Spens" or "Clerk Saunders," 'ballads' to which no one in his
+senses would dream of pointing a toe.
+
+Thus with Verse the written (or printed) word has pretty thoroughly
+ousted the speaking voice and its auxiliaries--the pipe, the lute, the
+tabor, the chorus with its dance movements and swaying of the body; and
+in a quieter way much the same thing is happening to prose. In the Drama,
+to be sure, we still write (or we should) for the actors, reckon upon
+their intonations, their gestures, lay account with the tears in the
+heroine's eyes and her visible beauty: though even in the Drama to-day
+you may detect a tendency to substitute dialectic for action and
+paragraphs for the [Greek: Stichomuthia], the sharp outcries of passion
+in its give-and-take. Again we still--some of us--deliver sermons from
+pulpits and orations in Parliament or upon public platforms. Yet I am
+told that the vogue of the sermon is passing; and (by journalists) that
+the leading article has largely superseded it. On that point I can offer
+you no personal evidence; but of civil oratory I am very sure that the
+whole pitch has been sensibly lowered since the day of Chatham, Burke,
+Sheridan; since the day of Brougham and Canning; nay, ever since the day
+of Bright, Gladstone, Disraeli. Burke, as everyone knows, once brought
+down a Brummagem dagger and cast it on the floor of the House. Lord
+Chancellor Brougham in a peroration once knelt to the assembled peers,
+'_Here the noble lord inclined his knee to the Woolsack_' is, if I
+remember, the stage direction in Hansard. Gentlemen, though in the course
+of destiny one or another of you may be called upon to speak daggers to
+the Treasury Bench, I feel sure you will use none; while, as for Lord
+Brougham's genuflexions, we may agree that to emulate them would cost
+Lord Haldane an effort. These and even far less flagrant or flamboyant
+tricks of virtuosity have gone quite out of fashion. You could hardly
+revive them to-day and keep that propriety to which I exhorted you a
+fortnight ago. They would be out of tune; they would grate upon the
+nerves; they would offend against the whole style of modern oratory,
+which steadily tends to lower its key, to use the note of quiet
+business-like exposition, to adopt more and more the style of written
+prose.
+
+Let me help your sense of this change, by a further illustration. Burke,
+as we know, was never shy of declaiming--even of declaiming in a
+torrent--when he stood up to speak: but almost as little was he shy of
+it when he sat down to write. If you turn to his "Letters on the
+Regicide Peace" --no raw compositions, but penned in his latter days and
+closing, or almost closing, upon that tenderest of farewells to his
+country--
+
+ In this good old House, where everything at least is well aired, I
+ shall be content to put up my fatigued horses and here take a bed
+ for the long night that begins to darken upon me--
+
+if, I say, you turn to these "Letters on the Regicide Peace" and consult
+the title-page, you will find them ostensibly addressed to 'a Member of
+the present Parliament'; and the opening paragraphs assume that Burke and
+his correspondent are in general agreement. But skim the pages and your
+eyes will be arrested again and again by sentences like these:--
+
+ The calculation of profit in all such wars is false. On balancing
+ the account of such wars, ten thousand hogsheads of sugar are
+ purchased at ten thousand times their price--the blood of man should
+ never be shed but to redeem the blood of man. It is well shed for
+ our family, for our friends, for our God, for our country, for our
+ kind. The rest is vanity; the rest is crime.
+
+Magnificent, truly! But your ear has doubtless detected the blank
+verse--three iambic lines:--
+
+ Are purchased at ten thousand times their price...
+ Be shed but to redeem the blood of man...
+ The rest is vanity; the rest is crime.
+
+Again Burke catches your eye by rhetorical inversions:--
+
+ But too often different is rational conjecture from melancholy fact,
+
+ Well is it known that ambition can creep as well as soar,
+
+by repetitions:--
+
+ Never, no never, did Nature say one thing and Wisdom say another ...
+ Algiers is not near; Algiers is not powerful; Algiers is not our
+ neighbour; Algiers is not infectious. Algiers, whatever it may be,
+ is an old creation; and we have good data to calculate all the
+ mischief to be apprehended from it. When I find Algiers transferred
+ to Calais, I will tell you what I think of that point--
+
+by quick staccato utterances, such as:--
+
+ And is this example nothing? It is everything. Example is the school
+ of mankind, and they will learn at no other--
+
+or
+
+ Our dignity? That is gone. I shall say no more about it. Light lie
+ the earth on the ashes of English pride!
+
+I say that the eye or ear, caught by such tropes, must (if it be
+critical) recognise them at once as _rhetoric_, as the spoken word
+masquerading under guise of the written. Burke may pretend to be seated,
+penning a letter to a worthy man who will read it in his slippers: but
+actually Burke is up and pacing his library at Beaconsfield, now striding
+from fire-place to window with hands clasped under his coat tails, anon
+pausing to fling out an arm with some familiar accustomed gesture in a
+House of Commons that knows him no more, towards a Front Bench peopled by
+shades. In fine the pretence is Cicero writing to Atticus, but the style
+is Cicero denouncing Catiline.
+
+As such it is not for your imitation. Burke happened to be a genius, with
+a swoop and range of mind, as of language to interpret it, with a gift to
+enchant, a power to strike and astound, which together make him, to my
+thinking, the man in our literature most nearly comparable with
+Shakespeare. Others may be more to your taste; you may love others
+better: but no other two leave you so hopeless of discovering _how it is
+done_. Yet not for this reason only would I warn you against imitating
+either. For like all great artists they accepted their conditions and
+wrought for them, and those conditions have changed. When Jacques wished
+to recite to an Elizabethan audience that
+
+ All the world's a stage,
+ And all the men and women merely players--
+
+or Hamlet to soliloquise
+
+ To be, or not to be: that is the question--
+
+the one did not stretch himself under a property oak, nor did the other
+cast himself back in a chair and dangle his legs. They both advanced
+boldly from the stage, down a narrow platform provided for such
+recitations and for that purpose built boldly forward into the
+auditorium, struck an attitude, declaimed the purple passage, and
+returned, covered with applause, to continue the action of the play. This
+was the theatrical convention; this the audience expected and understood;
+for this Shakespeare wrote. Similarly, though the device must have been
+wearing thin even in 1795-6, Burke cast a familiar epistle into language
+proper to be addressed to Mr Speaker of the House of Commons. Shakespeare
+wrote, as Burke wrote, for his audience; and their glory is that they
+have outlasted the conditions they observed. Yet it was by observing them
+that they gained the world's ear. Let us, who are less than they, beware
+of scorning to belong to our own time.
+
+For my part I have a great hankering to see English Literature feeling
+back through these old modes to its origins. I think, for example, that
+if we studied to write verse that could really be sung, or if we were
+more studious to write prose that could be read aloud with pleasure to
+the ear, we should be opening the pores to the ancient sap; since the
+roots are always the roots, and we can only reinvigorate our growth
+through them.
+
+Unhappily, however, I cannot preach this just yet; for we are aiming at
+practice, and at Cambridge (they tell me) while you speak well, you write
+less expertly. A contributor to "The Cambridge Review," a fortnight ago,
+lamented this at length: so you will not set the aspersion down to me,
+nor blame me if these early lectures too officiously offer a kind of
+'First Aid': that, while all the time eager to descant on the
+_affinities_ of speech and writing, I dwell first on their _differences_;
+or that, in speaking of Burke, an author I adore only 'on this side
+idolatry,' I first present him in some aspects for your avoidance.
+Similarly I adore the prose of Sir Thomas Browne, yet should no more
+commend it to you for instant imitation than I could encourage you to
+walk with a feather in your cap and a sword under your gown. Let us
+observe proprieties.
+
+To return to Burke.--At his most flagrant, in these "Letters on the
+Regicide Peace," he boldly raids Shakespeare. You are all, I doubt not,
+conversant with the Prologue to "Henry the Fifth":--
+
+ O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
+ The brightest heaven of invention!
+ A kingdom for a stage, princes to act
+ And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!
+ Then should the warlike Harry, like himself,
+ Assume the port of Mars: and at his heels,
+ Leash'd in like hounds, should Famine, Sword and Fire
+ Crouch for employment.
+
+Well, this passage Burke, assuming his correspondent to be familiar with
+it, boldly claps into prose and inserts into a long diatribe against Pitt
+for having tamely submitted to the rebuffs of the French Directory. Thus
+it becomes:--
+
+ On that day it was thought he would have assumed the port of Mars: that
+ he would bid to be brought forth from their hideous Kennel (where his
+ scrupulous tenderness had too long immured them) those impatient dogs
+ of War, whose fierce regards affright even the minister of vengeance
+ that feeds them; that he would let them loose in Famine, Plagues and
+ Death, upon a guilty race to whose frame and to all whose habit, Order,
+ Peace, Religion and Virtue, are alien and abhorrent.
+
+Now Shakespeare is but apologising for the shortcomings of his'
+play-house, whereas Burke is denouncing his country's shame and
+prophesying disaster to Europe. Yet do you not feel with me that while
+Shakespeare, using great words on the lowlier subject, contrives to make
+them appropriate, with Burke, writing on the loftier subject, the same or
+similar words have become tumid, turgid?
+
+Why? I am sure that the difference lies not in the two men: nor is it all
+the secret, or even half the secret, that Burke is mixing up the spoken
+with the written word, using the one while pretending to use the other.
+That has carried us some way; but now let us take an important step
+farther. The root of the matter lies in certain essential differences
+between verse and prose. We will keep, if you please, to our rough
+practical definitions. Literature--the written word--is a permanent
+record of memorable speech; a record, at any rate, intended to be
+permanent. We set a thing down in ink--we print it in a book--because we
+feel it to be memorable, to be worth preserving. But to set this
+memorable speech down we must choose one of two forms, verse or prose;
+and I define verse to be a record in metre and rhythm, prose to be a
+record which, dispensing with metre (abhorring it indeed), uses rhythm
+laxly, preferring it to be various and unconstrained, so always that it
+convey a certain pleasure to the ear.
+
+You observe that I avoid the term Poetry, over which the critics have
+waged, and still are waging, a war that promises to be endless. Is Walt
+Whitman a poet? Is the Song of Songs (which is not Solomon's)--is the
+Book of Job--are the Psalms--all of these as rendered in our Authorised
+Version of Holy Writ--are all of these poetry? Well 'yes,' if you want my
+opinion; and again 'yes,' I am sure. But truly on this field, though
+scores of great men have fought across it--Sidney, Shelley, Coleridge,
+Scaliger (I pour the names on you at random), Johnson, Wordsworth, the
+two Schlegels, Aristotle with Twining his translator, Corneille, Goethe,
+Warton, Whately, Hazlitt, Emerson, Hegel, Gummere--but our axles grow
+hot. Let us put on the brake: for in practice the dispute comes to very
+little: since literature is an art and treats scientific definitions as
+J. K. Stephen recommended. From them
+
+ It finds out what it cannot do,
+ And then it goes and does it.
+
+I am journeying, say, in the West of England. I cross a bridge over a
+stream dividing Devon from Cornwall. These two counties, each beautiful
+in its way, are quite unlike in their beauty: yet nothing happened as I
+stepped across the brook, and for a mile or two or even ten I am aware of
+no change. Sooner or later that change will break upon the mind and I
+shall be startled, awaking suddenly to a land of altered features. But at
+what turn of the road this will happen, just how long the small
+multiplied impressions will take to break into surmise, into
+conviction--that nobody can tell. So it is with poetry and prose. They
+are different realms, but between them lies a debatable land which a De
+Quincey or a Whitman or a Paul Fort or a Marinetti may attempt. I advise
+you who are beginners to keep well one side or other of the frontier,
+remembering that there is plenty of room and what happened to Tupper.
+
+If we restrict ourselves to the terms 'verse' and 'prose,' we shall find
+the line much easier to draw. Verse is memorable speech set down in metre
+with strict rhythms; prose is memorable speech set down without
+constraint of metre and in rhythms both lax and various--so lax, so
+various, that until quite recently no real attempt has been made to
+reduce them to rule. I doubt, for my part, if they can ever be reduced to
+rule; and after a perusal of Professor Saintsbury's latest work, "A
+History of English Prose Rhythm," I am left doubting. I commend this book
+to you as one that clears up large patches of forest. No one has yet so
+well explained what our prose writers, generation after generation, have
+tried to do with prose: and he has, by the way, furnished us with a
+capital anthology--or, as he puts it, with 'divers delectable draughts of
+example.' But the road still waits to be driven. Seeking practical
+guidance--help for our present purpose--I note first that many a passage
+he scans in one way may as readily be scanned in another; that when he
+has finished with one and can say proudly with Wordsworth:--
+
+ I've measured it from side to side,
+ 'Tis three feet long and two feet wide,
+
+we still have a sensation of coming out (our good master with us) by that
+same door wherein we went; and I cannot as yet after arduous trial
+discover much profit in his table of feet--Paeons, Dochmiacs, Antispasts,
+Proceleusmatics and the rest--an Antispast being but an iamb followed by
+a trochee, and Proceleusmatic but two pyrrhics, or four consecutive short
+syllables--when I reflect that, your possible number of syllables being
+as many as five to a foot, you may label them (as Aristotle would say)
+until you come to infinity, where desire fails, without getting nearer
+any rule of application.
+
+Let us respect a genuine effort of learning, though we may not detect its
+immediate profit. In particular let us respect whatever Professor
+Saintsbury writes, who has done such splendid work upon English
+verse-prosody. I daresay he would retort upon my impatience grandly
+enough, quoting Walt Whitman:--
+
+I am the teacher of athletes;
+He that by me spreads a wider breast than my own
+ proves the width of my own;
+He most honours my style who learns under it to destroy the
+ teacher.
+
+His speculations may lead to much in time; though for the present they
+yield us small instruction in the path we seek.
+
+It is time we harked back to our own sign-posts. Verse is written in
+metre and strict rhythm; prose, without metre and with the freest
+possible rhythm. That distinction seems simple enough, but it carries
+consequences very far from simple. Let me give you an illustration taken
+almost at hazard from Milton, from the Second Book of "Paradise
+Regained":--
+
+ Up to a hill anon his steps he reared
+ From whose high top to ken the prospect round,
+ If cottage were in view, sheep-cote or herd;
+ But cottage, herd, or sheep-cote, none he saw.
+
+These few lines are verse, are obviously verse with the accent of poetry;
+while as obviously they are mere narrative and tell us of the simplest
+possible incident--how Christ climbed a hill to learn what could be seen
+from the top. Yet observe, line for line and almost word for word, how
+strangely they differ from prose. Mark the inversions: 'Up to a hill anon
+his steps he reared,' 'But cottage, herd, or sheep-cote, none he saw.'
+Mark next the diction--'his steps he reared.' In prose we should not rear
+our steps up the Gog-magog hills, or even more Alpine fastnesses; nor,
+arrived at the top, should we 'ken' the prospect round; we might 'con,'
+but should more probably 'survey' it. Even 'anon' is a tricky word in
+prose, though I deliberately palmed it off on you a few minutes ago. Mark
+thirdly the varied repetition, 'if cottage were in view, sheep-cote or
+herd--but cottage, herd, or sheep-cote, none he saw.' Lastly compare the
+whole with such an account as you or I or Cluvienus would write in plain
+prose:--
+
+ Thereupon he climbed a hill on the chance that the view from its
+ summit might disclose some sign of human habitation--a herd, a
+ sheep-cote, a cottage perhaps. But he could see nothing of the sort.
+
+But you will ask, '_Why_ should verse and prose employ diction so
+different? _Why_ should the one invert the order of words in a fashion
+not permitted to the other?' and I shall endeavour to answer these
+questions together with a third which, I dare say, you have sometimes
+been minded to put when you have been told--and truthfully told--by your
+manuals and histories, that when a nation of men starts making literature
+it invariably starts on the difficult emprise of verse, and goes on to
+prose as by an afterthought. Why should men start upon the more difficult
+form and proceed to the easier? It is not their usual way. In learning to
+skate, for instance, they do not cut figures before practising loose and
+easy propulsion.
+
+The answer is fairly simple. Literature (once more) is a record of
+memorable speech; it preserves in words a record of such thoughts or of
+such deeds as we deem worth preserving. Now if you will imagine yourself
+a very primitive man, lacking paper or parchment; or a slightly less
+primitive, but very poor, man to whom the price of parchment and ink is
+prohibitive; you have two ways of going to work. You can carve your words
+upon trees or stones (a laborious process) or you can commit them to
+memory and carry them about in your head; which is cheaper and handier.
+For an illustration, you find it useful, anticipating the tax-collector,
+to know how many days there are in the current month. But further you
+find it a nuisance and a ruinous waste of time to run off to the tribal
+tree or monolith whenever the calculation comes up; so you invent a
+formula, and you cast that formula into _verse_ for the simple reason
+that verse, with its tags, alliterations, beat of syllables, jingle of
+rhymes (however your tribe has chosen to invent it), has a knack, not
+possessed by prose, of sticking in your head. You do not say, 'Quick thy
+tablets, memory! Let me see--January has 31 days, February 28 days, March
+31 days, April 30 days.' You invent a verse:--
+
+ Thirty days hath September,
+ April, June and November...
+
+Nay, it has been whispered to me, Gentlemen, that in this University some
+such process of memorising in verse has been applied by bold bad
+irreverently-minded men even to the "Evidences" of our cherished Paley.
+
+This, you will say, is mere verse, and not yet within measurable distance
+of poetry. But wait! The men who said the more memorable things, or sang
+them--the men who recounted deeds and genealogies of heroes, plagues and
+famines, assassinations, escapes from captivity, wanderings and conquests
+of the clan, all the 'old, unhappy, far-off things and battles long
+ago'--the men who sang these things for their living, for a supper, a
+bed in the great hall, and something in their wallet to carry them on to
+the next lordship--these were gentlemen, scôps, bards, minstrels (call
+them how you will), a professional class who had great need of a full
+repertory in a land swarming with petty chieftains, and to adapt their
+strains to the particular hall of entertainment. It would never do, for
+example, to flatter the prowess of the Billings in the house of the
+Hoppings, their hereditary foes, or to bore the Wokings (who lived where
+the crematorium now is) with the complicated genealogy of the Tootings:
+for this would have been to miss that appropriateness which I preached
+to you in my second lecture as a preliminary rule of good writing. Nay,
+when the Billings intermarried with the Tootings--when the Billings took
+to cooing, so to speak--a hasty blend of excerpts would be required for
+the "Epithalamium." So it was all a highly difficult business, needing
+adaptability, a quick wit, a goodly stock of songs, a retentive memory
+and every artifice to assist it. Take "Widsith," for example, the
+'far-travelled man.' He begins:--
+
+ Widsith spake: he unlocked his word-hoard.
+
+So he had a hoard of words, you see: and he must have needed them, for he
+goes on:--
+
+ Forthon ic maeg singan and secgan spell,
+ Maenan fore mengo in meoduhealle,
+ Hu me cynegode cystum dohten.
+ Ic waes mid Hunum and mid Hreth-gotum,
+ Mid Sweom and mid Geatum, and mid Suth-Denum.
+ Mid Wenlum ic waes and mid Waernum and mid Wicingum.
+ Mid Gefthum ic waes and mid Winedum....
+
+ (Therefore I can sing and tell a tale, recount in the Mead Hall, how
+ men of high race gave rich gifts to me. I was with Huns and with Hreth
+ Goths, with the Swedes, and with the Geats, and with the South Danes;
+ I was with the Wenlas, and with the Waernas, and with the Vikings; I
+ was with the Gefthas and with the Winedae....)
+
+and so on for a full dozen lines. I say that the memory of such men must
+have needed every artifice to help it: and the chief artifice to their
+hand was one which also delighted the ears of their listeners. They sang
+or intoned to the harp.
+
+There you get it, Gentlemen. I have purposely, skimming a wide subject,
+discarded much ballast; but you may read and scan and read again, and
+always you must come back to this, that the first poets sang their words
+to the harp or to some such instrument: and just there lies the secret
+why poetry differs from prose. The moment you introduce music you let in
+emotion with all its sway upon speech. From that moment you change
+everything, down to the order of the words--the _natural_ order of the
+words: and (remember this) though the harp be superseded, the voice never
+forgets it. You may take up a Barrack Room Ballad of Kipling's, and it is
+there, though you affect to despise it for a banjo or concertina:--
+
+ Ford--ford--ford of Kabul river...
+
+'Bang, whang, whang goes the drum, tootle-te-tootle the fife.' From the
+moment men introduced music they made verse a thing essentially separate
+from prose, from its natural key of emotion to its natural ordering of
+words. Do not for one moment imagine that when Milton writes:--
+
+ But cottage, herd, or sheep-cote, none he saw.
+
+or
+
+ Of man's first disobedience and the fruit
+ Of that forbidden tree...
+
+--where you must seek down five lines before you come to the verb, and
+then find it in the imperative mood--do not suppose for a moment that he
+is here fantastically shifting words, inverting phrases out of their
+natural order. For, as St Paul might say, there is a natural order of
+prose and there is a natural order of verse. The natural order of prose
+is:--
+
+ I was born in the year 1632, in the City of York, of a good family,
+ though not of that county; my father being a foreigner of Bremen,
+ who settled first in Hull.--[_Defoe._]
+
+or
+
+ Further I avow to your Highness that with these eyes I have beheld
+ the person of William Wooton, B.D., who has written a good sizeable
+ volume against a friend of your Governor (from whom, alas! he must
+ therefore look for little favour) in a most gentlemanly style,
+ adorned with the utmost politeness and civility.--[_Swift._]
+
+The natural order of poetry is:--
+
+ Thus with the year
+ Seasons return, but not to me returns
+ Day, or the sweet approach of Ev'n or Morn,
+ Or sight of vernal bloom, or Summer's Rose,
+ Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine.
+
+or
+
+ But cottage, herd, or sheep-cote, none he saw.
+
+and this basal difference you must have clear in your minds before, in
+dealing with prose or verse, you can practise either with profit or read
+either with intelligent delight.
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE IV.
+
+ON THE CAPITAL DIFFICULTY OF VERSE
+
+Thursday, April 17
+
+
+In our last lecture, Gentlemen, we discussed the difference between
+verse, or metrical writing, and prose. We traced that difference (as you
+will remember) to Music--to the harp, the lyre, the dance, the chorus,
+all those first necessary accompaniments which verse never quite forgets;
+and we concluded that, as Music ever introduces emotion, which is indeed
+her proper and only means of persuading, so the natural language of verse
+will be keyed higher than the natural language of prose; will be keyed
+higher throughout and even for its most ordinary purposes--as for
+example, to tell us that So-and-so sailed to Troy with so many ships.
+
+I grant you that our steps to this conclusion were lightly and rapidly
+taken: yet the stepping-stones are historically firm. Verse does precede
+prose in literature; verse does start with musical accompaniment; musical
+accompaniment does introduce emotion; and emotion does introduce an order
+of its own into speech. I grant you that we have travelled far from the
+days when a prose-writer, Herodotus, labelled the books of his history by
+the names of the nine Muses. I grant you that if you go to the Vatican
+and there study the statues of the Muses (noble, but of no early date)
+you may note that Calliope, Muse of the Epic--unlike her sisters Euterpe,
+Erato, Thalia--holds for symbol no instrument of music, but a stylus and
+a tablet. Yet the earlier Calliope, the Calliope of Homer, was a Muse of
+Song.
+
+ [Greek: Menin aeide, Thea--]
+
+'Had I a thousand tongues, a thousand hands.'--For what purpose does the
+poet wish for a thousand tongues, but to sing? for what purpose a
+thousand hands, but to pluck the wires? not to dip a thousand pens in a
+thousand inkpots.
+
+I doubt, in fine, if your most learned studies will discover much amiss
+with the frontier we drew between verse and prose, cursorily though we
+ran its line. Nor am I daunted on comparing it with Coleridge's more
+philosophical one, which you will find in the "Biographia Literaria"
+(c. XVIII)--
+
+ And first for the origin of metre. This I would trace to the balance
+ in the mind effected by that spontaneous effort which strives to
+ hold in check the workings of passion. It might be easily explained
+ likewise in what manner this salutary antagonism is assisted by the
+ very state which it counteracts, and how this balance of antagonism
+ becomes organised into metre (in the usual acceptation of that term)
+ by a supervening act of the will and judgment consciously and for
+ the foreseen purpose of pleasure.
+
+I will not swear to understand precisely what Coleridge means here,
+though I believe that I do. But at any rate, and on the principle that of
+two hypotheses, each in itself adequate, we should choose the simpler, I
+suggest in all modesty that we shall do better with our own than with
+Coleridge's, which has the further disadvantage of being scarcely
+amenable to positive evidence. We can say with historical warrant that
+Sappho struck the lyre, and argue therefrom, still within close range of
+correction, that her singing responded to the instrument: whereas to
+assert that Sappho's mind 'was balanced by a spontaneous effort which
+strove to hold in check the workings of passion' is to say something for
+which positive evidence will be less handily found, whether to contradict
+or to support.
+
+Yet if you choose to prefer Coleridge's explanation, no great harm will
+be done: since Coleridge, who may be presumed to have understood it,
+promptly goes on to deduce that,
+
+ as the elements of metre owe their existence to a state of increased
+ excitement, so the metre itself should be accompanied by the natural
+ language of excitement.
+
+which is precisely where we found ourselves, save that where Coleridge
+uses the word 'excitement' we used the word 'emotion.'
+
+Shall we employ an illustration before proceeding?--some sentence easily
+handled, some commonplace of the moralist, some copybook maxim, I care
+not what. 'Contentment breeds Happiness'--That is a proposition with
+which you can hardly quarrel; sententious, sedate, obviously true;
+provoking delirious advocacy as little as controversial heat; in short a
+very fair touchstone. Now hear how the lyric treats it, in these lines of
+Dekker--
+
+ Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?
+ O sweet content!
+ Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplex'd?
+ O punishment!
+ Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vex'd
+ To add to golden numbers golden numbers?
+ O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content!
+ Work apace, apace, apace, apace;
+ Honest labour wears a lovely face;
+ Then hey, nonny nonny--hey, nonny nonny!
+
+ Canst drink the waters of the crystal spring?
+ O sweet content!
+ Swim'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears?
+ O punishment!
+ Then he that patiently want's burden bears
+ No burden bears, but is a king, a king!
+ O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content!
+ Work apace, apace, apace, apace;
+ Honest labour wears a lovely face;
+ Then hey, nonny nonny--hey, nonny nonny!
+
+There, in lines obviously written for music, you have our sedate
+sentence, 'Contentment breeds Happiness,' converted to mere emotion. Note
+(to use Coleridge's word) the 'excitement' of it. There are but two plain
+indicative sentences in the two stanzas--(1) 'Honest labour wears a
+lovely face' (used as a refrain), and (2) 'Then he that patiently want's
+burden bears no burden bears, but is a king, a king!' (heightened
+emotionally by inversion and double repetition). Mark throughout how
+broken is the utterance; antithetical question answered by exclamations:
+both doubled and made more antithetical in the second stanza: with
+cunning reduplicated inversions to follow, and each stanza wound up by an
+outburst of emotional nonsense--'hey, nonny nonny--hey, nonny nonny!'--as
+a man might skip or whistle to himself for want of thought.
+
+Now (still keeping to our same subject of Contentment) let us _prosify_
+the lyrical order of language down to the lowest pitch to which genius
+has been able to reduce it and still make noble verse. You have all read
+Wordsworth's famous Introduction to the "Lyrical Ballads," and you know
+that Wordsworth's was a genius working on a theory that the languages of
+verse and of prose are identical. You know, too, I dare say, into what
+banalities that theory over and over again betrayed him: banalities such
+as--
+
+ His widowed mother, for a second mate
+ Espoused the teacher of the village school:
+ Who on her offspring zealously bestowed
+ Needful instruction.
+
+--and the rest. Nevertheless Wordsworth was a genius; and genius working
+persistently on a narrow theory will now and again 'bring it off' (as
+they say). So he, amid the flat waste of his later compositions, did
+undoubtedly 'bring it off' in the following sonnet:--
+
+ These times strike monied worldlings with dismay:
+ Ev'n rich men, brave by nature, taint the air
+ With words of apprehension and despair;
+ While tens of thousands, thinking on the affray,
+ Men unto whom sufficient for the day
+ And minds not stinted or untill'd are given,
+ Sound healthy children of the God of Heaven,
+ Are cheerful as the rising sun in May.
+ What do we gather hence but firmer faith
+ That every gift of noble origin
+ Is breath'd upon by Hope's perpetual breath;
+ That Virtue and the faculties within
+ Are vital; and that riches are akin
+ To fear, to change, to cowardice, and death?
+
+Here, I grant, are no repetitions, no inversions. The sentences, though
+metrical, run straightforwardly, verb following subject, object verb, as
+in strict prose. In short here you have verse reduced to the order and
+structure of prose as nearly as a man of genius, working on a set theory,
+could reduce it while yet maintaining its proper emotional key. But first
+let me say that you will find very few like instances of success even in
+Wordsworth; and few indeed to set against innumerable passages wherein
+either his verse defies his theory and triumphs, or succumbs to it and,
+succumbing, either drops sheer to bathos or spreads itself over dead
+flats of commonplace. Let me tell you next that the instances you will
+find in other poets are so few and so far between as to be negligible;
+and lastly that even such verse as the above has only to be compared with
+a passage of prose and its emotional pitch is at once betrayed. Take
+this, for example, from Jeremy Taylor:--
+
+ Since all the evil in the world consists in the disagreeing between the
+ object and the appetite, as when a man hath what he desires not, or
+ desires what he hath not, or desires amiss, he that compares his spirit
+ to the present accident hath variety of instance for his virtue, but
+ none to trouble him, because his desires enlarge not beyond his present
+ fortune: and a wise man is placed in a variety of chances, like the
+ nave or centre of a wheel in the midst of all the circumvolutions and
+ changes of posture, without violence or change, save that it turns
+ gently in compliance with its changed parts, and is indifferent which
+ part is up, and which is down; for there is some virtue or other to be
+ exercised whatever happens--either patience or thanksgiving, love or
+ fear, moderation or humility, charity or contentedness.
+
+Or, take this from Samuel Johnson:--
+
+ The fountain of contentment must spring up in the mind; and he who has
+ so little knowledge of human nature as to seek happiness by changing
+ anything but his own disposition, will waste his life in fruitless
+ efforts and multiply the griefs which he purposes to remove.
+
+Now, to be frank, I do not call that first passage very good prose. Like
+much of Jeremy Taylor's writing it is prose tricked out with the
+trappings and odds-and-ends of verse. It starts off, for example, with a
+brace of heroics--'Since all the evil in the world consists'...'between
+the object and the appetite.' You may say, further, that the simile of
+the wheel, though proper enough to prose, is poetical too: that Homer
+might have used it ('As in a wheel the rim turns violently, while the
+nave, though it turns also, yet seems to be at rest'--something of that
+sort). Nevertheless you will agree with me that, in exchanging
+Wordsworth for Taylor and Johnson, we have relaxed something with the
+metre, something that the metre kept taut; and this something we
+discover to be the emotional pitch.
+
+But let me give you another illustration, supplied (I dare say quite
+unconsciously) by one who combined a genuine love of verse--in which,
+however, he was no adept--with a sure instinct for beautiful prose.
+Contentment was a favourite theme with Isaak Walton: "The Compleat
+Angler" is packed with praise of it: and in "The Compleat Angler" occurs
+this well-known passage:--
+
+ But, master, first let me tell you, that very hour which you were
+ absent from me, I sat down under a willow tree by the waterside, and
+ considered what you had told me of the owner of that pleasant meadow in
+ which you then had left me; that he had a plentiful estate, and not a
+ heart to think so; that he had at this time many law-suits depending,
+ and that they both damped his mirth and took up so much of his time and
+ thoughts that he had no leisure to take the sweet content that I, who
+ pretended no title to them, took in his fields: for I could there sit
+ quietly; and looking on the water, see some fishes sport themselves in
+ the silver streams, others leaping at flies of several shapes and
+ colours; looking on the hills, I could behold them spotted with woods
+ and groves; looking down the meadows, could see, here a boy gathering
+ lilies and lady-smocks, and there a girl cropping culverlocks and
+ cowslips, all to make garlands suitable to this present month of May.
+ These and many other field-flowers so perfumed the air that I thought
+ that very meadow like that field in Sicily of which Diodorus speaks,
+ where the perfumes arising from the place make all dogs that hunt in it
+ to fall off and lose their hottest scent. I say, as I thus sat, joying
+ in my own happy condition, and pitying this poor rich man that owned
+ this and many other pleasant groves and meadows about me, I did
+ thankfully remember what my Saviour said, that the meek possess the
+ earth; or rather they enjoy what the others possess and enjoy not; for
+ Anglers and meek quiet-spirited men are free from those high, those
+ restless thoughts which corrode the sweets of life; and they, and they
+ only can say as the poet has happily exprest it:
+
+ 'Hail, blest estate of lowliness!
+ Happy enjoyments of such minds
+ As, rich in self-contentedness,
+ Can, like the reeds in roughest winds,
+ By yielding make that blow but small
+ At which proud oaks and cedars fall.'
+
+There you have a passage of felicitous prose culminating in a stanza of
+trite and fifth-rate verse. Yes, Walton's instinct is sound; for he is
+keying up the pitch; and verse, even when mediocre in quality, has its
+pitch naturally set above that of prose. So, if you will turn to your
+Walton and read the page following this passage, you will see that, still
+by a sure instinct, he proceeds from this scrap of reflective verse to a
+mere rollicking 'catch':
+
+ Man's life is but vain, for 'tis subject to pain
+ And sorrow, and short as a bubble;
+ 'Tis a hodge-podge of business and money and care,
+ And care, and money and trouble...
+
+--which is even worse rubbish, and yet a step upwards in emotion because
+Venator actually sings it to music. 'Ay marry, sir, this is music
+indeed,' approves Brother Peter; 'this cheers the heart.'
+
+In this and the preceding lecture, Gentlemen, I have enforced at some
+length the opinion that to understand the many essential differences
+between verse and prose we must constantly bear in mind that verse, being
+metrical, keeps the character originally imposed on it by musical
+accompaniment and must always, however far the remove, be referred back
+to its origin and to the emotion which music excites.
+
+Mr George Bernard Shaw having to commit his novel "Cashel Byron's
+Profession" to paper in a hurry, chose to cast it in blank verse as being
+more easily and readily written so: a performance which brilliantly
+illuminates a half-truth. Verse--or at any rate, unrhymed iambic
+verse--is easier to write than prose, if you care to leave out the
+emotion which makes verse characteristic and worth writing. I have
+little doubt that, had he chosen to attempt it, Mr Shaw would have found
+his story still more ductile in the metre of "Hiawatha." But the
+experiment proves nothing: or no more than that, all fine art costing
+labour, it may cost less if burlesqued in a category not its own.
+
+Let me take an example from a work with which you are all familiar--"The
+Student's Handbook to the University and Colleges of Cambridge." On
+p. 405 we read:--
+
+ The Medieval and Modern Languages Tripos is divided into ten sections,
+ A, A2, B, C, D, E, F, G, H and I. A student may take either one or two
+ sections at the end of his second year of residence, and either one or
+ two more sections at the end of his third or fourth year of residence;
+ or he may take two sections at the end of his third year only. Thus
+ this Tripos can be treated either as a divided or as an undivided
+ Tripos at the option of the candidate.
+
+Now I do not hold that up to you for a model of prose. Still, lucidity
+rather than emotion being its aim, I doubt not that the composer spent
+pains on it; more pains than it would have cost him to convey his
+information metrically, thus:--
+
+ There is a Tripos that aspires to blend
+ The Medieval and the Modern tongues
+ In one red burial (Sing Heavenly Muse!)
+ Divided into sections A, A2,
+ B, C, D, E, F, G and H and I.
+ A student may take either one or two
+ (With some restrictions mention'd in a footnote)
+ At th' expiration of his second year:
+ Or of his third, or of his fourth again
+ Take one or two; or of his third alone
+ Take two together. Thus this tripos is
+ (Like nothing in the Athanasian Creed)
+ Divisible or indivisible
+ At the option of the candidate--Gadzooks!
+
+This method has even some advantage over the method of prose in that it
+is more easily memorised; but it has, as you will admit, the one fatal
+flaw that it imports emotion into a theme which does not properly admit
+of emotion, and that so it offends against our first rule of
+writing--that it should be appropriate.
+
+Now if you accept the argument so far as we have led it--that verse is by
+nature more emotional than prose--certain consequences would seem to
+follow: of which the first is that while the capital difficulty of verse
+consists in saying ordinary things the capital difficulty of prose
+consists in saying extraordinary things; that while with verse, keyed for
+high moments, the trouble is to manage the intervals, with prose the
+trouble is to manage the high moments.
+
+Let us dwell awhile on this difference, for it is important. You remember
+my quoting to you in my last lecture these lines of Milton's:--
+
+ Up to a hill anon his steps he reared
+ From whose high top to ken the prospect round,
+ If cottage were in view, sheep-cote or herd;
+ But cottage, herd, or sheep-cote, none he saw.
+
+We agreed that these were good lines, with the accent of poetry: but we
+allowed it to be a highly exalted way of telling how So-and-so climbed a
+hill for a better view but found none. Now obviously this exaltation does
+not arise immediately out of the action described (which is as ordinary
+as it well could be), but is _derivative_. It borrows its wings, its
+impetus, from a previous high moment, from the emotion proper to that
+moment, from the speech proper to that emotion: and these sustain us
+across to the next height as with the glide of an aeroplane. Your own
+sense will tell you at once that the passage would be merely bombastic if
+the poet were starting to set forth how So-and-so climbed a hill for the
+view--just that, and nothing else: as your own sense tells you that the
+swoop is from one height to another. For if bathos lay ahead, if Milton
+had but to relate how the Duke of York, with twenty thousand men,
+'marched up a hill and then marched down again,' he certainly would not
+use diction such as:--
+
+ Up to a hill anon his steps he reared.
+
+Even as it is, I think we must all detect a certain artificiality in the
+passage, and confess to some relief when Satan is introduced to us, ten
+lines lower down, to revivify the story. For let us note that, in the
+nature of things, the more adorned and involved our style (and Milton's
+is both ornate and involved) the more difficulty we must find with these
+flat pedestrian intervals. Milton may 'bring it off,' largely through
+knowing how to dodge the interval and contrive that it shall at any rate
+be brief: but, as Bagehot noted, when we come to Tennyson and find
+Tennyson in "Enoch Arden" informing us of a fish-jowter, that:--
+
+ Enoch's white horse, and Enoch's ocean-spoil
+ In ocean-smelling osier--
+
+(_i.e._ in a fish-basket)
+
+ --and his face
+ Rough-reddened with a thousand winter gales,
+ Not only to the market town were known,
+ But in the leafy lanes beyond the down
+ Far as the portal-warding lion-whelp
+ And peacock yewtree of the lonely Hall
+ Whose Friday fare was Enoch's ministering,
+
+why, then we feel that the vehicle is altogether too pompous for its
+load, and those who make speech too pompous for its content commit,
+albeit in varying degrees, the error of Defoe's religious lady who,
+seeing a bottle of over-ripe beer explode and cork and froth fly up to
+the ceiling, cried out, 'O, the wonders of Omnipotent Power!' The poet
+who commends fresh fish to us as 'ocean-spoil' can cast no stone at his
+brother who writes of them as 'the finny denizens of the deep,' or even
+at his cousin the journalist, who exalts the oyster into a 'succulent
+bivalve'--
+
+ The feathered tribes on pinions cleave the air;
+ Not so the mackerel, and, still less, the bear!
+
+I believe this difficulty, which verse, by nature and origin emotional,
+encounters in dealing with ordinary unemotional narrative, to lie as a
+technical reason at the bottom of Horace's advice to the writer of Epic
+to plunge _in medias res_, thus avoiding flat preparative and catching at
+once a high wind which shall carry him hereafter across dull levels and
+intervals. I believe that it lay--though whether consciously or not he
+scarcely tells us--at the bottom of Matthew Arnold's mind when, selecting
+certain qualities for which to praise Homer, he chose, for the very
+first, Homer's _rapidity_. 'First,' he says, 'Homer is eminently rapid;
+and,' he adds justly, 'to this rapidity the elaborate movement of
+Miltonic blank verse is alien.'
+
+Now until one studies writing as an art, trying to discover what this or
+that form of it accomplishes with ease and what with difficulty, and why
+verse can do one thing and prose another, Arnold's choice of _rapidity_
+to put in the forefront of Homer's merits may seem merely capricious.
+'Homer (we say) has other great qualities. Arnold himself indicates
+Homer's simplicity, directness, nobility. Surely either one of these
+should be mentioned before rapidity, in itself not comparable as a virtue
+with either?'
+
+But when we see that the difficulty of verse-narrative lies just _here_;
+that the epic poet who is rapid has met, and has overcome, the capital
+difficulty of his form, then we begin to do justice not only to Arnold as
+a critic but (which is of far higher moment) to Homer as a craftsman.
+
+The genius of Homer in this matter is in fact something daemonic. He
+seems to shirk nothing: and the effect of this upon critics is
+bewildering. The acutest of them are left wondering how on earth an
+ordinary tale--say of how some mariners beached ship, stowed sail, walked
+ashore and cooked their dinner--can be made so poetical. They are
+inclined to divide the credit between the poet and his fortunate age--'a
+time' suggests Pater 'in which one could hardly have spoken at all
+without ideal effect, or the sailors pulled down their boat without
+making a picture "in the great style" against a sky charged with
+marvels.'
+
+Well, the object of these lectures is not to explain genius. Just here it
+is rather to state a difficulty; to admit that, once in history, genius
+overcame it; yet warn you how rare in the tale of poetical achievement is
+such a success. Homer, indeed, stands first, if not unmatched, among
+poets in this technical triumph over the capital disability of
+annihilating flat passages. I omit Shakespeare and the dramatists;
+because they have only to give a stage direction 'Enter Cassius, looking
+lean,' and Cassius comes in looking leaner than nature; whereas Homer has
+in his narrative to walk Hector or Thersites on to the scene, describe
+him, walk him off. I grant the rapidity of Dante. It is amazing; and we
+may yield him all the credit for choosing (it was his genius that chose
+it) a subject which allowed of the very highest rapidity; since Hell,
+Purgatory and Paradise, though they differ in other respects, have this
+in common, that they are populous and the inhabitants of each so
+compendiously shepherded together that the visitor can turn from one
+person to another without loss of time. But Homer does not escort us
+around a menagerie in which we can move expeditiously from one cage to
+another. He proposes at least, both in the "Iliad" and in the "Odyssey,"
+to unfold a story; and he _seems_ to unfold it so artlessly that we
+linger on the most pedestrian intervals while he tells us, for example,
+what the heroes ate and how they cooked it. A modern writer would serve
+us a far better dinner. Homer brings us to his with our appetite all the
+keener for having waited and watched the spitting and roasting.
+
+I would point out to you what art this genius conceals; how cunning is
+this apparent simplicity: and for this purpose let me take Homer at the
+extreme of his difficulty--when he has to describe a long sea-voyage.
+
+Some years ago, in his last Oxford lectures, Mr Froude lamented that no
+poet in this country had arisen to write a national epic of the great
+Elizabethan seamen, to culminate (I suppose) as his History culminated,
+in the defeat of the Armada: and one of our younger poets; Mr Alfred
+Noyes, acting on this hint has since given us an epic poem on "Drake," in
+twelve books. But Froude probably overlooked, as Mr Noyes has not
+overcome, this difficulty of the flat interval which, while ever the
+bugbear of Epic, is magnified tenfold when our action takes place on the
+sea. For whereas the verse should be rapid and the high moments frequent,
+the business of seafaring is undeniably monotonous, as the intervals
+between port and port, sea-fight and sea-fight, must be long and lazy.
+Matters move more briskly in an occasional gale; but even a gale lasts,
+and must be ridden out; and the process of riding to a gale of wind:--
+
+ For ever climbing up the climbing wave
+
+--your ship taking one wave much as she takes another--is in its nature
+monotonous. Nay, you have only to read Falconer's "Shipwreck" to discover
+how much of dulness may lie enwrapped, to discharge itself, even in a
+first-class tempest. Courses, reckonings, trimmings of canvas--these
+occur in real life and amuse the simple mariner at the time. But to the
+reader, if he be a landsman, their repetition in narrative may easily
+become intolerable; and when we get down to the 'trades,' even the seaman
+sets his sail for a long spell of weather and goes to sleep. In short you
+cannot upon the wide Atlantic push action and reaction to and fro as upon
+the plains of windy Troy: nor could any but a superhuman genius make
+sustained poetry (say) out of Nelson's untiring pursuit of Villeneuve,
+which none the less was one of the most heroic feats in history.
+
+This difficulty, inherent in navigation as a subject for the Epic Muse,
+has, I think, been very shrewdly detected and hit off in a parody of Mr
+Noyes' poem by a young friend of mine, Mr Wilfred Blair:--
+
+ Meanwhile the wind had changed, and Francis Drake
+ Put down the helm and drove against the seas--
+ Once more the wind changed, and the simple seaman,
+ Full fraught with weather wisdom, once again
+ Put down the helm and so drove on--_et cetera_.
+
+Now Homer actually has performed this feat which we declare to be next to
+impossible. He actually does convey Odysseus from Troy to Ithaca, by a
+ten years' voyage too; he actually has narrated that voyage to us in
+plain straightforward words; and, what is more, he actually has made a
+superb epic of it. Yes, but when you come to dissect the Odyssey, what
+amazing artifice is found under that apparently straightforward
+tale!--eight years of the ten sliced out, to start with, and
+magnificently presented to Circe
+
+ Where that Aeaean isle forgets the main
+
+--and (one may add), so forgetting, avoids the technical difficulties
+connected therewith.
+
+Note the space given to Telemachus and his active search for the lost
+hero: note too how the mass of Odysseus' seafaring adventures is
+condensed into a reported speech--a traveller's tale at the court of
+Alcinoüs. Virgil borrowed this trick, you remember; and I dare to swear
+that had it fallen to Homer to attempt the impossible saga of Nelson's
+pursuit after Villeneuve he would have achieved it triumphantly--by means
+of a tale told in the first person by a survivor to Lady Hamilton. Note,
+again, how boldly (being free to deal with an itinerary of which his
+audience knew nothing but surmised that it comprehended a vast deal of
+the marvellous, spaced at irregular distances) Homer works in a shipwreck
+or a miracle wherever the action threatens to flag. Lessing, as you know,
+devoted several pages of the "Laoköon" to the shield of Achilles; to
+Homer's craft in depicting it as it grew under Hephaestus' hammer: so
+that we are intrigued by the process of manufacture instead of being
+wearied by a description of the ready-made article; so also (if one may
+presume to add anything to Lessing) that we are cunningly flattered in a
+sense that the shield is being made for _us._ Well, that is one artifice
+out of many: but if you would gauge at all Homer's resource and subtlety
+in technique I recommend you to analyse the first twelve books of
+the "Odyssey" and count for yourselves the device by which the
+poet--[Greek: polutropos] as was never his hero--evades or hurries over
+each flat interval as he happens upon it.
+
+ These things, Ulysses,
+ The wise bards also
+ Behold and sing.
+ But O, what labour!
+ O Prince, what pain!
+
+You may be thinking, Gentlemen, that I take up a disproportionate amount
+of your time on such technical matters at these. But literature being an
+art (forgive the reiteration!) and therefore to be practised, I want us
+to be seeking all the time _how it is done_; to hunt out the principles
+on which the great artists wrought; to face, to rationalise, the
+difficulties by which they were confronted, and learn how they overcame
+the particular obstacle. Surely even for mere criticism, apart from
+practice, we shall equip ourselves better by seeking, so far as we may,
+how the thing is done than by standing at gaze before this or that
+masterpiece and murmuring 'Isn't that beautiful! How in the world, now...!'
+
+I am told that these lectures are criticised as tending to make you
+conceited: to encourage in you a belief that you can do things, when it
+were better that you merely admired. Well I would not dishearten you by
+telling to what a shred of conceit, even of hope, a man can be reduced
+after twenty-odd years of the discipline. But I can, and do, affirm that
+the farther you penetrate in these discoveries the more sacred the
+ultimate mystery will become for you: that the better you understand the
+great authors as exemplars of practice, the more certainly you will
+realise what is the condescension of the gods.
+
+Next time, then, we will attempt an enquiry into the capital difficulty
+of Prose.
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE V.
+
+INTERLUDE: ON JARGON
+
+Thursday, May 1
+
+
+We parted, Gentlemen, upon a promise to discuss the capital difficulty of
+Prose, as we have discussed the capital difficulty of Verse. But,
+although we shall come to it, on second thoughts I ask leave to break the
+order of my argument and to interpose some words upon a kind of writing
+which, from a superficial likeness, commonly passes for prose in these
+days, and by lazy folk is commonly written for prose, yet actually is not
+prose at all; my excuse being the simple practical one that, by first
+clearing this sham prose out of the way, we shall the better deal with
+honest prose when we come to it. The proper difficulties of prose will
+remain: but we shall be agreed in understanding what it is, or at any
+rate what it is not, that we talk about. I remember to have heard
+somewhere of a religious body in the United States of America which had
+reason to suspect one of its churches of accepting Spiritual consolation
+from a coloured preacher--an offence against the laws of the Synod--and
+despatched a Disciplinary Committee with power to act; and of the
+Committee's returning to report itself unable to take any action under
+its terms of reference, for that while a person undoubtedly coloured had
+undoubtedly occupied the pulpit and had audibly spoken from it in the
+Committee's presence, the performance could be brought within no
+definition of preaching known or discoverable. So it is with that
+infirmity of speech--that flux, that determination of words to the mouth,
+or to the pen--which, though it be familiar to you in parliamentary
+debates, in newspapers, and as the staple language of Blue Books,
+Committees, Official Reports, I take leave to introduce to you as prose
+which is not prose and under its real name of Jargon.
+
+You must not confuse this Jargon with what is called Journalese. The two
+overlap, indeed, and have a knack of assimilating each other's vices. But
+Jargon finds, maybe, the most of its votaries among good douce people who
+have never written to or for a newspaper in their life, who would never
+talk of 'adverse climatic conditions' when they mean 'bad weather'; who
+have never trifled with verbs such as 'obsess,' 'recrudesce,' 'envisage,'
+'adumbrate,' or with phrases such as 'the psychological moment,' 'the
+true inwardness,' 'it gives furiously to think.' It dallies with
+Latinity--'sub silentio,' 'de die in diem,' 'cui bono?' (always in the
+sense, unsuspected by Cicero, of 'What is the profit?')--but not for the
+sake of style. Your journalist at the worst is an artist in his way: he
+daubs paint of this kind upon the lily with a professional zeal; the more
+flagrant (or, to use his own word, arresting) the pigment, the happier is
+his soul. Like the Babu he is trying all the while to embellish our poor
+language, to make it more floriferous, more poetical--like the Babu for
+example who, reporting his mother's death, wrote, 'Regret to inform you,
+the hand that rocked the cradle has kicked the bucket.'
+
+_There_ is metaphor: _there_ is ornament: _there_ is a sense of poetry,
+though as yet groping in a world unrealised. No such gusto marks--no such
+zeal, artistic or professional, animates--the practitioners of Jargon,
+who are, most of them (I repeat), douce respectable persons. Caution is
+its father: the instinct to save everything and especially trouble: its
+mother, Indolence. It looks precise, but it is not. It is, in these
+times, _safe_: a thousand men have said it before and not one to your
+knowledge had been prosecuted for it. And so, like respectability in
+Chicago, Jargon stalks unchecked in our midst. It is becoming the
+language of Parliament: it has become the medium through which Boards of
+Government, County Councils, Syndicates, Committees, Commercial Firms,
+express the processes as well as the conclusions of their thought and so
+voice the reason of their being.
+
+Has a Minister to say 'No' in the House of Commons? Some men are
+constitutionally incapable of saying no: but the Minister conveys it
+thus--'The answer to the question is in the negative.' That means 'no.'
+Can you discover it to mean anything less, or anything more except that
+the speaker is a pompous person?--which was no part of the information
+demanded.
+
+That is Jargon, and it happens to be accurate. But as a rule Jargon is by
+no means accurate, its method being to walk circumspectly around its
+target; and its faith, that having done so it has either hit the
+bull's-eye or at least achieved something equivalent, and safer.
+
+Thus the Clerk of a Board of Guardians will minute that--
+
+ In the case of John Jenkins deceased the coffin provided was of the
+ usual character.
+
+Now this is not accurate. 'In the case of John Jenkins deceased,' for
+whom a coffin was supplied, it is wholly superfluous to tell us that he
+is deceased. But actually John Jenkins never had more than one case, and
+that was the coffin. The Clerk says he had two,--a coffin in a case: but
+I suspect the Clerk to be mistaken, and I am sure he errs in telling us
+that the coffin was of the usual character: for coffins have no
+character, usual or unusual.
+
+For another example (I shall not tell you whence derived)--
+
+ In the case of every candidate who is placed in the first class [So you
+ see the lucky fellow gets a case as well as a first-class. He might be
+ a stuffed animal: perhaps he is] In the case of every candidate who is
+ placed in the first class the class-list will show by some convenient
+ mark (1) the Section or Sections for proficiency in which he is placed
+ in the first class and (2) the Section or Sections (if any) in which he
+ has passed with special distinction.
+
+'The Section or Sections (if any)'--But, how, if they are not any, could
+they be indicated by a mark however convenient?
+
+ The Examiners will have regard to the style and method of the
+ candidate's answers, and will give credit for excellence _in these
+ respects_.
+
+Have you begun to detect the two main vices of Jargon? The first is that
+it uses circumlocution rather than short straight speech. It says 'In the
+case of John Jenkins deceased, the coffin' when it means 'John Jenkins's
+coffin': and its yea is not yea, neither is its nay nay: but its answer
+is in the affirmative or in the negative, as the foolish and superfluous
+'case' may be. The second vice is that it habitually chooses vague woolly
+abstract nouns rather than concrete ones. I shall have something to say
+by-and-by about the concrete noun, and how you should ever be struggling
+for it whether in prose or in verse. For the moment I content myself with
+advising you, if you would write masculine English, never to forget the
+old tag of your Latin Grammar--
+
+ Masculine will only be
+ Things that you can touch and see.
+
+But since these lectures are meant to be a course in First Aid to
+writing, I will content myself with one or two extremely rough rules: yet
+I shall be disappointed if you do not find them serviceable.
+
+The first is:--Whenever in your reading you come across one of these
+words, _case, instance, character, nature, condition, persuasion,
+degree_--whenever in writing your pen betrays you to one or another of
+them--pull yourself up and take thought. If it be 'case' (I choose it as
+Jargon's dearest child--'in Heaven yclept Metonomy') turn to the
+dictionary, if you will, and seek out what meaning can be derived from
+_casus_, its Latin ancestor: then try how, with a little trouble, you can
+extricate yourself from that case. The odds are, you will feel like a
+butterfly who has discarded his chrysalis.
+
+Here are some specimens to try your hand on--
+
+ (1) All those tears which inundated Lord Hugh Cecil's head were
+ dry in the case of Mr Harold Cox.
+
+Poor Mr Cox! left gasping in his aquarium!
+
+ (2) [From a cigar-merchant] In any case, let us send you a case
+ on approval.
+
+ (3) It is contended that Consols have fallen in consequence:
+ but such is by no means the case.
+
+'Such,' by the way, is another spoilt child of Jargon, especially in
+Committee's Rules--'Co-opted members may be eligible as such; such
+members to continue to serve for such time as'--and so on.
+
+ (4) Even in the purely Celtic areas, only in two or three cases
+ do the Bishops bear Celtic names.
+
+For 'cases' read 'dioceses.'
+
+ _Instance._ In most instances the players were below their form.
+
+But what were they playing at? Instances?
+
+ _Character--Nature._ There can be no doubt that the accident was
+ caused through the dangerous nature of the spot, the hidden
+ character of the by-road, and the utter absence of any warning
+ or danger signal.
+
+Mark the foggy wording of it all! And yet the man hit something and broke
+his neck! Contrast that explanation with the verdict of a coroner's jury
+in the West of England on a drowned postman--'We find that deceased met
+his death by an act of God, caused by sudden overflowing of the river
+Walkhan and helped out by the scandalous neglect of the way-wardens.'
+
+ The Aintree course is notoriously of a trying nature.
+
+ On account of its light character, purity and age, Usher's whiskey
+ is a whiskey that will agree with you.
+
+ _Order._ The mésalliance was of a pronounced order.
+
+ _Condition._ He was conveyed to his place of residence in an
+ intoxicated condition.
+
+'He was carried home drunk.'
+
+ _Quality and Section._ Mr ----, exhibiting no less than five works,
+ all of a superior quality, figures prominently in the oil section.
+
+This was written of an exhibition of pictures.
+
+ _Degree._ A singular degree of rarity prevails in the earlier
+ editions of this romance.
+
+That is Jargon. In prose it runs simply 'The earlier editions of this
+romance are rare'--or 'are very rare'--or even (if you believe what I take
+leave to doubt), 'are singularly rare'; which should mean that they are
+rarer than the editions of any other work in the world.
+
+Now what I ask you to consider about these quotations is that in each the
+writer was using Jargon to shirk prose, palming off periphrases upon us
+when with a little trouble he could have gone straight to the point. 'A
+singular degree of rarity prevails,' 'the accident was caused through the
+dangerous nature of the spot,' 'but such is by no means the case.' We may
+not be capable of much; but we can all write better than that, if we take
+a little trouble. In place of, 'the Aintree course is of a trying nature'
+we can surely say 'Aintree is a trying course' or 'the Aintree course is
+a trying one'--just that and nothing more.
+
+Next, having trained yourself to keep a look-out for these worst
+offenders (and you will be surprised to find how quickly you get into the
+way of it), proceed to push your suspicions out among the whole cloudy
+host of abstract terms. 'How excellent a thing is sleep,' sighed Sancho
+Panza; 'it wraps a man round like a cloak'--an excellent example, by the
+way, of how to say a thing concretely: a Jargoneer would have said that
+'among the beneficent qualities of sleep its capacity for withdrawing the
+human consciousness from the contemplation of immediate circumstances may
+perhaps be accounted not the least remarkable.' How vile a thing--shall
+we say?--is the abstract noun! It wraps a man's thoughts round like
+cotton wool.
+
+Here is a pretty little nest of specimens, found in "The Times" newspaper
+by Messrs. H. W. and F. G. Fowler, authors of that capital little book
+"The King's English":--
+
+ One of the most important reforms mentioned in the rescript is the
+ unification of the organisation of judicial institutions and the
+ guarantee for all the tribunals of the independence necessary for
+ securing to all classes of the community equality before the law.
+
+I do not dwell on the cacophony; but, to convey a straightforward piece
+of news, might not the Editor of "The Times" as well employ a man to
+write:--
+
+ One of the most important reforms is that of the Courts, which need
+ a uniform system and to be made independent. In this way only can
+ men be assured that all are equal before the law.
+
+I think he might.
+
+A day or two ago the musical critic of the "Standard" wrote this:--
+
+ MR LAMOND IN BEETHOVEN
+
+ Mr Frederick Lamond, the Scottish pianist, as an interpreter of
+ Beethoven has few rivals. At his second recital of the composer's works
+ at Bechstein Hall on Saturday afternoon he again displayed a complete
+ sympathy and understanding of his material that extracted the very
+ essence of aesthetic and musical value from each selection he
+ undertook. The delightful intimacy of his playing and his unusual force
+ of individual expression are invaluable assets, which, allied to his
+ technical brilliancy, enable him to achieve an artistic triumph. The
+ two lengthy Variations in E flat major (Op. 35) and in D major, the
+ latter on the Turkish March from 'The Ruins of Athens,' when included
+ in the same programme, require a master hand to provide continuity of
+ interest. _To say that Mr Lamond successfully avoided moments that
+ might at times, in these works, have inclined to comparative
+ disinterestedness, would be but a moderate way of expressing the
+ remarkable fascination with which his versatile playing endowed them_,
+ but _at the same time_ two of the sonatas given included a similar form
+ of composition, and no matter how intellectually brilliant may be the
+ interpretation, the extravagant use of a certain mode is bound in time
+ to become somewhat ineffective. In the Three Sonatas, the E major (Op.
+ 109), the A major (Op. 2), No. 2, and the C minor (Op. 111), Mr Lamond
+ signalised his perfect insight into the composer's varying moods.
+
+Will you not agree with me that here is no writing, here is no prose,
+here is not even English, but merely a flux of words to the pen?
+
+Here again is a string, a concatenation--say, rather, a tiara--of gems of
+purest ray serene from the dark unfathomed caves of a Scottish
+newspaper:--
+
+ The Chinese viewpoint, as indicated in this letter, may not be without
+ interest to your readers, because it evidently is suggestive of more
+ than an academic attempt to explain an unpleasant aspect of things
+ which, if allowed to materialise, might suddenly culminate in disaster
+ resembling the Chang-Sha riots. It also ventures to illustrate
+ incidents having their inception in recent premature endeavours to
+ accelerate the development of Protestant missions in China; but we
+ would hope for the sake of the interests involved that what my
+ correspondent describes as 'the irresponsible ruffian element' may be
+ known by their various religious designations only within very
+ restricted areas.
+
+Well, the Chinese have given it up, poor fellows! and are asking the
+Christians--as to-day's newspapers inform us--to pray for them. Do you
+wonder? But that is, or was, the Chinese 'viewpoint,'--and what a
+willow-pattern viewpoint! Observe its delicacy. It does not venture to
+interest or be interesting; merely 'to be not without interest.' But it
+does 'venture to illustrate incidents'--which, for a viewpoint, is brave
+enough: and this illustration 'is suggestive of something more than an
+academic attempt to explain an unpleasant aspect of things which, if
+allowed to materialise, might suddenly culminate.' What materialises? The
+unpleasant aspect? or the things? Grammar says the 'things,' 'things
+which if allowed to materialise.' But things are materialised already,
+and as a condition of their being things. It must be the aspect, then,
+that materialises. But, if so, it is also the aspect that culminates, and
+an aspect, however unpleasant, can hardly do that, or at worst cannot
+culminate in anything resembling the Chang-Sha riots.... I give it up.
+
+Let us turn to another trick of Jargon: the trick of Elegant Variation,
+so rampant in the Sporting Press that there, without needing to attend
+these lectures, the Undergraduate detects it for laughter:--
+
+ Hayward and C. B. Fry now faced the bowling; which apparently had
+ no terrors for the Surrey crack. The old Oxonian, however,
+ took some time in settling to work....
+
+Yes, you all recognise it and laugh at it. But why do you practise it in
+your Essays? An undergraduate brings me an essay on Byron. In an essay on
+Byron, Byron is (or ought to be) mentioned many times. I expect, nay
+exact, that Bryon shall be mentioned again and again. But my
+undergraduate has a blushing sense that to call Byron Byron twice on one
+page is indelicate. So Byron, after starting bravely as Byron, in the
+second sentence turns into 'that great but unequal poet' and
+thenceforward I have as much trouble with Byron as ever Telemachus with
+Proteus to hold and pin him back to his proper self. Half-way down the
+page he becomes 'the gloomy master of Newstead': overleaf he is
+reincarnated into 'the meteoric darling of society': and so proceeds
+through successive avatars--'this arch-rebel,' 'the author of Childe
+Harold,' 'the apostle of scorn,' 'the ex-Harrovian, proud, but abnormally
+sensitive of his club-foot,' 'the martyr of Missolonghi,' 'the
+pageant-monger of a bleeding heart.' Now this again is Jargon. It does
+not, as most Jargon does, come of laziness; but it comes of timidity,
+which is worse. In literature as in life he makes himself felt who not
+only calls a spade a spade but has the pluck to double spades and
+re-double.
+
+For another rule--just as rough and ready, but just as useful: Train your
+suspicions to bristle up whenever you come upon 'as regards,' 'with
+regard to,' 'in respect of,' 'in connection with,' 'according as to
+whether,' and the like. They are all dodges of Jargon, circumlocutions
+for evading this or that simple statement: and I say that it is not
+enough to avoid them nine times out of ten, or nine-and-ninety times out
+of a hundred. You should never use them. That is positive enough, I hope?
+Though I cannot admire his style, I admire the man who wrote to me, 'Re
+Tennyson--your remarks anent his "In Memoriam" make me sick': for though
+re is not a preposition of the first water, and 'anent' has enjoyed its
+day, the finish crowned the work. But here are a few specimens far, very
+far, worse:--
+
+ The special difficulty in Professor Minocelsi's case [our old friend
+ 'case' again] arose _in connexion with_ the view he holds _relative
+ to_ the historical value of the opening pages of Genesis.
+
+That is Jargon. In prose, even taking the miserable sentence as it stands
+constructed, we should write 'the difficulty arose over the views he
+holds about the historical value,' etc.
+
+From a popular novelist:--
+
+ I was entirely indifferent _as to_ the results of the game, caring
+ nothing at all _as to_ whether _I had losses or gains_--
+
+Cut out the first 'as' in 'as to,' and the second 'as to' altogether, and
+the sentence begins to be prose--'I was indifferent to the results of the
+game, caring nothing whether I had losses or gains.'
+
+But why, like Dogberry, have 'had losses'? Why not simply 'lose.' Let us
+try again. 'I was entirely indifferent to the results of the game, caring
+nothing at all whether I won or lost.'
+
+Still the sentence remains absurd: for the second clause but repeats the
+first without adding one jot. For if you care not at all whether you win
+or lose, you must be entirely indifferent to the results of the game. So
+why not say 'I was careless if I won or lost,' and have done with it?
+
+ A man of simple and charming character, he was fitly _associated
+ with_ the distinction of the Order of Merit.
+
+I take this gem with some others from a collection made three years ago,
+by the "Oxford Magazine"; and I hope you admire it as one beyond price.
+'He was associated with the distinction of the Order of Merit' means 'he
+was given the Order of Merit.' If the members of that Order make a
+society then he was associated with them; but you cannot associate a man
+with a distinction. The inventor of such fine writing would doubtless
+have answered Canning's Needy Knife-grinder with:--
+
+ I associate thee with sixpence! I will see thee in another
+ association first!
+
+But let us close our _florilegium_ and attempt to illustrate Jargon by
+the converse method of taking a famous piece of English (say Hamlet's
+soliloquy) and remoulding a few lines of it in this fashion:--
+
+ To be, or the contrary? Whether the former or the latter be preferable
+ would seem to admit of some difference of opinion; the answer in the
+ present case being of an affirmative or of a negative character
+ according as to whether one elects on the one hand to mentally suffer
+ the disfavour of fortune, albeit in an extreme degree, or on the other
+ to boldly envisage adverse conditions in the prospect of eventually
+ bringing them to a conclusion. The condition of sleep is similar to, if
+ not indistinguishable from, that of death; and with the addition of
+ finality the former might be considered identical with the latter: so
+ that in this connection it might be argued with regard to sleep that,
+ could the addition be effected, a termination would be put to the
+ endurance of a multiplicity of inconveniences, not to mention a number
+ of downright evils incidental to our fallen humanity, and thus a
+ consummation achieved of a most gratifying nature.
+
+That is Jargon: and to write Jargon is to be perpetually shuffling around
+in the fog and cotton-wool of abstract terms; to be for ever hearkening,
+like Ibsen's Peer Gynt, to the voice of the Boyg exhorting you to
+circumvent the difficulty, to beat the air because it is easier than to
+flesh your sword in the thing. The first virtue, the touchstone of a
+masculine style, is its use of the active verb and the concrete noun.
+When you write in the active voice, 'They gave him a silver teapot,' you
+write as a man. When you write 'He was made the recipient of a silver
+teapot,' you write jargon. But at the beginning set even higher store on
+the concrete noun. Somebody--I think it was FitzGerald--once posited the
+question 'What would have become of Christianity if Jeremy Bentham had
+had the writing of the Parables?' Without pursuing that dreadful enquiry
+I ask you to note how carefully the Parables--those exquisite short
+stories--speak only of 'things which you can touch and see'--'A sower
+went forth to sow,' 'The kingdom of heaven is like unto leaven, which a
+woman took,'--and not the Parables only, but the Sermon on the Mount and
+almost every verse of the Gospel. The Gospel does not, like my young
+essayist, fear to repeat a word, if the word be good. The Gospel says
+'Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's'--not 'Render unto
+Caesar the things that appertain to that potentate.' The Gospel does not
+say 'Consider the growth of the lilies,' or even 'Consider how the lilies
+grow.' It says, 'Consider the lilies, how they grow.'
+
+Or take Shakespeare. I wager you that no writer of English so constantly
+chooses the concrete word, in phrase after phrase forcing you to touch
+and see. No writer so insistently teaches the general through the
+particular. He does it even in "Venus and Adonis" (as Professor Wendell,
+of Harvard, pointed out in a brilliant little monograph on Shakespeare,
+published some ten years ago). Read any page of "Venus and Adonis" side
+by side with any page of Marlowe's "Hero and Leander" and you cannot but
+mark the contrast: in Shakespeare the definite, particular, visualised
+image, in Marlowe the beautiful generalisation, the abstract term, the
+thing seen at a literary remove. Take the two openings, both of which
+start out with the sunrise. Marlowe begins:--
+
+ Now had the Morn espied her lover's steeds:
+ Whereat she starts, puts on her purple weeds,
+ And, red for anger that he stay'd so long,
+ All headlong throws herself the clouds among.
+
+Shakespeare wastes no words on Aurora and her feelings, but gets to his
+hero and to business without ado:--
+
+ Even as the sun with purple-colour'd face--
+(You have the sun visualised at once),
+ Even as the sun with purple-colour'd face
+ Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
+ Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase;
+ Hunting he loved, but love he laugh'd to scorn.
+
+When Shakespeare has to describe a horse, mark how definite he is:--
+
+ Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long,
+ Broad breast, full eye, small head and nostril wide,
+ High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong;
+ Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide.
+
+Or again, in a casual simile, how definite:--
+
+ Upon this promise did he raise his chin,
+ Like a dive-dipper peering through a wave,
+ Which, being look'd on, ducks as quickly in.
+
+Or take, if you will, Marlowe's description of Hero's first meeting
+Leander:--
+
+ It lies not in our power to love or hate,
+ For will in us is over-ruled by fate...,
+
+and set against it Shakespeare's description of Venus' last meeting with
+Adonis, as she came on him lying in his blood:--
+
+ Or as a snail whose tender horns being hit
+ Shrinks backward in his shelly cave with pain,
+ And there, all smother'd up, in shade doth sit,
+ Long after fearing to creep forth again;
+ So, at his bloody view--
+
+I do not deny Marlowe's lines (if you will study the whole passage) to be
+lovely. You may even judge Shakespeare's to be crude by comparison. But
+you cannot help noting that whereas Marlowe steadily deals in abstract,
+nebulous terms, Shakespeare constantly uses concrete ones, which later on
+he learned to pack into verse, such as:--
+
+ Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care.
+
+Is it unfair to instance Marlowe, who died young? Then let us take
+Webster for the comparison; Webster, a man of genius or of something very
+like it, and commonly praised by the critics for his mastery over
+definite, detailed, and what I may call _solidified sensation_. Let us
+take this admired passage from his "Duchess of Malfy":--
+
+ _Ferdinand._ How doth our sister Duchess bear herself
+ In her imprisonment?
+
+ _Basola._ Nobly: I'll describe her.
+ She's sad as one long used to 't, and she seems
+ Rather to welcome the end of misery
+ Than shun it: a behaviour so noble
+ As gives a majesty to adversity
+(Note the abstract terms.)
+ You may discern the shape of loveliness
+ More perfect in her tears than in her smiles;
+ She will muse for hours together; and her silence
+(Here we first come on the concrete: and beautiful it is.)
+ Methinks expresseth more than if she spake.
+
+Now set against this the well-known passage from "Twelfth Night" where
+the Duke asks and Viola answers a question about someone unknown to him
+and invented by her--a mere phantasm, in short: yet note how much more
+definite is the language:--
+
+_Viola._ My father had a daughter lov'd a man;
+ As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
+ _I_ should your lordship.
+
+_Duke._ And what's her history?
+
+_Viola._ A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
+ But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
+ Feed on her damask cheek; she pined in thought,
+ And with a green and yellow melancholy
+ She sat like Patience on a monument
+ Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
+
+Observe (apart from the dramatic skill of it) how, when Shakespeare _has_
+to use the abstract noun 'concealment,' on an instant it turns into a
+visible worm 'feeding' on the visible rose; how, having to use a second
+abstract word 'patience,' at once he solidifies it in tangible stone.
+
+Turning to prose, you may easily assure yourselves that men who have
+written learnedly on the art agree in treating our maxim--to prefer the
+concrete term to the abstract, the particular to the general, the
+definite to the vague--as a canon of rhetoric. Whately has much to say on
+it. The late Mr E. J. Payne, in one of his admirable prefaces to Burke
+(prefaces too little known and valued, as too often happens to
+scholarship hidden away in a schoolbook), illustrated the maxim by
+setting a passage from Burke's speech "On Conciliation with America"
+alongside a passage of like purport from Lord Brougham's "Inquiry into
+the Policy of the European Powers." Here is the deadly parallel:--
+
+BURKE.
+
+ In large bodies the circulation of power must be less vigorous at the
+ extremities. Nature has said it. The Turk cannot govern Ćgypt and
+ Arabia and Curdistan as he governs Thrace; nor has he the same dominion
+ in Crimea and Algiers which he has at Brusa and Smyrna. Despotism
+ itself is obliged to truck and huckster. The Sultan gets such obedience
+ as he can. He governs with a loose rein, that he may govern at all; and
+ the whole of the force and vigour of his authority in his centre is
+ derived from a prudent relaxation in all his borders.
+
+BROUGHAM.
+
+ In all the despotisms of the East, it has been observed that the
+ further any part of the empire is removed from the capital, the more do
+ its inhabitants enjoy some sort of rights and privileges: the more
+ inefficacious is the power of the monarch; and the more feeble and
+ easily decayed is the organisation of the government.
+
+You perceive that Brougham has transferred Burke's thought to his own
+page: but will you not also perceive how pitiably, by dissolving Burke's
+vivid particulars into smooth generalities, he has enervated its hold on
+the mind?
+
+'This particularising style,' comments Mr Payne, 'is the essence of
+Poetry; and in Prose it is impossible not to be struck with the energy it
+produces. Brougham's passage is excellent in its way: but it pales before
+the flashing lights of Burke's sentences. The best instances of this
+energy of style, he adds, are to be found in the classical writers of the
+seventeenth century. 'When South says, "An Aristotle was but the rubbish
+of an Adam, and Athens but the rudiments of Paradise," he communicates
+more effectually the notion of the difference between the intellect of
+fallen and of unfallen humanity than in all the philosophy of his sermons
+put together.'
+
+You may agree with me, or you may not, that South in this passage is
+expounding trash; but you will agree with Mr Payne and me that he uttered
+it vividly.
+
+Let me quote to you, as a final example of this vivid style of writing, a
+passage from Dr John Donne far beyond and above anything that ever lay
+within South's compass:--
+
+ The ashes of an Oak in the Chimney are no epitaph of that Oak, to tell
+ me how high or how large that was; it tells me not what flocks it
+ sheltered while it stood, nor what men it hurt when it fell. The dust
+ of great persons' graves is speechless, too; it says nothing, it
+ distinguishes nothing. As soon the dust of a wretch whom thou wouldest
+ not, as of a prince whom thou couldest not look upon will trouble thine
+ eyes if the wind blow it thither; and when a whirle-wind hath blown the
+ dust of the Churchyard into the Church, and the man sweeps out the dust
+ of the Church into the Churchyard, who will undertake to sift those
+ dusts again and to pronounce, This is the Patrician, this is the noble
+ flowre [flour], this the yeomanly, this the Plebeian bran? So is the
+ death of Iesabel (Iesabel was a Queen) expressed. They shall not say
+ _This is Iesabel_; not only not wonder that it is, nor pity that it
+ should be; but they shall not say, they shall not know, _This is
+ Iesabel._
+
+Carlyle noted of Goethe, 'his emblematic intellect, his never-failing
+tendency to transform into _shape_, into _life_, the feeling that may
+dwell in him. Everything has form, has visual excellence: the poet's
+imagination bodies forth the forms of things unseen, and his pen turns
+them into shape.'
+
+Perpend this, Gentlemen, and maybe you will not hereafter set it down to
+my reproach that I wasted an hour of a May morning in a denunciation of
+Jargon, and in exhorting you upon a technical matter at first sight so
+trivial as the choice between abstract and definite words.
+
+A lesson about writing your language may go deeper than language; for
+language (as in a former lecture I tried to preach to you) is your
+reason, your [Greek: logos]. So long as you prefer abstract words, which
+express other men's summarised concepts of things, to concrete ones which
+as near as can be reached to things themselves and are the first-hand
+material for your thoughts, you will remain, at the best, writers at
+second-hand. If your language be Jargon, your intellect, if not your
+whole character, will almost certainly correspond. Where your mind should
+go straight, it will dodge: the difficulties it should approach with a
+fair front and grip with a firm hand it will be seeking to evade or
+circumvent. For the Style is the Man, and where a man's treasure is there
+his heart, and his brain, and his writing, will be also.
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE VI.
+
+ON THE CAPITAL DIFFICULTY OF PROSE
+
+Thursday, May 15
+
+
+To-day, Gentlemen, leaving the Vanity Fair of Jargon behind us, we have
+to essay a difficult country; of which, though fairly confident of his
+compass-bearings, your guide confesses, that wide tracts lie outside his
+knowledge--outside of anything that can properly be called his knowledge.
+I feel indeed somewhat as Gideon must have felt when he divided his host
+on the slopes of Mount Gilead, warning back all who were afraid. In
+asking the remnant to follow as attentively as they can, I promise only
+that, if Heaven carry us safely across, we shall have 'broken the back'
+of the desert.
+
+In my last lecture but one, then,--and before our small interlude with
+Jargon--the argument had carried us, more or less neatly, up to this
+point: that the capital difficulty of verse consisted in saying ordinary
+unemotional things, of bridging the flat intervals between high moments.
+This point, I believe, we made effectively enough.
+
+Now, for logical neatness, we should be able to oppose a corresponding
+point, that the capital difficulty of prose consists in saying
+extraordinary things, in running it up from its proper level to these
+high emotional, musical, moments. And mightily convenient that would be,
+Gentlemen, if I were here to help you to answer scientific questions
+about prose and verse instead of helping you, in what small degree I can,
+to write. But in Literature (which, let me remind you yet once again, is
+an art) you cannot classify as in a science.
+
+Pray attend while I impress on you this most necessary warning. In
+studying literature, and still more in studying to write it, distrust all
+classification! All classifying of literature intrudes 'science' upon an
+art, and is artificially 'scientific'; a trick of pedants, that they may
+make it the easier to examine you on things with which no man should have
+any earthly concern, as I am sure he will never have a heavenly one.
+Beetles, minerals, gases, may be classified; and to have them classified
+is not only convenient but a genuine advance of knowledge. But if you had
+to _make_ a beetle, as men are making poetry, how much would
+classification help? To classify in a science is necessary for the
+purpose of that science: to classify when you come to art is at the best
+an expedient, useful to some critics and to a multitude of examiners. It
+serves the art-critic to talk about Tuscan, Flemish, Pre-Raphaelite,
+schools of painting. The expressions are handy, and we know more or less
+what they intend. Just so handily it may serve us to talk about
+'Renaissance poets,' 'the Elizabethans,' 'the Augustan age.' But such
+terms at best cannot be scientific, precise, determinate, as for examples
+the terms 'inorganic,' 'mammal,' 'univalve,' 'Old Red Sandstone' are
+scientific, precise, determinate. An animal is either a mammal or it is
+not: you cannot say as assuredly that a man is or is not an Elizabethan.
+We call Shakespeare an Elizabethan and the greatest of Elizabethans,
+though as a fact he wrote his most famous plays when Elizabeth was dead.
+Shirley was but seven years old when Elizabeth died; yet (if
+'Elizabethan' have any meaning but a chronological one) Shirley belongs
+to the Elizabethan firmament, albeit but as a pale star low on the
+horizon: whereas Donne--a post-Elizabethan if ever there was one--had by
+1603 reached his thirtieth year and written almost every line of those
+wonderful lyrics which for a good sixty years gave the dominant note to
+Jacobean and Caroline poetry.
+
+In treating of an art we classify for handiness, not for purposes of
+exact knowledge; and man (_improbus homo_) with his wicked inventions is
+for ever making fools of our formulae. Be consoled--and, if you are wise,
+thank Heaven--that genius uses our best-laid logic to explode it.
+
+Be consoled, at any rate, on finding that after deciding the capital
+difficulty of prose to lie in saying extraordinary things, in running up
+to the high emotional moments, the prose-writers explode and blow our
+admirable conclusions to ruins.
+
+You see, we gave them the chance to astonish us when we defined prose as
+'a record of human thought, dispensing with metre and using rhythm
+laxly.' When you give genius leave to use something laxly, at its will,
+genius will pretty surely get the better of you.
+
+Observe, now, following the story of English prose, what has happened.
+Its difficulty--the inherent, the native disability of prose--is to
+handle the high emotional moments which more properly belong to verse.
+Well, we strike into the line of our prose-writers, say as early as
+Malory. We come on this; of the Passing of Arthur:--
+
+ 'My time hieth fast,' said the king. Therefore said Arthur unto Sir
+ Bedivere, 'Take thou Excalibur my good sword, and go with it to yonder
+ water side; and when thou comest there I charge thee throw my sword in
+ that water and come again and tell me what there thou seest.' 'My
+ lord,' said Bedivere, 'Your commandment shall be done; and lightly
+ bring you word again.' So Sir Bedivere departed, and by the way he
+ beheld that noble sword, that the pommel and the haft was all of
+ precious stones, and then he said to himself, 'If I throw this rich
+ sword in the water, thereof shall never come good, but harm and loss.'
+ And then Sir Bedivere hid Excaliber under a tree. And so, as soon as he
+ might, he came again unto the king, and said he had been at the water
+ and had thrown the sword into the water, 'What saw thou there?' said
+ the king, 'Sir,' he said, 'I saw nothing but waves and winds.'
+
+Now I might say a dozen things of this and of the whole passage that
+follows, down to Arthur's last words. Specially might I speak to you of
+the music of its monosyllables--'"What sawest you there?" said the king...
+"Do as well as thou mayest; for in me is no trust for to trust in. For I
+will into the Vale of Avilion, to heal me of my grievous wound. And if
+thou hear never more of me, pray for my soul."' But, before making
+comment at all, I shall quote you another passage; this from Lord
+Berners' translation of Froissart, of the death of Robert Bruce:--
+
+ It fortuned that King Robert of Scotland was right sore aged and
+ feeble: for he was greatly charged with the great sickness, so that
+ there was no way for him but death. And when he felt that his end drew
+ near, he sent for such barons and lords of his realm as he trusted
+ best, and shewed them how there was no remedy with him, but he must
+ needs leave this transitory life.... Then he called to him the gentle
+ knight, Sir William Douglas, and said before all the lords, 'Sir
+ William, my dear friend, ye know well that I have had much ado in my
+ days to uphold and sustain the right of this realm; and when I had most
+ ado I made a solemn vow, the which as yet I have not accomplished,
+ whereof I am right sorry; the which was, if I might achieve and make an
+ end of all my wars, so that I might once have brought this realm in
+ rest and peace, then I promised in my mind to have gone and warred on
+ Christ's enemies, adversaries to our holy Christian faith. To this
+ purpose mine heart hath ever intended, but our Lord would not consent
+ thereto... And sith it is so that my body can not go, nor achieve that my
+ heart desireth, I will send the heart instead of the body, to
+ accomplish mine avow... I will, that as soon as I am trespassed out of
+ this world, that ye take my heart out of my body, and embalm it, and
+ take of my treasure as ye shall think sufficient for that enterprise,
+ both for yourself and such company as ye will take with you, and
+ present my heart to the Holy Sepulchre, whereas our Lord lay, seeing my
+ body can not come there. And take with you such company and purveyance
+ as shall be appertaining to your estate. And, wheresoever ye come, let
+ it be known how ye carry with you the heart of King Robert of Scotland,
+ at his instance and desire to be presented to the Holy Sepulchre.' Then
+ all the lords, that heard these words, wept for pity.
+
+There, in the fifteenth century and early in the sixteenth, you have
+Malory and Berners writing beautiful English prose; prose the emotion of
+which (I dare to say) you must recognise if you have ears to hear. So you
+see that already our English prose not only achieves the 'high moment,'
+but seems to obey it rather and be lifted by it, until we ask ourselves,
+'Who could help writing nobly, having to tell how King Arthur died or how
+the Bruce?' Yes, but I bid you observe that Malory and Berners are both
+relating what, however noble, is quite simple, quite straightforward. It
+is when prose attempts to _philosophise_, to _express thoughts_ as well
+as to relate simple sayings and doings--it is then that the trouble
+begins. When Malory has to philosophise death, to _think_ about it, this
+is as far as he attains:--
+
+ 'Ah, Sir Lancelot,' said he, 'thou wert head of all Christian Knights!
+ And now I dare say,' said Sir Ector, 'that, Sir Lancelot, there thou
+ liest, thou were never matched of none earthly hands; and thou were the
+ curtiest knight that ever bare shield: and thou were the truest friend
+ to thy lover that ever strood horse, and thou were the truest lover of
+ a sinful man that ever loved woman; and thou were the kindest man that
+ ever strooke with sword; and thou were the goodliest person that ever
+ came among press of knights; and thou were the meekest man and gentlest
+ that ever sat in hall among ladies; and thou were the sternest Knight
+ to thy mortal foe that ever put spear in the rest.'
+
+Beautiful again, I grant! But note you that, eloquent as he can be on the
+virtues of his dead friend, when Sir Ector comes to the thought of death
+itself all he can accomplish is, 'And now I dare say that, Sir Lancelot,
+there thou liest.'
+
+Let us make a leap in time and contrast this with Tyndale and the
+translators of our Bible, how they are able to make St Paul speak of
+death:--
+
+ So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this
+ mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass
+ the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. O
+ death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?
+
+There you have something clean beyond what Malory or Berners could
+compass: there you have a different kind of high moment--a high moment of
+philosophising: there you have emotion impregnated with thought. It was
+necessary that our English verse even after Chaucer, our English prose
+after Malory and Berners, should overcome this most difficult gap (which
+stands for a real intellectual difference) if it aspired to be what
+to-day it is--a language of the first class, comparable with Greek and
+certainly no whit inferior to Latin or French.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Let us leave prose for a moment, and see how Verse threw its bridge over
+the gap. If you would hear the note of Chaucer at its deepest, you will
+find it in the famous exquisite lines of the Prioress' Prologue:--
+
+ O moder mayde! O maydë moder fre!
+ O bush unbrent, brenning in Moyses' sight!
+
+in the complaint of Troilus, in the rapture of Griselda restored to her
+children:--
+
+ O tendre, O dere, O yongë children myne,
+ Your woful moder wendë stedfastly
+ That cruel houndës or some foul vermyne
+ Hadde eten you; but God of his mercy
+ And your benignë fader tendrely
+ Hath doon you kept...
+
+You will find a note quite as sincere in many a carol, many a ballad, of
+that time:--
+
+ He came al so still
+ There his mother was,
+ As dew in April
+ That falleth on the grass.
+
+ He came al so still
+ To his mother's bour,
+ As dew in April
+ That falleth on the flour.
+
+ He came al so still
+ There his mother lay,
+ As dew in April
+ That falleth on the spray.
+
+ Mother and maiden
+ Was never none but she;
+ Well may such a lady
+ Goddes mother be.
+
+You get the most emotional note of the Ballad in such a stanza
+as this, from "The Nut-Brown Maid":--
+
+ Though it be sung of old and young
+ That I should be to blame,
+ Their's be the charge that speak so large
+ In hurting of my name;
+ For I will prove that faithful love
+ It is devoid of shame;
+ In your distress and heaviness
+ To part with you the same:
+ And sure all tho that do not so
+ True lovers are they none:
+ For, in my mind, of all mankind
+ I love but you alone.
+
+All these notes, again, you will admit to be exquisite: but they gush
+straight from the unsophisticated heart: they are nowise deep save in
+innocent emotion: they are not _thoughtful_. So when Barbour breaks out
+in praise of Freedom, he cries
+
+ A! Fredome is a noble thing!
+
+And that is really as far as he gets. He goes on
+
+ Fredome mayse man to hafe liking.
+
+(Freedom makes man to choose what he likes; that is, makes him free)
+
+ Fredome all solace to man giffis,
+ He livis at ese that frely livis!
+ A noble hart may haif nane ese,
+ Na ellys nocht that may him plese,
+ Gif fredome fail'th: for fre liking
+ Is yharnit ouer all othir thing...
+
+--and so on for many lines; all saying the same thing, that man yearns
+for Freedom and is glad when he gets it, because then he is free; all
+hammering out the same observed fact, but all knocking vainly on the door
+of thought, which never opens to explain what Freedom _is_.
+
+Now let us take a leap as we did with prose, and 'taking off' from the
+Nut-Brown Maid's artless confession,
+
+ in my mind, of all mankind
+ I love but you alone,
+
+let us alight on a sonnet of Shakespeare's--
+
+ Thy bosom is endearéd with all hearts
+ Which I by lacking have supposéd dead:
+ And there reigns Love, and all Love's loving parts,
+ And all those friends which I thought buriéd.
+ How many a holy and obsequious tear
+ Hath dear religious love stolen from mine eye
+ As interest of the dead!--which now appear
+ But things removed, that hidden in thee lie.
+ Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,
+ Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone,
+ Who all their parts of me to thee did give;
+ That due of many now is mine alone:
+ Their images I loved I view in thee,
+ And thou, all they, hast all the all of me.
+
+What a new way of talking about love! Not a happier way--there is less of
+heart's-ease in these doubts, delicacies, subtleties--but how much more
+thoughtful! How has our Nut-Brown Maid eaten of the tree of knowledge!
+
+Well, there happened a Shakespeare, to do this for English Verse: and
+Shakespeare was a miracle which I cheerfully leave others to rationalise
+for you, having, for my own part and so far as I have fared in life,
+found more profit in a capacity for simple wonder.
+
+But I can tell you how the path was made straight to that miracle. The
+shock of the New Learning upon Europe awoke men and unsealed men's
+eyes--unsealed the eyes of Englishmen in particular--to discover a
+literature, and the finest in the world, which _habitually philosophised
+life_: a literature which, whether in a chorus of Sophocles or a talk
+reported by Plato, or in a ribald page of Aristophanes or in a knotty
+chapter of Thucydides, was in one guise or another for ever asking _Why?_
+'What is man doing here, and why is he doing it?' 'What is his purpose?
+his destiny?' 'How stands he towards those unseen powers--call them the
+gods, or whatever you will--that guide and thwart, provoke, madden,
+control him so mysteriously?' 'What are these things we call good and
+evil, life, love, death?'
+
+These are questions which, once raised, haunt Man until he finds an
+answer--some sort of answer to satisfy him. Englishmen, hitherto content
+with the Church's answers but now aware of this great literature which
+answered so differently--and having other reasons to suspect what the
+Church said and did--grew aware that their literature had been as a child
+at play. It had never philosophised good and evil, life, love or death:
+it had no literary forms for doing this; it had not even the vocabulary.
+So our ancestors saw that to catch up their lee-way--to make their report
+worthy of this wonderful, alluring discovery--new literary forms had to
+be invented--new, that is, in English: the sonnet, the drama, the verse
+in which the actors were to declaim, the essay, the invented tale. Then,
+for the vocabulary, obviously our fathers had either to go to Greek,
+which had invented the A.B.C. of philosophising; or to seek in the other
+languages which were already ahead of English in adapting that alphabet;
+or to give our English Words new contents, new connotations, new
+meanings; or lastly, to do all three together.
+
+Well, it was done; and in verse very fortunately done; thanks of course
+to many men, but thanks to two especially--to Sir Thomas Wyat, who led
+our poets to Italy, to study and adopt the forms in which Italy had cast
+its classical heritage; and to Marlowe, who impressed blank verse upon
+the drama. Of Marlowe I shall say nothing; for with what he achieved you
+are familiar enough. Of Wyat I may speak at length to you, one of these
+days; but here, to prepare you for what I hope to prove--that Wyat is one
+of the heroes of our literature--I will give you three brief reasons why
+we should honour his memory:--
+
+(1) He led the way. On the value of that service I shall content myself
+with quoting a passage from Newman:--
+
+ When a language has been cultivated in any particular department of
+ thought, and so far as it has been generally perfected, an existing
+ want has been supplied, and there is no need for further workmen. In
+ its earliest times, while it is yet unformed, to write in it at all is
+ almost a work of genius. It is like crossing a country before roads are
+ made communicating between place and place. The authors of that age
+ deserve to be Classics both because of what they do and because they
+ can do it. It requires the courage and force of great talent to compose
+ in the language at all; and the composition, when effected, makes a
+ permanent impression on it.
+
+This Wyat did. He was a pioneer and opened up a new country to
+Englishmen. But he did more.
+
+(2) Secondly, he had the instinct to perceive that the lyric, if it would
+philosophise life, love, and the rest, must boldly introduce the personal
+note: since in fact when man asks questions about his fortune or destiny
+he asks them most effectively in the first person. 'What am _I_ doing?
+Why are _we_ mortal? Why do _I_ love _thee_?'
+
+This again Wyat did: and again he did more.
+
+For (3) thirdly--and because of this I am surest of his genius--again and
+again, using new thoughts in unfamiliar forms, he wrought out the result
+in language so direct, economical, natural, easy, that I know to this day
+no one who can better Wyat's best in combining straight speech with
+melodious cadence. Take the lines _Is it possible?_--
+
+ Is it possible?
+ For to turn so oft;
+ To bring that lowest that was most aloft:
+ And to fall highest, yet to light soft?
+ Is it possible?
+
+ All is possible!
+ Whoso list believe;
+ Trust therefore first, and after preve;
+ As men wed ladies by licence and leave,
+ All is possible!
+
+or again--
+
+ Forget not! O forget not this!--
+ How long ago hath been, and is,
+ The mind that never meant amiss:
+ Forget not yet!
+
+or again (can personal note go straighter?)--
+
+ And wilt thou leave me thus?
+ Say nay, say nay, for shame!
+ To save thee from the blame
+ --Of all my grief and grame.
+ And wilt thou leave me thus?
+ Say nay! say nay!
+
+(Say 'nay,' say 'nay'; and don't say, 'the answer is in the negative.')
+
+No: I have yet to mention the straightest, most natural of them all, and
+will read it to you in full--
+
+ What should I say?
+ Since Faith is dead
+ And Truth away
+ From you is fled?
+ Should I be led
+ With doubleness?
+ Nay! nay! mistress.
+
+ I promised you
+ And you promised me
+ To be as true
+ As I would be:
+ But since I see
+ Your double heart,
+ Farewell my part!
+
+ Thought for to take
+ Is not my mind;
+ But to forsake
+ One so unkind;
+ And as I find,
+ So will I trust,
+ Farewell, unjust!
+
+ Can ye say nay
+ But that you said
+ That I alway
+ Should be obeyed?
+ And--thus betrayed
+ Or that I wist!
+ Farewell, unkist!
+
+I observe it noted on p. 169 of Volume iii of "The Cambridge History of
+English Literature" that Wyat 'was a pioneer and perfection was not to be
+expected of him. He has been described as a man stumbling over obstacles,
+continually falling but always pressing forward.' I know not to what
+wiseacre we owe that pronouncement: but what do you think of it, after
+the lyric I have just quoted? I observe, further, on p. 23 of the same
+volume of the same work, that the Rev. T. M. Lindsay, D.D., Principal of
+the Glasgow College of the United Free Church of Scotland, informs us of
+Wilson's "Arte of Rhetorique" that
+
+ there is little or no originality in the volume, save, perhaps, the
+ author's condemnation of the use of French and Italian phrases and
+ idioms, which he complains are 'counterfeiting the kinges Englishe.'
+ The warnings of Wilson will not seem untimely if to be remembered that
+ the earlier English poets of the period--Sir Thomas Wyatt the elder,
+ and the Earl of Surrey--drew their inspiration from Petrarch and
+ Ariosto, that their earlier attempts at poetry were translations from
+ Italian sonnets, and that their maturer efforts were imitations of the
+ sweet and stately measures and style of Italian poesie. The polish
+ which men like Wyatt and Surrey were praised for giving to our 'rude
+ and homely manner of vulgar poesie' might have led to some
+ degeneration.
+
+Might it, indeed? As another Dominie would have said, 'Pro-digious.'
+
+ (Thought for to take
+ Is not my mind;
+ But to forsake
+
+This Principal of the Glasgow College of the United Free Church of
+Scotland--
+
+ Farewell unkiss'd!)
+
+But I have lingered too long with this favourite poet of mine and left
+myself room only to hand you the thread by following which you will come
+to the melodious philosophising of Shakespeare's Sonnets--
+
+ Let me not to the marriage of true Minds
+ Admit impediment. Love is not love
+ Which alters where it alteration finds
+ Or bends with the remover to remove.
+
+Note the Latin words 'impediment,' 'alteration,' 'remove.' We are using
+the language of philosophy here or, rather, the 'universal language,'
+which had taken over the legacy of Greek. You may trace the use of it
+growing as, for example, you trace it through the Elizabethan song-books:
+and then (as I said) comes Shakespeare, and with Shakespeare the miracle.
+
+The education of Prose was more difficult, and went through more violent
+convulsions. I suppose that the most of us--if, after reading a quantity
+of Elizabethan prose, we had the courage to tell plain truth, undaunted
+by the name of a great epoch--would confess to finding the mass of it
+clotted in sense as well as unmusical in sound, a disappointment almost
+intolerable after the simple melodious clarity of Malory and Berners. I,
+at any rate, must own that the most of Elizabethan prose pleases me
+little; and I speak not of Elizabethan prose at its worst, of such stuff
+as disgraced the already disgraceful Martin Marprelate Controversy, but
+of such as a really ingenious and ingenuous man like Thomas Nashe could
+write at his average. For a sample:--
+
+ English Seneca read by candle-light yields many good sentences such as
+ 'Blood is a beggar' and so forth; and if you entreat him fair on a
+ frosty morning, he will afford you whole Hamlets, I should say handfuls
+ of tragical speeches.... Sufficeth them [that is, modern followers of
+ Seneca] to bodge up a blank verse with if's and and's, and others,
+ while for recreation after their candle-stuff, having starched their
+ beards most curiously, to make a peripatetical path into the inner
+ parts of the city, and spend two or three hours in turning over the
+ French _Doudie_, where they attract more infection in one minute than
+ they can do eloquence all the days of their life by conversing with any
+ authors of like argument.
+
+This may be worth studying historically, to understand the difficulties
+our prose had to encounter and overcome. But no one would seriously
+propose it as a model for those who would write well, which is our
+present business. I have called it 'clotted.' It is, to use a word of the
+time, 'farced' with conceits; it needs straining.
+
+Its one merit consists in this, that it is struggling, fumbling, to say
+something: that is, to _make_ something. It is not, like modern Jargon,
+trying to dodge something. English prose, in short, just here is passing
+through a period of puberty, of green sickness: and, looking at it
+historically, we may own that its throes are commensurate with the
+stature of the grown man to be.
+
+These throes tear it every way. On the one hand we have Ascham,
+pendantically enough, apologising that he writes in the English tongue
+(yet with a sure instinct he does it):--
+
+ If any man would blame me, either for taking such a matter in hand, or
+ else for writing it in the English tongue, this answer I may make him,
+ that what the best of the realm think it honest for them to use, I, one
+ of the meanest sort, ought not to suppose it vile for me to write... And
+ as for the Latin or Greek tongue, everything is so excellently done in
+ them that none can do better. In the English tongue, contrary,
+ everything in a manner so meanly, both for the matter and the handling,
+ that no man can do worse.
+
+On the other hand you have Euphuism with its antithetical tricks and
+poises, taking all prose by storm for a time: Euphuism, to be revived two
+hundred years later, and find a new avatar in the Johnsonian balance;
+Euphuism, dead now, yet alive enough in its day.
+
+For all these writers were alive: and I tell you it is an inspiriting
+thing to be alive and trying to write English. All these authors were
+alive and trying to _do_ something. Unconsciously for the most part they
+were striving to philosophise the vocabulary of English prose and find a
+rhythm for its periods.
+
+And then, as already had happened to our Verse, to our Prose too there
+befel a miracle.
+
+You will not ask me 'What miracle?' I mean, of course, the Authorised
+Version of the Bible.
+
+I grant you, to be sure, that the path to the Authorised Version was made
+straight by previous translators, notably by William Tyndale. I grant you
+that Tyndale was a man of genius, and Wyclif before him a man of genius.
+I grant you that the forty-seven men who produced the Authorised Version
+worked in the main upon Tyndale's version, taking that for their basis.
+Nay, if you choose to say that Tyndale was a miracle in himself, I
+cheerfully grant you that as well. But, in a lecture one must not
+multiply miracles _praeter necessitatem_; and when Tyndale has been
+granted you have yet to face the miracle that forty-seven men--not one of
+them known, outside of this performance, for any superlative talent--sat
+in committee and almost consistently, over a vast extent of
+work--improved upon what Genius had done. I give you the word of an old
+committee-man that this is not the way of committees--that only by
+miracle is it the way of any committee. Doubtless the forty-seven were
+all good men and godly: but doubtless also good and godly were the Dean
+and Chapter who dealt with Alfred Steven's tomb of the Duke of Wellington
+in St Paul's Cathedral; and you know what _they_ did. Individual genius
+such as Tyndale's or even Shakespeare's, though we cannot explain it, we
+may admit as occurring somehow, and not incredibly, in the course of
+nature. But that a large committee of forty-seven should have gone
+steadily through the great mass of Holy Writ, seldom interfering with
+genius, yet, when interfering, seldom missing to improve: that a
+committee of forty-seven should have captured (or even, let us say,
+should have retained and improved) a rhythm so personal, so constant,
+that our Bible has the voice of one author speaking through its many
+mouths: that, Gentlemen, is a wonder before which I can only stand humble
+and aghast.
+
+Does it or does it not strike you as queer that the people who set you
+'courses of study' in English Literature never include the Authorised
+Version, which not only intrinsically but historically is out and away
+the greatest book of English Prose. Perhaps they can pay you the silent
+compliment of supposing that you are perfectly acquainted with it?... I
+wonder. It seems as if they thought the Martin Marprelate Controversy,
+for example, more important somehow.
+
+ 'So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this
+ mortal shall have put on immortality...'
+
+ 'Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it:
+ if a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it
+ would utterly be contemned.'
+
+ 'The king's daughter is all glorious within: her clothing is of
+ wrought gold.'
+
+ 'Thine eyes shall see the King in his beauty: they shall behold the
+ land that is very far off.'
+
+ 'And a man shall be as an hiding-place from the wind, and a covert
+ from the tempest; as rivers of water in a dry place, as the shadow
+ of a great rock in a weary land.'
+
+When a nation has achieved this manner of diction, those rhythms for its
+dearest beliefs, a literature is surely established. Just there I find
+the effective miracle, making the blind to see, the lame to leap. Wyclif,
+Tyndale, Coverdale and others before the forty-seven had wrought. The
+Authorised Version, setting a seal on all, set a seal on our national
+style, thinking and speaking. It has cadences homely and sublime, yet so
+harmonises them that the voice is always one. Simple men--holy and humble
+men of heart like Isaak Walton or Bunyan--have their lips touched and
+speak to the homelier tune. Proud men, scholars,--Milton, Sir Thomas
+Browne--practice the rolling Latin sentence; but upon the rhythms of our
+Bible they, too, fall back. 'The great mutations of the world are acted,
+or time may be too short for our designs.' 'Acquaint thyself with the
+Choragium of the stars.' 'There is nothing immortal but immortality.' The
+precise man Addison cannot excel one parable in brevity or in heavenly
+clarity: the two parts of Johnson's antithesis come to no more than this
+'Our Lord has gone up to the sound of a trump: with the sound of a trump
+our Lord has gone up.' The Bible controls its enemy Gibbon as surely as
+it haunts the curious music of a light sentence of Thackeray's. It is in
+everything we see, hear, feel, because it is in us, in our blood.
+
+What madman, then, will say 'Thus or thus far shalt thou go' to a prose
+thus invented and thus with its free rhythms, after three hundred years,
+working on the imagination of Englishmen? Or who shall determine its
+range, whether of thought or of music? You have received it by
+inheritance, Gentlemen: it is yours, freely yours--to direct your words
+through life as well as your hearts.
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE VII
+
+SOME PRINCIPLES REAFFIRMED
+
+Thursday, May 29
+
+
+Let me begin to-day, Gentlemen, with a footnote to my last lecture. It
+ended, as you may remember, upon an earnest appeal to you, if you would
+write good English, to study the Authorised Version of the Scriptures; to
+learn from it, moreover, how by mastering _rhythm_, our Prose overcame
+the capital difficulty of Prose and attuned itself to rival its twin
+instrument, Verse; compassing almost equally with Verse man's thought
+however sublime, his emotion however profound.
+
+Now in the course of my remarks I happened--maybe a little
+incautiously--to call the Authorised Version a 'miracle'; using that
+word in a colloquial sense, in which no doubt you accepted it; meaning
+no more than that the thing passed my understanding. I have allowed that
+the famous forty-seven owed an immense deal to earlier translators--to
+the Bishops, to Tyndale, to the Wyclif Version, as themselves allowed it
+eagerly in their preface:--
+
+ Truly (good Christian reader) wee never thought from the beginning that
+ we should needs to make a new Translation, nor yet to make of a bad one
+ a good one ... but to make a good one better, or out of many good ones
+ one principall good one, not justly to be excepted against: that hath
+ bene our indeavour, that our marke.
+
+(See [Footnote 1] at the end of this lecture.)
+
+Nevertheless the Authorised Version astounds me, as I believe it will
+astound you when you compare it with earlier translations. Aristotle (it
+has been said) invented Chance to cover the astonishing fact that there
+were certain phenomena for which he found himself wholly unable to
+account. Just so, if one may compare very small things with very great, I
+spoke of the Authorised Version as a 'miracle.' It was, it remains,
+marvellous to me.
+
+Should these deciduous discourses ever come to be pressed within the
+leaves of a book, I believe their general meaning will be as clear to
+readers as I hope it is to you who give me so much pleasure by pursuing
+them--almost (shall I say?) like Wordsworth's Kitten with those other
+falling leaves:--
+
+ That almost I could repine
+ That your transports are not mine.
+
+But meanwhile certain writers in the newspapers are assuming that by this
+word 'miracle' I meant to suggest to you a something like plenary
+inspiration at once supernatural and so authoritative that it were
+sacrilege now to alter their text by one jot or tittle.
+
+Believe me, I intended nothing of the sort: for that, in my plain
+opinion, would be to make a fetish of the book. One of these days I hope
+to discuss with you what inspiration is: with what accuracy--with what
+meaning, if any--we can say of a poet that he is inspired; questions
+which have puzzled many wise men from Plato downwards.
+
+But certainly I never dreamt of claiming plenary inspiration for the
+forty-seven. Nay, if you will have it, they now and again wrote stark
+nonsense. Remember that I used this very same word 'miracle' of
+Shakespeare, meaning again that the total Shakespeare quite outpasses my
+comprehension; yet Shakespeare, too, on occasion talks stark nonsense, or
+at any rate stark bombast. He never blotted a line--'I would he had
+blotted a thousand' says Ben Jonson: and Ben Jonson was right.
+Shakespeare could have blotted out two or three thousand lines: he was
+great enough to afford it. Somewhere Matthew Arnold supposes us as
+challenging Shakespeare over this and that weak or bombastic passage, and
+Shakespeare answering with his tolerant smile, that no doubt we were
+right, but after all, 'Did it greatly matter?'
+
+So we offer no real derogation to the forty-seven in asserting that here
+and there they wrote nonsense. They could afford it. But we do stultify
+criticism if, adoring the grand total of wisdom and beauty, we prostrate
+ourselves indiscriminately before what is good and what is bad, what is
+sublime sense and what is nonsense, and forbid any reviser to put forth a
+hand to the ark.
+
+The most of us Christians go to church on Christmas Day, and there we
+listen to this from Isaiah, chapter ix, verses 1-7:--
+
+ Nevertheless the dimness shall not be such as was in her vexation,
+ when at the first he lightly afflicted the land of Zebulun and the
+ land of Naphtali, and afterwards did more grievously afflict her
+ by the way of the sea, beyond Jordan, in Galilee of the nations.
+
+ The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they
+ that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the
+ light shined.
+
+ Thou hast multiplied the nation, and not increased the joy: they
+ joy before thee according to the joy in harvest, and as men
+ rejoice when they divide the spoil.
+
+ For thou hast broken the yoke of his burden, and the staff of his
+ shoulder, the rod of his oppressor, as in the day of Midian.
+
+ For every battle of the warrior is with confused noise, and
+ garments rolled in blood: but this shall be with burning and fuel
+ of fire.
+
+ For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given.
+
+The forty-seven keep their majestic rhythm. But have you ever, sitting in
+church on a Christmas morning, asked yourself what it all means, or if it
+mean anything more than a sing-song according somehow with the holly and
+ivy around the pillars? _'Thou hast multiplied the nation, and not
+increased the joy: they joy before thee according to the joy in
+harvest,'_ But why--if the joy be not increased? _'For every battle of
+the warrior is with confused noise, and garments rolled in blood: but
+this shall be with burning and fuel of fire.'_ Granted the rhythmical
+antithesis, where is the real antithesis, the difference, the
+improvement? If a battle there must be, how is burning better than
+garments rolled in blood? And, in fine, what is it all about? Now let us
+turn to the Revised Version:--
+
+ But there shall be no gloom to her that was in anguish. In the
+ former time he brought into contempt the land of Zebulun and the
+ land of Naphtali, but in the latter time hath he made it glorious,
+ by the way of the sea, beyond Jordan, Galilee of the nations.
+
+ The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they
+ that dwelt in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the
+ light shined. Thou hast multiplied the nation, thou hast
+ increased their joy: they joy before thee according to the joy in
+ harvest, as men rejoice when they divide the spoil.
+
+ For the yoke of his burden, and the staff of his shoulder, the
+ rod of his oppressor, thou hast broken as in the day of Midian.
+
+ For all the armour of the armed man in the tumult, and the
+ garments rolled in blood, shall even be for burning, for fuel of
+ fire.
+
+ For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given; and the
+ government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be
+ called Wonderful, Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father,
+ Prince of Peace.
+
+I say (knowing no Hebrew, merely assuming our Revisers to be at least no
+worse scholars than the forty-seven) that here, with the old cadences
+kept so far as possible, we are given sense in place of nonsense: and I
+ask you to come to the Revised Version with a fair mind. I myself came to
+it with some prejudice; in complete ignorance of Hebrew, and with no more
+than the usual amount of Hellenistic Greek. I grant at once that the
+Revised New Testament was a literary fiasco; largely due (if gossip may
+be trusted) to trouble with the Greek Aorist, and an unwise decision--in
+my opinion the most gratuitously unwise a translator can take--to use one
+and the same English word, always and in every connotation, as
+representing one and the same Greek word: for in any two languages few
+words are precisely equivalent. A fiasco at any rate the Revised New
+Testament was, deserving in a dozen ways and in a thousand passages the
+scorn which Professor Saintsbury has recently heaped on it. But I protest
+against the injustice of treating the two Revisions--of the New Testament
+and of the Old--as a single work, and saddling the whole with the sins of
+a part. For two years I spent half-an-hour daily in reading the
+Authorised and Revised Versions side by side, marking as I went, and in
+this way worked through the whole--Old Testament, Apocrypha, New
+Testament. I came to it (as I have said) with some prejudice; but I
+closed the books on a conviction, which my notes sustain for me, that the
+Revisers of the Old Testament performed their task delicately,
+scrupulously, on the whole with great good judgment; that the critic does
+a wrong who brings them under his indiscriminate censure; that on the
+whole they have clarified the sense of the Authorised Version while
+respecting its consecrated rhythms; and that--to name an example, that
+you may test my words and judge for yourselves--the solemn splendour of
+that most wonderful poem, the story of Job, [Greek: dialampei], 'shines
+through' the new translation as it never shone through the old.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+And now Gentlemen (as George Herbert said on a famous occasion), let us
+tune our instruments.
+
+Before discussing with you another and highly important question of style
+in writing, I will ask you to look back for a few moments on the road we
+have travelled.
+
+We have agreed that our writing should be _appropriate_: that it should
+fit the occasion; that it should rise and fall with the subject, be grave
+where that is serious, where it is light not afraid of what Stevenson in
+"The Wrong Box" calls 'a little judicious levity.' If your writing
+observe these precepts, it will be well-mannered writing.
+
+To be sure, much in addition will depend on yourself--on what you are or
+have made yourself, since in writing the style can never be separated
+from the man. But neither can it in the practice of virtue: yet, though
+men differ in character, I do not observe that moralists forbear from
+laying down general rules of excellence. Now if you will recall our
+further conclusion, that writing to be good must be persuasive (since
+persuasion is the only true intellectual process), and will test this by
+a passage of Newman's I am presently to quote to you, from his famous
+'definition of a gentleman,' I think you will guess pretty accurately the
+general law of excellence I would have you, as Cambridge men, tribally
+and particularly obey.
+
+Newman says of a gentleman that among other things:
+
+ He is never mean or little in his disputes, never takes unfair
+ advantage, never mistakes personalities or sharp sayings for arguments,
+ or insinuates evil which he dare not say out.... If he engages in
+ controversy of any kind, his disciplined intellect preserves him from
+ the blundering discourtesy of better perhaps, but less educated minds;
+ who, like blunt weapons, tear and hack instead of cutting clean, who
+ mistake the point in argument, waste their strength on trifles,
+ misconceive their adversary, and leave the question more involved than
+ they found it. He may be right or wrong in his opinion: but he is too
+ clear-sighted to be unjust. He is simple as he is forcible, and as
+ brief as he is decisive.
+
+Enough for the moment on this subject: but commit these words to your
+hearts, and you will not only triumph in newspaper controversy. You will
+do better: you will avoid it.
+
+To proceed.--We found further that our writing should be _accurate_:
+because language expresses thought--is, indeed, the only expression of
+thought--and if we lack the skill to speak precisely, our thought will
+remain confused, ill-defined. The editor of a mining paper in Denver,
+U.S.A., boldly the other day laid down this law, that niceties of
+language were mere 'frills': all a man needed was to 'get there,' that
+is, to say what he wished in his own way. But just here, we found, lies
+the mischief. You will not get there by hammering away on your own
+untutored impulse. You must first be your own reader, chiselling out the
+thought definitely for yourself: and, after that, must carve out the
+intaglio yet more sharply and neatly, if you would impress its image
+accurately upon the wax of other men's minds. We found that even for Men
+of Science this neat clean carving of words was a very necessary
+accomplishment. As Sir James Barrie once observed, 'The Man of Science
+appears to be the only man who has something to say, just now--and the
+only man who does not know how to say it.' But the trouble by no means
+ends with Science. Our poets--those gifted strangely prehensile men who,
+as I said in my first lecture, seem to be born with filaments by which
+they apprehend, and along which they conduct, the half-secrets of life to
+us ordinary mortals--our poets would appear to be scamping artistic
+labour, neglecting to reduce the vague impressions to the clearly cut
+image which is, after all, what helps. It may be a triumph that they have
+taught modern French poetry to be suggestive. I think it would be more
+profitable could they learn from France--that nation of fine workmen--to
+be definite.
+
+But about 'getting there'--I ask you to remember Wolfe, with the seal of
+his fate on him, stepping into his bateau on the dark St. Lawrence River
+and quoting as they tided him over:--
+
+ The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
+ And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
+ Await alike th' inevitable hour;
+ The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
+
+'I had rather have written those lines,' said Wolfe, 'than conquer
+Canada.' That is how our forefathers valued noble writing. The Denver
+editor holds that you may write as you please so long as you get there.
+Well, Wolfe got there: and so, in Wolfe's opinion, did Gray: but perhaps
+to Wolfe and Gray, and to the Denver editor, 'there' happened to mean two
+different places. Wolfe got to the Heights of Abraham.
+
+Further, it was against this loose adaptation of words to thought and to
+things that we protested in our interpolated lecture on Jargon, which is
+not so much bad writing as the avoidance of writing. The man who employs
+Jargon does not get 'there' at all, even in a raw rough pioneering
+fashion: he just walks around 'there' in the ambient tracks of others.
+Let me fly as high as I can and quote you two recent achievements by
+Cabinet Ministers, as reported in the Press:--(1) 'Mr McKenna's reasons
+for releasing from Holloway Prison Miss Lenton while on remand charged
+_in connexion with_ (sweet phrase!) the firing of the tea pavilion in Kew
+Gardens are given in a letter which he has _caused to be forwarded_ to a
+correspondent who inquired _as to_ the circumstances of the release. The
+letter says "I am desired by the Home Secretary to say that Lilian Lenton
+was reported by the medical officer at Holloway Prison to be in a state
+of collapse and in imminent danger of death _consequent upon_ her refusal
+to take food. Three courses were open--(1) To leave her to die; (2) To
+attempt to feed her forcibly, which the medical officer advised would
+probably entail death in her existing condition: (3) To release her. The
+Home Secretary adopted the last course."'
+
+'Would probably entail death in her existing condition'! Will anyone tell
+me how Mr McKenna or anyone else could kill, or (as he prefers to put it)
+entail death upon, Miss Lenton in a non-existing condition?
+
+(2) Next take the Chancellor of the Exchequer. As we know, the Chancellor
+of the Exchequer can use incisive speech when he chooses. On May 8th as
+reported in next day's "Morning Post," Mr Lloyd George, answering a
+question, delivered himself of this to an attentive Senate:--
+
+ With regard to Mr Noel Buxton's questions, I cannot answer for an
+ enquiry which is _of a private and confidential character_, for
+ although I am associated with it I am not associated with it as a
+ Minister of the Crown.... Those enquiries are of a very careful
+ systematic and scientific character, and are being conducted by the
+ ablest investigators in this country, some of whom have reputations
+ of international character. I am glad to think that the
+ investigation is of a most impartial character.
+
+It must be a comforting thought, that an inquiry of a private and
+confidential character is also of a very systematic and scientific
+character, and besides being of a most impartial character, is conducted
+by men of international character--whatever that may happen to mean. What
+_is_ an international character, and what would you give for one?
+
+We found that this way of talking, while pretending to be something
+pontifical, is really not prose at all, nor reputable speech at all, but
+Jargon; nor is the offence to be excused by pleading, as I have heard it
+pleaded, that Mr Lloyd George was not using his own phraseology but
+quoting from a paper supplied him by some permanent official of the
+Treasury: since we select our civil servants among men of decent
+education and their salaries warrant our stipulating that they shall be
+able, at least, to speak and write their mother tongue.
+
+We laid down certain rules to help us in the way of straight
+Prose:--
+
+(1) _Always always prefer the concrete word to the abstract._
+
+(2) _Almost always prefer the direct word to the circumlocution._
+
+(3) _Generally, use transitive verbs, that strike their object; and use
+them in the active voice, eschewing the stationary passive, with its
+little auxiliary its's and was's, and its participles getting into the
+light of your adjectives, which should be few. For, as a rough law, by
+his use of the straight verb and by his economy of adjectives you can
+tell a man's style, if it be masculine or neuter, writing or
+'composition.'_
+
+The authors of that capital handbook "The King's English," which I have
+already recommended to you, add two rules:--
+
+(4) _Prefer the short word to the long._
+(5) _Prefer the Saxon word to the Romance._
+
+But these two precepts you would have to modify by so long a string of
+exceptions that I do not commend them to you. In fact I think them false
+in theory and likely to be fatal in practice. For, as my last lecture
+tried to show, you no sooner begin to philosophise things instead of
+merely telling a tale of them than you must go to the Mediterranean
+languages: because in these man first learnt to discuss his 'why' and
+'how,' and these languages yet guard the vocabulary.
+
+Lastly, we saw how, by experimenting with rhythm, our prose 'broke its
+birth's invidious bar' and learnt to scale the forbidden heights.
+
+Now by attending to the few plain rules given above you may train
+yourselves to write sound, straightforward, work-a-day English. But if
+you would write melodious English, I fear the gods will require of you
+what they ought to have given you at birth--something of an ear. Yet the
+most of us have ears, of sorts; and I believe that, though we can only
+acquire it by assiduous practice, the most of us can wonderfully improve
+our talent of the ear.
+
+If you will possess yourselves of a copy of Quintilian or borrow one from
+any library (Bohn's translation will do) and turn to his 9th book, you
+will find a hundred ways indicated, illustrated, classified, in which a
+writer or speaker can vary his Style, modulate it, lift or depress it,
+regulate its balance.
+
+All these rules, separately worth studying, if taken together may easily
+bewilder and dishearten you. Let me choose just two, and try to hearten
+you by showing that, even with these two only, you can go a long way.
+
+Take the use of right emphasis. What Quintilian says of right
+emphasis--or the most important thing he says--is this:--
+
+ There is sometimes an extraordinary force in some particular word,
+ which, if it be placed in no very conspicuous position in the middle
+ part of a sentence, is likely to escape the attention of the hearer
+ and to be obscured by the words surrounding it; but if it be put at
+ the end of the sentence is urged upon the reader's sense and
+ imprinted on his mind.
+
+That seems obvious enough, for English use as well as for Latin. 'The
+wages of sin is Death'--anyone can see how much more emphatic that is
+than 'Death is the wages of sin.' But let your minds work on this matter
+of emphasis, and discover how emphasis has always its right point
+somewhere, though it be not at all necessarily at the end of the
+sentence. Take a sentence in which the strong words actually repeat
+themselves for emphasis:--
+
+ Babylon is fallen, is fallen, that great city.
+
+Our first impulse would be to place the emphasis at the end:--
+
+ Babylon, that great city, is fallen, is fallen.
+
+The Latin puts it at the beginning:--
+
+ Cecidit, cecidit, Babylonia illa magna.
+ Fallen, fallen, is Babylon, that great city.
+
+The forty-seven preserved the 'falling close' so exquisite in the Latin;
+the emphasis, already secured by repetition, they accentuated by
+lengthening the pause. I would urge on you that in every sentence there
+is just a right point of emphasis which you must train your ears to
+detect. So your writing will acquire not only emphasis, but balance, and
+you will instinctively avoid such an ill-emphasised sentence as this,
+which, not naming the author, I will quote for your delectation:--
+
+ 'Are Japanese Aprils always as lovely as this?' asked the man in the
+ light tweed suit of two others in immaculate flannels with crimson
+ sashes round their waists and puggarees folded in cunning plaits
+ round their broad Terai hats.
+
+Explore, next, what (though critics have strangely neglected it) to my
+mind stands the first, or almost the first, secret of beautiful writing
+in English, whether in prose or in verse; I mean that inter-play of
+vowel-sounds in which no language can match us. We have so many vowel
+sounds indeed, and so few vowels to express them, that the foreigner,
+mistaking our modesty, complains against God's plenty. We alone, for
+example, sound by a natural vowel that noble _I_, which other nations can
+only compass by diphthongs. Let us consider that vowel for a moment or
+two and mark how it leads off the dance of the Graces, its sisters:--
+
+ Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the
+ Lord is risen upon thee.
+
+Mark how expressively it drops to the solemn vowel 'O,' and
+anon how expressively it reasserts itself to express rearisen
+delight:--
+
+ Arise, shine, for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is
+ risen upon thee. For behold the darkness shall cover the earth, and
+ gross darkness the people: but the Lord shall arise upon thee, and
+ his glory shall be seen upon thee. And the Gentiles shall come to
+ thy light, and Kings to the brightness of thy rising.
+
+Take another passage in which the first lift of this _I_ vowel yields to
+its graver sisters as though the sound sank into the very heart of the
+sense.
+
+ I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, 'Father,
+ I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, and am no more
+ worthy to be called thy son.'
+
+'And am no more worthy to be called thy son.' Mark the deep O's. 'For
+this my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' 'O my
+son, my son Absalom'--observe the I and O how they interchime, until the O
+of sorrow tolls the lighter note down:--
+
+ O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would God I had died
+ for thee, O Absolom, my son, my son!
+
+Or take this lyric, by admission one of the loveliest written in this
+present age, and mark here too how the vowels play and ring and chime and
+toll.
+
+ I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
+ And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
+ Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,
+ And live alone in the bee-loud glade.[2]
+ And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping
+ slow,
+ Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket
+ sings;
+ There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
+ And evening full of the linnet's wings.
+ I will arise and go now, for always night and day
+ I hear lake-water lapping, with low sounds by the shore;
+ While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
+ I hear it in the deep heart's core.
+
+I think if you will but open your ears to this beautiful vowel-play which
+runs through all the best of our prose and poetry, whether you ever learn
+to master it or not, you will have acquired a new delight, and one
+various enough to last you though you live to a very old age.
+
+All this of which I am speaking is Art: and Literature being an Art, do
+you not see how personal a thing it is--how it cannot escape being
+personal? No two men (unless they talk Jargon) say the same thing in the
+same way. As is a man's imagination, as is his character, as is the
+harmony in himself, as is his ear, as is his skill, so and not otherwise
+he will speak, so and not otherwise than they can respond to that
+imagination, that character, that order of his intellect, that harmony of
+his soul, his hearers will hear him. Let me conclude with this great
+passage from Newman which I beg you, having heard it, to ponder:--
+
+ If then the power of speech is as great as any that can be named,
+ --if the origin of language is by many philosophers considered
+ nothing short of divine--if by means of words the secrets of the
+ heart are brought to light, pain of soul is relieved, hidden grief
+ is carried off, sympathy conveyed, experience recorded, and wisdom
+ perpetuated,--if by great authors the many are drawn up into unity,
+ national character is fixed, a people speaks, the past and the
+ future, the East and the West are brought into communication with
+ each other,--if such men are, in a word, the spokesmen and the
+ prophets of the human family--it will not answer to make light of
+ Literature or to neglect its study: rather we may be sure that, in
+ proportion as we master it in whatever language, and imbibe its
+ spirit, we shall ourselves become in our own measure the ministers
+ of like benefits to others--be they many or few, be they in the
+ obscurer or the more distinguished walks of life--who are united to
+ us by social ties, and are within the sphere of our personal
+ influence.
+
+
+
+
+[Footnote 1: I append the following specimen translations of the famous
+passage in St Paul's "First Epistle to the Corinthians" xv. 51 sqq. I
+choose this because (1) it is an important passage; (2) it touches a high
+moment of philosophising; (3) the comparison seems to me to represent
+with great fairness to Tyndale the extent of the forty-seven's debt to
+him; (4) it shows that they meant exactly what they said in their
+Preface; and (5) it illustrates, towards the close, their genius for
+improvement. From the Greek, Wyclif translates:--
+
+ Lo, I seie to you pryvyte of holi thingis | and alle we schulen rise
+ agen | but not alle we schuln be chaungid | in a moment in the
+ twynkelynge of an yë, in the last trumpe | for the trumpe schal
+ sowne: and deed men schulen rise agen with out corrupcion, and we
+ schuln be changid | for it bihoveth this corruptible thing to clothe
+ uncorropcion and this deedly thing to putte aweye undeedlynesse. But
+ whanne this deedli thing schal clothe undeedlynesse | thanne schal
+ the word be don that is written | deeth is sopun up in victorie |
+ deeth, where is thi victorie? deeth, where is thi pricke?
+
+Tyndale:--
+
+ Beholde I shewe you a mystery. We shall not all slepe: but we shall
+ all be chaunged | and that in a moment | and in the twinclinge of an
+ eye | at the sounde of the last trompe. For the trompe shall blowe,
+ and the deed shall ryse incorruptible and we shalbe chaunged. For
+ this corruptible must put on incorruptibilite: and this mortall must
+ put on immortalite. When this corruptible hath put on
+ incorruptibilite | and this mortall hath put on immortalite: than
+ shalbe brought to pass the saying that is written, 'Deeth is
+ consumed in to victory.' Deeth, where is thy stynge? Hell, where is
+ thy victory?
+
+The Authorised Version:--
+
+ Behold, I shew you a mystery; we shall not all sleepe, but wee shall
+ all be changed, in a moment, in the twinckling of an eye, at the
+ last trumpe, (for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be
+ raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed). For this corruptible
+ must put on incorruption, and this mortall must put on immortalitie.
+ So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this
+ mortall shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to
+ passe the saying that is written, 'Death is swallowed up in
+ victory.' O Death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy
+ victory?]
+
+
+[Footnote 2: I E O : I O E
+ I O : E OU A
+ 'As musing slow, I hail ('as m_u_sing sl_o_w _I_ ha_i_l)
+ Thy genial loved return.' (Th_y_ g_e_nial l_o_ved ret_u_rn.')
+ COLLINS, "Ode to Evening."]
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE VIII.
+
+ON THE LINEAGE OF ENGLISH LITERATURE (I)
+
+Wednesday, October 22
+
+
+You may think it strange, Gentlemen, that of a course of ten lectures
+which aim to treat English Literature as an affair of practice, I should
+propose to spend two in discussing our literary lineage: a man's lineage
+and geniture being reckoned, as a rule, among the things he cannot be
+reasonably asked to amend. But since of high breeding is begotten (as
+most of us believe) a disposition to high thoughts, high deeds; since to
+have it and be modestly conscious of it is to carry within us a faithful
+monitor persuading us to whatsoever in conduct is gentle, honourable, of
+good repute, and so silently dissuading us from base thoughts, low ends,
+ignoble gains; seeing, moreover, that a man will often do more to match
+his father's virtue than he would to improve himself; I shall endeavour,
+in this and my next lecture, to scour that spur of ancestry and present
+it to you as so bright and sharp an incentive that you, who read English
+Literature and practise writing here in Cambridge, shall not pass out
+from her insensible of the dignity of your studies, or without pride or
+remorse according as you have interpreted in practice the motto,
+_Noblesse oblige_.
+
+ 'Tis wisdom, and that high,
+ For men to use their fortune reverently
+ Even in youth.
+
+Let me add that, just as a knowledge of his family failings will help one
+man in economising his estate, or warn another to shun for his health the
+pleasures of the table, so some knowledge of our lineage in letters may
+put us, as Englishmen, on the watch for certain national defects (for
+such we have), on our guard against certain sins which too easily beset
+us. Nay, this watchfulness may well reach down from matters of great
+moment to seeming trifles. It is good for us to recognise with Wordsworth
+that
+
+ We must be free or die, who speak the tongue
+ That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold
+ Which Milton held. In everything we are sprung
+ Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold.
+
+But, though less important, it is good also to recognise that, as sons of
+Cambridge, we equally offend against her breeding when in our scientific
+writings we allow ourselves to talk of a microbe as an 'antibody.'
+
+Now, because a great deal of what I have to say this morning, if not
+heretical, will yet run contrary to the vogue and practice of the Schools
+for these thirty years, I will take the leap into my subject over a
+greater man's back and ask you to listen with particular attention to the
+following long passage from a writer whose opinion you may challenge, but
+whose authority to speak as a master of English prose no one in this room
+will deny.
+
+ When (says Cardinal Newman) we survey the stream of human affairs for
+ the last three thousand years, we find it to run thus:--At first sight
+ there is so much fluctuation, agitation, ebbing and flowing, that we
+ may despair to discern any law in its movements, taking the earth as
+ its bed and mankind as its contents; but on looking more closely and
+ attentively we shall discern, in spite of the heterogeneous materials
+ and the various histories and fortunes which are found in the race of
+ man during the long period I have mentioned, a certain formation amid
+ the chaos--one and one only,--and extending, though not over the whole
+ earth, yet through a very considerable portion of it. Man is a social
+ being and can hardly exist without society, and in matter of fact
+ societies have ever existed all over the habitable earth. The greater
+ part of these associations have been political or religious, and have
+ been comparatively limited in extent and temporary. They have been
+ formed and dissolved by the force of accidents, or by inevitable
+ circumstances; and when we have enumerated them one by one we have made
+ of them all that can be made. But there is one remarkable association
+ which attracts the attention of the philosopher, not political nor
+ religious--or at least only partially and not essentially such--which
+ began in the earliest times and grew with each succeeding age till it
+ reached its complete development, and then continued on, vigorous and
+ unwearied, and still remains as definite and as firm as ever it was.
+ Its bond is a _common civilisation_: and though there are other
+ civilisations in the world, as there are other societies, yet _this_
+ civilisation, together with the society which is its creation and its
+ home, is so distinctive and luminous in its character, so imperial in
+ its extent, so imposing in its duration, and so utterly without rival
+ on the face of the earth, that the association may fitly assume to
+ itself the title of 'Human Society,' and _its_ civilisation the
+ abstract term 'Civilisation.'
+
+ There are indeed great outlying portions of mankind which are not,
+ perhaps never have been, included in this Human Society; still they are
+ outlying portions and nothing else, fragmentary, unsociable, solitary
+ and unmeaning, protesting and revolting against the grand central
+ formation of which I am speaking, but not uniting with each other into
+ a second whole. I am not denying, of course, the civilisation of the
+ Chinese, for instance, though it be not our civilisation; but it is a
+ huge, stationary, unattractive, morose civilisation. Nor do I deny a
+ civilisation to the Hindoos, nor to the ancient Mexicans, nor to the
+ Saracens, nor (in a certain sense) to the Turks; but each of these
+ races has its own civilisation, as separate from one another as from
+ ours.
+
+ I do not see how they can be all brought under one idea....
+
+ Gentlemen, let me here observe that I am not entering upon the question
+ of races, or upon their history. I have nothing to do with ethnology; I
+ take things as I find them on the surface of history and am but
+ classifying phenomena. Looking, then, at the countries which surround
+ the Mediterranean Sea as a whole, I see them to be from time
+ immemorial, the seat of an association of intellect and mind such as to
+ deserve to be called the Intellect and the Mind of the Human Kind.
+ Starting as it does, and advancing from certain centres, till their
+ respective influences intersect and conflict, and then at length
+ intermingle and combine, a common Thought has been generated, and a
+ common Civilisation defined and established. Egypt is one such starting
+ point, Syria, another, Greece a third, Italy a fourth and North Africa
+ a fifth--afterwards France and Spain. As time goes on, and as
+ colonisation and conquest work their changes, we see a great
+ association of nations formed, of which the Roman Empire is the
+ maturity and the most intelligible expression: an association, however,
+ not political but mental, based on the same intellectual ideas and
+ advancing by common intellectual methods.... In its earliest age it
+ included far more of the Eastern world than it has since; in these
+ later times it has taken into its compass a new hemisphere; in the
+ Middle Ages it lost Africa, Egypt and Syria, and extended itself to
+ Germany, Scandinavia and the British Isles. At one time its territory
+ was flooded by strange and barbarous races, but the existing
+ civilisation was vigorous enough to vivify what threatened to stifle
+ it, and to assimilate to the old social forms what came to expel them:
+ and thus the civilisation of modern times remains what it was of old;
+ not Chinese, or Hindoo, or Mexican, or Saracen ... but the lineal
+ descendant, or rather the continuation--_mutatis mutandis_--of the
+ civilisation which began in Palestine and Greece.
+
+To omit, then, all minor debts such as what of arithmetic, what of
+astronomy, what of geography, we owe to the Saracen, from Palestine we
+derive the faith of Europe shared (in the language of the Bidding Prayer)
+by all Christian people dispersed throughout the world; as to Greece we
+owe the rudiments of our Western art, philosophy, letters; and not only
+the rudiments but the continuing inspiration, so that--though entirely
+superseded in worship, as even in the Athens of Pericles they were
+worshipped only by an easy, urbane, more than half humorous
+tolerance--Apollo and the Muses, Zeus and the great ones of Olympus,
+Hermes and Hephaestus, Athene in her armour, with her vanquisher the
+foam-born irresistible Aphrodite, these remain the authentic gods of our
+literature, beside whom the gods of northern Europe--Odin, Thor,
+Freya--are strangers, unhomely, uncanny as the shadows of unfamiliar
+furniture on the walls of an inn. Sprung though great numbers of us are
+from the loins of Northmen, it is in these gracious deities of the South
+that we find the familiar and the real, as from the heroes of the
+sister-island, Cucullain and Concobar, we turn to Hercules, to Perseus,
+to Bellerophon, even to actual men of history, saying 'Give us Leonidas,
+give us Horatius, give us Regulus. These are the mighty ones we
+understand, and from whom, in a direct line of tradition, we understand
+Harry of Agincourt, Philip Sidney and our Nelson.'
+
+Now since, of the Mediterranean peoples, the Hebrews discovered the
+Unseen God whom the body of Western civilisation has learnt to worship;
+since the Greeks invented art, philosophy, letters; since Rome found and
+developed the idea of imperial government, of imperial colonies as
+superseding merely fissiparous ones, of settling where she conquered
+(_ubi Romanus vicit ibi habitat_) and so extending with Government that
+system of law which Europe still obeys; we cannot be surprised that
+Israel, Greece, Rome--each in turn--set store on a pure ancestry. Though
+Christ be the veritable Son of God, his ancestry must be traced back
+through his supposed father Joseph to the stem of Jesse, and so to
+Abraham, father of the race. Again, as jealously as the Evangelist
+claimed Jesus for a Hebrew of the Hebrews, so, if you will turn to the
+"Menexenus" of Plato in the Oration of Aspasia over the dead who perished
+in battle, you hear her claim that 'No Pelopes nor Cadmians, nor
+Egyptians, nor Dauni, nor the rest of the crowd of born foreigners dwell
+with us; but ours is the land of pure Hellenes, free from admixture.'
+These proud Athenians, as you know, wore brooches in the shape of golden
+grasshoppers, to signify that they were [Greek: autochthones], children
+of Attica, sprung direct from her soil. And so, again, the true Roman,
+while enlarging Rome's citizenship over Asia, Africa, Gaul, to our remote
+Britain, insisted, even in days of the later Empire, on his pure descent
+from Ćneas and Romulus--
+
+ Unde Remnes et Quirites proque prole posterum
+ Romuli matrem crearet et nepotem Cćsarem.
+
+ With the Ramnes, Quirites, together ancestrally proud as they drew
+ From Romulus down to our Cćsar-last, best of that blood, of that threw.
+
+Here is a boast that we English must be content to forgo. We may wear a
+rose on St George's day, if we are clever enough to grow one. The Welsh,
+I dare say, have less difficulty with the leek. But April the 23rd is not
+a time of roses that we can pluck them as we pass, nor can we claim St
+George as a compatriot--_Cappadocius nostras_. We have, to be sure, a few
+legendary heroes, of whom King Arthur and Robin Hood are (I suppose) the
+greatest; but, save in some Celtic corners of the land, we have few
+fairies, and these no great matter; while, as for tutelary gods, our
+springs, our wells, our groves, cliffs, mountain-sides, either never
+possessed them or possess them no longer. Not of our landscape did it
+happen that
+
+ The lonely mountains o'er,
+ And the resounding shore,
+ A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament;
+ From haunted spring and dale
+ Edg'd with poplar pale,
+ The parting Genius is with sighing sent.
+
+--for the sufficient reason that no tutelary gods of importance were ever
+here to be dispersed.
+
+Let me press this home upon you by an illustration which I choose with
+the double purpose of enforcing my argument and sending you to make
+acquaintance (if you have not already made it) with one of the loveliest
+poems written in our time.
+
+In one of Pliny's letters you will find a very pleasant description of
+the source of the Clitumnus, a small Umbrian river which, springing from
+a rock in a grove of cypresses, descends into the Tinia, a tributary of
+the Tiber. 'Have you ever,' writes Pliny to his friend Romanus--
+
+ Have you ever seen the source of the Clitumnus? I suppose not, as I
+ never heard you mention it. Let me advise you to go there at once. I
+ have just visited it and am sorry that I put off my visit so long. At
+ the foot of a little hill, covered with old and shady cypress trees, a
+ spring gushes and bursts into a number of streamlets of various size.
+ Breaking, so to speak, forth from its imprisonment, it expands into a
+ broad basin, so clear and transparent that you may count the pebbles
+ and little pieces of money which are thrown into it. From this point
+ the force and weight of the water, rather than the slope of the ground,
+ hurry it onward. What was a mere spring becomes a noble river, broad
+ enough to allow vessels to pass each other as they sail with or against
+ the stream. The current is so strong, though the ground is level, that
+ barges of beam, as they go down, require no assistance of oars; while
+ to go up is as much as can be done with oars and long poles.... The banks
+ are clothed with abundant ash and poplar, so distinctly reflected in
+ the transparent waters that they seem to be growing at the bottom of
+ the river and can be counted with ease. The water is as cold as snow
+ and as pure in colour. Hard by the spring stands an ancient and
+ venerable temple with a statue of the river-god Clitumnus, clothed in
+ the customary robe of state. The Oracles here delivered attest the
+ presence of the deity. Close in the precinct stand several little
+ chapels dedicated to particular gods, each of whom owns his distinctive
+ name and special worship, and is the tutelary deity of a runlet. For
+ beside the principal spring, which is, as it were, the parent of all
+ the rest, there are several smaller ones which have their distinct
+ sources but unite their waters with the Clitumnus, over which a bridge
+ is thrown, separating the sacred part of the river from that which is
+ open to general use. Above the bridge you may only go in a boat; below
+ it, you may swim. The people of the town of Hispallum, to whom Augustus
+ gave this place, furnish baths and lodgings at the public expense.
+ There are several small dwelling-houses on the banks, in specially
+ picturesque situations, and they stand quite close to the waterside. In
+ short, everything in the neighbourhood will give you pleasure. You may
+ also amuse yourself with numberless inscriptions on the pillars and
+ walls, celebrating the praises of the stream and of its tutelary god.
+ Many of these you will admire, and some will make you laugh. But no!
+ You are too well cultivated to laugh at such things. Farewell.
+
+Clitumnus still gushes from its rocks among the cypresses, as in Pliny's
+day. The god has gone from his temple, on the frieze of which you may
+read this later inscription--'_Deus Angelorum, qui fecit Resurrectionem._'
+After many centuries and almost in our day, by the brain of Cavour and
+the sword of Garibaldi, he has made a resurrection for Italy. As part of
+that resurrection (for no nation can live and be great without its poet)
+was born a true poet, Carducci. He visited the bountiful, everlasting
+source, and of what did he sing? Possess yourselves, as for a shilling
+you may, of his Ode "Alle fonte del Clitumno," and read: for few nobler
+poems have adorned our time. He sang of the weeping willow, the ilex,
+ivy, cypress and the presence of the god still immanent among them. He
+sang of Umbria, of the ensigns of Rome, of Hannibal swooping down over
+the Alps; he sang of the nuptials of Janus and Comesena, progenitors of
+the Italian people; of nymphs, naiads, and the moonlight dances of
+Oreads; of flocks descending to the river at dusk, of the homestead, the
+bare-footed mother, the clinging child, the father, clad in goat-skins,
+guiding the ox-wagon; and he ends on the very note of Virgil's famous
+apostrophe
+
+ _Sed neque Medorum silvae, ditissima terra..._
+
+with an invocation of Italy--Italy, mother of bullocks for agriculture,
+of wild colts for battle, mother of corn and of the vine, Roman mother of
+enduring laws and mediaeval mother of illustrious arts. The mountains,
+woods and waters of green Umbria applaud the song, and across their
+applause is heard the whistle of the railway train bearing promise of new
+industries and a new national life.
+
+ E tu, pia madre di giovenchi invitti
+ a franger glebe e rintegrar maggesi
+ e d' annitrenti in guerra aspri polledri,
+ Italia madre,
+
+ madre di biade e viti e leggi eterne
+ ed incliti arti a raddolcir la vita
+ salve! a te i canti de l' antica lode
+ io rinovello.
+
+ Plaudono i monti al carme e i boschi e l' acque
+ de l' Umbria verde: in faccia a noi fumando
+ ed anelando nuove industrie in corsa
+ fischia il vapore.
+
+ And thou, O pious mother of unvanquished
+ Bullocks to break glebe, to restore the fallow,
+ And of fierce colts for neighing in the battle:
+ Italy, mother,
+
+ Mother of corn and vines and of eternal
+ Laws and illustrious arts the life to sweeten,
+ Hail, hail, all hail! The song of ancient praises
+ Renew I to thee!
+
+ The mountains, woods and waters of green Umbria
+ Applaud the song: and here before us fuming
+ And longing for new industries, a-racing
+ Whistles the white steam.
+
+(I quote from a translation by Mr E.J. Watson, recently published by
+Messrs J.W. Arrowsmith, of Bristol.)
+
+I put it to you, Gentlemen, that, worthy as are the glories of England to
+be sung, this note of Carducci's we cannot decently or honestly strike.
+Great lives have been bled away into Tweed and Avon: great spirits have
+been oared down the Thames to Traitor's Gate and the Tower. Deeds done on
+the Cam have found their way into history. But I once traced the Avon to
+its source under Naseby battlefield, and found it issuing from the
+fragments of a stucco swan. No god mounts guard over the head-water of
+the Thames; and the only Englishman who boldly claims a divine descent is
+(I understand) an impostor who runs an Agapemone. In short we are a mixed
+race, and our literature is derivative. Let us confine our pride to those
+virtues, not few, which are honestly ours. A Roman noble, even to-day,
+has some excuse for reckoning a god in his ancestry, or at least a wolf
+among its wet-nurses: but of us English even those who came over with
+William the Norman have the son of a tanner's daughter for escort. I very
+well remember that, the other day, writers who vindicated our hereditary
+House of Lords against a certain Parliament Act commonly did so on the
+ground that since the Reform Bill of 1832, by inclusion of all that was
+eminent in politics, war and commerce, the Peerage had been so changed as
+to know itself no longer for the same thing. That is our practical way.
+
+At all events, the men who made our literature had never a doubt, as they
+were careless to dissimulate, that they were conquering our tongue to
+bring it into the great European comity, the civilisation of Greece and
+Rome. An Elizabethan writer, for example, would begin almost as with a
+formula by begging to be forgiven that he has sought to render the divine
+accent of Plato, the sugared music of Ovid, into our uncouth and
+barbarous tongue. There may have been some mock-modesty in this, but it
+rested on a base of belief. Much of the glory of English Literature was
+achieved by men who, with the splendour of the Renaissance in their eyes,
+supposed themselves to be working all the while upon pale and borrowed
+shadows.
+
+Let us pass the enthusiasms of days when 'bliss was it in that dawn to be
+alive' and come down to Alexander Pope and the Age of Reason. Pope at one
+time proposed to write a History of English Poetry, and the draft scheme
+of that History has been preserved. How does it begin? Why thus:--
+
+ ERA I.
+
+1. School of Provence Chaucer's Visions. _Romaunt of the Rose._
+ _Piers Plowman._ Tales from Boccace. Gower.
+
+2. School of Chaucer Lydgate.
+ T. Occleve.
+ Walt. de Mapes (a bad error, that!).
+ Skelton.
+
+3. School of Petrarch E. of Surrey.
+ Sir Thomas Wyatt.
+ Sir Philip Sidney.
+ G. Gascoyn.
+
+4. School of Dante Lord Buckhurst's _Induction. Gorboduc._
+ Original of Good Tragedy. Seneca his model.
+
+--and so on. The scheme after Pope's death came into the hands of Gray,
+who for a time was fired with the notion of writing the History in
+collaboration with his friend Mason. Knowing Gray's congenital
+self-distrust, you will not be surprised that in the end he declined the
+task and handed it over to Warton. But, says Mant in his Life of Warton,
+'their design'--that is, Gray's design with Mason--'was to introduce
+specimens of the Proveçal poetry, and of the Scaldic, British and Saxon,
+as preliminary to what first deserved to be called English poetry, about
+the time of Chaucer, from whence their history properly so called was to
+commence.' A letter of Gray's on the whole subject, addressed to Warton,
+is extant, and you may read it in Dr Courthope's "History of English
+Poetry."
+
+Few in this room are old enough to remember the shock of awed surmise
+which fell upon young minds presented, in the late 'seventies or early
+'eighties of the last century, with Freeman's "Norman Conquest" or
+Green's "Short History of the English People"; in which as through paring
+clouds of darkness, we beheld our ancestry, literary as well as
+political, radiantly legitimised; though not, to be sure, in the England
+that we knew--but far away in Sleswick, happy Sleswick! 'Its pleasant
+pastures, its black-timbered homesteads, its prim little townships
+looking down on inlets of purple water, were then but a wild waste of
+heather and sand, girt along the coast with sunless woodland, broken here
+and there with meadows which crept down to the marshes and to the sea.'
+But what of that? There--surely there, in Sleswick--had been discovered
+for us our august mother's marriage lines; and if the most of that bright
+assurance came out of an old political skit, the "Germania" of Tacitus,
+who recked at the time? For along followed Mr Stopford Brooke with an
+admirable little Primer published at one shilling, to instruct the
+meanest of us in our common father's actual name--Beowulf.
+
+ _Beowulf_ is an old English Epic.... There is not one word about our
+ England in the poem.... The whole poem, pagan as it is, is English
+ to its very root. It is sacred to us; our Genesis, the book of
+ our origins.
+
+Now I am not only incompetent to discuss with you the more recondite
+beauties of "Beowulf" but providentially forbidden the attempt by the
+conditions laid down for this Chair. I gather--and my own perusal of the
+poem and of much writing about it confirms the belief--that it has been
+largely over-praised by some critics, who have thus naturally provoked
+others to underrate it. Such things happen. I note, but without
+subscribing to it, the opinion of Vigfússon and York Powell, the learned
+editors of the "Corpus Poeticum Boreale," that in the "Beowulf" we have
+'an epic completely metamorphosed in form, blown out with long-winded
+empty repetitions and comments by a book poet, so that one must be
+careful not to take it as a type of the old poetry,' and I seem to hear
+as from the grave the very voice of my old friend the younger editor in
+that unfaltering pronouncement. But on the whole I rather incline to
+accept the cautious surmise of Professor W. P. Ker that 'a reasonable
+view of the merit of Beowulf is not impossible, though rash enthusiasm
+may have made too much of it; while a correct and sober taste may have
+too contemptuously refused to attend to Grendel and the Firedrake,' and
+to leave it at that. I speak very cautiously because the manner of the
+late Professor Freeman, in especial, had a knack of provoking in gentle
+breasts a resentment which the mind in its frailty too easily converted
+to a prejudice against his matter: while to men trained to admire
+Thucydides and Tacitus and acquainted with Lucian's 'Way to Write
+History' ([Greek: Pos dei istorian suggraphein]) his loud insistence that
+the art was not an art but a science, and moreover recently invented by
+Bishop Stubbs, was a perpetual irritant.
+
+But to return to "Beowulf"--You have just heard the opinions of scholars
+whose names you must respect. I, who construe Anglo-Saxon with
+difficulty, must admit the poem to contain many fine, even noble,
+passages. Take for example Hrothgar's lament for Ćschere:--
+
+ Hróthgar mathelode, helm Scyldinga:
+ 'Ne frin thú ćfter sćlum; sorh is geniwod
+ Denigea leódum; deád is Ćschere,
+ Yrmenláfes yldra bróthor,
+ Mín rún-wita, ond min rćd-bora;
+ Eaxl-gestealla, thonne we on orlege
+ Hafelan wéredon, thonne hniton fethan,
+ Eoferas cnysedan: swylc scolde eorl wesan
+ Ćtheling ćr-gód, swylc Ćschere wćs.'
+
+ (Hrothgar spake, helm of the Scyldings: 'Ask not after good tidings.
+ Sorrow is renewed among the Dane-folk. Dead is Ćschere, Yrmenlaf's
+ elder brother, who read me rune and bore me rede; comrade at shoulder
+ when we fended our heads in war and the boar-helms rang. Even so
+ should we each be an atheling passing good, as Ćschere was.')
+
+This is simple, manly, dignified. It avoids the besetting sin of the
+Anglo-Saxon gleeman--the pretentious trick of calling things 'out of
+their right names' for the sake of literary effect (as if e.g. the sea
+could be improved by being phrased into 'the seals' domain'). Its
+Anglo-Saxon _staccato_, so tiresome in sustained narrative, here happens
+to suit the broken utterance of mourning. In short, it exhibits the
+Anglo-Saxon Muse at her best, not at her customary. But set beside it a
+passage in which Homer tells of a fallen warrior--at haphazard, as it
+were, a single corpse chosen from the press of battle--
+
+ [Greek: polla de chermadia megal aspidas estuphelixam
+ marnamenon amph auton o d en strophaliggi konies
+ keito megas megalosti, lelasmenos ipposunaom.]
+
+Can you--can anyone--compare the two passages and miss to see that they
+belong to two different kingdoms of poetry? I lay no stress here on
+'architectonics.' I waive that the "Iliad" is a well-knit epic and the
+story of "Beowulf" a shapeless monstrosity. I ask you but to note the
+difference of note, of accent, of mere music. And I have quoted you but a
+passage of the habitual Homer. To assure yourselves that he can rise even
+from this habitual height to express the extreme of majesty and of human
+anguish in poetry which betrays no false note, no strain upon the store
+of emotion man may own with self-respect and exhibit without derogation
+of dignity, turn to the last book of the "Iliad" and read of Priam
+raising to his lips the hand that has murdered his son. I say confidently
+that no one unable to distinguish this, as poetry, from the very best of
+"Beowulf" is fit to engage upon business as a literary critic.
+
+In "Beowulf" then, as an imported poem, let us allow much barbarian
+merit. It came of dubious ancestry, and it had no progeny. The pretence
+that our glorious literature derives its lineage from "Beowulf" is in
+vulgar phrase 'a put up job'; a falsehood grafted upon our text-books by
+Teutonic and Teutonising professors who can bring less evidence for it
+than will cover a threepenny-piece. Its run for something like that
+money, in small educational manuals, has been in its way a triumph of
+pedagogic _réclame_.
+
+Our rude forefathers--the author of "The Rape of the Lock" and of the
+"Elegy written in a Country Churchyard"--knew nothing of the Exeter and
+Vercelli Books, nothing of the Ruthwell Cross. But they were poets,
+practitioners of our literature in the true line of descent, and they
+knew certain things which all such artists know by instinct. So, before
+our historians of thirty-odd years ago started to make Chaucer and
+Beowulf one, these rude forefathers made them two. 'Nor am I confident
+they erred.' Rather I am confident, and hope in succeeding lectures to
+convince you, that, venerable as Anglo-Saxon is, and worthy to be studied
+as the mother of our vernacular speech (as for a dozen other reasons
+which my friend Professor Chadwick will give you), its value is
+historical rather than literary, since from it our Literature
+is not descended. Let me repeat it in words that admit of no
+misunderstanding--_From Anglo-Saxon Prose, from Anglo-Saxon Poetry our
+living Prose and Poetry have, save linguistically, no derivation_. I
+shall attempt to demonstrate that, whether or not Anglo-Saxon
+literature, such as it was, died of inherent weakness, die it did, and
+of its collapse the "Vision of Piers Plowman" may be regarded as the
+last dying spasm. I shall attempt to convince you that Chaucer did not
+inherit any secret from Caedmon or Cynewulf, but deserves his old title,
+'Father of English Poetry,' because through Dante, through Boccaccio,
+through the lays and songs of Provence, he explored back to the
+Mediterranean, and opened for Englishmen a commerce in the true
+intellectual mart of Europe. I shall attempt to heap proof on you that
+whatever the agency--whether through Wyat or Spenser, Marlowe or
+Shakespeare, or Donne, or Milton, or Dryden, or Pope, or Johnson, or
+even Wordsworth--always our literature has obeyed, however
+unconsciously, the precept _Antiquam exquirite matrem_, 'Seek back to
+the ancient mother'; always it has recreated itself, has kept itself
+pure and strong, by harking back to bathe in those native--yes,
+_native_--Mediterranean springs.
+
+Do not presume me to be right in this. Rather, if you will, presume me to
+be wrong until the evidence is laid out for your judgment. But at least
+understand to-day how profoundly a man, holding that view, must deplore
+the whole course of academical literary study during these thirty years
+or so, and how distrust what he holds to be its basal fallacies.
+
+For, literature being written in language, yet being something quite
+distinct, and the development of our language having been fairly
+continuous, while the literature of our nation exhibits a false start--a
+break, silence, repentance, then a renewal on right glorious lines--our
+students of literature have been drilled to follow the specious
+continuance while ignoring the actual break, and so to commit the one
+most fatal error in any study; that of mistaking the inessential for the
+essential.
+
+As I tried to persuade you in my Inaugural Lecture, our first duty to
+Literature is to study it absolutely, to understand, in Aristotelian
+phrase, its [Greek: to ti en einae]; what it _is_ and what it _means_. If
+that be our quest, and the height of it be realised, it is nothing to
+us--or almost nothing--to know of a certain alleged poet of the fifteenth
+century, that he helped us over a local or temporary disturbance in our
+vowel-endings. It is everything to have acquired and to possess such a
+norm of Poetry within us that we know whether or not what he wrote was
+POETRY.
+
+Do not think this easy. The study of right literary criticism is much
+more difficult than the false path usually trodden; so difficult, indeed,
+that you may easily count the men who have attempted to grasp the great
+rules and apply them to writing as an art to be practised. But the names
+include some very great ones--Aristotle, Horace, Quintilian, Corneille,
+Boileau, Dryden, Johnson, Lessing, Coleridge, Goethe, Sainte-Beuve,
+Arnold: and the study, though it may not find its pattern in our time, is
+not unworthy to be proposed for another attempt before a great
+University.
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE IX.
+
+ON THE LINEAGE OF ENGLISH LITERATURE (II)
+
+Wednesday, November 5
+
+
+Some of you whose avocations call them, from time to time, to Newmarket
+may have noted, at a little distance out from Cambridge, a by-road
+advertised as leading to Quy and Swaffham. It also leads to the site of
+an old Roman villa; but you need not interrupt your business to visit
+this, since the best thing discovered there--a piece of tessellated
+pavement--has been removed and deposited in the Geological Museum here in
+Downing Street, where you may study it very conveniently. It is not at
+all a first-class specimen of its kind: not to be compared, for example,
+with the wonderful pavement at Dorchester, or with that (measuring 35
+feet by 20) of the great villa unearthed, a hundred years ago, at
+Stonesfield in Oxfordshire: but I take it as the handiest, and am going
+to build a small conjecture upon it, or rather a small suggestion of a
+guess. Remember there is no harm in guessing so long as we do not pretend
+our guess-work to be something else.
+
+I will ask you to consider first that in these pavements, laid bare for
+us as 'the whistling rustic tends his plough,' we have work dating
+somewhere between the first and fifth centuries, work of unchallengeable
+beauty, work of a beauty certainly not rivalled until we come to the
+Norman builders of five or six hundred years later. I want you to let
+your minds dwell on these long stretches of time--four hundred years or
+so of Roman occupation (counting, not from Cćsar's raids, but from the
+serious invasion of 43 A.D. under Aulus Plautius, say to some while after
+the famous letter of Honorius, calling home the legions). You may safely
+put it at four hundred years, and then count six hundred as the space
+before the Normans arrive--a thousand years altogether, or but a
+fraction--one short generation--less than the interval of time that
+separates us from King Alfred. In the great Cathedral of Winchester
+(where sleep, by the way, two gentle writers specially beloved, Isaak
+Walton and Jane Austen) above the choir-screen to the south, you may see
+a line of painted chests, of which the inscription on one tells you that
+it holds what was mortal of King Canute.
+
+ Here are sands, ignoble things,
+ Dropp'd from the ruin'd sides of Kings.
+
+But if you walk around to the north of the altar you will find yourself
+treading on tiles not so very far short of twice that antiquity.
+Gentlemen, do not think that I would ever speak lightly of our lineage:
+only let us make as certain as we may what that lineage is.
+
+I want you to-day to understand just what such a pavement as that
+preserved for your inspection in Downing Street meant to the man who saw
+it laid and owned it these fifteen hundred years--more or less--ago. _Ubi
+Romanus vicit, ibi habitat_--'where the Roman has conquered, there he
+settles': but whether he conquered or settled he carried these small
+tiles, these _tessellć_, as religiously as ever Rachel stole her
+teraphin. 'Wherever his feet went there went the tessellated pavement for
+them to stand on. Even generals on foreign service carried in panniers on
+muleback the little coloured cubes or _tessellć_ for laying down a
+pavement in each camping-place, to be taken up again when they moved
+forward. In England the same sweet emblems of the younger gods of poetic
+legend, of love, youth, plenty, and all their happy naturalism, are found
+constantly repeated.'[1] I am quoting these sentences from a local
+historian, but you see how these relics have a knack of inspiring prose
+at once scholarly and imaginative, as (for a more famous instance) the
+urns disinterred at Walsingham once inspired Sir Thomas Browne's. To
+continue and adapt the quotation--
+
+ Bacchus with his wild rout, Orpheus playing to a spell-bound audience,
+ Apollo singing to the lyre, Venus in Mars' embrace, Neptune with a host
+ of seamen, scollops, and trumpets, Narcissus by the fountain, Jove and
+ Ganymede, Leda and the swan, wood-nymphs and naiads, satyrs and fauns,
+ masks, hautboys, cornucopić, flowers and baskets of golden fruit--what
+ touches of home they must have seemed to these old dwellers in the
+ Cambridgeshire wilds!
+
+Yes, touches of home! For the owner of this villa (you may conceive) is
+the grandson or even great-great-grandson of the colonist who first built
+it, following in the wake of the legionaries. The family has prospered
+and our man is now a considerable landowner. He was born in Britain: his
+children have been born here: and here he lives a comfortable,
+well-to-do, out-of-door life, in its essentials I daresay not so very
+unlike the life of an English country squire to-day. Instead of chasing
+foxes or hares he hunts the wolf and the wild boar; but the sport is
+good and he returns with an appetite. He has added a summer parlour to
+the house, with a northern aspect and no heating-flues: for the old
+parlour he has enlarged the prćfurnium, and through the long winter
+evenings sits far better warmed than many a master of a modern
+country-house. A belt of trees on the brow of the rise protects him from
+the worst winds, and to the south his daughters have planted violet-beds
+which will breathe odorously in the spring. He has rebuilt and enlarged
+the slave-quarters and outhouses, replaced the stucco pillars around the
+atrium with a colonnade of polished stone, and, where stucco remains,
+has repainted it in fresh colours. He knows that there are no gaps or
+weak spots in his stockade fence--wood is always cheap. In a word he has
+improved the estate; is modestly proud of it; and will be content, like
+the old Athenian, to leave his patrimony not worse but something better
+than he found it.
+
+Sensible men--and the Romans were eminently that--as a rule contrive to
+live decently, or, at least, tolerably. What struck Arthur Young more
+than anything else in his travels through France on the very eve of the
+Revolution seems to have been the general good-tempered happiness of the
+French gentry on their estates. We may moralise of the Roman colonists as
+of the French proprietors that 'unconscious of their doom the little
+victims played'; but we have no right to throw back on them the shadow of
+what was to come or to cloud the picture of a useful, peaceable, maybe
+more than moderately happy life, with our later knowledge of disaster
+mercifully hidden from it.
+
+Although our colonist and his family have all been born in Britain, are
+happy enough here on the whole, and talk without more than half meaning
+it, and to amuse themselves with speculations half-wistful, of daring the
+tremendous journey and setting eyes on Rome some day, their pride is to
+belong to her, to Rome, the imperial City, the city afar: their windows
+open back towards her as Daniel's did towards Jerusalem--_Urbs quam
+dicunt Roman--the_ City. Along the great road, hard by, her imperial writ
+runs. They have never subscribed to the vow of Ruth, 'Thy people shall be
+my people and thy God my God.' They dwell under the Pax Romana, not
+merely protected by it but as _citizens_. Theirs are the ancestral
+deities portrayed on that unfading pavement in the very centre of the
+villa--Apollo and Daphne, Bacchus and Ariadne--
+
+ For ever warm and still to be enjoyed,
+ For ever panting, and for ever young.
+
+Parcels come to them, forwarded from the near military station; come by
+those trade-routes, mysterious to us, concerning which a most
+illuminating book waits to be written by somebody. There are parcels of
+seeds--useful vegetables and potherbs, helichryse (marigold as we call
+them now) for the flower garden, for the colonnade even roses with real
+Italian earth damp about their roots. There are parcels of books,
+too--rolls rather, or tablets--wherein the family reads about Rome; of
+its wealth, the uproar of its traffic, the innumerable chimneys smoking,
+_fumum et opes strepitumque_. For they are always reading of Rome;
+feeling themselves, as they read, to belong to it, to be neither savage
+nor even rustic, but by birthright _of the city_, urbane; and what these
+exiles read is of how Horace met a bore on the Sacred Road (which would
+correspond, more or less, with our Piccadilly)--
+
+ Along the Sacred Road I strolled one day
+ Deep in some bagatelle (you know my way)
+ When up comes one whose face I scarcely knew--
+ 'The dearest of dear fellows! how d'ye do?'
+ --He grasped my hand. 'Well, thanks! The same to you?'
+
+--or of how Horace apologises for protracting a summer jaunt to his
+country seat:--
+
+ Five days I told you at my farm I'd stay,
+ And lo! the whole of August I'm away.
+ Well but, Maecenas, you would have me live,
+ And, were I sick, my absence you'd forgive.
+ So let me crave indulgence for the fear
+ Of falling ill at this bad time of year.
+ When, thanks to early figs and sultry heat,
+ The undertaker figures with his suite;
+ When fathers all and fond mammas grow pale
+ At what may happen to their young heirs male,
+ And courts and levees, town-bred mortals' ills,
+ Bring fevers on, and break the seals of wills.
+
+ (Conington's translation.)
+
+Consider those lines; then consider how long it took the inhabitants
+of this island--the cultured ones who count as readers or
+writers--to recapture just that note of urbanity. Other things
+our forefathers --Britons, Saxons, Normans, Dutch or French
+refugees--discovered by the way; worthier things if you will; but not
+until the eighteenth century do you find just that note recaptured; the
+note of easy confidence that our London had become what Rome had been,
+the Capital city. You begin to meet it in Dryden; with Addison it is
+fairly established. Pass a few years, and with Samuel Johnson it is
+taken for granted. His _London_ is Juvenal's Rome, and the same satire
+applies to one as applied to the other. But against the urbane lines
+written by one Horace some while before Juvenal let us set a passage
+from another Horace--Horace Walpole, seventeen hundred years later and
+some little while ahead of Johnson. He, like our Roman colonist, is a
+settler in a new country, Twickenham; and like Flaccus he loves to
+escape from town life.
+
+ TWICKENHAM, June 8th, 1747.
+
+ To the Hon. H. S. CONWAY.
+
+ You perceive by my date that I am got into a new camp, and have left
+ my tub at Windsor. It is a little plaything-house that I got out of
+ Mrs Chevenix's shop, and the prettiest bauble you ever saw. It is set
+ in enamelled meadows with filagree hedges:
+
+ A small Euphrates through the place is roll'd,
+ And little finches wave their wings of gold.
+
+ Two delightful roads; that you would call dusty, supply me continually
+ with coaches and chaises: barges as solemn as Barons of the Exchequer
+ move under my window; Richmond Hill and Ham Walks bound my prospect;
+ but, thank God! the Thames is between me and the Duchess of
+ Queensberry. Dowagers as plenty as flounders inhabit all around, and
+ Pope's ghost is just now skimming under my window by the most poetical
+ moonlight.... The Chevenixes had tricked it out for themselves; up two
+ pairs of stairs is what they call Mr Chevenix's library, furnished
+ with three maps, one shelf, a bust of Sir Isaac Newton and a lame
+ telescope without any glasses. Lord John Sackville _predeceased_ me
+ here and instituted certain games called _cricketalia_, which has been
+ celebrated this very evening in honour of him in a neighbouring
+ meadow.
+
+ You will think I have removed my philosophy from Windsor with my
+ tea-things hither; for I am writing to you in all tranquility while a
+ Parliament is bursting about my ears. You know it is going to be
+ dissolved.... They say the Prince has taken up two hundred thousand
+ pounds, to carry elections which he won't carry--he had much better
+ have saved it to buy the Parliament after it is chosen.
+
+There you have Horatio Walpole, the man-about-town, almost precisely
+echoing Horatius Flaccus, the man-about-town; and this (if you will bring
+your minds to it) is just the sort of passage a Roman colonist in Britain
+would open upon, out of his parcel of new books, and read, _and
+understand_, some eighteen hundred years ago.
+
+What became of it all?--of that easy colonial life, of the men and women
+who trod those tessellated pavements? 'Wiped out,' say the historians,
+knowing nothing, merely guessing: for you may with small trouble assure
+yourselves that the fifth and sixth centuries in the story of this island
+are a blind spot, concerning which one man's guess may be as good as
+another's. 'Wiped out,' they will commonly agree; for while, as I warned
+you in another lecture, the pedantic mind, faced with a difficulty, tends
+to remove it conveniently into a category to which it does not belong,
+still more prone is the pedantic mind to remove it out of existence
+altogether. So 'wiped out' is the theory; and upon it a sympathetic
+imagination can invent what sorrowful pictures it will of departing
+legions, the last little cloud of dust down the highway, the lovers by
+the gate watching it, not comprehending; the peaceful homestead in the
+background, ripe for doom--and what-not.
+
+Or, stay! There is another theory to which the late Professor Freeman
+inclined (if so sturdy a figure could be said to incline), laying stress
+on a passage in Gildas, that the Romans in Britain, faced by the Saxon
+invader, got together their money, and bolted away into Gaul. 'The Romans
+that were in Britain gathered together their gold-hoard, hid part in the
+ground and carried the rest over to Gaul,' writes Gildas. 'The hiding in
+the ground,' says Freeman, 'is of course a guess to explain the frequent
+finding of Roman coins'--which indeed it _does_ explain better than the
+guess that they were carried away, and perhaps better than the
+schoolboy's suggestion that during their occupation of Britain the Romans
+spent most of their time in dropping money about. Likely enough, large
+numbers of the colonists did gather up what they could and flee before
+the approaching storm; but by no means all, I think. For (since, where
+all is uncertain, we must reason from what is probable of human nature)
+in the first place men with large estates do not behave in that way
+before a danger which creeps upon them little by little, as this Saxon
+danger did. These colonists could not dig up their fields and carry them
+over to Gaul. They did not keep banking accounts; and in the course of
+four hundred years their main wealth had certainly been sunk in the land.
+They could not carry away their villas. We know that many of them did not
+carry away the _tessellć_ for which (as we have seen) they had so
+peculiar a veneration; for these remain. Secondly, if the colonists left
+Britain in a mass, when in the middle of the sixth century we find
+Belisarius offering the Goths to trade Britain for Sicily, as being 'much
+larger and this long time subservient to Roman rule,'[2] we must suppose
+either (as Freeman appears to suppose) that Belisarius did not know what
+he was offering, or that he was attempting a gigantic 'bluff,' or lastly
+that he really was offering an exchange not flatly derisory; of which
+three possible suppositions I prefer the last as the likeliest. Nor am I
+the less inclined to choose it, because these very English historians go
+on to clear the ground in a like convenient way of the Celtic
+inhabitants, exterminating them as they exterminated the Romans,
+with a wave of the hand, quite in the fashion of Mr Podsnap. 'This is
+un-English: therefore for me it merely ceases to exist.'
+
+'_Probable extirpation of the Celtic inhabitants_' jots down Freeman in
+his margin, and proceeds to write:
+
+ In short, though the literal extirpation of a nation is an
+ impossibility, there is every reason to believe that the Celtic
+ inhabitants of those parts of Britain which had become English at the
+ end of the sixth century had been as nearly extinguished as a nation
+ could be. The women doubtless would be largely spared, but as far as
+ the male sex is concerned we may feel sure that death, emigration, or
+ personal slavery were the only alternatives which the vanquished found
+ at the hands of our fathers.
+
+Upon this passage, if brought to me in an undergraduate essay, I should
+have much to say. The style, with its abstract nouns ('the literal
+extirpation of a nation is an impossibility'), its padding and
+periphrasis ('there is every reason to believe' ... 'as far as the male
+sex is concerned we may feel sure') betrays the loose thought. It begins
+with 'in short' and proceeds to be long-winded. It commits what even
+schoolboys know to be a solecism by inviting us to consider three
+'alternatives'; and what can I say of 'the women doubtless would be
+largely spared,' save that besides scanning in iambics it says what
+Freeman never meant and what no-one outside of an Aristophanic comedy
+could ever suggest? 'The women doubtless would be largely spared'! It
+reminds me of the young lady in Cornwall who, asked by her vicar if she
+had been confirmed, admitted blushingly that 'she had reason to believe,
+partially so.'
+
+'The women doubtless would be largely spared'!--But I thank the Professor
+for teaching me that phrase, because it tries to convey just what I am
+driving at. The Jutes, Angles, Saxons, did not extirpate the Britons,
+whatever you may hold concerning the Romans. For, once again, men do not
+behave in that way, and certainly will not when a live slave is worth
+money. Secondly, the very horror with which men spoke, centuries after,
+of Anderida quite plainly indicates that such a wholesale massacre was
+exceptional, monstrous. If not exceptional, monstrous, why should this
+particular slaughter have lingered so ineffaceably in their memories?
+Finally,--and to be as curt as the question deserves--the Celtic Briton
+in the island was not exterminated and never came near to being
+exterminated: but on the contrary, remains equipollent with the Saxon in
+our blood, and perhaps equipollent with that mysterious race we call
+Iberian, which came before either and endures in this island to-day, as
+anyone travelling it with eyes in his head can see. Pict, Dane, Norman,
+Frisian, Huguenot French--these and others come in. If mixture of blood
+be a shame, we have purchased at the price of that shame the glory of
+catholicism; and I know of nothing more false in science or more actively
+poisonous in politics or in the arts than the assumption that we belong
+as a race to the Teutonic family.
+
+Dane, Norman, Frisian, French Huguenot--they all come in. And will you
+refuse a hearing when I claim that the Roman came in too? Bethink you how
+deeply Rome engraved itself on this island and its features. Bethink you
+that, as human nature is, no conquering race ever lived or could
+live--even in garrison--among a tributary one without begetting children
+on it. Bethink you yet further of Freeman's admission that in the
+wholesale (and quite hypothetical) general massacre 'the women doubtless
+would be largely spared'; and you advance nearer to my point. I see a
+people which for four hundred years was permeated by Rome. If you insist
+on its being a Teutonic people (which I flatly deny) then you have one
+which _alone of Teutonic peoples_ has inherited the Roman gift of
+consolidating conquest, of colonising in the wake of its armies; of
+driving the road, bridging the ford, bringing the lawless under its
+sense of law. I see that this nation of ours concurrently, when it seeks
+back to what alone can inspire and glorify these activities, seeks back,
+not to any supposed native North, but south to the Middle Sea of our
+civilisation and steadily to Italy, which we understand far more easily
+than France--though France has helped us times and again. Putting these
+things together, I retort upon the ethnologists--for I come from the
+West of England, where we suffer incredible things from them--_'Semper
+ego auditor tantum?'_ I hazard that the most important thing in our
+blood is that purple drop of the imperial murex we derive from Rome.
+
+You must, of course, take this for nothing more than it pretends to be--a
+conjecture, a suggestion. I will follow it up with two statements of
+fact, neither doubtful nor disputable.
+
+The first is, that when English poetry awoke, long after the Conquest
+(or, as I should prefer to put it, after the Crusades) it awoke a new
+thing; in its vocabulary as much like Anglo-Saxon poetry as ever you
+will, but in metre, rhythm, lilt--and more, in style, feeling,
+imaginative play--and yet more again, in knowledge of what it aimed to
+be, in the essentials, in the qualities that make Poetry Poetry--as
+different from Anglo-Saxon poetry as cheese is from chalk, and as much
+more nutritious. Listen to this--
+
+ Bytuene Mershe ant Averil
+ When spray biginnith to spring,
+ The lutel foul hath hire wyl
+ On hire lud to synge:
+ Ich libbe in love-longinge
+ For semlokest of alle thynge,
+ He may me blisse bringe,
+ Icham in hire bandoun.
+ An hendy hap ichabbe y-hent,
+ Ichot from hevene it is me sent,
+ From alle wymmen my love is lent,
+ And lyht on Alisoun.
+
+Here you have alliteration in plenty; you even have what some hold to be
+the pattern of Anglo-Saxon alliterative verse (though in practice
+disregarded, may be, as often as not), the chosen initial used twice in
+the first line and once at least in the second:
+
+ From alle wymmen my _l_ove is _l_ent,
+ And _l_yht on A_l_isoun.
+
+But if a man cannot see a difference infinitely deeper than any
+similarity between this song of Alison and the old Anglo-Saxon verse--_a
+difference of nature_--I must despair of his literary sense.
+
+What has happened? Well, in Normandy, too, and in another tongue, men are
+singing much the same thing in the same way:
+
+ A la fontenelle
+ Qui sort seur l'araine,
+ Trouvai pastorella
+ Qui n'iert pas vilaine...
+ Merci, merci, douce Marote,
+ N'oçiez pas vostre ami doux,
+
+and this Norman and the Englishman were singing to a new tune, which was
+yet an old tune re-set to Europe by the Provence, the Roman Province; by
+the troubadours--Pons de Capdeuil, Bernard de Ventadour, Bertrand de
+Born, Pierre Vidal, and the rest, with William of Poitou, William of
+Poitiers. Read and compare; you will perceive that the note then set
+persists and has never perished. Take Giraud de Borneil--
+
+ Bel companhos, si dormetz o velhatz
+ Non dortmatz plus, qu'el jorn es apropchatz--
+
+and set it beside a lyric of our day, written without a thought of Giraud
+de Borneil--
+
+ Heigh! Brother mine, art a-waking or a-sleeping:
+ Mind'st thou the merry moon a many summers fled?
+ Mind'st thou the green and the dancing and the leaping?
+ Mind'st thou the haycocks and the moon above them creeping?...
+
+Or take Bernard de Ventadour's--
+
+ Quand erba vertz, e fuelha par
+ E'l flor brotonon per verjan,
+ E'l rossinhols autet e clar
+ Leva sa votz e mov son chan,
+ Joy ai de luy, e joy ai de la flor,
+ Joy ai de me, e de me dons maior.
+
+Why, it runs straight off into English verse--
+
+ When grass is green and leaves appear
+ With flowers in bud the meads among,
+ And nightingale aloft and clear
+ Lifts up his voice and pricks his song,
+ Joy, joy have I in song and flower,
+ Joy in myself, and in my lady more.
+
+And that may be doggerel; yet what is it but
+
+ It was a lover and his lass,
+ With a hey and a ho and a hey nonino,
+ That o'er the green cornfield did pass
+ In the spring-time, the only pretty ring-time--
+
+or
+
+ When daffodils begin to peer,
+ With heigh! the doxy over the dale,
+ Why then comes in the sweet o' the year;
+ For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale.
+
+Nay, flatter the Anglo-Saxon tradition by picking its very best--and I
+suppose it hard to find better than the much-admired opening of Piers
+Plowman, in which that tradition shot up like the flame of a dying
+candle:
+
+ Bote in a Mayes Morwnynge--on Malverne hulles
+ Me bi-fel a ferly--a Feyrie me thouhte;
+ I was weori of wandringe--and wente me to reste
+ Under a brod banke--bi a Bourne syde,
+ And as I lay and leonede--and lokede on the watres,
+ I slumberde in a slepynge--hit sownede so murie.
+
+This is good, solid stuff, no doubt: but tame, inert, if not actually
+lifeless. As M. Jusserand says of Anglo-Saxon poetry in general, it is
+like the river Saône--one doubts which way it flows. How tame in
+comparison with this, for example!--
+
+ In somer, when the shawes be sheyne,
+ And leves be large and long,
+ Hit is full mery in feyre foreste
+ To here the foulys song:
+
+ To se the dere draw to the dale
+ And leve the hilles hee,
+ And shadow hem in the leves grene
+ Under the grene-wode tre.
+
+ Hit befel on Whitsontide,
+ Erly in a May mornyng,
+ The Son up feyre can shyne,
+ And the briddis mery can syng.
+
+ 'This is a mery mornyng,' said litell John,
+ 'Be Hym that dyed on tre;
+ A more mery man than I am one
+ Lyves not in Cristianté.
+
+ 'Pluk up thi hert, my dere mayster,'
+ Litull John can sey,
+ 'And thynk hit is a full fayre tyme
+ In a mornyng of May.'
+
+There is no doubting which way _that_ flows! And this vivacity, this new
+beat of the heart of poetry, is common to Chaucer and the humblest
+ballad-maker; it pulses through any book of lyrics printed yesterday, and
+it came straight to us out of Provence, the Roman Province. It was the
+Provençal Troubadour who, like the Prince in the fairy tale, broke
+through the hedge of briers and kissed Beauty awake again.
+
+
+You will urge that he wakened Poetry not in England alone but all over
+Europe, in Dante before our Chaucer, in the trouvčres and minnesingers as
+well as in our ballad-writers. To that I might easily retort, 'So much
+the better for Europe, and the more of it the merrier, to win their way
+into the great comity.' But here I put in my second assertion, that we
+English have had above all nations lying wide of the Mediterranean, the
+instinct to refresh and renew ourselves at Mediterranean wells; that
+again and again our writers--our poets especially--have sought them as
+the hart panteth after the water-brooks. If you accept this assertion,
+and if you believe as well that our literature, surpassing Rome's, may
+vie with that of Athens--if you believe that a literature which includes
+Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, Pope, Wordsworth, Shelley--the Authorised
+Version of Holy Writ, with Browne, Bunyan, Swift, Addison, Johnson,
+Arnold, Newman--has entered the circle to take its seat with the first--
+why then, heartily believing this with you, I leave you to find some
+better explanation than mine if you can.
+
+But what I content myself with asserting here you can scarcely deny.
+Chaucer's initial and enormous debt to Dante and Boccaccio stands in as
+little dispute as Dunbar's to Chaucer. On that favourite poet of mine,
+Sir Thomas Wyat, I descanted in a former lecture. He is one of your
+glories here, having entered St. John's College at the age of twelve
+(which must have been precocious even for those days.) Anthony Wood
+asserts that after finishing his course here, he proceeded to Cardinal
+Wolsey's new College at Oxford; but, as Christchurch was not founded
+until 1524, and Wyat, still precocious, had married a wife two years
+before that, the statement (to quote Dr Courthope) 'seems no better
+founded than many others advanced by that patriotic but not very
+scrupulous author.' It is more to the point that he went travelling, and
+brought home from France, Italy, afterwards Spain--always from Latin
+altars--the flame of lyrical poetry to England; the flame of the
+Petrarchists, caught from the Troubadours, clarified (so to speak) by the
+salt of humane letters. On what our Elizabethan literature owes to the
+Classical revival hundreds of volumes have been written and hundreds more
+will be written; I will but remind you of what Spencer talked about with
+Gabriel Harvey, what Daniel disputed with Campion; that Marlowe tried to
+re-incarnate Machiavelli, that Jonson was a sworn Latinist and the 'tribe
+of Ben' a classical tribe; while, as for Shakespeare, go and reckon the
+proportion of Italian and Roman names in his _dramatis personć_. Of
+Donne's debt to France, Italy, Rome, Greece, you may read much in
+Professor Grierson's great edition, and I daresay Professor Grierson
+would be the first to allow that all has not yet been computed. You know
+how Milton prepared himself to be a poet. Have you realised that, in
+those somewhat strangely constructed sonnets of his, Milton was
+deliberately modelling upon the "Horatian Ode," as his confrčre, Andrew
+Marvell, was avowedly attempting the like in his famous Horation Ode on
+Cromwell's Return from Ireland; so that if Cromwell had returned (like Mr
+Quilp), walked in and caught his pair of Latin Secretaries scribbling
+verse, one at either end of the office table, both might colourably have
+pleaded that they were, after all, writing Latin. Waller's task in poetry
+was to labour true classical polish where Cowley laboured sham-classical
+form. Put together Dryden's various Prefaces and you will find them one
+solid monument to his classical faith. Of Pope, Gray, Collins, you will
+not ask me to speak. What is salt in Cowper you can taste only when you
+have detected that by a stroke of madness he missed, or barely missed,
+being our true English Horace, that almost more nearly than the rest he
+hit what the rest had been seeking. Then, of the 'romantic revival'--
+enemy of false classicism, not of classicism--bethink you what, in his
+few great years, Wordsworth owed directly to France of the early
+Revolution; what Keats drew forth out of Lempričre: and again bethink you
+how Tennyson wrought upon Theocritus, Virgil, Catullus; upon what Arnold
+constantly shaped his verse; how Browning returned ever upon Italy to
+inspire his best and correct his worse.
+
+Of Anglo-Saxon prose I know little indeed, but enough of the world to
+feel reasonably sure that if it contained any single masterpiece--or
+anything that could be paraded as a masterpiece--we should have heard
+enough about it long before now. It was invented by King Alfred for
+excellent political reasons; but, like other ready-made political
+inventions in this country, it refused to thrive. I think it can be
+demonstrated, that the true line of intellectual descent in prose lies
+through Bede (who wrote in Latin, the 'universal language'), and not
+through the Blickling Homilies, or, Ćlfric, or the Saxon Chronicle. And I
+am sure that Freeman is perversely wrong when he laments as a 'great
+mistake' that the first Christian missionaries from Rome did not teach
+their converts to pray and give praise in the vernacular. The vernacular
+being what it was, these men did better to teach the religion of the
+civilised world--_orbis terrarum_--in the language of the civilised
+world. I am not thinking of its efficiency for spreading the faith; but
+neither is Freeman; and, for that, we must allow these old missionaries
+to have known their own business. I am thinking only of how this 'great
+mistake' affected our literature; and if you will read Professor
+Saintsbury's "History of English Prose Rhythm" (pioneer work, which yet
+wonderfully succeeds in illustrating what our prose-writers from time to
+time were trying to do); if you will study the Psalms in the Authorised
+Version; if you will consider what Milton, Clarendon, Sir Thomas Browne,
+were aiming at; what Addison, Gibbon, Johnson; what Landor, Thackeray,
+Newman, Arnold, Pater; I doubt not your rising from the perusal convinced
+that our nation, in this storehouse of Latin to refresh and replenish its
+most sacred thoughts, has enjoyed a continuous blessing: that the Latin
+of the Vulgate and the Offices has been a background giving depth and, as
+the painters say, 'value' to nine-tenths of our serious writing.
+
+And now, since this and the previous lecture run something counter to a
+great deal of that teaching in English Literature which nowadays passes
+most acceptably, let me avoid offence, so far as may be, by defining one
+or two things I am _not_ trying to do.
+
+I am not persuading you to despise your linguistic descent. English is
+English--our language; and all its history to be venerated by us.
+
+I am not persuading you to despise linguistic study. _All_ learning is
+venerable.
+
+I am not persuading you to behave like Ascham, and turn English prose
+into pedantic Latin; nor would I have you doubt that in the set quarrel
+between Campion, who wished to divert English verse into strict classical
+channels, and Daniel, who vindicated our free English way (derived from
+Latin through the Provençal), Daniel was on the whole, right, Campion on
+the whole, wrong: though I believe that both ways yet lie open, and we
+may learn, if we study them intelligently, a hundred things from the old
+classical metres.
+
+I do not ask you to forget what there is of the Northmen in your blood.
+If I desired this, I could not worship William Morris as I do, among the
+later poets.
+
+I do not ask you to doubt that the barbarian invaders from the north,
+with their myths and legends, brought new and most necessary blood of
+imagination into the literary material--for the time almost exhausted--of
+Greece and Rome.
+
+Nevertheless, I do contend that when Britain (or, if you prefer it,
+Sleswick)
+
+ When Sleswick first at Heaven's command
+ Arose from out the azure main,
+
+she differed from Aphrodite, that other foam-born, in sundry important
+features of ear, of lip, of eye.
+
+Lastly, if vehement assertions on the one side have driven me into too
+vehement dissent on the other, I crave pardon; not for the dissent but
+for the vehemence, as sinning against the very principle I would hold up
+to your admiration--the old Greek principle of avoiding excess.
+
+
+
+But I _do_ commend the patient study of Greek and Latin authors--in the
+original or in translation--to all of you who would write English; and
+for three reasons.
+
+(1) In the first place they will correct your insularity of mind; or,
+rather, will teach you to forget it. The Anglo-Saxon, it has been noted,
+ever left an empty space around his houses; and that, no doubt, is good
+for a house. It is not so good for the mind.
+
+(2) Secondly, we have a tribal habit, confirmed by Protestant meditation
+upon a Hebraic religion, of confining our literary enjoyment to the
+written word and frowning down the drama, the song, the dance. A fairly
+attentive study of modern lyrical verse has persuaded me that this
+exclusiveness may be carried too far, and threatens to be deadening. 'I
+will sing and give praise,' says the Scripture, 'with the best member
+that I have'--meaning the tongue. But the old Greek was an 'all-round
+man' as we say. He sought to praise and give thanks with all his members,
+and to tune each to perfection. I think his way worth your considering.
+
+(3) Lastly, and chiefly, I commend these classical authors to you because
+they, in the European civilisation which we all inherit, conserve the
+norm of literature; the steady grip on the essential; the clean outline
+at which in verse or in prose--in epic, drama, history, or philosophical
+treatise--a writer should aim.
+
+So sure am I of this, and of its importance to those who think of
+writing, that were this University to limit me to three texts on which to
+preach English Literature to you, I should choose the Bible in our
+Authorised Version, Shakespeare, and Homer (though it were but in a prose
+translation). Two of these lie outside my marked province. Only one of
+them finds a place in your English school. But Homer, who comes neither
+within my map, nor within the ambit of the Tripos, would--because he most
+evidently holds the norm, the essence, the secret of all--rank first of
+the three for my purpose.
+
+
+[Footnote 1: From "A History of Oxfordshire," by Mr J. Meade Falkner,
+author of Murray's excellent Handbook of Oxfordshire.]
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE X.
+
+ENGLISH LITERATURE IN OUR UNIVERSITIES (I)
+
+Wednesday, November 19
+
+
+All lectures are too long. Towards the close of my last, Gentlemen, I let
+fall a sentence which, heard by you in a moment of exhausted or languid
+interest, has since, like enough, escaped your memory even if it earned
+passing attention. So let me repeat it, for a fresh start.
+
+Having quoted to you the words of our Holy Writ, 'I will sing and give
+praise with the best member that I have,' I added 'But the old Greek was
+an "all-round" man; he sought to praise and give thanks with all his
+members, and to tune each to perfection.' Now a great many instructive
+lectures might be written on that text: nevertheless you may think it a
+strange one, and obscure, for the discourse on 'English Literature in our
+Universities' which, according to promise, I must now attempt.
+
+The term 'an all-round man' may easily mislead you unless you take it
+with the rest of the sentence and particularly with the words 'praise and
+give thanks.' Praise whom? Give thanks to whom? To _whom_ did our Greek
+train all his members to render adoration?
+
+Why, to the gods--his gods: to Zeus, Apollo, Aphrodite; and from them
+down to the lesser guardian deities of the hearth, the field, the
+farmstead. We modern men suffer a double temptation to misunderstand, by
+belittling, the reverence in which Hellas and Rome held their gods. To
+start with, our religion has superseded theirs. We approach the Olympians
+with no bent towards venerating them; with minds easy, detached, to which
+a great deal of their theology--the amativeness of Zeus for example--must
+needs seem broadly comic, and a great deal of it not only comic but
+childish. We are encouraged in this, moreover, when we read such writers
+as Aristophanes and Lucian, and observe how they poked fun at the gods.
+We assume--so modern he seems--Aristophanes' attitude towards his
+immortals to be ours; that when, for example, Prometheus walks on to the
+stage under an umbrella, to hide himself from the gaze of all-seeing
+Zeus, the Athenian audience laughed just as we laugh who have read
+Voltaire. Believe me, they laughed quite differently; believe me,
+Aristophanes and Voltaire had remarkably different minds and worked on
+utterly different backgrounds. Believe me, you will understand
+Aristophanes only less than you will understand Ćschylus himself if you
+confuse Aristophanes' mockery of Olympus with modern mockery. But, if you
+will not take my word for it, let me quote what Professor Gilbert Murray
+said, the other day, speaking before the English Association on Greek
+poetry, how constantly connected it is with religion:
+
+ 'All thoughts, all passions, all desires' ... In our Art it is true, no
+ doubt, that they are 'the ministers of love'; in Greek they are as a
+ whole the ministers of religion, and this is what in a curious degree
+ makes Greek poetry matter, makes it relevant. There is a sense in each
+ song of a relation to the whole of things, and it was apt to be
+ expressed with the whole body, or, one may say, the whole being.[1]
+
+To a Greek, in short, his gods mattered enormously; and to a Roman. To a
+Roman they continued to matter enormously, down to the end. Do you
+remember that tessellated pavement with its emblems and images of the
+younger gods? and how I told you that a Roman general on foreign service
+would carry the little cubes in panniers on mule-back, to be laid down
+for his feet at the next camping place? Will you suggest that he did this
+because they were pretty? You know that practical men--conquering
+generals--don't behave in that way. He did it because they were sacred;
+because, like most practical men, he was religious, and his gods must go
+with him. They filled his literature: for why? He believed himself to be
+sprung from their loins. Where would Latin literature be, for example, if
+you could cut Venus out of it? Consider Lucretius' grand invocation:
+
+ Ćneadum genetrix, hominum divumque voluptas,
+ Alma Venus!
+
+Consider the part Virgil makes her play as moving spirit of his whole
+great poem. So follow her down to the days of the later Empire and open
+the "Pervigilium Veneris" and discover her, under the name of Dione,
+still the eternal Aphrodite sprung from the foam amid the churning hooves
+of the sea-horses--_inter et bipedes equos_:--
+
+ Time was that a rain-cloud begat her, impregning the heave of the deep,
+ 'Twixt hooves of sea-horses a-scatter, stampeding the dolphins as
+ sheep.
+ Lo! arose of that bridal Dione, rainbow'd and besprent of its dew!
+ _Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love
+ anew!_
+ Her favour it was fill'd the sails of the Trojan for Latium bound,
+ Her favour that won her Ćneas a bride on Laurentian ground,
+ And anon from the cloister inveigled the Virgin, the Vestal, to Mars;
+ As her wit by the wild Sabine rape recreated her Rome for its wars
+ With the Ramnes, Quirites, together ancestrally proud as they drew
+ From Romulus down to our Cćsar--last, best of that blood, of that thew.
+ _Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love
+ anew!_
+
+'Last, best of that blood'--her blood, _fusa Paphies de cruore_, and the
+blood of Teucer, _revocato a sanguine Teucri_, 'of that thew'--the thew
+of Tros and of Mars. Of these and no less than these our Roman believed
+himself the son and inheritor.
+
+If we grasp this, that the old literature was packed with the old
+religion, and not only packed with it but permeated by it, we have within
+our ten fingers the secret of the 'Dark Ages,' the real reason why the
+Christian Fathers fought down literature and almost prevailed to the
+point of stamping it out. They hated it, not as literature; or at any
+rate, not to begin with; nor, to begin with, because it happened to be
+voluptuous and they austere: but they hated it because it held in its
+very texture, not to be separated, a religion over which they had hardly
+triumphed, a religion actively inimical to that of Christ, inimical to
+truth; so that for the sake of truth and in the name of Christ they had
+to fight it, accepting no compromise, yielding no quarter, foreseeing no
+issue save that one of the twain--Jupiter or Christ, Deus Optimus Maximus
+or the carpenter's son of Nazareth--must go under.
+
+It all ended in compromise, to be sure; as all struggles must between
+adversaries so tremendous. To-day, in Dr Smith's "Classical Dictionary,"
+Origen rubs shoulders with Orpheus and Orcus; Tertullian reposes cheek by
+jowl with Terpsichore. But we are not concerned, here, with what happened
+in the end. We are concerned with what these forthright Christian
+fighters had in their minds--to trample out the old literature _because_
+of the false religion. Milton understood this, and was thinking of it
+when he wrote of the effect of Christ's Nativity--
+
+ The Oracles are dumb;
+ No voice or hideous hum
+ Runs through the archčd roof in words deceiving.
+ Apollo from his shrine
+ Can no more divine,
+ With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving.
+ No mighty trance, or breathčd spell
+ Inspires the pale-eyed Priest from the prophetic cell.
+
+ The lonely mountains o'er,
+ And the resounding shore,
+ A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament;
+ From haunted spring, and dale
+ Edg'd with poplar pale,
+ The parting Genius is with sighing sent;
+ With flower-inwoven tresses torn
+ The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
+
+as Swinburne understands and expresses it in his "Hymn to Proserpine,"
+supposed to be chanted by a Roman of the 'old profession' on the morrow
+of Constantine's proclaiming the Christian faith--
+
+ O Gods dethroned and deceased, cast forth, wiped out in a day!
+ From your wrath is the world released, redeem'd from your chains,
+ men say.
+ New Gods are crown'd in the city; their flowers have broken your rods;
+ They are merciful, clothed with pity, the young compassionate Gods.
+ But for me their new device is barren, the days are bare;
+ Things long past over suffice, and men forgotten that were...
+ Wilt thou yet take all, Galilean? but these thou shalt not take,
+ The laurel, the palms and the paean, the breasts of the nymphs in
+ the brake;
+ Thou hast conquer'd, O pale Galilean; the world has grown grey from
+ thy breath;
+ We have drunken of things Lethean, and fed on the fullness of death.
+
+'Thou hast conquer'd, O pale Galilean!' However the struggle might sway
+in this or that other part of the field, Literature had to be beaten to
+her knees, and still beaten flat until the breath left her body. You will
+not be surprised that the heavy hand of these Christian fathers fell
+first upon the Theatre: for the actor in Rome was by legal definition an
+'infamous' man, even as in England until the other day he was by legal
+definition a vagabond and liable to whipping. The policy of religious
+reformers has ever been to close the theatres, as our Puritans did in
+1642; and a recent pronouncement by the Bishop of Kensington would seem
+to show that the instinct survives to this day. Queen Elizabeth--like her
+brother, King Edward VI--signalized the opening of a new reign by
+inhibiting stage-plays; and I invite you to share with me the pensive
+speculation, 'How much of English Literature, had she not relented, would
+exist to-day for a King Edward VII Professor to talk about?' Certainly
+the works of Shakespeare would not; and that seems to me a thought so
+impressive as to deserve the attention of Bishops as well as of Kings.
+
+Apart from this instinct the Christian Fathers, it would appear, had
+plenty of provocation. For the actors, who had jested with the Old
+Religion on a ground of accepted understanding--much as a good husband
+(if you will permit the simile) may gently tease his wife, not loving her
+one whit the less, taught by affection to play without offending--had
+mocked at the New Religion in a very different way: savagely, as enemies,
+holding up to ridicule the Church's most sacred mysteries. Tertullian, in
+an uncompromising treatise "De Spectaculis," denounces stage-plays root
+and branch; tells of a demon who entered into a woman in a theatre and on
+being exorcised pleaded that the mistake might well be excused, since he
+had found her in his own demesne. Christians should avoid these shows and
+await the greatest _spectaculum_ of all--the Last Judgment. 'Then,' he
+promises genially, 'will be the time to listen to the tragedians, whose
+lamentations will be more poignant, for their proper pain. Then will the
+comedians turn and twist in capers rendered nimbler than ever by the
+sting of the fire that is not quenched.' By 400 A.D. Augustine cries
+triumphantly that the theatres are falling--the very walls of them
+tumbling--throughout the Empire. _'Per omnes paene civitates cadunt
+theatra ... cadunt et fora vel moenia in quibus demonia colebantur'_; the
+very walls within which these devilments were practised. But the fury is
+unabated and goes on stamping down the embers. In the eighth century our
+own Alcuin (as the school of Freeman would affectionately call him) is no
+less fierce. All plays are anathema to him, and he even disapproves of
+dancing bears--though not, it would appear, of bad puns: _'nec tibi sit
+ursorum saltantium cura, sed clericorum psallentium.'_[2]
+
+The banning of _all_ literature you will find harder to understand; nay
+impossible, I believe, unless you accept the explanation I gave you. Yet
+there it is, an historical fact. 'What hath it profited posterity--_quid
+posteritas emolumenti tulit,_' wrote Sulpicius Severus, about 400 A.D.,
+'to read of Hector's fighting or Socrates' philosophising?' Pope Gregory
+the Great--St Gregory, who sent us the Roman missionaries--made no bones
+about it at all. '_Quoniam non cognovi literaturam,_' he quoted
+approvingly from the 70th Psalm, '_introibo in potentias Domini_':
+'Because I know nothing of literature I shall enter into the strength of
+the Lord.' 'The praises of Christ cannot be uttered in the same tongue as
+those of Jove,' writes this same Gregory to Desiderius, Archbishop of
+Vienne, who had been rash enough to introduce some of his young men to
+the ancient authors, with no worse purpose than to teach them a little
+grammar. Yet no one was prouder than this Pope of the historical Rome
+which he had inherited. Alcuin, again, forbade the reading of Virgil in
+the monastery over which he presided: it would sully his disciples'
+imagination. 'How is this, _Virgilian!_' he cried out upon one taken in
+the damnable act,--'that without my knowledge and against my order thou
+hast taken to studying Virgil?' To put a stop to this unhallowed
+indulgence the clergy solemnly taught that Virgil was a wizard.
+
+To us, long used as we are to the innocent gaieties of the Classical
+Tripos, these measures to discourage the study of Virgil may appear
+drastic, as the mental attitude of Gregory and Alcuin towards the Latin
+hexameter (so closely resembling that of Byron towards the waltz) not far
+removed from foolishness. But there you have in its quiddity the
+mediaeval mind: and the point I now put to you is, that _out of this soil
+our Universities grew._
+
+We, who claim Oxford and Cambridge for our nursing mothers, have of all
+men least excuse to forget it. A man of Leyden, of Louvain, of Liepzig,
+of Berlin, may be pardoned that he passes it by. More than a hundred
+years ago Salamanca had the most of her stones torn down to make defences
+against Wellington's cannon. Paris, greatest of all, has kept her renown;
+but you shall search the slums of the Latin Quarter in vain for the sixty
+or seventy Colleges that, before the close of the fifteenth century, had
+arisen to adorn her, the intellectual Queen of Europe. In Bologna, the
+ancient and stately, almost alone among the continental Universities,
+survive a few relics of the old collegiate system--the College of Spain,
+harbouring some five or six students, and a little house founded for
+Flemings in 1650: and in Bologna the system never attained to real
+importance.
+
+But in England where, great as London is, the national mind has always
+harked to the country for the graces of life, so that we seem by instinct
+to see it as only desirable in a green setting, our Universities, planted
+by the same instinct on lawns watered by pastoral streams, have suffered
+so little and received as much from the years that now we can hardly
+conceive of Oxford or Cambridge as ruined save by 'the unimaginable touch
+of Time.' Of all the secular Colleges bequeathed to Oxford, she has lost
+not one; while Cambridge (I believe) has parted only with Cavendish. Some
+have been subsumed into newer foundations; but always the process has
+been one of merging, of blending, of justifying the new bottle by the old
+wine. The vengeance of civil war--always very much of a family affair in
+England--has dealt tenderly with Oxford and Cambridge; the more
+calculating malignity of Royal Commissions not harshly on the whole.
+University reformers may accuse both Oxford and Cambridge of
+
+ Annihilating all that's made
+ To a green thought in a green shade:
+
+but with those sour men we have nothing here to do: like Isaak Walton's
+milkmaid we will not 'load our minds with any fears of many things that
+will never be.'
+
+But, as they stand, Oxford and Cambridge--so amazingly alike while they
+play at differences, and both so amazingly unlike anything else in the
+wide world--do by a hundred daily reminders connect us with the Middle
+Age, or, if you prefer Arnold's phrase, whisper its lost enchantments.
+The cloister, the grave grace in hall, the chapel bell, the men hurrying
+into their surplices or to lectures 'with the wind in their gowns,' the
+staircase, the nest of chambers within the oak--all these softly
+reverberate over our life here, as from belfries, the mediaeval mind.
+
+And that mediaeval mind actively hated (of partial acquaintance or by
+anticipation) almost everything we now study! Between it and us, except
+these memorials, nothing survives to-day but the dreadful temptation to
+learn, the dreadful instinct in men, as they grow older and wiser, to
+trust learning after all and endow it--that, and the confidence of a
+steady stream of youth.
+
+The Universities, then, sprang out of mediaeval life, out of the
+mediaeval mind; and the mediaeval mind had for centuries been taught to
+abominate literature. I would not exaggerate or darken the 'Dark Ages'
+for you by throwing too much bitumen into the picture. I know that at the
+beginning there had been a school of Origen which advocated the study of
+Greek poetry and philosophy, as well as the school of Tertullian which
+condemned it. There is evidence that the 'humanities' were cultivated
+here and there and after a fashion behind Gregory's august back. I grant
+that, while in Alcuin's cloister (and Alcuin, remember, became a sort of
+Imperial Director of Studies in Charlemagne's court) the wretched monk
+who loved Virgil had to study him with an illicit candle, to copy him
+with numbed fingers in a corner of the bitter-cold cloister, on the other
+hand many beautiful manuscripts preserved to us bear witness of cloisters
+where literature was tolerated if not officially honoured. I would not
+have you so uncritical as to blame the Church or its clergy for what
+happened; as I would have you remember that if the Church killed
+literature, she--and, one may say, she alone--kept it alive.
+
+Yet, and after all these reservations, it remains true that Literature
+had gone down disastrously. Even philosophy, unless you count the pale
+work of Boethius--_real_ philosophy had so nearly perished that men
+possessed no more of Aristotle than a fragment of his Logic, and '_the_
+Philosopher' had to creep back into Western Europe through translations
+from the Arabic! But this is the point I wish to make clear.--Philosophy
+came back in the great intellectual revival of the twelfth century;
+Literature did not. Literature's hour had not come. Men had to catch up
+on a dreadful leeway of ignorance. The form did not matter as yet: they
+wanted science--to know. I should say, rather, that as yet form _seemed_
+not to matter: for in fact form always matters: the personal always
+matters: and you cannot explain the vast crowds Abelard drew to Paris
+save by the fascination in the man, the fire communicated by the living
+voice. Moreover (as in a previous lecture I tried to prove) you cannot
+divorce accurate thought from accurate speech; but for accuracy, even for
+hair-splitting accuracy, of speech the Universities had the definitions
+of the Schoolmen. In literature they had yet to discover a concern.
+Literature was a thing of the past, inanimate. Nowhere in Europe could it
+be felt even to breathe. To borrow a beautiful phrase of Wordsworth's,
+men numbered it among 'things silently gone out of mind or things
+violently destroyed.'
+
+Nobody quite knows how these Universities began. Least of all can anybody
+tell how Oxford and Cambridge began. In Bede, for instance--that is, in
+England as the eighth century opens--we see scholarship already moving
+towards the _thing_, treading with sure instinct towards the light.
+Though a hundred historians have quoted it, I doubt if a feeling man who
+loves scholarship can read the famous letter of Cuthbert describing
+Bede's end and not come nigh to tears.
+
+And Bede's story contains no less wonder than beauty, when you consider
+how the fame of this holy and humble man of heart, who never left his
+cloisters at Jarrow, spread over Europe, so that, though it sound
+incredible, our Northumbria narrowly missed in its day to become the
+pole-star of Western culture. But he was a disinterested genius, and his
+pupil, Alcuin, a pushing dull man and a born reactionary; so that, while
+Alcuin scored the personal success and went off to teach in the court of
+Charlemagne, the great chance was lost.
+
+No one knows when the great Universities were founded, or precisely out
+of what schools they grew; and you may derive amusement from the
+historians when they start to explain how Oxford and Cambridge in
+particular came to be chosen for sites. My own conjecture, that they were
+chosen for the extraordinary salubrity of their climates, has met (I
+regret to say) with derision, and may be set down to the caprice of one
+who ever inclines to think the weather good where he is happy. Our own
+learned historian, indeed--Mr J. Bass Mullinger--devotes some closely
+reasoned pages to proving that Cambridge was chosen as the unlikeliest
+spot in the world, and is driven to quote the learned Poggio's opinion
+that the unhealthiness of a locality recommended it as a place of
+education for youth; as Plato, knowing naught of Christianity, but gifted
+with a soul naturally Christian, '_had selected a noisome spot for his
+Academe, in order that the mind might be strengthened by the weakness of
+the body._' So difficult still it is for the modern mind to interpret the
+mediaeval!
+
+Most likely these Universities grew as a tree grows from a seed blown by
+chance of the wind. It seems easy enough to understand why Paris, that
+great city, should have possessed a great University; yet I surmise the
+processes at Oxford and Cambridge to have been only a little less
+fortuitous. The schools of Remigius and of William of Champeaux (we will
+say) have given Paris a certain prestige, when Abelard, a pupil of
+William's, springs into fame and draws a horde of students from all over
+Europe to sit at his feet. These 'nations' of young men have to be
+organised, brought under some sort of discipline, if only to make the
+citizens' lives endurable: and lo! the thing is done. In like manner
+Irnerius at Bologna, Vacarius at Oxford, and at Cambridge some innominate
+teacher, 'of importance,' as Browning would put it, 'in his day,'
+possibly set the ball rolling; or again it is suggested that a body of
+scholars dissatisfied with Oxford (such dissatisfaction has been known
+even in historical times) migrated hither--a laborious journey, even
+nowadays--and that so
+
+ A brighter Hellas rears its mountains
+ From waves serener far!
+
+These young or nascent bodies had a trick of breaking away after this
+fashion. For reasons no longer obvious they hankered specially towards
+Stamford or Northampton. Until quite recently, within living memory, all
+candidates for a Mastership of Arts at Oxford had to promise never to
+lecture at Stamford. A flood here in 1520, which swept away Garret Hostel
+Bridge, put Cambridge in like mind and started a prophecy (to which you
+may find allusion in the fourth book of "The Faerie Queene") that both
+Universities would meet in the end, and kiss, at Stamford. Each in turn
+broke away for Northampton, and the worthy Fuller (a Northamptonshire
+man) has recorded his wonder that so eligible a spot was not finally
+chosen.
+
+I have mentioned a flood: but the immediate causes of the migrations or
+attempted migrations were not usually respectable enough to rank with any
+such act of God. They started as a rule with some Town and Gown row, or
+some bloody affray between scholars of the North and of the South.
+Without diminishing your sense of the real fervour for learning which
+drew young men from the remotest parts of Europe to these centres, but
+having for my immediate object to make clear to you that, whatever these
+young men sought, it was not literature, I wish you first to have in your
+minds a vivid picture of what a University town was like, and what its
+students were like during the greater part of the 12th and 13th
+centuries; that is to say, after the first enthusiasm had died down, when
+Oxford or Cambridge had organised itself into a _Studium Generale_, or
+_Universitas_ (which, of course, has nothing to do with Universality,
+whether of teaching or of frequenting, but simply means a Society.
+_Universitas_ = all of us).
+
+To begin with, the town was of wood, often on fire in places; with the
+alleviation of frequent winter floods, which in return, in the words of a
+modern poet, would 'leave a lot of little things behind them.' It
+requires but a small effort of the imagination in Cambridge to picture
+the streets as narrow, dark, almost meeting overhead in gables out of
+which the house slops would be discharged after casual warning down into
+a central gutter. That these narrow streets were populous with students
+remains certain, however much discount we allow on contemporary bills of
+reckoning. And the crowd was noisy. Men have always been ingenious in
+their ways of celebrating academical success. Pythagoras, for example,
+sacrificed an ox on solving the theorem numbered 47 in the first book of
+Euclid; and even to-day a Professor in his solitary lodge may be
+encouraged to believe now and then, from certain evidences in the sky,
+that the spirit of Pythagoras is not dead but translated.
+
+But of the mediaeval University the lawlessness, though well attested,
+can scarcely be conceived. When in the streets 'nation' drew the knife
+upon 'nation,' 'town' upon 'gown'; when the city bell started to answer
+the clang of St. Mary's; horrible deeds were done. I pass over massacres,
+tumults such as the famous one of St Scholastica's Day at Oxford, and
+choose one at a decent distance (yet entirely typical) exhumed from the
+annals of the University of Toulouse, in the year 1332. In that year
+
+ Five brothers of the noble family de la Penne lived together in a
+ Hospicium at Toulouse as students of the Civil and Canon Law. One of
+ them was Provost of a Monastery, another Archdeacon of Albi, another an
+ Archpriest, another Canon of Toledo. A bastard son of their father,
+ named Peter, lived with them as squire to the Canon. On Easter Day,
+ Peter, with another squire of the household named Aimery Béranger and
+ other students, having dined at a tavern, were dancing with women,
+ singing, shouting, and beating 'metallic vessels and iron culinary
+ instruments' in the street before their masters' house. The Provost and
+ the Archpriest were sympathetically watching the jovial scene from a
+ window, until it was disturbed by the appearance of a Capitoul and his
+ officers, who summoned some of the party to surrender the prohibited
+ arms which they were wearing. '_Ben Senhor, non fassat_' was the
+ impudent reply. The Capitoul attempted to arrest one of the offenders;
+ whereupon the ecclesiastical party made a combined attack upon the
+ official. Aimery Béranger struck him in the face with a poignard,
+ cutting off his nose and part of his chin and lips, and knocking out or
+ breaking no less than eleven teeth. The surgeons deposed that if he
+ recovered (he eventually did recover) he would never be able to speak
+ intelligibly. One of the watch was killed outright by Peter de la
+ Penne. That night the murderer slept, just as if nothing had happened,
+ in the house of his ecclesiastical masters. The whole household,
+ masters and servants alike, were, however, surprised by the other
+ Capitouls and a crowd of 200 citizens, and led off to prison, and the
+ house is alleged to have been pillaged. The Archbishop's Official
+ demanded their surrender. In the case of the superior ecclesiastics
+ this, after a short delay, was granted. But Aimery, who dressed like a
+ layman in 'divided and striped clothes' and wore a long beard, they
+ refused to treat as a clerk, though it was afterwards alleged that the
+ tonsure was plainly discernible upon his head until it was shaved by
+ order of the Capitouls. Aimery was put to the torture, admitted his
+ crime, and was sentenced to death. The sentence was carried out by
+ hanging, after he had had his hand cut off on the scene of the crime,
+ and been dragged by horses to the place of execution. The Capitouls
+ were then excommunicated by the Official, and the ecclesiastical side
+ of the quarrel was eventually transferred to the Roman Court. Before
+ the Parlement of Paris the University complained of the violation of
+ the Royal privilege exempting scholars' servants from the ordinary
+ tribunals. The Capitouls were imprisoned, and after long litigation
+ sentenced to pay enormous damages to the ruffian's family and erect a
+ chapel for the good of his soul. The city was condemned for a time to
+ the forfeiture of all its privileges. The body was cut down from the
+ gibbet on which it had been hanging for three years, and accorded a
+ solemn funeral. Four Capitouls bore the pall, and all fathers of
+ families were required to walk in the procession. When they came to the
+ Schools, the citizens solemnly begged pardon of the University, and the
+ cortčge was joined by 3000 scholars. Finally, it cost the city 15,000
+ livres tournois or more to regain their civic privileges.[3]
+
+The late Mr Cecil Rhodes once summarized all Fellows of Colleges as
+children in matters of finance. Be that as it may, you will find nothing
+more constant in history than the talent of the Universities for
+extracting money or money's worth out of a riot. Time (I speak as a
+parent) has scarcely blunted that faculty; and still--since where young
+men congregate, noise there must be--our Universities like Wordsworth's
+Happy Warrior
+
+ turn their necessity to glorious gain.
+
+These were the excesses of young 'bloods,' and their servants: but with
+them mingled scholars not less ferocious in their habits because almost
+desperately poor. You all know, I dare say, that very poor scholars would
+be granted licences to beg by the Chancellor. The sleeve of this gown in
+which I address you represents the purse or pocket of a Master of Arts,
+and may hint to you by its amplitude how many crusts he was prepared to
+receive from the charitable.
+
+Now, choosing to ignore (because it has been challenged as overpainted) a
+picture of penury endured by the scholars of St John's College in this
+University, let me tell you two stories, one well attested, the other
+fiction if you will, but both agreeable as testifying to the spirit of
+youth which, ever blowing upon their sacred embers, has kept Oxford and
+Cambridge perennially alive.
+
+My first is of three scholars so poor that they possessed but one 'cappa'
+and gown between them. They took it in turns therefore, and when one went
+to lecture the other two kept to their lodgings. I invite you even to
+reflect on the joy of the lucky one, in a winter lecture room, dark, with
+unglazed windows, as he listened and shuffled his feet for warmth in the
+straw of the floor. [No one, by the way, can understand the incessant
+harping of our early poets upon May-time and the return of summer until
+he has pictured to himself the dark and cold discomfort of a
+Middle-English winter.] These three poor scholars fed habitually on
+bread, with soup and a little wine, tasting meat only on Sundays and
+feasts of the Church. Yet one of them, Richard of Chichester, who lived
+to become a saint, _saepe retulit quod nunquam in vita sua tam jucundam,
+tam delectabilem duxerat vitam_--that never had he lived so jollily, so
+delectably.
+
+That is youth, youth blessed by friendship. Now for my second story,
+which is also of youth and friendship.--
+
+Two poor scholars, who had with pains become Masters of Arts and saved
+their pence to purchase the coveted garb, on the afternoon of their
+admission took a country walk in it, together flaunting their new finery.
+But, the day being gusty, on their return across the bridge, a puff of
+wind caught the _biretta_ of one and blew it into the river. The loss was
+irrecoverable, since neither could swim. The poor fellow looked at his
+friend. His friend looked at him. 'Between us two,' he said, 'it is all
+or naught,' and cast his own cap to float and sink with the other down
+stream.
+
+You will never begin to understand literature until you understand
+something of life. These young men, your forerunners, understood
+something of life while as yet completely careless of literature. After
+the impulse of Abelard and others had died down, the mass of students
+betook themselves to the Universities, no doubt, for quite ordinary,
+mercenary reasons. The University led to the Church, and the Church, in
+England at any rate, was the door to professional life.
+
+Nearly all the civil servants of the Crown--I am here quoting freely--the
+diplomatists, the secretaries or advisers of great nobles, the
+physicians, the architects, at one time the secular law-givers, all
+through the Middle Ages the then large tribe of ecclesiastical lawyers,
+were ecclesiastics.... Clerkship did not necessarily involve even minor
+orders. But as it was cheaper to a King or a Bishop or a temporal magnate
+to reward his physician, his legal adviser, his secretary, or his agent
+by a Canonry or a Rectory than by large salaries, the average student of
+Paris or Oxford or Cambridge looked toward the Church as the 'main
+chance' as we say, and small blame to him! He never at any rate looked
+towards Literature: nor did the Universities, wise in their generation,
+encourage him to do anything of the sort.
+
+You may realise, Gentlemen, how tardily, even in later and more
+enlightened times, the study of Literature has crept its way into
+official Cambridge, if you will take down your "University Calendar" and
+study the list of Professorships there set forth in order of foundation.
+It begins in 1502 with the Lady Margaret's Chair of Divinity, founded by
+the mother of Henry VII. Five Regius Professorships follow: of Divinity,
+Civil Law, Physic, Hebrew, Greek, all of 1540. So Greek comes in upon the
+flush of the Renaissance; and the Calendar bravely, yet not committing
+itself to a date, heads with Erasmus the noble roll which concludes (as
+may it long conclude) with Henry Jackson. But Greek comes in last of the
+five. Close on a hundred years elapse before the foundation of the next
+chair--it is of Arabic; and more than a hundred before we arrive at
+Mathematics. So Sir William Hamilton was not without historical excuse
+when he declared the study of Mathematics to be no part of the business
+of this University! Then follow Moral Philosophy (1683), Music (1684),
+Chemistry (1702), Astronomy (1704), Anatomy (1707), Modern History and
+more Arabic, with Botany (1724), Geology (1727), closely followed by Mr
+Hulse's Christian Advocate, more Astronomy (1749), more Divinity (1777),
+Experimental Philosophy (1783): then in the nineteenth century more Law,
+more Medicine, Mineralogy, Archaeology, Political Economy, Pure
+Mathematics, Comparative Anatomy, Sanskrit and yet again more Law, before
+we arrive in 1869 at a Chair of Latin. Faint yet pursuing, we have yet to
+pass chairs of Fine Art (belated), Experimental Physics, Applied
+Mechanics, Anglo-Saxon, Animal Morphology, Surgery, Physiology,
+Pathology, Ecclesiastical History, Chinese, more Divinity, Mental
+Philosophy, Ancient History, Agriculture, Biology, Agricultural Botany,
+more Biology, Astrophysics, and German, before arriving in 1910 at a
+Chair of English Literature which by this time I have not breath to
+defend.
+
+The enumeration has, I hope, been instructive. If it has also plunged you
+in gloom, to that atmosphere (as the clock warns me) for a fortnight I
+must leave you: with a promise, however, in another lecture to cheer you,
+if it may be, with some broken gleams of hope.
+
+
+[Footnote 1: "What English Poetry may still learn from Greek": a paper
+read before the English Association on Nov. 17, 1911.]
+
+[Footnote 2: See Mr E. K. Chambers' "Mediaeval Stage", Dr Courthope's
+"History of English Poetry," and Professor W. P. Ker's "The Dark Ages".]
+
+[Footnote 3: Rashdall, "The Universities of Europe in the Middle Ages",
+vol. ii, p. 684, from documents printed in Fournier's collection.]
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE XI.
+
+ENGLISH LITERATURE IN OUR UNIVERSITIES nglish Literature in Our
+Universities (II)
+
+Wednesday, December 3
+
+
+We broke off, Gentlemen, upon the somewhat painful conclusion that our
+Universities were not founded for the study of literature, and tardily
+admitted it. The dates of our three literary chairs in Cambridge--I speak
+of our Western literature only, and omit Arabic, Sanskrit, and
+Chinese--clenched that conclusion for us. Greek in 1540, Latin not until
+1869, English but three years ago--from the lesson of these intervals
+there is no getting away.
+
+Now I do not propose to dwell on the Renaissance and how Greek came in:
+for a number of writers in our time have been busy with the Renaissance,
+and have--I was going to say 'over-written the subject,' but no--it is
+better to say that they have focussed the period so as to distort the
+general perspective at the cost of other periods which have earned less
+attention; the twelfth century, for example. At any rate their efforts,
+with the amount they claim of your reading, absolve me from doing more
+than remind you that the Renaissance brought in the study of Greek, and
+Greek necessarily brought in the study of literature: since no man can
+read what the Greeks wrote and not have his eyes unsealed to what I have
+called a norm of human expression; a guide to conduct, a standard to
+correct our efforts, whether in poetry, or in philosophy, or in art. For
+the rest, I need only quote to you Gibbon's magnificent saying, that the
+Greek language gave a soul to the objects of sense and a body to the
+abstractions of metaphysics. [May I add, in parenthesis, that, while no
+believer in compulsory Greek, holding, indeed, that you can hardly
+reconcile learning with compulsion, and still more hardly force them to
+be compatibles, I subscribe with all my heart to Bagehot's shrewd saying,
+'while a knowledge of Greek and Latin is not necessary to a writer of
+English, he should at least have a firm conviction that those two
+languages existed.']
+
+But, assuming you to know something of the Renaissance, and how it
+brought Greek into Oxford and Cambridge, I find that in the course of the
+argument two things fall to be said, and both to be said with some
+emphasis.
+
+In the first place, without officially acknowledging their native tongue
+or its literature, our two Universities had no sooner acquired Greek than
+their members became immensely interested in English. Take, for one
+witness out of many, Gabriel Harvey, Fellow of Pembroke Hall. His letters
+to Edmund Spenser have been preserved, as you know. Now Gabriel Harvey
+was a man whom few will praise, and very few could have loved. Few will
+quarrel with Dr Courthope's description of him as 'a person of
+considerable intellectual force, but intolerably arrogant and conceited,
+and with a taste vitiated by all the affectations of Italian humanism,'
+or deny that 'his tone in his published correspondence with Spenser is
+that of an intellectual bully.'[1] None will refuse him the title of fool
+for attempting to mislead Spenser into writing hexameters. But all you
+can urge against Gabriel Harvey, on this count or that or the other, but
+accumulates proof that this donnish man was all the while giving
+thought--giving even ferocious thought--to the business of making
+an English Literature.
+
+Let me adduce more pleasing evidence. At or about Christmas, in the year
+1597, there was enacted here in Cambridge, in the hall of St John's
+College, a play called "The Pilgrimage to Parnassus," a skittish work,
+having for subject the 'discontent of scholars'; the misery attending
+those who, unsupported by a private purse, would follow after Apollo and
+the Nine. No one knows the author's name: but he had a wit which has kept
+something of its salt to this day, and in Christmas, 1597, it took
+Cambridge by storm. The public demanded a sequel, and "The Return from
+Parnassus" made its appearance on the following Christmas (again in St
+John's College hall); to be followed by a "Second Part of the Return from
+Parnassus," the author's overflow of wit, three years later. Of the
+popularity of the first and second plays--"The Pilgrimage" and "The
+Return, Part I"--we have good evidence in the prologue to "The Return,
+Part II," where the author makes Momus say, before an audience which knew
+the truth:
+
+ "The Pilgrimage to Parnassus" and "The Returne from Parnassus" have
+ stood the honest Stagekeepers in many a crowne's expense for linckes
+ and vizards: purchased many a Sophister a knocke with a clubbe:
+ hindred the butler's box, and emptied the Colledge barrells; and now,
+ unlesse you have heard the former, you may returne home as wise as you
+ came: for this last is the last part of The Returne from Parnassus;
+ that is, the last time that the Author's wit will turne upon the toe
+ in this vaine.
+
+In other words, these plays had set everybody in Cambridge agog, had been
+acted by link-light, had led to brawls--either between literary factions
+or through offensive personal allusions to which we have lost all
+clue--had swept into the box-office much money usually spent on Christmas
+gambling, and had set up an inappeasable thirst for College ale. The
+point for us is that (in 1597-1601) they abound in topical allusions to
+the London theatres: that Shakespeare is obviously just as much a concern
+to these young men of Cambridge as Mr Shaw (say) is to our young men
+to-day, and an allusion to him is dropped in confidence that it will be
+aptly taken. For instance, one of the characters, Gullio, will have some
+love-verses recited to him 'in two or three diverse veins, in Chaucer's,
+Gower's and Spenser's and Mr Shakespeare's.' Having listened to Chaucer,
+he cries, 'Tush! Chaucer is a foole'; but coming to some lines of Mr
+Shakespeare's "Venus and Adonis," he cries, 'Ey, marry, Sir! these have
+some life in them! Let this duncified world esteeme of Spenser and
+Chaucer, I'le worship sweet Mr Shakespeare, and to honoure him I will lay
+his "Venus and Adonis" under my pillowe.' For another allusion--'Few of
+the University pen plaies well,' says the actor Kempe in Part II of the
+"Returne"; 'they smell too much of that writer _Ovid_ and that writer
+_Metamorphosis_, and talke too much of Proserpina and Jupiter. Why here's
+our fellow _Shakespeare_ puts them all downe, ay and _Ben Jonson_, too.'
+Here you have Cambridge assembling at Christmas-tide to laugh at
+well-understood hits upon the theatrical taste of London. Here you have,
+to make Cambridge laugh, three farcical quasi-Aristophanic plays all
+hinging on the tribulations of scholars who depart to pursue literature
+for a livelihood. For a piece of definite corroborative evidence you have
+a statute of Queens' College (quoted by Mr Bass Mullinger) which directs
+that 'any student refusing to take part in the acting of a comedy or
+tragedy in the College and absenting himself from the performance,
+contrary to the injunctions of the President, shall be expelled from the
+Society'--which seems drastic. And on top of all this, you have evidence
+enough and to spare of the part played in Elizabethan drama by the
+'University Wits.' Why, Marlowe (of Corpus Christi) may be held to have
+invented its form--blank verse; Ben Jonson (of St John's) to have carried
+it on past its meridian and through its decline, into the masque. Both
+Universities claim Lyly and Chapman. Marston, Peel, Massinger, hailed
+from Oxford. But Greene and Nashe were of Cambridge--of St John's both,
+and Day of Caius. They sought to London, and there (for tragic truth
+underlay that Christmas comedy of "The Pilgrimage of Parnassus") many of
+them came to bitter ends: but before reaching their sordid personal
+ruin--and let the deaths of Marlowe and Greene be remembered--they built
+the Elizabethan drama, as some of them lived to add its last ornaments.
+We know what, meanwhile, Spenser had done. I think it scarcely needs
+further proof that Cambridge, towards the end of the sixteenth century,
+was fermenting with a desire to read, criticise, yes and write, English
+literature, albeit officially the University recognised no such thing.
+
+There remains a second question--How happened it that Cambridge, after
+admitting Greek, took more than three hundred years to establish a Chair
+of Latin, and that a Chair of English is, so to speak, a mushroom (call
+it not toadstool!) of yesterday? Why simply enough. Latin continued to be
+the working language of Science. In Latin Bacon naturally composed his
+"Novum Organum" and indeed almost all his scientific and philosophical
+work, although a central figure of his age among English prose-writers.
+In Latin, in the eighteenth century, Newton wrote his "Principia": and I
+suppose that of no two books written by Englishmen before the close of
+that century, or indeed before Darwin's "Origin of Species," can it be
+less extravagantly said than of the "Novum Organum" and the "Principia"
+that they shook the world. Now, without forgetting our Classical Tripos
+(founded in 1822), as without forgetting the great names of Bentley and
+Porson, we may observe it as generally true, that whenever and wherever
+large numbers of scientific men use a particular language as their
+working instrument, they have a disposition to look askance on its
+refinements; to be jealous of its literary professors; to accuse these of
+treating as an end in itself what is properly a means. Like the Denver
+editor I quoted to you in a previous lecture, these scientific workers
+want to 'get there' in a hurry, forgetting that (to use another
+Americanism) the sharper the chisel the more ice it is likely to cut. You
+may observe this disposition--this suspicion of 'literature,' this thinly
+veiled contempt--in many a scientific man to-day; though because his
+language has changed from Latin to English, it is English he now chooses
+to cheapen. Well, we cannot help it, perhaps. Perhaps he cannot help it.
+It is human nature. We must go on persuading him, not losing our tempers.
+
+None the less we should not shut our eyes to the fact that while a
+language is the working instrument of scientific men there will always be
+a number of them to decry any study of it for its beauty, and even any
+study of it for the sake of accuracy--its beauty and its accuracy being
+indeed scarcely distinguishable.
+
+I fear, Gentlemen, you may go on from this to the dreadful conclusion
+that the date 1869, when Cambridge at length came to possess a Chair of
+Latin, marks definitely the hour at which Latin closed its eyes and
+became a dead language; that you may proceed to a yet more dreadful
+application of this to the Chair of English founded in 1910: and that
+henceforward (to misquote what Mr Max Beerbohm once wickedly said of
+Walter Pater) you will be apt to regard Professor Housman and me as two
+widowers engaged, while the undertaker waits, in composing the features
+of our belovčds.
+
+But (to speak seriously) that is what I stand here to controvert: and I
+derive no small encouragement when--as has more than once happened--A, a
+scientific man, comes to me and complains that he for his part cannot
+understand B, another scientific man, 'because the fellow can't express
+himself.' And the need to study precision in writing has grown far more
+instant since men of science have abandoned the 'universal language' and
+taken to writing in their own tongues. Let us, while not on the whole
+regretting the change, at least recognise some dangers, some possible
+disadvantages. I will confine myself to English, considered as a
+substitute for Latin. In Latin you have a language which may be thin in
+its vocabulary and inelastic for modern use; but a language which at all
+events compels a man to clear his thought and communicate it to other men
+precisely.
+
+ Thoughts hardly to be packed
+ Into the narrow act
+
+--may be all impossible of compression into the Latin speech. In English,
+on the other hand, you have a language which by its very copiousness and
+elasticity tempts you to believe that you can do without packing, without
+compression, arrangement, order; that, with the Denver editor, all you
+need is to 'get there'--though it be with all your intellectual
+belongings in a jumble, overflowing the portmanteau. Rather I preach to
+you that having proudly inherited English with its _copia fandi_, you
+should keep your estate in order by constantly applying to it that _jus
+et norma loquendi_ of which, if you seek to the great models, you will
+likewise find yourselves inheritors.
+
+'But,' it is sometimes urged, 'why not leave this new study of English to
+the younger Universities now being set up all over the country?' 'Ours is
+an age of specialising. Let these newcomers have something--what better
+than English?--to specialise upon.'
+
+I might respond by asking if the fame of Cambridge would stand where it
+stands to-day had she followed a like counsel concerning other studies
+and, resting upon Mathematics, given over this or that branch of Natural
+Science to be grasped by new hands. What of Electricity, for example? Or
+what of Physiology? Yes, and among the unnatural sciences, what of
+Political Economy? But I will use a more philosophical argument.
+
+Some years ago I happened on a collection of Bulgarian proverbs of which
+my memory retains but two, yet each an abiding joy. In a lecture on
+English Literature in our Universities you will certainly not miss to
+apply the first, which runs, 'Many an ass has entered Jerusalem.'
+
+The application of the second may elude you for a moment. It voices the
+impatience of an honest Bulgar who has been worried overmuch to subscribe
+to what, in this England of ours, we call Church Purposes; and it runs,
+'All these two-penny saints will be the ruin of the Church.'
+
+Now far be it from me to apply the term 'two-penny saint' to any existing
+University. To avoid the accusation I hereby solemnly declare my deep
+conviction that every single University at this moment in England,
+Scotland, Wales or Ireland has reasons--strong in all, in some
+overwhelmingly strong--for its existence. That is plainly said, I hope?
+Yet I do maintain that if we go on multiplying Universities we shall not
+increase the joy; that the reign of two-penny saints lies not far off
+and will soon lie within measurable distance; and that it will be
+a pestilent reign. As we saw in out last lecture the word
+'University'--_Universitas_--had, in its origin, nothing to do with
+Universality: it meant no more than a Society, organised (as it
+happened) to promote learning. But words, like institutions, often rise
+above their beginnings, and in time acquire a proud secondary
+connotation. For an instance let me give you the beautiful Wykehamist
+motto _Manners Makyeth Man_, wherein 'manners' originally meant no more
+than 'morals.' So there has grown around our two great Universities of
+Oxford and Cambridge a connotation (secondary, if you will, but valuable
+above price) of universality; of standing like great beacons of light,
+to attract the young wings of all who would seek learning for their
+sustenance. Thousands have singed, thousands have burned themselves, no
+doubt: but what thousands of thousands have caught the sacred fire into
+their souls as they passed through and passed out, to carry it, to drop
+it, still as from wings, upon waste places of the world! Think of
+country vicarages, of Australian or Himalayan outposts, where men have
+nourished out lives of duty upon the fire of three transient, priceless
+years. Think of the generations of children to whom their fathers'
+lives, prosaic enough, could always be re-illumined if someone let fall
+the word 'Oxford' or 'Cambridge,' so that they themselves came to
+surmise an aura about the name as of a land very far off; and then say
+if the ineffable spell of those two words do not lie somewhere in the
+conflux of generous youth with its rivalries and clash of minds, ere it
+disperses, generation after generation, to the duller business of life.
+Would you have your mother University, Gentlemen, undecorated by some
+true study of your mother-English?
+
+I think not, having been there, and known such thoughts as you will carry
+away, and having been against expectation called back to report them.
+
+ And sometimes I remember days of old
+ When fellowship seem'd not so far to seek,
+ And all the world and I seem'd far less cold,
+ And at the rainbow's foot lay surely gold,
+ And hope was strong, and life itself not weak.
+
+My purpose here (and I cannot too often recur to it) is to wean your
+minds from hankering after false Germanic standards and persuade you, or
+at least point out to you, in what direction that true study lies if you
+are men enough to take up your inheritance and believe in it as a glory
+to be improved.
+
+Neither Oxford nor Cambridge nor any University on earth can study
+English Literature truthfully or worthily, or even at all profitably,
+unless by studying it in the category for which Heaven, or Nature (call
+the ultimate cause what you will), intended it; or, to put the assertion
+more concretely, in any other category than that for which the particular
+author--be his name Chaucer or Chesterton, Shakespeare or Shaw--designed
+it; as neither can Oxford nor Cambridge nor any University study English
+Literature, to understand it, unless by bracing itself to consider a
+living art. Origins, roots, all the gropings towards light--let these be
+granted as accessories; let those who search in them be granted all
+honour, all respect. It is only when they preach or teach these
+preliminaries, these accessories, to be more important than Literature
+itself--it is only when they, owing all their excuse in life to the
+established daylight, din upon us that the precedent darkness claims
+precedence in honour, that one is driven to utter upon them this
+dialogue, in monosyllables:
+
+ _And God said, 'Let there be light': and there was light.
+ 'Oh, thank you, Sir,' said the Bat and the Owl; 'then we are off!'_
+
+I grant you, Gentlemen, that there must always inhere a difficulty in
+correlating for the purposes of a Tripos a study of Literature itself
+with a study of these accessories; the thing itself being _naturally_ so
+much more difficult: being so difficult indeed that (to take literary
+criticism alone and leave for a moment the actual practice of writing
+out of the question) though some of the first intellects in the
+world--Aristotle, Longinus, Quintilian, Boileau, Dryden, Lessing, Goethe,
+Coleridge, Sainte-Beuve--have broken into parcels of that territory, the
+mass of it remains unexplored, and nobody as yet has found courage to
+reduce the reports of these great explorers to any system; so that a very
+eminent person indeed found it easy to write to me the other day, 'The
+principles of Criticism? What are they? Who made them?' To this I could
+only answer that I did not know Who made them; but that Aristotle,
+Dryden, Lessing, had, as it was credibly reported, discovered five or, it
+might be, six. And this difficulty of appraising literature absolutely
+inheres in your study of it from the beginning. No one can have set a
+General Paper on Literature and examined on it, setting it and marking
+the written answers, alongside of papers about language, inflexions and
+the rest, without having borne in upon him that _here_ the student finds
+his difficulty. While in a paper set about inflexions, etc., a pupil with
+a moderately retentive memory will easily obtain sixty or seventy per
+cent. of the total marks, in a paper on the book or play considered
+critically an examiner, even after setting his paper with a view to some
+certain inferiority of average, has to be lenient before he can award
+fifty, forty, or even thirty per cent. of the total.
+
+You will find a somewhat illuminating passage--illuminating, that is, if
+you choose to interpret and apply it to our subject--in Lucian's "True
+History," where the veracious traveller, who tells the tale, affirms that
+he visited Hades among other places, and had some conversation with
+Homer, among its many inhabitants--
+
+ Before many days had passed, I accosted the poet Homer, when we were
+ both disengaged, and asked him, among other things, where he came
+ from; it was still a burning question with us, I explained. He said he
+ was aware that some derived him from Chios, others from Smyrna, and
+ others again from Colophon; but in fact he was a Babylonian, generally
+ known not as Homer but as Tigranes; but when later in life he was
+ given as a homer or hostage to the Greeks, that name clung to him.
+ Another of my questions was about the so-called spurious books; had he
+ written them or not? He said that they were all genuine: so I now knew
+ what to think of the critics Zenodotus and Aristarchus and all their
+ lucubrations. Having got a categorical answer on that point, I tried
+ him next on his reason for starting the "Iliad" with the wrath of
+ Achilles. He said he had no exquisite reason; it just came into his
+ head that way.
+
+Even so diverse are the questions that may be asked concerning any great
+work of art. But to discover its full intent is always the most difficult
+task of all. That task, however, and nothing less difficult, will always
+be the one worthiest of a great University.
+
+On that, and on that alone, Gentlemen, do I base all claims for our
+School of English Literature. And yet in conclusion I will ask you,
+reminding yourselves how fortunate is your lot in Cambridge, to think of
+fellow-Englishmen far less fortunate.
+
+Years ago I took some pains to examine the examination papers set by a
+renowned Examining Body and I found this--'I humbly solicit' (to use a
+phrase of Lucian's) 'my hearers' incredulity'--that in a paper set upon
+three Acts of "Hamlet"--three Acts of "Hamlet"!--the first question
+started with 'G.tt. p..cha' 'Al..g.tor' and invited the candidate to fill
+in the missing letters correctly. Now I was morally certain that the
+words 'gutta-percha' and 'alligator' did not occur in the first three
+Acts of "Hamlet"; but having carefully re-read them I invited this
+examining body to explain itself. The answer I got was that, to
+understand Shakespeare, a student must first understand the English
+Language! Some of you on leaving Cambridge will go out--a company of
+Christian folk dispersed throughout the world--to tell English children
+of English Literature. Such are the pedagogic fetters you will have to
+knock off their young minds before they can stand and walk.
+
+Gentlemen, on a day early in this term I sought the mound which is the
+old Castle of Cambridge. Access to it, as perhaps you know, lies through
+the precincts of the County Prison. An iron railing encloses the mound,
+having a small gate, for the key of which a notice-board advised me to
+ring the prison bell. I rang. A very courteous gaoler answered the bell
+and opened the gate, which stands just against his wicket. I thanked him,
+but could not forbear asking 'Why do they keep this gate closed?' 'I
+don't know, sir,' he answered, 'but I suppose if they didn't the children
+might get in and play.'
+
+So with his answer I went up the hill and from the top saw Cambridge
+spread at my feet; Magdalene below me, and the bridge which--poor product
+as it is of the municipal taste--has given its name to so many bridges
+all over the world; the river on its long ambit to Chesterton; the tower
+of St John's, and beyond it the unpretentious but more beautiful tower of
+Jesus College. To my right the magnificent chine of King's College Chapel
+made its own horizon above the yellowing elms. I looked down on the
+streets--the narrow streets--the very streets which, a fortnight ago, I
+tried to people for you with that mediaeval throng which has passed as we
+shall pass. Still in my ear the gaoler's answer repeated itself--_'I
+suppose, if they didn't keep it locked, the children might get in and
+play'_: and a broken echo seemed to take it up, in words that for a while
+had no more coherence than the scattered jangle of bells in the town
+below. But as I turned to leave, they chimed into an articulate sentence
+and the voice was the voice of Francis Bacon--_Regnum Scientiae ut regnum
+Coeli non nisi sub persona infantis intratur.--Into the Kingdom of
+Knowledge, as into the Kingdom of Heaven, whoso would enter must become
+as a little child._
+
+
+[Footnote 1: "Cambridge History of English Literature", vol. iii, p. 213.]
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE XII.
+
+ON STYLE
+
+Wednesday, January 28, 1914
+
+
+Should Providence, Gentlemen, destine any one of you to write books for
+his living, he will find experimentally true what I here promise him,
+that few pleasures sooner cloy than reading what the reviewers say. This
+promise I hand on with the better confidence since it was endorsed for me
+once in conversation by that eminently good man the late Henry Sidgwick;
+who added, however, 'Perhaps I ought to make a single exception. There
+was a critic who called one of my books "epoch-making." Being anonymous,
+he would have been hard to find and thank, perhaps; but I ought to have
+made the effort.'
+
+May I follow up this experience of his with one of my own, as a preface
+or brief apology for this lecture? Short-lived as is the author's joy in
+his critics, far-spent as may be his hope of fame, mournful his consent
+with Sir Thomas Browne that 'there is nothing immortal but immortality,'
+he cannot hide from certain sanguine men of business, who in England call
+themselves 'Press-Cutting Agencies,' in America 'Press-Clipping Bureaux,'
+and, as each successive child of his invention comes to birth,
+unbecomingly presume in him an almost virginal trepidation. 'Your book,'
+they write falsely, 'is exciting much comment. May we collect and send
+you notices of it appearing in the World's Press? We submit a specimen
+cutting with our terms; and are, dear Sir,' etc.
+
+Now, although steadily unresponsive to this wile, I am sometimes guilty
+of taking the enclosed specimen review and thrusting it for preservation
+among the scarcely less deciduous leaves of the book it was written to
+appraise. So it happened that having this vacation, to dust--not to
+read--a line of obsolete or obsolescent works on a shelf, I happened on a
+review signed by no smaller a man than Mr Gilbert Chesterton and
+informing the world that the author of my obsolete book was full of good
+stories as a kindly uncle, but had a careless or impatient way of
+stopping short and leaving his readers to guess what they most wanted to
+know: that, reaching the last chapter, or what he chose to make the last
+chapter, instead of winding up and telling 'how everybody lived ever
+after,' he (so to speak) slid you off his avuncular knee with a blessing
+and the remark that nine o'clock was striking and all good children
+should be in their beds.
+
+That criticism has haunted me during the vacation. Looking back on a
+course of lectures which I deemed to be accomplished; correcting them in
+print; revising them with all the nervousness of a beginner; I have
+seemed to hear you complain--'He has exhorted us to write accurately,
+appropriately; to eschew Jargon; to be bold and essay Verse. He has
+insisted that Literature is a living art, to be practised. But just what
+we most needed he has not told. At the final doorway to the secret he
+turned his back and left us. Accuracy, propriety, perspicuity--these we
+may achieve. But where has he helped us to write with beauty, with charm,
+with distinction? Where has he given us rules for what is called _Style_
+in short?--having attained which an author may count himself set up in
+business.'
+
+Thus, Gentlemen, with my mind's ear I heard you reproaching me. I beg you
+to accept what follows for my apology.
+
+To begin with, let me plead that you have been told of one or two things
+which Style is _not_; which have little or nothing to do with Style,
+though sometimes vulgarly mistaken for it. Style, for example, is
+not--can never be--extraneous Ornament. You remember, may be, the Persian
+lover whom I quoted to you out of Newman: how to convey his passion he
+sought a professional letter-writer and purchased a vocabulary charged
+with ornament, wherewith to attract the fair one as with a basket of
+jewels. Well, in this extraneous, professional, purchased ornamentation,
+you have something which Style is not: and if you here require a
+practical rule of me, I will present you with this: 'Whenever you feel an
+impulse to perpetrate a piece of exceptionally fine writing, obey it
+--whole-heartedly--and delete it before sending your manuscript to press.
+_Murder your darlings._'
+
+But let me plead further that you have not been left altogether without
+clue to the secret of what Style is. That you must master the secret for
+yourselves lay implicit in our bargain, and you were never promised that
+a writer's training would be easy. Yet a clue was certainly put in your
+hands when, having insisted that Literature is a living art, I added that
+therefore it must be personal and of its essence personal.
+
+This goes very deep: it conditions all our criticism of art. Yet it
+conceals no mystery. You may see its meaning most easily and clearly,
+perhaps, by contrasting Science and Art at their two extremes--say Pure
+Mathematics with Acting. Science as a rule deals with things, Art with
+man's thought and emotion about things. In Pure Mathematics things are
+rarefied into ideas, numbers, concepts, but still farther and farther
+away from the individual man. Two and two make four, and fourpence is not
+ninepence (or at any rate four is not nine) whether Alcibiades or Cleon
+keep the tally. In Acting on the other hand almost everything depends on
+personal interpretation--on the gesture, the walk, the gaze, the tone of
+a Siddons, the _rusé_ smile of a Coquelin, the exquisite, vibrant
+intonation of a Bernhardt. 'English Art?' exclaimed Whistler, 'there is
+no such thing! Art is art and mathematics is mathematics.' Whistler
+erred. Precisely because Art is Art, and Mathematics is Mathematics and a
+Science, Art being Art can be English or French; and, more than this,
+must be the personal expression of an Englishman or a Frenchman, as a
+'Constable' differs from a 'Corot' and a 'Whistler' from both. Surely I
+need not labour this. But what is true of the extremes of Art and Science
+is true also, though sometimes less recognisably true, of the mean: and
+where they meet and seem to conflict (as in History) the impact is that
+of the personal or individual mind upon universal truth, and the question
+becomes whether what happened in the Sicilian Expedition, or at the trial
+of Charles I, can be set forth naked as an alegebraical sum, serene in
+its certainty, indifferent to opinion, uncoloured in the telling as in
+the hearing by sympathy or dislike, by passion or by character. I doubt,
+while we should strive in history as in all things to be fair, if history
+can be written in that colourless way, to interest men in human doings. I
+am sure that nothing which lies further towards imaginative, creative,
+Art can be written in that way.
+
+It follows then that Literature, being by its nature personal, must be by
+its nature almost infinitely various. 'Two persons cannot be the authors
+of the sounds which strike our ear; and as they cannot be speaking one
+and the same speech, neither can they be writing one and the same lecture
+or discourse.' _Quot homines tot sententiae._ You may translate that, if
+you will, 'Every man of us constructs his sentence differently'; and if
+there be indeed any quarrel between Literature and Science (as I never
+can see why there should be), I for one will readily grant Science all
+her cold superiority, her ease in Sion with universal facts, so it be
+mine to serve among the multifarious race who have to adjust, as best
+they may, Science's cold conclusions (and much else) to the brotherly
+give-and-take of human life.
+
+_Quicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas..._ Is it possible,
+Gentlemen, that you can have read one, two, three or more of the
+acknowledged masterpieces of literature without having it borne in on you
+that they are great because they are alive, and traffic not with cold
+celestial certainties, but with men's hopes, aspirations, doubts, loves,
+hates, breakings of the heart; the glory and vanity of human endeavour,
+the transience of beauty, the capricious uncertain lease on which you and
+I hold life, the dark coast to which we inevitably steer; all that amuses
+or vexes, all that gladdens, saddens, maddens us men and women on this
+brief and mutable traject which yet must be home for a while, the
+anchorage of our hearts? For an instance:--
+
+ Here lies a most beautiful lady,
+ Light of step and heart was she:
+ I think she was the most beautiful lady
+ That ever was in the West Country.
+ But beauty vanishes, beauty passes,
+ However rare, rare it be;
+ And when I crumble who shall remember
+ That lady of the West Country?
+
+ (Walter de la Mare.)
+
+Or take a critic--a literary critic--such as Samuel Johnson, of whom we
+are used to think as of a man artificial in phrase and pedantic in
+judgment. He lives, and why? Because, if you test his criticism, he never
+saw literature but as a part of life, nor would allow in literature what
+was false to life, as he saw it. He could be wrong-headed, perverse;
+could damn Milton because he hated Milton's politics; on any question of
+passion or prejudice could make injustice his daily food. But he could
+not, even in a friend's epitaph, let pass a phrase (however well turned)
+which struck him as empty of life or false to it. All Boswell testifies
+to this: and this is why Samuel Johnson survives.
+
+Now let me carry this contention--that all Literature is personal and
+therefore various--into a field much exploited by the pedant, and fenced
+about with many notice-boards and public warnings. _'Neologisms not
+allowed here,' 'All persons using slang, or trespassing in pursuit of
+originality....'_
+
+Well, I answer these notice-boards by saying that, literature being
+personal, and men various--and even the "Oxford English Dictionary" being
+no Canonical book--man's use or defiance of the dictionary depends for
+its justification on nothing but his success: adding that, since it takes
+all kinds to make a world, or a literature, his success will probably
+depend on the occasion. A few months ago I found myself seated at a
+bump-supper next to a cheerful youth who, towards the close, suggested
+thoughtfully, as I arose to make a speech, that, the bonfire (which of
+course he called the 'bonner') being due at nine-thirty o'clock, there
+was little more than bare time left for 'langers and godders.' It cost
+me, who think slowly, some seconds to interpret that by 'langers' he
+meant 'Auld Lang Syne' and by 'godders' 'God Save the King.' I thought at
+the time, and still think, and will maintain against any schoolmaster,
+that the neologisms of my young neighbour, though not to be recommended
+for essays or sermons, did admirably suit the time, place, and occasion.
+
+Seeing that in human discourse, infinitely varied as it is, so much must
+ever depend on _who_ speaks, and to _whom_, in what mood and upon what
+occasion; and seeing that Literature must needs take account of all
+manner of writers, audiences, moods, occasions; I hold it a sin against
+the light to put up a warning against any word that comes to us in the
+fair way of use and wont (as 'wire,' for instance, for a telegram), even
+as surely as we should warn off hybrids or deliberately pedantic
+impostors, such as 'antibody' and 'picture-drome'; and that, generally,
+it is better to err on the side of liberty than on the side of the
+censor: since by the manumitting of new words we infuse new blood into a
+tongue of which (or we have learnt nothing from Shakespeare's audacity)
+our first pride should be that it is flexible, alive, capable of
+responding to new demands of man's untiring quest after knowledge and
+experience. Not because it was an ugly thing did I denounce Jargon to
+you, the other day: but because it was a dead thing, leading no-whither,
+meaning naught. There is _wickedness_ in human speech, sometimes. You
+will detect it all the better for having ruled out what is _naughty_.
+
+Let us err, then, if we err, on the side of liberty. I came, the other
+day, upon this passage in Mr Frank Harris's study of 'The Man
+Shakespeare':--
+
+ In the last hundred years the language of Moličre has grown fourfold;
+ the slang of the studios and the gutter and the laboratory, of the
+ engineering school and the dissecting table, has been ransacked for
+ special terms to enrich and strengthen the language in order that it
+ may deal easily with the new thoughts. French is now a superb
+ instrument, while English is positively poorer than it was in the time
+ of Shakespeare, thanks to the prudery of our illiterate middle
+ class.[1]
+
+Well, let us not lose our heads over this, any more than over other
+prophecies of our national decadence. The "Oxford English Dictionary" has
+not yet unfolded the last of its coils, which yet are ample enough to
+enfold us in seven words for every three an active man can grapple with.
+Yet the warning has point, and a particular point, for those who aspire
+to write poetry: as Francis Thompson has noted in his Essay on Shelley:--
+
+ Theoretically, of course, one ought always to try for the best word.
+ But practically, the habit of excessive care in word-selection
+ frequently results in loss of spontaneity; and, still worse, the habit
+ of always taking the best word too easily becomes the habit of always
+ taking the most ornate word, the word most removed from ordinary
+ speech. In consequence of this, poetic diction has become latterly a
+ kaleidoscope, and one's chief curiosity is as to the precise
+ combinations into which the pieces will be shifted. There is, in fact,
+ a certain band of words, the Praetorian cohorts of Poetry, whose
+ prescriptive aid is invoked by every aspirant to the poetic purple....
+ Against these it is time some banner should be raised.... It is at any
+ rate curious to note that the literary revolution against the despotic
+ diction of Pope seems issuing, like political revolutions, in a
+ despotism of his own making;
+
+and he adds a note that this is the more surprising to him because so
+many Victorian poets were prose-writers as well.
+
+ Now, according to our theory, the practice of prose should maintain
+ fresh and comprehensive a poet's diction, should save him from falling
+ into the hands of an exclusive coterie of poetic words. It should
+ react upon his metrical vocabulary to its beneficial expansion, by
+ taking him outside his aristocratic circle of language, and keeping
+ him in touch with the great commonalty, the proletariat of speech. For
+ it is with words as with men: constant intermarriage within the limits
+ of a patrician clan begets effete refinement; and to reinvigorate the
+ stock, its veins must be replenished from hardy plebeian blood.
+
+In diction, then, let us acquire all the store we can, rejecting no coin
+for its minting but only if its metal be base. So shall we bring out of
+our treasuries new things and old.
+
+Diction, however, is but a part of Style, and perhaps not the most
+important part. So I revert to the larger question, 'What is Style? What
+its [Greek: to ti en einai], its essence, the law of its being?'
+
+Now, as I sat down to write this lecture, memory evoked a scene and with
+the scene a chance word of boyish slang, both of which may seem to you
+irrelevant until, or unless, I can make you feel how they hold for me the
+heart of the matter.
+
+I once happened to be standing in a corner of a ball-room when there
+entered the most beautiful girl these eyes have ever seen or now--since
+they grow dull--ever will see. It was, I believe, her first ball, and by
+some freak or in some premonition she wore black: and not pearls--which,
+I am told, maidens are wont to wear on these occasions--but one crescent
+of diamonds in her black hair. _Et vera incessu patuit dea._ Here, I say,
+was absolute beauty. It startled.
+
+ I think she was the most beautiful lady
+ That ever was in the West Country.
+ But beauty vanishes, beauty passes....
+
+She died a year or two later. She may have been too beautiful to live
+long. I have a thought that she may also have been too good.
+
+For I saw her with the crowd about her: I saw led up and presented among
+others the man who was to be, for a few months, her husband: and then, as
+the men bowed, pencilling on their programmes, over their shoulders I saw
+her eyes travel to an awkward young naval cadet (Do you remember Crossjay
+in Meredith's "The Egoist"? It was just such a boy) who sat abashed and
+glowering sulkily beside me on the far bench. Promptly with a laugh, she
+advanced, claimed him, and swept him off into the first waltz.
+
+When it was over he came back, a trifle flushed, and I felicitated him;
+my remark (which I forget) being no doubt 'just the sort of banality, you
+know, one does come out with'--as maybe that the British Navy kept its
+old knack of cutting out. But he looked at me almost in tears and
+blurted, 'It isn't her beauty, sir. You saw? It's--it's--my God, it's the
+_style_!'
+
+Now you may think that a somewhat cheap, or at any rate inadequate, cry
+of the heart in my young seaman; as you may think it inadequate in me,
+and moreover a trifle capricious, to assure you (as I do) that the first
+and last secret of a good Style consists in thinking with the heart as
+well as with the head.
+
+But let us philosophise a little. You have been told, I daresay often
+enough, that the business of writing demands _two_--the author and the
+reader. Add to this what is equally obvious, that the obligation of
+courtesy rests first with the author, who invites the séance, and
+commonly charges for it. What follows, but that in speaking or writing we
+have an obligation to put ourselves into the hearer's or reader's place?
+It is _his_ comfort, _his_ convenience, we have to consult. To _express_
+ourselves is a very small part of the business: very small and almost
+unimportant as compared with _impressing_ ourselves: the aim of the whole
+process being to persuade.
+
+All reading demands an effort. The energy, the good-will which a reader
+brings to the book is, and must be, partly expended in the labour of
+reading, marking, learning, inwardly digesting what the author means. The
+more difficulties, then, we authors obtrude on him by obscure or careless
+writing, the more we blunt the edge of his attention: so that if only in
+our own interest--though I had rather keep it on the ground of
+courtesy--we should study to anticipate his comfort.
+
+But let me go a little deeper. You all know that a great part of
+Lessing's argument in his "Laoköon", on the essentials of Literature as
+opposed to Pictorial Art or Sculpture, depends on this--that in Pictorial
+Art or in Sculpture the eye sees, the mind apprehends, the whole in a
+moment of time, with the correspondent disadvantage that this moment of
+time is fixed and stationary; whereas in writing, whether in prose or in
+verse, we can only produce our effect by a series of successive small
+impressions, dripping our meaning (so to speak) into the reader's
+mind--with the correspondent advantage, in point of vivacity, that our
+picture keeps moving all the while. Now obviously this throws a greater
+strain on his patience whom we address. Man at the best is a
+narrow-mouthed bottle. Through the conduit of speech he can utter--as
+you, my hearers, can receive--only one word at a time. In writing (as my
+old friend Professor Minto used to say) you are as a commander filing out
+his battalion through a narrow gate that allows only one man at a time to
+pass; and your reader, as he receives the troops, has to re-form and
+reconstruct them. No matter how large or how involved the subject, it can
+be communicated only in that way. You see, then, what an obligation we
+owe to him of order and arrangement; and why, apart from felicities and
+curiosities of diction, the old rhetoricians laid such stress upon order
+and arrangement as duties we owe to those who honour us with their
+attention. '_La clarté,_' says a French writer, '_est la politesse._'
+[Greek: Charisi kai sapheneia thue], recommends Lucian. Pay your
+sacrifice to the Graces, and to [Greek: sapheneia]--Clarity--first among
+the Graces.
+
+What am I urging? 'That Style in writing is much the same thing as good
+manners in other human intercourse?' Well, and why not? At all events we
+have reached a point where Buffon's often-quoted saying that 'Style is
+the man himself' touches and coincides with William of Wykeham's old
+motto that 'Manners makyth Man': and before you condemn my doctrine as
+inadequate listen to this from Coventry Patmore, still bearing in mind
+that a writer's main object is to _impress_ his thought or vision upon
+his hearer.
+
+'There is nothing comparable _for moral force_ to the charm of truly
+noble manners....'
+
+I grant you, to be sure, that the claim to possess a Style must be
+conceded to many writers--Carlyle is one--who take no care to put
+listeners at their ease, but rely rather on native force of genius to
+shock and astound. Nor will I grudge them your admiration. But I do say
+that, as more and more you grow to value truth and the modest grace of
+truth, it is less and less to such writers that you will turn: and I say
+even more confidently that the qualities of Style we allow them are not
+the qualities we should seek as a norm, for they one and all offend
+against Art's true maxim of avoiding excess.
+
+And this brings me to the two great _paradoxes_ of Style. For the first
+(1),--although Style is so curiously personal and individual, and
+although men are so variously built that no two in the world carry away
+the same impressions from a show, there is always a norm somewhere; in
+literature and art, as in morality. Yes, even in man's most terrific,
+most potent inventions--when, for example, in "Hamlet" or in "Lear"
+Shakespeare seems to be breaking up the solid earth under our feet--there
+is always some point and standard of sanity--a Kent or an Horatio--to
+which all enormities and passionate errors may be referred; to which the
+agitated mind of the spectator settles back as upon its centre of
+gravity, its pivot of repose.
+
+(2) The second paradox, though it is equally true, you may find a little
+subtler. Yet it but applies to Art the simple truth of the Gospel, that
+he who would save his soul must first lose it. Though personality
+pervades Style and cannot be escaped, the first sin against Style as
+against good Manners is to obtrude or exploit personality. The very
+greatest work in Literature--the "Iliad," the "Odyssey," the
+"Purgatorio," "The Tempest," "Paradise Lost," the "Republic," "Don
+Quixote"--is all
+
+ Seraphically free
+ From taint of personality.
+
+And Flaubert, that gladiator among artists, held that, at its highest,
+literary art could be carried into pure science. 'I believe,' said he,
+'that great art is scientific and impersonal. You should by an
+intellectual effort transport yourself into characters, not draw _them_
+into _yourself_. That at least is the method.' On the other hand, says
+Goethe, 'We should endeavour to use words that correspond as closely as
+possible with what we feel, see, think, imagine, experience, and reason.
+It is an endeavour we cannot evade and must daily renew.' I call
+Flaubert's the better counsel, even though I have spent a part of this
+lecture in attempting to prove it impossible. It at least is noble,
+encouraging us to what is difficult. The shrewder Goethe encourages us to
+exploit ourselves to the top of our bent. I think Flaubert would have hit
+the mark if for 'impersonal' he had substituted 'disinterested.'
+
+For--believe me, Gentlemen--so far as Handel stands above Chopin, as
+Velasquez above Greuze, even so far stand the great masculine objective
+writers above all who appeal to you by parade of personality or private
+sentiment.
+
+Mention of these great masculine 'objective' writers brings me to my last
+word: which is, 'Steep yourselves in _them_: habitually bring all to the
+test of _them_: for while you cannot escape the fate of all style, which
+is to be personal, the more of catholic manhood you inherit from those
+great loins the more you will assuredly beget.'
+
+This then is Style. As technically manifested in Literature it is the
+power to touch with ease, grace, precision, any note in the gamut of
+human thought or emotion.
+
+But essentially it resembles good manners. It comes of endeavouring to
+understand others, of thinking for them rather than for yourself--of
+thinking, that is, with the heart as well as the head. It gives rather
+than receives; it is nobly careless of thanks or applause, not being fed
+by these but rather sustained and continually refreshed by an inward
+loyalty to the best. Yet, like 'character' it has its altar within; to
+that retires for counsel, from that fetches its illumination, to ray
+outwards. Cultivate, Gentlemen, that habit of withdrawing to be advised
+by the best. So, says Fénelon, 'you will find yourself infinitely
+quieter, your words will be fewer and more effectual; and while you make
+less ado, what you do will be more profitable.'
+
+
+[Footnote 1: 'An oration,' says Quintilian, 'may find room for almost any
+word saving a few indecent ones (_quae sunt parum verecunda_).' He adds
+that writers of the Old Comedy were often commended even for these: 'but
+it is enough for us to mind our present business--_sed nobis nostrum opus
+intueri sat est._']
+
+
+
+
+INDEX
+
+
+Abelard 203, 205, 212
+Abercrombie, Lascelles 18
+Addison, Joseph 124, 172
+Alcuin 199, 200, 204, 205
+Alfred, King 186
+Aristophanes 192
+Aristotle 128, 203, 227
+Arnold, Matthew 35, 76, 139, 186, 202
+"Arte of Rhetorique," Wilson's 118
+Ascham, Roger 121, 188
+Augustine 199
+
+Bacon, Lord 6, 7, 10, 220, 231
+Bagehot, Walter 216
+"Ballata" 45
+Barbour, John 112
+Barrie, Sir James Matthew 17, 135
+Bede 204
+Beerbohm, Max 222
+Belisarius 175
+Bentham, Jeremy 97
+"Beowulf" 159-165
+Béranger, Pierre-Jean de 45
+Berners, Lord 108-110,120
+Bible, The:
+ Authorised Version 53, 97, 110, 122 et seq., 141, 143, 190
+ Revised Version 131-133
+Blair, Wilfred 80
+Blake, William 12
+Boccaccio 184
+Boethius 203
+Bologna, University of 200-1, 206
+Borneil, Giraud de 181
+Boswell, James 238
+Bridges, Robert 19
+Brooke, the Rev. Stopford A. 159
+Brougham, Ld 47, 101
+Browne, Sir Thomas 10, 51, 124, 168, 232
+Browning, Robert 39, 186
+Buffon 245
+Bunyan, John 124
+Burke, Edmund 27, 28, 46, 47-52, 101
+Burns, Robert 45
+Butler, Arthur John 20
+
+Caedmon 163
+Cambridge 201 _et seqq._
+Campion, Thomas 185, 188
+Carducci, Giosué 154-5
+Carlyle, Thomas 18, 103, 245
+Cellini, Benvenuto 41
+Cervantes 7, 25
+Chadwick, Professor H. M. 163
+Chair of English Literature, University Ordinance 7
+Chambers, E. K. 199
+Champeaux, William of 205
+Chaucer, Geoffrey 10, 110-111, 163, 183, 184, 219
+Chesterton, Gilbert K. 233
+Chichester, Richard of 211
+Cicero 28, 49
+Clare, John 39
+Coleridge, Samuel Taylor 41, 64, 65
+Conington, John 171-2
+Courthope, W. J. 13, 158, 184, 199
+Coverdale, Miles 124
+Cowley, Abraham 185
+Cowper, William 186
+Crewe, Ld Chief Justice 7
+Cynewulf 163
+
+Daniel, Samuel 185, 188
+Dante 77, 184
+Darwin, Charles 221
+Defoe, Daniel 61, 75.
+Dekker, Thomas 65
+De La Mare, Walter 237
+De Quincey, Thomas 54
+Desiderius, Archbishop 199
+Dionysius of Halicarnassus 28
+Donne, John 102, 106, 185
+Dryden, John 172, 186, 227
+"Duchess of Malfy," Webster's 99
+Dunbar 10
+
+'Eliot, George' 11
+Emerson, Ralph Waldo 11
+
+Falconer, William 79
+Falkner, J. Meade 168-9
+Fénelon 248
+FitzGerald, Edward 97
+Flaubert, Gustave 247
+Fletcher, John 13
+Fowler, W. H. and F. G. 90, 137
+Freeman, Professor E. A. 158, 160, 174-179, 186
+"Froissart," Berners' 108
+Froude, James Anthony 78
+Fuller, Thomas 206
+
+Gibbon, Edward 124, 216
+Gildas 175
+Goethe 103, 247
+Gray, Thomas 11, 16, 136, 157-8, 162
+Green, J. R. 158
+Green, T. H. 8
+Gregory the Great, Pope 199
+Grierson, Professor H. J. C. 185
+
+Hamilton, Sir William 213
+Hardy, Thomas 18
+Harris, Frank 240
+Harvey, Gabriel 185, 216-7
+Heine, Heinrich 45
+Herbert, George 133
+"Hero and Leander," Marlowe's 98
+Herodotus 44, 63
+Homer 25, 64, 69, 76-78, 80, 81, 161, 190, 228
+Horace 171-2
+Housman, Professor A. E. 222
+
+Ibsen 96
+Irnerius 206
+Isaiah 130-133
+
+Jackson, Dr Henry 213
+Johnson, Samuel 11, 37, 69, 121, 172, 238
+Jonson, Ben 129, 146, 185, 219, 220
+Jowett, Benjamin 29
+Jusserand, J. J. 182
+Juvenal, 172
+
+Keats, John 16, 39, 186
+Kempis, Thomas ŕ 15
+Ker, Professor W. P. 160, 199
+Kipling, Rudyard 61
+
+Lamb, Charles 41
+Lessing 81, 227, 244
+Lindsay, the Rev. T. M., D.D. 118
+Lloyd George, the Right Hon. David 137-8
+Lucian 6, 160, 192, 228, 245
+Lucretius 193
+
+Malory, Sir Thomas 107-110, 120
+Marlowe, Christopher 98-9, 185, 220
+Marvell, Andrew 185
+Mason, William 157
+Masson, David 12
+McKenna, the Right Hon. Reginald 137-8
+Meredith, George 243, 247
+Milton, John 1, 10, 16, 43, 56-62, 74-76, 124, 152, 185, 195, 238
+Minto, Professor William 245
+Moore, Thomas 45
+Morris, William 188
+Mullinger, J. Bass 205, 219
+Murray, Professor Gilbert 193
+
+Nashe, Thomas 120
+Newman, Cardinal 5, 30, 31-2, 115, 134, 144, 147, 234
+Newton, Sir Isaac 221
+Noyes, Alfred 78
+"Nut-Brown Maid, The" 111
+
+Oates, Captain 42
+Origen 195, 202
+Oxford 201 _et seq._
+
+Paris, University of 200, 205
+Pater, Walter 77, 222
+Patmore, Coventry 245
+Payne, E. J. 100-103
+"Pervigilium Veneris" 151, 194
+Pheidias 14
+Philosophy and Poetry 1
+Piers Plowman 163, 182
+"Pilgrimage to Parnassus, The" 217-220
+Plato 1-4, 150, 205
+Pliny 152-3
+Podsnap (_see_ Freeman)
+Poggio 205
+Pope, Alexander 157, 162
+Powell, F. York 159
+Provençal Song 181-183
+Pythagoras 208
+
+Quintilian 29, 140, 240
+
+Raleigh, Professor Sir Walter 9
+Rashdall, Hastings 208-213
+Remigius 206
+Renan 1
+Reynolds, Sir Joshua 23-25
+
+Sainte-Beuve, Charles Augustus 20
+Saintsbury, Prof. George 55, 56, 187
+Salamanca, University of 200
+Scott, The Antarctic Expedition 42
+Severus, Sulpicius 199
+Shakespeare, William 15, 41, 50, 51-2, 97-100, 113, 129, 185,
+ 190, 197, 219, 229, 246
+Shaw, George Bernard 72
+Shelley 40
+Shirley, James 106
+Sidgwick, Henry 232
+Sidney, Sir Philip 41-2
+Skeat, Walter W. 12
+"Sonata" 45
+South, Robert 102
+Spenser, Edmund 185, 206, 217, 219
+Stevenson, Robert Louis 133
+Stubbs, Bishop W. 44
+'Student's Handbook, The' 72-3
+Swift, Jonathan 61
+Swinburne, Algernon 196
+
+Taylor, Jeremy 68-9
+Tennyson, Lord 75, 186
+Tertullian 195, 198, 202
+Thackeray, William Makepeace 124
+Thompson, Francis 241
+Thomson, James 39
+Toulouse, University of 208
+Tyndale, William 122, 126, 127
+
+Vacarius 206
+Ventadour, Bernard de 181
+"Venus and Adonis" 98-9
+Verrall, Dr A. W. 7
+Vigfússon, Gudbrand 159
+Virgil 25, 80, 194, 200
+Voltaire 192
+
+Waller, Edmund 85
+Walpole, Horatio 173
+Walton, Isaak 70-1, 124, 201
+Warton, Thomas 158
+Watson, E. J. 155
+Watson, William 16
+Webster, John 99
+Wendell, Barrett 97
+Whistler, James McNeill 236
+Whitman, Walt 53, 56
+"Widsith" 60
+Wolfe, General 134
+Wood, Anthony 184
+Wordsworth, William 11, 12, 55, 67, 68, 129, 146, 186, 204, 210
+Wright, Aldis 12
+Wyat, Sir Thomas 115-118, 184
+Wyclif, John 124, 127
+
+Yeats, William Butler 143
+Young, Arthur 171
+
+
+
+Cambridge:
+Printed by J. B. Peace, M.A.,
+at the University Press.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's On the Art of Writing, by Arthur Quiller-Couch
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of On the Art of Writing, by Arthur Quiller-Couch
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: On the Art of Writing
+ Lectures delivered in the University of Cambridge 1913-1914
+
+Author: Arthur Quiller-Couch
+
+Release Date: January 5, 2006 [EBook #17470]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON THE ART OF WRITING ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by James Tenison
+
+
+
+
+
+ON THE ART OF WRITING
+
+
+
+CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS
+C.F. CLAY, Manager
+London: FETTER LANE, E.C.
+Edinburgh: 100 PRINCES STREET.
+
+
+
+Bombay, Calcutta and Madras: MACMILLAN & CO. LTD.
+Toronto: J.M. DENT AND SONS, LTD.
+Tokyo: THE MARUZEN-KABUSHIKI-KAISHA.
+
+
+Copyrighted in the United States of America by
+G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS,
+2, 4 AND 6, WEST 45TH STREET, NEW YORK CITY.
+
+
+All rights reserved
+
+
+
+
+ON THE ART OF WRITING
+
+LECTURES DELIVERED IN THE
+UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE
+1913-1914
+
+BY
+
+SIR ARTHUR QUILLER-COUCH, M.A.
+Fellow of Jesus College
+King Edward VII Professor of English Literature
+
+
+
+
+Cambridge: at the University Press
+1917
+
+
+First Edition 1916
+Reprinted 1916,1917
+
+
+
+TO JOHN HAY LOBBAN
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+By recasting these lectures I might with pains have turned them into a
+smooth treatise. But I prefer to leave them (bating a very few
+corrections and additions) as they were delivered. If, as the reader will
+all too easily detect, they abound no less in repetitions than in
+arguments dropped and left at loose ends--the whole bewraying a man
+called unexpectedly to a post where in the act of adapting himself, of
+learning that he might teach, he had often to adjourn his main purpose
+and skirmish with difficulties--they will be the truer to life; and so
+may experimentally enforce their preaching, that the Art of Writing is a
+living business.
+
+Bearing this in mind, the reader will perhaps excuse certain small
+vivacities, sallies that meet fools with their folly, masking the main
+attack. _That_, we will see, is serious enough; and others will carry it
+on, though my effort come to naught.
+
+It amounts to this--Literature is not a mere Science, to be studied; but
+an Art, to be practised. Great as is our own literature, we must consider
+it as a legacy to be improved. Any nation that potters with any glory of
+its past, as a thing dead and done for, is to that extent renegade. If
+that be granted, not all our pride in a Shakespeare can excuse the
+relaxation of an effort--however vain and hopeless--to better him, or
+some part of him. If, with all our native exemplars to give us courage,
+we persist in striving to write well, we can easily resign to other
+nations all the secondary fame to be picked up by commentators.
+
+Recent history has strengthened, with passion and scorn, the faith in
+which I wrote the following pages.
+
+ARTHUR QUILLER-COUCH
+November 1915
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE
+
+I INAUGURAL
+
+II THE PRACTICE OF WRITING
+
+III ON THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN VERSE AND PROSE
+
+IV ON THE CAPITAL DIFFICULTY OF VERSE
+
+V INTERLUDE: ON JARGON
+
+VI ON THE CAPITAL DIFFICULTY OF PROSE
+
+VII SOME PRINCIPLES REAFFIRMED
+
+VIII ON THE LINEAGE OF ENGLISH LITERATURE (I)
+
+IX ON THE LINEAGE OF ENGLISH LITERATURE (II)
+
+X ENGLISH LITERATURE IN OUR UNIVERSITIES (I)
+
+XI ENGLISH LITERATURE IN OUR UNIVERSITIES (II)
+
+XII ON STYLE
+
+
+ INDEX
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE I.
+
+INAUGURAL
+
+Wednesday, January 29, 1913
+
+
+In all the long quarrel set between philosophy and poetry I know of
+nothing finer, as of nothing more pathetically hopeless, than Plato's
+return upon himself in his last dialogue 'The Laws.' There are who find
+that dialogue (left unrevised) insufferably dull, as no doubt it is
+without form and garrulous. But I think they will read it with a new
+tolerance, may-be even with a touch of feeling, if upon second thoughts
+they recognise in its twisting and turnings, its prolixities and
+repetitions, the scruples of an old man who, knowing that his time in
+this world is short, would not go out of it pretending to know more than
+he does, and even in matters concerning which he was once very sure has
+come to divine that, after all, as Renan says, 'La Verite consiste dans
+les nuances.' Certainly 'the mind's dark cottage battered and decayed'
+does in that last dialogue admit some wonderful flashes,
+
+ From Heaven descended to the low-roofed house
+ Of Socrates,
+
+or rather to that noble 'banquet-hall deserted' which aforetime had
+entertained Socrates.
+
+Suffer me, Mr Vice-Chancellor and Gentlemen, before reaching my text, to
+remind you of the characteristically beautiful setting. The place is
+Crete, and the three interlocutors--Cleinias a Cretan, Megillus a
+Lacedaemonian, and an Athenian stranger--have joined company on a
+pilgrimage to the cave and shrine of Zeus, from whom Minos, first
+lawgiver of the island, had reputedly derived not only his parentage but
+much parental instruction. Now the day being hot, even scorching, and the
+road from Cnossus to the Sacred Cave a long one, our three pilgrims, who
+have foregathered as elderly men, take it at their leisure, and propose
+to beguile it with talk upon Minos and his laws. 'Yes, and on the way,'
+promises the Cretan, 'we shall come to cypress-groves exceedingly tall
+and fair, and to green meadows, where we may repose ourselves and
+converse.' 'Good,' assents the Athenian. 'Ay, very good indeed, and
+better still when we arrive at them. Let us push on.'
+
+So they proceed. I have said that all three are elderly men; that is, men
+who have had their opportunities, earned their wages, and so nearly
+earned their discharge that now, looking back on life, they can afford to
+see Man for what he really is--at his best a noble plaything for the
+gods. Yet they look forward, too, a little wistfully. They are of the
+world, after all, and nowise so tired of it, albeit disillusioned, as to
+have lost interest in the game or in the young who will carry it on. So
+Minos and his laws soon get left behind, and the talk (as so often
+befalls with Plato) is of the perfect citizen and how to train him--of
+education, in short; and so, as ever with Plato, we are back at length
+upon the old question which he could never get out of his way--What to do
+with the poets?
+
+It scarcely needs to be said that the Athenian has taken hold of the
+conversation, and that the others are as wax in his hands. 'O Athenian
+stranger,' Cleinias addresses him--'inhabitant of Attica I will not call
+you, for you seem to deserve rather the name of Athene herself, because
+you go back to first principles.' Thus complimented, the stranger lets
+himself go. Yet somehow he would seem to have lost speculative nerve.
+
+It was all very well in the 'Republic,' the ideal State, to be bold and
+declare for banishing poetry altogether. But elderly men have given up
+pursuing ideals; they have 'seen too many leaders of revolt.' Our
+Athenian is driving now at practice (as we say), at a well-governed State
+realisable on earth; and after all it is hard to chase out the poets,
+especially if you yourself happen to be something of a poet at heart.
+Hear, then, the terms on which, after allowing that comedies may be
+performed, but only by slaves and hirelings, he proceeds to allow serious
+poetry.
+
+ And if any of the serious poets, as they are termed, who write tragedy,
+ come to us and say--'O strangers, may we go to your city and country,
+ or may we not, and shall we bring with us our poetry? What is your will
+ about these matters?'--how shall we answer the divine men? I think that
+ our answer should be as follows:--
+
+ 'Best of strangers,' we will say to them, 'we also, according to our
+ ability, are tragic poets, and our tragedy is the best and noblest: for
+ our whole state is an imitation of the best and noblest life.... You are
+ poets and we are poets, both makers of the same strains, rivals and
+ antagonists in the noblest of dramas, which true law alone can perfect,
+ as our hope is. Do not then suppose that we shall all in a moment allow
+ you to erect your stage in the Agora, and introduce the fair voices of
+ your actors, speaking above our own, and permit you to harangue our
+ women and children and the common people in language other than our
+ own, and very often the opposite of our own. For a State would be mad
+ which gave you this license, until the magistrates had determined
+ whether your poetry might be recited and was fit for publication or
+ not. Wherefore, O ye sons and scions of the softer Muses! first of all
+ show your songs to the Magistrates and let them compare them with our
+ own, and if they are the same or better, we will give you a chorus; but
+ if not, then, my friends, we cannot.'
+
+Lame conclusion! Impotent compromise! How little applicable, at all
+events, to our Commonwealth! though, to be sure (you may say) we possess
+a relic of it in His Majesty's Licenser of Plays. As you know, there has
+been so much heated talk of late over the composition of the County
+Magistracy; yet I give you a countryman's word, Sir, that I have heard
+many names proposed for the Commission of the Peace, and on many grounds,
+but never one on the ground that its owner had a conservative taste in
+verse!
+
+Nevertheless, as Plato saw, we must deal with these poets somehow. It is
+possible (though not, I think, likely) that in the ideal State there
+would be no Literature, as it is certain there would be no Professors of
+it; but since its invention men have never been able to rid themselves of
+it for any length of time. _Tamen usque recurrit._ They may forbid
+Apollo, but still he comes leading his choir, the Nine:--
+
+ [Greek: Akletos men egoge menoimi ken es de kaleunton
+ Tharsesas Moisaisi snu amepeaisin ikoiman.]
+
+And he may challenge us English boldly! For since Chaucer, at any rate,
+he and his train have never been [Greek: akletoi] to us--least of all
+here in Cambridge.
+
+Nay, we know that he should be welcome. Cardinal Newman, proposing the
+idea of a University to the Roman Catholics of Dublin, lamented that the
+English language had not, like the Greek, 'some definite words to
+express, simply and generally, intellectual proficiency or perfection,
+such as "health," as used with reference to the animal frame, and
+"virtue," with reference to our moral nature.' Well, it is a reproach to
+us that we do not possess the term: and perhaps again a reproach to us
+that our attempts at it--the word 'culture' for instance--have been apt
+to take on some soil of controversy, some connotative damage from
+over-preaching on the one hand and impatience on the other. But we do
+earnestly desire the thing. We do prize that grace of intellect which
+sets So-and-so in our view as 'a scholar and a gentleman.' We do wish as
+many sons of this University as may be to carry forth that lifelong stamp
+from her precincts; and--this is my point--from our notion of such a man
+the touch of literary grace cannot be excluded. I put to you for a test
+Lucian's description of his friend Demonax--
+
+ His way was like other people's; he mounted no high horse; he was just
+ a man and a citizen. He indulged in no Socratic irony. But his
+ discourse was full of Attic grace; those who heard it went away neither
+ disgusted by servility, nor repelled by ill-tempered censure, but on
+ the contrary lifted out of themselves by charity, and encouraged to
+ more orderly, contented, hopeful lives.
+
+I put it to you, Sir, that Lucian needs not to say another word, but we
+know that Demonax had loved letters, and partly by aid of them had
+arrived at being such a man. No; by consent of all, Literature is a nurse
+of noble natures, and right reading makes a full man in a sense even
+better than Bacon's; not replete, but complete rather, to the pattern for
+which Heaven designed him. In this conviction, in this hope, public
+spirited men endow Chairs in our Universities, sure that Literature is a
+good thing if only we can bring it to operate on young minds.
+
+That he has in him some power to guide such operation a man must believe
+before accepting such a Chair as this. And now, Sir, the terrible moment
+is come when your [Greek: xenos] must render some account--I will not say
+of himself, for that cannot be attempted--but of his business here. Well,
+first let me plead that while you have been infinitely kind to the
+stranger, feasting him and casting a gown over him, one thing not all
+your kindness has been able to do. With precedents, with traditions such
+as other Professors enjoy, you could not furnish him. The Chair is a new
+one, or almost new, and for the present would seem to float in the void,
+like Mahomet's coffin. Wherefore, being one who (in my Lord Chief Justice
+Crewe's phrase) would 'take hold of a twig or twine-thread to uphold it';
+being also prone (with Bacon) to believe that 'the counsels to which Time
+hath not been called, Time will not ratify'; I do assure you that, had
+any legacy of guidance been discovered among the papers left by my
+predecessor, it would have been eagerly welcomed and as piously honoured.
+O, trust me, Sir!--if any design for this Chair of English Literature had
+been left by Dr Verrall, it is not I who would be setting up any new
+stage in your agora! But in his papers--most kindly searched for me by
+Mrs Verrall--no such design can be found. He was, in truth, a stricken
+man when he came to the Chair, and of what he would have built we can
+only be sure that, had it been this or had it been that, it would
+infallibly have borne the impress of one of the most beautiful minds of
+our generation. The gods saw otherwise; and for me, following him, I came
+to a trench and stretched my hands to a shade.
+
+For me, then, if you put questions concerning the work of this Chair, I
+must take example from the artist in Don Quixote, who being asked what he
+was painting, answered modestly, 'That is as it may turn out.' The course
+is uncharted, and for sailing directions I have but these words of your
+Ordinance:
+
+ It shall be the duty of the Professor to deliver courses of lectures
+ on English Literature from the age of Chaucer onwards, and otherwise
+ to promote, so far as may be in his power, the study in the
+ University of the subject of English Literature.
+
+And I never even knew that English Literature had a 'subject'; or,
+rather, supposed it to have several! To resume:
+
+ The Professor shall treat this subject on literary and critical
+ rather than on philological and linguistic lines:
+
+--a proviso which at any rate cuts off a cantle, large in itself, if not
+comparatively, of the new Professor's ignorance. But I ask you to note
+the phrase 'to promote, so far as may be in his power, the study'--not,
+you will observe, 'to teach'; for this absolves me from raising at the
+start a question of some delicacy for me, as Green launched his
+"Prolegomena to Ethics" upon the remark that 'an author who seeks to gain
+general confidence scarcely goes the right way to work when he begins
+with asking whether there really is such a subject as that of which he
+proposes to treat.' In spite of--mark, pray, that I say _in spite
+of_--the activity of many learned Professors, some doubt does lurk in
+the public mind if, after all, English Literature can, in any ordinary
+sense, be taught, and if the attempts to teach it do not, after all,
+justify (as Wisdom is so often justified of her grandparents) the
+silence sapience of those old benefactors who abstained from endowing
+any such Chairs.
+
+But that the study of English Literature can be promoted in young minds
+by an elder one, that their zeal may be encouraged, their tastes
+directed, their vision cleared, quickened, enlarged--this, I take it, no
+man of experience will deny. Nay, since our two oldest Universities have
+a habit of marking one another with interest--an interest, indeed,
+sometimes heightened by nervousness--I may point out that all this has
+been done of late years, and eminently done, by a Cambridge man you gave
+to Oxford. This, then, Mr Vice-Chancellor--this or something like this,
+Gentlemen--is to be my task if I have the good fortune to win your
+confidence.
+
+Let me, then, lay down two or three principles by which I propose to be
+guided. (1) For the first principle of all I put to you that in studying
+any work of genius we should begin by taking it _absolutely_; that is to
+say, with minds intent on discovering just what the author's mind
+intended; this being at once the obvious approach to its meaning (its
+[Greek: to ti en einai], the 'thing it was to be'), and the merest duty
+of politeness we owe to the great man addressing us. We should lay our
+minds open to what he wishes to tell, and if what he has to tell be noble
+and high and beautiful, we should surrender and let soak our minds in it.
+
+Pray understand that in claiming, even insisting upon, the first place
+for this _absolute_ study of a great work I use no disrespect towards
+those learned scholars whose labours will help you, Gentlemen, to enjoy
+it afterwards in other ways and from other aspects; since I hold there is
+no surer sign of intellectual ill-breeding than to speak, even to feel,
+slightingly of any knowledge oneself does not happen to possess. Still
+less do I aim to persuade you that anyone should be able to earn a
+Cambridge degree by the process (to borrow Macaulay's phrase) of reading
+our great authors 'with his feet on the hob,' a posture I have not even
+tried, to recommend it for a contemplative man's recreation. These
+editors not only set us the priceless example of learning for learning's
+sake: but even in practice they clear our texts for us, and
+afterwards--when we go more minutely into our author's acquaintance,
+wishing to learn all we can about him--by increasing our knowledge of
+detail they enchance our delight. Nay, with certain early writers--say
+Chaucer or Dunbar, as with certain highly allusive ones--Bacon, or
+Milton, or Sir Thomas Browne--some apparatus must be supplied from the
+start. But on the whole I think it a fair contention that such helps to
+studying an author are secondary and subsidiary; that, for example, with
+any author who by consent is less of his age than for all time, to study
+the relation he bore to his age may be important indeed, and even highly
+important, yet must in the nature of things be of secondary importance,
+not of the first.
+
+But let us examine this principle a little more attentively--for it is
+the palmary one. As I conceive it, that understanding of literature which
+we desire in our Euphues, our gracefully-minded youth, will include
+knowledge in varying degree, yet is itself something distinct from
+knowledge. Let us illustrate this upon Poetry, which the most of us will
+allow to be the highest form of literary expression, if not of all
+artistic expression. Of all the testimony paid to Poetry, none commands
+better witness than this--that, as Johnson said of Gray's Elegy 'it
+abounds with images which find a mirror in every mind, and with
+sentiments to which every heart returns an echo.' When George Eliot said,
+'I never before met with so many of my own feelings expressed just as I
+should like them,' she but repeated of Wordsworth (in homelier, more
+familiar fashion) what Johnson said of Gray; and the same testimony lies
+implicit in Emerson's fine remark that 'Universal history, the poets, the
+romancers'--all good writers, in short--'do not anywhere make us feel
+that we intrude, that this is for our betters. Rather it is true that, in
+their greatest strokes, there we feel most at home.' The mass of
+evidence, of which these are samples, may be summarised thus:--As we
+dwell here between two mysteries, of a soul within and an ordered
+Universe without, so among us are granted to dwell certain men of more
+delicate intellectual fibre than their fellows--men whose minds have, as
+it were, filaments to intercept, apprehend, conduct, translate home to us
+stray messages between these two mysteries, as modern telegraphy has
+learnt to search out, snatch, gather home human messages astray over
+waste waters of the Ocean.
+
+If, then, the ordinary man be done this service by the poet, that (as Dr
+Johnson defines it) 'he feels what he remembers to have felt before, but
+he feels it _with a great increase of sensibility_'; or even if, though
+the message be unfamiliar, it suggests to us, in Wordsworth's phrase, to
+'feel that we are greater than we know,' I submit that we respond to it
+less by anything that usually passes for knowledge, than by an
+improvement of sensibility, a tuning up of the mind to the poet's pitch;
+so that the man we are proud to send forth from our Schools will be
+remarkable less for something he can take out of his wallet and exhibit
+for knowledge, than for _being_ something, and that 'something,' a man of
+unmistakable intellectual breeding, whose trained judgment we can trust
+to choose the better and reject the worse.
+
+But since this refining of the critical judgment happens to be less easy
+of practice than the memorising of much that passes for knowledge--of
+what happened to Harriet or what Blake said to the soldier--and far less
+easy to examine on, the pedagogic mind (which I implore you not to
+suppose me confusing with the scholarly) for avoidance of trouble tends
+all the while to dodge or obfuscate what is essential, piling up
+accidents and irrelevancies before it until its very face is hidden. And
+we should be the more watchful not to confuse the pedagogic mind with the
+scholarly since it is from the scholar that the pedagogue pretends to
+derive his sanction; ransacking the great genuine commentators--be it a
+Skeat or a Masson or (may I add for old reverence' sake?) an Aldis
+Wright--fetching home bits of erudition, _non sua poma_, and announcing
+'This _must_ be the true Sion, for we found it in a wood.'
+
+Hence a swarm of little school books pullulates annually, all upside down
+and wrong from beginning to end; and hence a worse evil afflicts us, that
+the English schoolboy starts with a false perspective of any given
+masterpiece, his pedagogue urging, obtruding lesser things upon his
+vision until what is really important, the poem or the play itself, is
+seen in distorted glimpses, if not quite blocked out of view.
+
+This same temptation--to remove a work of art from the category for which
+the author designed it into another where it can be more conveniently
+studied--reaches even above the schoolmaster to assail some very eminent
+critics. I cite an example from a book of which I shall hereafter have to
+speak with gratitude as I shall always name it with respect--"The History
+of English Poetry," by Dr Courthope, sometime Professor of Poetry at
+Oxford. In his fourth volume, and in his estimate of Fletcher as a
+dramatist, I find this passage:--
+
+ But the crucial test of a play's quality is only applied when it is
+ read. So long as the illusion of the stage gives credit to the
+ action, and the words and gestures of the actor impose themselves on
+ the imagination of the spectator, the latter will pass over a
+ thousand imperfections, which reveal themselves to the reader, who,
+ as he has to satisfy himself with the drama of silent images, will
+ nor be content if this or that in any way fall short of his
+ conception of truth and nature,
+
+--which seems equivalent to saying that the crucial test of the frieze of
+the Parthenon is its adaptability to an apartment in Bloomsbury. So long
+as the illusion of the Acropolis gave credit to Pheidias' design, and the
+sunlight of Attica imposed its delicate intended shadows edging the
+reliefs, the countrymen of Pericles might be tricked; but the visitor to
+the British Museum, as he has to satisfy himself with what happens
+indoors in the atmosphere of the West Central Postal Division of London,
+will not be content if Pheidias in any way fall short of _his_ conception
+of truth and nature. Yet Fletcher (I take it) constructed his plays as
+plays; the illusion of the stage, the persuasiveness of the actor's
+voice, were conditions for which he wrought, and on which he had a right
+to rely; and, in short, any critic behaves uncritically who, distrusting
+his imagination to recreate the play as a play, elects to consider it in
+the category of something else.
+
+In sum, if the great authors never oppress us with airs of condescension,
+but, like the great lords they are, put the meanest of us at our ease in
+their presence, I see no reason why we should pay to any commentator a
+servility not demanded by his master.
+
+My next two principles may be more briefly stated.
+
+(2) I propose next, then, that since our investigations will deal largely
+with style, that curiously personal thing; and since (as I have said)
+they cannot in their nature be readily brought to rule-of-thumb tests,
+and may therefore so easily be suspected of evading all tests, of being
+mere dilettantism; I propose (I say) that my pupils and I rebuke this
+suspicion by constantly aiming at the concrete, at the study of such
+definite beauties as we can see presented in print under our eyes; always
+seeking the author's intention, but eschewing, for the present at any
+rate, all general definitions and theories, through the sieve of which
+the particular achievement of genius is so apt to slip. And having
+excluded them at first in prudence, I make little doubt we shall go on to
+exclude them in pride. Definitions, formulae (some would add, creeds) have
+their use in any society in that they restrain the ordinary
+unintellectual man from making himself a public nuisance with his private
+opinions. But they go a very little way in helping the man who has a real
+sense of prose or verse. In other words, they are good discipline for
+some thyrsus-bearers, but the initiated have little use for them. As
+Thomas a Kempis 'would rather feel compunction than understand the
+definition thereof,' so the initiated man will say of the 'Grand Style,'
+for example--'Why define it for me?' When Viola says simply:
+
+ I am all the daughters of my father's house,
+ And all the brothers too,
+
+or Macbeth demands of the Doctor
+
+ Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
+ Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow..?
+
+or Hamlet greets Ophelia, reading her Book of Hours, with
+
+ Nymph, in thy orisons
+ Be all my sins remembered!
+
+or when Milton tells of his dead friend how
+
+ Together both, ere the high lawns appear'd
+ Under the opening eyelids of the morn,
+ We drove afield,
+
+or describes the battalions of Heaven
+
+ On they move
+ Indissolubly firm: nor obvious hill,
+ Nor strait'ning vale, nor wood, nor stream divide
+ Their perfect ranks,
+
+or when Gray exalts the great commonplace
+
+ The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
+ And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
+ Awaits alike th' inevitable hour;
+ The paths of glory lead but to the grave,
+
+or when Keats casually drops us such a line as
+
+ The journey homeward to habitual self,
+
+or, to come down to our own times and to a living poet, when I open on a
+page of William Watson and read
+
+ O ancient streams, O far descended woods,
+ Full of the fluttering of melodious souls!...
+
+'why then (will say the initiated one), why worry me with any definition
+of the Grand Style in English, when here, and here, and again here--in
+all these lines, simple or intense or exquisite or solemn--I recognise
+and feel the _thing_?'
+
+Indeed, Sir, the long and the short of the argument lie just here.
+Literature is not an abstract Science, to which exact definitions can be
+applied. It is an Art rather, the success of which depends on personal
+persuasiveness, on the author's skill to give as on ours to receive.
+
+(3) For our third principle I will ask you to go back with me to Plato's
+wayfarers, whom we have left so long under the cypresses; and loth as we
+must be to lay hands on our father Parmenides, I feel we must treat the
+gifted Athenian stranger to a little manhandling. For did you not
+observe--though Greek was a living language and to his metropolitan mind
+the only language--how envious he showed himself to seal up the well, or
+allow it to trickle only under permit of a public analyst: to treat all
+innovation as suspect, even as, a hundred odd years ago, the Lyrical
+Ballads were suspect?
+
+But the very hope of this Chair, Sir (as I conceive it), relies on the
+courage of the young. As Literature is an Art and therefore not to be
+pondered only, but practised, so ours is a living language and therefore
+to be kept alive, supple, active in all honourable use. The orator can
+yet sway men, the poet ravish them, the dramatist fill their lungs with
+salutary laughter or purge their emotions by pity or terror.
+The historian 'superinduces upon events the charm of order.'
+The novelist--well, even the novelist has his uses; and I would warn you
+against despising any form of art which is alive and pliant in the hands
+of men. For my part, I believe, bearing in mind Mr. Barrie's "Peter Pan"
+and the old bottles he renovated to hold that joyous wine, that even
+Musical Comedy, in the hands of a master, might become a thing of
+beauty. Of the Novel, at any rate--whether we like it or not--we have to
+admit that it does hold a commanding position in the literature of our
+times, and to consider how far Mr. Lascelles Abercrombie was right the
+other day when he claimed, on the first page of his brilliant study of
+Thomas Hardy, that 'the right to such a position is not to be disputed;
+for here, as elsewhere, the right to a position is no more than the
+power to maintain it.' You may agree with that or you may not; you may
+or may not deplore the forms that literature is choosing now-a-days; but
+there is no gainsaying that it is still very much alive. And I would say
+to you, Gentlemen, 'Believe, and be glad that Literature and the English
+tongue are both alive.' Carlyle, in his explosive way, once demanded of
+his countrymen, 'Shakespeare or India? If you had to surrender one to
+retain the other, which would you choose?' Well, our Indian Empire is
+yet in the making, while the works of Shakespeare are complete and
+purchasable in whole calf; so the alternatives are scarcely _in pari
+materia_; and moreover let us not be in a hurry to meet trouble half
+way. But in English Literature, which, like India, is still in the
+making, you have at once an Empire and an Emprise. In that alone you
+have inherited something greater than Sparta. Let us strive, each in his
+little way, to adorn it.
+
+But here at the close of my hour, the double argument, that Literature is
+an Art and English a living tongue, has led me right up to a fourth
+principle, the plunge into which (though I foresaw it from the first) all
+the coward in me rejoices at having to defer to another lecture. I
+conclude then, Gentlemen, by answering two suspicions, which very likely
+have been shaping themselves in your minds. In the first place, you will
+say, 'It is all very well for this man to talk about "cultivating an
+increased sensibility," and the like; but we know what that leads to--to
+quackery, to aesthetic chatter: "Isn't this pretty? Don't you admire
+that?"' Well, I am not greatly frightened. To begin with, when we come to
+particular criticism I shall endeavour to exchange it with you in plain
+terms; a manner which (to quote Mr Robert Bridges' "Essay on Keats") 'I
+prefer, because by obliging the lecturer to say definitely what he means,
+it makes his mistakes easy to point out, and in this way the true
+business of criticism is advanced.' But I have a second safeguard, more
+to be trusted: that here in Cambridge, with all her traditions of austere
+scholarship, anyone who indulges in loose distinct talk will be quickly
+recalled to his tether. Though at the time Athene be not kind enough to
+descend from heaven and pluck him backward by the hair, yet the very
+_genius loci_ will walk home with him from the lecture room, whispering
+monitions, cruel to be kind.
+
+'But,' you will say alternatively, 'if we avoid loose talk on these
+matters we are embarking on a mighty difficult business.' Why, to be sure
+we are; and that, I hope, will be half the enjoyment. After all, we have
+a number of critics among whose methods we may search for help--from the
+Persian monarch who, having to adjudicate upon two poems, caused the one
+to be read to him, and at once, without ado, awarded the prize to the
+other, up to the great Frenchman whom I shall finally invoke to sustain
+my hope of building something; that is if you, Gentlemen, will be content
+to accept me less as a Professor than as an Elder Brother.
+
+The Frenchman is Sainte-Beuve, and I pay a debt, perhaps appropriately
+here, by quoting him as translated by the friend of mine, now dead, who
+first invited me to Cambridge and taught me to admire her--one Arthur
+John Butler, sometime a Fellow of Trinity, and later a great pioneer
+among Englishmen in the study of Dante. Thus while you listen to the
+appeal of Sainte-Beuve, I can hear beneath it a more intimate voice, not
+for the first time, encouraging me.
+
+Sainte-Beuve then--_si magna licet componere parvis_--is delivering an
+Inaugural Lecture in the Ecole Normale, the date being April 12th, 1858.
+'Gentlemen,' he begins, 'I have written a good deal in the last thirty
+years; that is, I have scattered myself a good deal; so that I need to
+gather myself together, in order that my words may come before you with
+all the more freedom and confidence.' That is his opening; and he ends:--
+
+ As time goes on, you will make me believe that I can for my part be
+ of some good to you: and with the generosity of your age you will
+ repay me, in this feeling alone, far more than I shall be able to
+ give you in intellectual freedom, in literary thought. If in one
+ sense I bestow on you some of my experience, you will requite me,
+ and in a more profitable manner, by the sight of your ardour for
+ what is noble: you will accustom me to turn oftener and more
+ willingly towards the future in your company. You will teach me
+ again to hope.
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE II.
+
+THE PRACTICE OF WRITING.
+
+Wednesday, February 12
+
+
+We found, Gentlemen, towards the close of our first lecture, that the
+argument had drawn us, as by a double chain, up to the edge of a bold
+leap, over which I deferred asking you to take the plunge with me. Yet
+the plunge must be taken, and to-day I see nothing for it but to harden
+our hearts.
+
+Well, then, I propose to you that, English Literature being (as we
+agreed) an Art, with a living and therefore improvable language for its
+medium or vehicle, a part--and no small part--of our business is _to
+practise it._ Yes, I seriously propose to you that here in Cambridge we
+_practise writing_: that we practise it not only for our own improvement,
+but to make, or at least try to make, appropriate, perspicuous, accurate,
+persuasive writing a recognisable hall-mark of anything turned out by our
+English School. By all means let us study the great writers of the past
+for their own sakes; but let us study them for our guidance; that we, in
+our turn, having (it is to be hoped) something to say in our span of
+time, say it worthily, not dwindling out the large utterance of
+Shakespeare or of Burke. Portraits of other great ones look down on you
+in your college halls: but while you are young and sit at the brief
+feast, what avails their serene gaze if it do not lift up your hearts and
+movingly persuade you to match your manhood to its inheritance?
+
+I protest, Gentlemen, that if our eyes had not been sealed, as with wax,
+by the pedagogues of whom I spoke a fortnight ago, this one habit of
+regarding our own literature as a _hortus siccus_, this our neglect to
+practise good writing as the constant auxiliary of an Englishman's
+liberal education, would be amazing to you seated here to-day as it will
+be starkly incredible to the future historian of our times. Tell me,
+pray; if it concerned _Painting_--an art in which Englishmen boast a
+record far briefer, far less distinguished--what would you think of a
+similar acquiescence in the past, a like haste to presume the dissolution
+of aptitude and to close accounts, a like precipitancy to divorce us from
+the past, to rob the future of hope and even the present of lively
+interest? Consider, for reproof of these null men, the Discourses
+addressed (in a pedantic age, too) by Sir Joshua Reynolds to the Members
+and Students of the Royal Academy. He has (as you might expect) enough to
+say of Tintoretto, of Titian, of Caracci, and of the duty of studying
+their work with patience, with humility. But why does he exhort his
+hearers to con them?--Why, because he is all the time _driving at
+practice_. Hear how he opens his second Discourse (his first to the
+Students). After congratulating the prize-winners of 1769, he desires 'to
+lead them into such a course of study as may render their future progress
+answerable to their past improvement'; and the great man goes on:--
+
+ I flatter myself that from the long experience I have had, and the
+ necessary assiduity with which I have pursued these studies in which
+ like you I have been engaged, I shall be acquitted of vanity in
+ offering some hints to your consideration. They are indeed in a
+ great degree founded upon my own mistakes in the same pursuit....
+
+Mark the noble modesty of that! To resume--
+
+ In speaking to you of the Theory of the Art, I shall only consider
+ it as it has relation to the method of your studies.
+
+And then he proceeds to preach the Old Masters.--But how?--why?--to what
+end? Does he recite lists of names, dates, with formulae concerning
+styles? He does nothing of the sort. Does he recommend his old masters
+for copying, then?--for mere imitation? Not a bit of it!--he comes down
+like a hammer on copying. Then for what, in fine, will he have them
+studied? Listen:--
+
+ The more extensive your acquaintance is with the works of those who
+ have excelled, the more extensive will be your powers of invention.
+
+Yes, of _invention_, your power to make something new:
+
+ --and what may appear still more like a paradox, _the more original
+ will be your conceptions_.
+
+There spake Sir Joshua Reynolds: and I call that the voice of a true
+Elder Brother. He, standing face to face with the young, thought of the
+old masters mainly as spiritual begetters of practice. And will anyone in
+this room tell me that what Reynolds said of painting is not to-day, for
+us, applicable to writing?
+
+We accept it of Greek and Latin. An old Sixth Form master once said to
+me, 'You may give up Latin Verse for this term, if you will: but I warn
+you, no one can be a real scholar who does not constantly practise
+verse.' He was mistaken, belike. I hold, for my part, that in our Public
+Schools, we give up a quite disproportionate amount of time to
+'composition' (of Latin Prose especially) and starve the boys' reading
+thereby. But at any rate we do give up a large share of the time to it.
+Then if we insist on this way with the tongues of Homer and Virgil, why
+do we avoid it with the tongue of Shakespeare, our own living tongue? I
+answer by quoting one of the simplest wisest sayings of Don Quixote
+(Gentlemen, you will easily, as time goes on, and we better our
+acquaintance, discover my favourite authors):--
+
+ The great Homer wrote not in Latin, for he was a Greek; and Virgil
+ wrote not in Greek, because he was a Latin. In brief, all the
+ ancient poets wrote in the tongue which they sucked in with their
+ mother's milk, nor did they go forth to seek for strange ones to
+ express the greatness of their conceptions: and, this being so, it
+ should be a reason for the fashion to extend to all nations.
+
+Does the difference, then, perchance lie in ourselves? Will you tell me,
+'Oh, painting is a special art, whereas anyone can write prose passably
+well'? Can he, indeed?... Can _you,_ sir? Nay, believe me, you are either
+an archangel or a very bourgeois gentleman indeed if you admit to having
+spoken English prose all your life without knowing it.
+
+Indeed, when we try to speak prose without having practised it the result
+is apt to be worse than our own vernacular. How often have I heard some
+worthy fellow addressing a public audience!--say a Parliamentary
+candidate who believes himself a Liberal Home Ruler, and for the moment
+is addressing himself to meet some criticism of the financial proposals
+of a Home Rule Bill. His own vernacular would be somewhat as follows:--
+
+ Oh, rot! Give the Irish their heads and they'll run straight enough.
+ Look at the Boers, don't you know. Not half such a decent sort as
+ the Irish. Look at Irish horses, too. Eh? What?
+
+But this, he is conscious, would hardly suit the occasion. He therefore
+amends it thus:--
+
+ Mr Chairman--er--as regards the financial proposals of His Majesty's
+ Government, I am of the deliberate--er--opinion that our national
+ security--I may say, our Imperial security--our security as--er--a
+ governing people--lies in trusting the Irish as we did in the--er
+ --case of the Boers--H'm Mr Gladstone, Mr Chairman--Mr Chairman, Mr
+ Gladstone----
+
+and so on. You perceive that the style is actually worse than in the
+sample quoted before; it has become flabby whereas that other was at any
+rate nervous? But now suppose that, having practised it, our candidate
+was able to speak like this:--
+
+ 'But what (says the Financier) is peace to us without money? Your plan
+ gives us no revenue.' No? But it does--for it secures to the subject
+ the power of Refusal, the first of all Revenues. Experience is a cheat,
+ and fact is a liar, if this power in the subject of proportioning his
+ grant, or of not granting at all, has not been found the richest mine
+ of Revenue ever discovered by the skill or by the fortune of man. It
+ does not indeed vote you 152,750 pounds 11 shillings 2 3/4 pence, nor
+ any other paltry limited sum--but it gives you the strong box itself,
+ the fund, the bank, from whence only revenues can arise among a people
+ sensible of freedom: _Posita luditur arca_.... Is this principle to be
+ true in England, and false everywhere else? Is it not true in Ireland?
+ Has it not hitherto been true in the Colonies? Why should you presume
+ that in any country a body duly constituted for any function will
+ neglect to perform its duty and abdicate its trust? Such a presumption
+ would go against all Governments in all nations. But in truth this
+ dread of penury of supply, from a free assembly, has no foundation in
+ nature. For first, observe that, besides the desire which all men have
+ naturally of supporting the honour of their own Government, that sense
+ of dignity, and that security to property, which ever attend freedom,
+ have a tendency to increase the stock of a free community. Most may be
+ taken where most is accumulated. And what is the soil or climate where
+ experience has not uniformly proved that the voluntary flow of
+ heaped-up plenty, bursting from the weight of its own luxuriance, has
+ ever run with a more copious stream of revenue than could be squeezed
+ from the dry husks of oppressed indigence by the straining of all the
+ politic machinery in the world?
+
+That, whether you agree or disagree with its doctrine, is great prose.
+That is Burke. 'O Athenian stranger,' said the Cretan I quoted in my
+first lecture,--'inhabitant of Attica I will not call you, since you
+deserve the name of Athene herself, because you go back to first
+principles!'
+
+But, you may object, 'Burke is talking like a book, and I have no wish to
+talk like a book.' Well, as a fact, Burke is here at the culmen of a long
+sustained argument, and his language has soared with it, as his way
+was--logic and emotion lifting him together as upon two balanced majestic
+wings. But you are shy of such heights? Very well again, and all credit
+to your modesty! Yet at least (I appeal to that same modesty) when you
+talk or write, you would wish to _observe the occasion_; to say what you
+have to say without impertinence or ill-timed excess. You would not
+harangue a drawing-room or a subcommittee, or be facetious at a funeral,
+or play the skeleton at a banquet: for in all such conduct you would be
+mixing up things that differ. Be cheerful, then: for this desire of yours
+to be appropriate is really the root of the matter. Nor do I ask you to
+accept this on my sole word, but will cite you the most respectable
+witnesses. Take, for instance, a critic who should be old enough to
+impress you--Dionysius of Halicarnassus. After enumerating the qualities
+which lend charm and nobility to style, he closes the list with
+'appropriateness, which all these need':--
+
+ As there is a charming diction, so there is another that is noble;
+ as there is a polished rhythm, so there is another that is
+ dignified; as variety adds grace in one passage, so in another it
+ adds fulness; _and as for appropriation, it will prove the chief
+ source of beauty, or else of nothing at all_.
+
+Or listen to Cicero, how he sets appropriateness in the very heart of his
+teaching, as the master secret:--
+
+ Is erit eloquens qui poterit parva summisse, modica temperate, magna
+ graviter dicere.... Qui ad id quodcunque decebit poterit accommodare
+ orationem. Quod quum statuerit, tum, ut quidque erit dicendum, ita
+ dicet, nec satura jejune, nec grandia minute, nec item contra, sed
+ erit rebus ipsis par et aequalis oratio.
+
+ 'Whatever his theme he will speak as becomes it; neither meagrely
+ where it is copious, nor meanly where it is ample, nor in _this_ way
+ where it demands _that_; but keeping his speech level with the
+ actual subject and adequate to it.'
+
+I might quote another great man, Quintilian, to you on the first
+importance of this appropriateness, or 'propriety'; of speaking not only
+to the purpose but _becomingly_--though the two as (he rightly says) are
+often enough one and the same thing. But I will pass on to what has ever
+seemed, since I found it in one of Jowett's 'Introductions' to Plato, the
+best definition known to me of good style in literature:--
+
+ The perfection of style is variety in unity, freedom, ease,
+ clearness, the power of saying anything, and of striking any note in
+ the scale of human feelings, without impropriety.
+
+You see, O my modest friend! that your gamut needs not to be very wide,
+to begin with. The point is that within it you learn to play becomingly.
+
+Now I started by proposing that we try together to make appropriate,
+perspicuous, accurate, persuasive writing a hall-mark of anything turned
+out by our English School here, and I would add (growing somewhat
+hardier) a hall-mark of all Cambridge style so far as our English School
+can influence it. I chose these four epithets _accurate, perspicuous,
+persuasive, appropriate_, with some care, of course as my duty was; and
+will assume that by this time we are agreed to desire _appropriateness_.
+Now for the other three:--
+
+_Perspicuity._--I shall waste no words on the need of this: since the
+first aim of speech is to be understood. The more clearly you write the
+more easily and surely you will be understood. I propose to demonstrate
+to you further, in a minute or so, that the more clearly you write the
+more clearly you will understand yourself. But a sufficient reason has
+been given in ten words why you should desire perspicuity.
+
+_Accuracy._--Did I not remind myself in my first lecture, that Cambridge
+is the home of accurate scholarship? Surely no Cambridge man would
+willingly be a sloven in speech, oral or written? Surely here, if
+anywhere, should be acknowledged of all what Newman says of the classics,
+that 'a certain unaffected neatness and propriety and grace of diction
+may be required of any author, for the same reason that a certain
+attention to dress is expected of every gentleman.' After all, what are
+the chief differentiae between man and the brute creation but that he
+clothes himself, that he cooks his food, that he uses articulate speech?
+Let us cherish and improve all these distinctions.
+
+But shall we now look more carefully into these twin questions of
+perspicuity and accuracy: for I think pursuing them, we may almost reach
+the philosophic kernel of good writing. I quoted Newman playfully a
+moment ago. I am going to quote him in strong earnest. And here let me
+say that of all the books written in these hundred years there is perhaps
+none you can more profitably thumb and ponder than that volume of his in
+which, under the title of "The Idea of a University," he collected nine
+discourses addressed to the Roman Catholics of Dublin with some lectures
+delivered to the Catholic University there. It is fragmentary, because
+its themes were occasional. It has missed to be appraised at its true
+worth, partly no doubt by reason of the colour it derives from a religion
+still unpopular in England. But in fact it may be read without offence by
+the strictest Protestant; and the book is so wise--so eminently wise--as
+to deserve being bound by the young student of literature for a frontlet
+on his brow and a talisman on his writing wrist.
+
+Now you will find much pretty swordsmanship in its pages, but nothing
+more trenchant than the passage in which Newman assails and puts to rout
+the Persian host of infidels--I regret to say, for the most part Men of
+Science--who would persuade us that good writing, that style, is
+something extrinsic to the subject, a kind of ornamentation laid on to
+tickle the taste, a study for the _dilettante_, but beneath the notice of
+_their_ stern and masculine minds.
+
+Such a view, as he justly points out, belongs rather to the Oriental mind
+than to our civilisation: it reminds him of the way young gentlemen go to
+work in the East when they would engage in correspondence with the object
+of their affection. The enamoured one cannot write a sentence himself:
+_he_ is the specialist in passion (for the moment); but thought and words
+are two things to him, and for words he must go to another specialist,
+the professional letter-writer. Thus there is a division of labour.
+
+ The man of words, duly instructed, dips the pen of desire in the ink of
+ devotedness and proceeds to spread it over the page of desolation. Then
+ the nightingale of affection is heard to warble to the rose of
+ loveliness, while the breeze of anxiety plays around the brow of
+ expectation. That is what the Easterns are said to consider fine
+ writing; and it seems pretty much the idea of the school of critics to
+ which I have been referring.
+
+Now hear this fine passage:--
+
+ Thought and speech are inseparable from each other. Matter and
+ expression are parts of one; style is a thinking out into language.
+ That is what I have been laying down, and this is literature; not
+ _things_, but the verbal symbols of things; not on the other hand mere
+ _words_; but thoughts expressed in language. Call to mind, gentlemen,
+ the meaning of the Greek word which expresses this special prerogative
+ of man over the feeble intelligence of the lower animals. It is called
+ Logos; what does Logos mean? it stands both for _reason_ and for
+ _speech_, and it is difficult to say which it means more properly. It
+ means both at once: why? because really they cannot be divided.... When
+ we can separate light and illumination, life and motion, the convex and
+ the concave of a curve, then will it be possible for thought to tread
+ speech under foot and to hope to do without it--then will it be
+ conceivable that the vigorous and fertile intellect should renounce its
+ own double, its instrument of expression and the channel of its
+ speculations and emotions.
+
+'As if,' he exclaims finely, 'language were the hired servant, the mere
+mistress of reason, and not the lawful wife in her own house!'
+
+If you need further argument (but what serves it to slay the slain?) let
+me remind you that you cannot use the briefest, the humblest process of
+thought, cannot so much as resolve to take your bath hot or cold, or
+decide what to order for breakfast, without forecasting it to yourself in
+some form of words. Words are, in fine, the only currency in which we can
+exchange thought even with ourselves. Does it not follow, then, that the
+more accurately we use words the closer definition we shall give to our
+thoughts? Does it not follow that by drilling ourselves to write
+perspicuously we train our minds to clarify their thought? Does it not
+follow that some practice in the deft use of words, with its
+correspondent defining of thought, may well be ancillary even to the
+study of Natural Science in a University?
+
+But I have another word for our men of science. It was inevitable,
+perhaps, that Latin--so long the Universal Language--should cease in time
+to be that in which scientific works were written. It was impossible,
+perhaps, to substitute, by consent, some equally neat and austere modern
+language, such as French. But when it became an accepted custom for each
+nation to use its own language in scientific treatises, it certainly was
+not foreseen that men of science would soon be making discoveries at a
+rate which left their skill in words outstripped; that having to invent
+their terms as they went along, yet being careless and contemptuous of a
+science in which they have no training, they would bombast out our
+dictionaries with monstrously invented words that not only would have
+made Quintilian stare and gasp, but would affront the decently literate
+of any age.
+
+After all, and though we must sigh and acquiesce in the building of
+Babel, we have some right to examine the bricks. I was waiting, the other
+day, in a doctor's anteroom, and picked up one of those books--it was a
+work on pathology--so thoughtfully left lying in such places; to persuade
+us, no doubt, to bear the ills we have rather than fly to others capable
+of being illustrated. I found myself engaged in following the manoeuvres
+of certain well-meaning bacilli generically described as 'Antibodies.' I
+do not accuse the author (who seemed to be a learned man) of having
+invented this abominable term: apparently it passed current among
+physiologists and he had accepted it for honest coin. I found it, later
+on, in Webster's invaluable dictionary: Etymology, 'anti' up against
+'body', some noxious 'foreign body' inside your body or mine.
+
+Now gin a body meet a body for our protection and in this gallant spirit,
+need a body reward him with this hybrid label? Gratitude apart, I say
+that for our own self-respect, whilst we retain any sense of intellectual
+pedigree, 'antibody' is no word to throw at a friendly bacillus. Is it
+consonant with the high dignity of science to make her talk like a cheap
+showman advertising a 'picture-drome'? The man who eats peas with his
+knife can at least claim a historical throwback to the days when forks
+had but two prongs and the spoons had been removed with the soup. But
+'antibody' has no such respectable derivation. It is, in fact, a
+barbarism, and a mongrel at that. The man who uses it debases the
+currency of learning: and I suggest to you that it is one of the many
+functions of a great University to maintain the standard of that
+currency, to guard the _jus et norma loquendi_, to protect us from such
+hasty fellows or, rather, to suppeditate them in their haste.
+
+Let me revert to our list of the qualities necessary to good writing, and
+come to the last--_Persuasiveness_; of which you may say, indeed, that it
+embraces the whole--not only the qualities of propriety, perspicuity,
+accuracy, we have been considering, but many another, such as harmony,
+order, sublimity, beauty of diction; all in short that--writing being an
+art, not a science, and therefore so personal a thing--may be summed up
+under the word _Charm_. Who, at any rate, does not seek after Persuasion?
+It is the aim of all the arts and, I suppose, of all exposition of the
+sciences; nay, of all useful exchange of converse in our daily life. It
+is what Velasquez attempts in a picture, Euclid in a proposition, the
+Prime Minister at the Treasury box, the journalist in a leading article,
+our Vicar in his sermon. Persuasion, as Matthew Arnold once said, is the
+only true intellectual process. The mere cult of it occupied many of the
+best intellects of the ancients, such as Longinus and Quintilian, whose
+writings have been preserved to us just because they were prized. Nor can
+I imagine an earthly gift more covetable by you, Gentlemen, than that of
+persuading your fellows to listen to your views and attend to what you
+have at heart.
+
+Suppose, sir, that you wish to become a journalist? Well, and why not? Is
+it a small thing to desire the power of influencing day by day to better
+citizenship an unguessed number of men, using the best thought and
+applying it in the best language at your command?... Or are you, perhaps,
+overawed by the printed book? On that, too, I might have a good deal to
+say; but for the moment would keep the question as practical as I can.
+
+Well, it is sometimes said that Oxford men make better journalists than
+Cambridge men, and some attribute this to the discipline of their great
+School of _Literae Humaniores_, which obliges them to bring up a weekly
+essay to their tutor, who discusses it. Cambridge men retort that all
+Oxford men are journalists, and throw, of course, some accent of scorn on
+the word. But may I urge--and remember please that my credit is pledged
+to _you_ now--may I urge that this is not a wholly convincing answer?
+For, to begin with, Oxford men have not changed their natures since
+leaving school, but are, by process upon lines not widely divergent from
+your own, much the same pleasant sensible fellows you remember. And,
+next, if you truly despise journalism, why then despise it, have done
+with it and leave it alone. But I pray you, do not despise it if you mean
+to practise it, though it be but as a step to something better. For while
+the ways of art are hard at the best, they will break you if you go
+unsustained by belief in what you are trying to do.
+
+In asking you to practise the written word, I began with such
+low but necessary things as propriety, perspicuity, accuracy.
+But _persuasion_--the highest form of persuasion at any rate--cannot be
+achieved without a sense of beauty. And now I shoot a second rapid--_I
+want you to practise verse, and to practise it assiduously_.... I am
+quite serious. Let me remind you that, if there ever was an ancient
+state of which we of Great Britain have great right and should have
+greater ambition to claim ourselves the spiritual heirs, that state was
+Imperial Rome. And of the Romans (whom you will allow to have been a
+practical people) nothing is more certain than the value they set upon
+acquiring verse. To them it was not only (as Dr Johnson said of Greek)
+'like old lace--you can never have too much of it.' They cultivated it
+with a straight eye to national improvement. Among them, as a scholar
+reminded us the other day, you find 'an educational system deliberately
+and steadily directed towards the development of poetical talent. They
+were not a people of whom we can say, as we can of the Greeks, that they
+were born to art and literature.... The characteristic Roman triumphs
+are the triumphs of a material civilisation.' Rome's role in the world
+was 'the absorption of outlying genius.' Themselves an unimaginative
+race with a language not too tractable to poetry, they made great
+poetry, and they made it of patient set purpose, of hard practice. I
+shall revert to this and maybe amplify reasons in another lecture. For
+the moment I content myself with stating the fact that no nation ever
+believed in poetry so deeply as the Romans.
+
+Perpend this then, and do not too hastily deride my plea that you should
+practise verse-writing. I know most of the objections, though I may not
+remember all. _Mediocribus esse poetis_, etc.--that summarises most of
+them: yet of an infliction of much bad verse from you, if I am prepared
+to endure it, why should anyone else complain? I say that the youth of a
+University ought to practise verse-writing; and will try to bring this
+home to you by an argument convincing to me, though I have never seen it
+in print.
+
+What are the great poetical names of the last hundred years or so?
+Coleridge, Wordsworth, Byron, Shelley, Landor, Keats, Tennyson, Browning,
+Arnold, Morris, Rossetti, Swinburne--we may stop there. Of these all but
+Keats, Browning, Rossetti were University men; and of these three Keats,
+who died young, cut off in his prime, was the only one not fairly
+well-to-do. It may seem a brutal thing to say, and it is a sad thing to
+say: but, as a matter of hard fact, the theory that poetical genius
+bloweth where it listeth, and equally in poor and rich, holds little
+truth. As a matter of hard fact, nine out of those twelve were
+University men: which means that somehow or other they procured the
+means to get the best education England can give. As a matter of hard
+fact, of the remaining three you know that Browning was well-to-do, and
+I challenge you that, if he had not been well-to-do, he would no more
+have attained to writing "Saul" or "The Ring and the Book" than Ruskin
+would have attained to writing "Modern Painters" if his father had not
+dealt prosperously in business. Rossetti had a small private income;
+and, moreover, he painted. There remains but Keats; whom Atropos slew
+young, as she slew John Clare in a madhouse, and James Thomson by the
+laudanum he took to drug disappointment. These are dreadful facts, but
+let us face them. It is--however dishonouring to us as a nation--certain
+that, by some fault in our commonwealth, the poor poet has not in these
+days, nor has had for two hundred years, a dog's chance. Believe me--and
+I have spent a great part of the last ten years in watching some 320
+Elementary Schools--we may prate of democracy, but actually a poor child
+in England has little more hope than had the son of an Athenian slave to
+be emancipated into that intellectual freedom of which great writings
+are born.
+
+What do I argue from this? I argue that until we can bring more
+intellectual freedom into our State, more 'joy in widest commonalty
+spread,' upon you, a few favoured ones, rests an obligation to see that
+the springs of English poetry do not fail. I put it to you that of this
+glory of our birth and state _you_ are the temporary stewards. I put it
+to the University, considered as a dispenser of intellectual light, that
+to treat English poetry as though it had died with Tennyson and your
+lecturers had but to compose the features of a corpse, is to abnegate
+high hope for the sake of a barren convenience. I put it to the Colleges,
+considered as disciplinary bodies, that the old way of letting Coleridge
+slip, chasing forth Shelley, is, after all, not the wisest way. Recollect
+that in Poesy as in every other human business, the more there are who
+practise it the greater will be the chance of _someone's_ reaching
+perfection. It is the impetus of the undistinguished host that flings
+forward a Diomed or a Hector. And when you point with pride to Milton's
+and those other mulberry trees in your Academe, bethink you 'What poets
+are they shading to-day? Or are their leaves but feeding worms to spin
+gowns to drape Doctors of Letters?'
+
+In the life of Benvenuto Cellini you will find this passage worth your
+pondering.--He is telling how, while giving the last touches to his
+Perseus in the great square of Florence, he and his workmen inhabited a
+shed built around the statue. He goes on:--
+
+ The folk kept on attaching sonnets to the posts of the door....I believe
+ that, on the day when I opened it for a few hours to the public, more
+ than twenty were nailed up, all of them overflowing with the highest
+ panegyrics. Afterwards, when I once more shut it off from view,
+ everyone brought sonnets, with Latin and Greek verses: for the
+ University of Pisa was then in vacation, and all the doctors and
+ scholars kept vying with each other who could produce the best.
+
+I may not live to see the doctors and scholars of this University thus
+employing the Long Vacation; as perhaps we shall wait some time for
+another Perseus to excite them to it. But I do ask you to consider that
+the Perseus was not entirely cause nor the sonnets entirely effect; that
+the age when men are eager about great work is the age when great work
+gets itself done; nor need it disturb us that most of the sonnets were,
+likely enough, very bad ones--in Charles Lamb's phrase, very like what
+Petrarch might have written if Petrarch had been born a fool. It is the
+impetus that I ask of you: the will to try.
+
+Lastly, Gentlemen, do not set me down as one who girds at your
+preoccupation, up here, with bodily games; for, indeed, I hold
+'gymnastic' to be necessary as 'music' (using both words in the Greek
+sense) for the training of such youths as we desire to send forth from
+Cambridge. But I plead that they should be balanced, as they were in the
+perfect young knight with whose words I will conclude to-day:--
+
+ Having this day my horse, my hand, my lance
+ Guided so well that I obtained the prize,
+ Both by the judgment of the English eyes
+ And of some sent by that sweet enemy France;
+ Horsemen my skill in horsemanship advance,
+ Town-folk my strength, a daintier judge applies
+ His praise to sleight which from good use doth rise;
+ Some lucky wits impute it but to chance;
+ Others, because of both sides I do take
+ My blood from them who did excel in this,
+ Think Nature me a man-at-arms did make.
+ How far they shot awry! the true cause is,
+ Stella looked on; and from her heavenly face
+ Sent forth the beams which made so fair my race.
+
+'Untrue,' you say? Well, there is truth of emotion as well as of fact;
+and who is there among you but would fain be able not only to win such a
+guerdon but to lay it in such wise at your lady's feet?
+
+That then was Philip Sidney, called the peerless one of his age; and
+perhaps no Englishman ever lived more graciously or, having used life,
+made a better end. But you have seen this morning's newspaper: you have
+read of Captain Scott and his comrades, and in particular of the death of
+Captain Oates; and you know that the breed of Sidney is not extinct.
+Gentlemen, let us keep our language noble: for we still have heroes to
+commemorate![1]
+
+
+[Footnote 1: The date of the above lecture was Wednesday, February 12th,
+1913, the date on which our morning newspapers printed the first
+telegrams giving particulars of the fate of Captain Scott's heroic
+conquest of the South Pole, and still more glorious, though defeated,
+return. The first brief message concerning Captain Oates, ran as
+follows:--
+
+'From the records found in the tent where the bodies were discovered it
+appeared that Captain Oates's feet and hands were badly frost-bitten,
+and, although he struggled on heroically, his comrades knew on March 16
+that his end was approaching. He had borne intense suffering for weeks
+without complaint, and he did not give up hope to the very end.
+
+"He was a brave soul. He slept through the night hoping not to wake; but
+he awoke in the morning.
+
+"It was blowing a blizzard. Oates said: 'I am just going outside, and I
+may be some time.' He went out into the blizzard, and we have not seen
+him since.
+
+"We knew that Oates was walking to his death, but though we tried to
+dissuade him, we knew it was the act of a brave man and an English
+gentleman."']
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE III.
+
+ON THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN VERSE AND PROSE
+
+Wednesday, February 26
+
+
+You will forgive me, Gentlemen, that having in my second lecture
+encouraged you to the practice of verse as well as of prose, I seize the
+very next opportunity to warn you against confusing the two, which differ
+on some points essentially, and always so as to demand separate rules--or
+rather (since I am shy of the word 'rules') a different concept of what
+the writer should aim at and what avoid. But you must, pray, understand
+that what follows will be more useful to the tiro in prose than to the
+tiro in verse; for while even a lecturer may help you to avoid writing
+prose in the manner of Milton, only the gods--and they hardly--can cure a
+versifier of being prosaic.
+
+We started upon a promise to do without scientific definitions; and in
+drawing some distinctions to-day between verse and prose I shall use only
+a few rough ones; good, as I hope, so far as they go; not to be found
+contrary to your scientific ones, if ever, under another teacher you
+attain to them; yet for the moment used only as guides to practice, and
+pretending to be no more.
+
+Thus I go some way--though by no means all the way--towards defining
+literature when I remind you that its very name (_litterae_--letters)
+implies the written rather than the spoken word; that, for example,
+however closely they approximate one to the other as we trace them back,
+and even though we trace them back to identical beginnings, the
+Writer--the Man of Letters--does to-day differ from the Orator. There was
+a time, as you know, when the poet and the historian had no less than the
+orator, and in the most literal sense, to 'get a hearing.' Nay, he got it
+with more pains: for the orator had his senate-house or his law-court
+provided, whereas Thespis jogged to fairs in a cart, and the Muse of
+History, like any street acrobat, had to collect her own crowd. Herodotus
+in search of a public packed his history in a portmanteau, carted it to
+Olympia, found a favourable 'pitch,' as we should say, and wooed an
+audience to him much as on a racecourse nowadays do those philanthropic
+gentlemen who ply a dubious trade with three half-crowns and a gold
+chain. It would cost us an effort to imagine the late Bishop Stubbs thus
+trying his fortune with a bag full of select Charters at Queen's Club or
+at Kempton Park, and exerting his lungs to retrieve a crowd that showed
+some disposition to edge off towards the ring or the rails.
+
+The historian's conditions have improved; and like any other sensible man
+he has advanced his claim with them, and revised his method. He writes
+nowadays with his eye on the printed book. He may or may not be a dull
+fellow: being a dull fellow, he may or may not be aware of it; but at
+least he knows that, if you lay him upside down on your knee, you can on
+awaking pick him up, resume your absorption, and even turn back some
+pages to discover just where or why your interest flagged: whereas a
+Hellene who deserted Herodotus, having a bet on the Pentathlon, not only
+missed what he missed but missed it for life.
+
+The invention of print, of course, has made all, or almost all, the
+difference.
+
+I do not forget that the printed book--the written word--presupposes a
+speaking voice, and must ever have at its back some sense in us of the
+speaking voice. But in writing prose nowadays, while always recollecting
+that prose has its origin in speech--even as it behoves us to recollect
+that Homer intoned the Iliad to the harp and Sappho plucked her passion
+from the lyre--we have to take things as they are. Except Burns, Heine,
+Beranger (with Moore, if you will), and you will find it hard to compile
+in all the lyrical poetry of the last 150 years a list of half a dozen
+first-class or even second-class bards who wrote primarily to be sung. It
+may help you to estimate how far lyrical verse has travelled from its
+origins if you will but remind yourselves that a _sonnet_ and a _sonata_
+were once the same thing, and that a _ballad_ meant a song accompanied by
+dancing--the word _ballata_ having been specialised down, on the one line
+to the _ballet_, in which Mademoiselle Genee or the Russian performers
+will dance for our delight, using no words at all; on the other to "Sir
+Patrick Spens" or "Clerk Saunders," 'ballads' to which no one in his
+senses would dream of pointing a toe.
+
+Thus with Verse the written (or printed) word has pretty thoroughly
+ousted the speaking voice and its auxiliaries--the pipe, the lute, the
+tabor, the chorus with its dance movements and swaying of the body; and
+in a quieter way much the same thing is happening to prose. In the Drama,
+to be sure, we still write (or we should) for the actors, reckon upon
+their intonations, their gestures, lay account with the tears in the
+heroine's eyes and her visible beauty: though even in the Drama to-day
+you may detect a tendency to substitute dialectic for action and
+paragraphs for the [Greek: Stichomuthia], the sharp outcries of passion
+in its give-and-take. Again we still--some of us--deliver sermons from
+pulpits and orations in Parliament or upon public platforms. Yet I am
+told that the vogue of the sermon is passing; and (by journalists) that
+the leading article has largely superseded it. On that point I can offer
+you no personal evidence; but of civil oratory I am very sure that the
+whole pitch has been sensibly lowered since the day of Chatham, Burke,
+Sheridan; since the day of Brougham and Canning; nay, ever since the day
+of Bright, Gladstone, Disraeli. Burke, as everyone knows, once brought
+down a Brummagem dagger and cast it on the floor of the House. Lord
+Chancellor Brougham in a peroration once knelt to the assembled peers,
+'_Here the noble lord inclined his knee to the Woolsack_' is, if I
+remember, the stage direction in Hansard. Gentlemen, though in the course
+of destiny one or another of you may be called upon to speak daggers to
+the Treasury Bench, I feel sure you will use none; while, as for Lord
+Brougham's genuflexions, we may agree that to emulate them would cost
+Lord Haldane an effort. These and even far less flagrant or flamboyant
+tricks of virtuosity have gone quite out of fashion. You could hardly
+revive them to-day and keep that propriety to which I exhorted you a
+fortnight ago. They would be out of tune; they would grate upon the
+nerves; they would offend against the whole style of modern oratory,
+which steadily tends to lower its key, to use the note of quiet
+business-like exposition, to adopt more and more the style of written
+prose.
+
+Let me help your sense of this change, by a further illustration. Burke,
+as we know, was never shy of declaiming--even of declaiming in a
+torrent--when he stood up to speak: but almost as little was he shy of
+it when he sat down to write. If you turn to his "Letters on the
+Regicide Peace" --no raw compositions, but penned in his latter days and
+closing, or almost closing, upon that tenderest of farewells to his
+country--
+
+ In this good old House, where everything at least is well aired, I
+ shall be content to put up my fatigued horses and here take a bed
+ for the long night that begins to darken upon me--
+
+if, I say, you turn to these "Letters on the Regicide Peace" and consult
+the title-page, you will find them ostensibly addressed to 'a Member of
+the present Parliament'; and the opening paragraphs assume that Burke and
+his correspondent are in general agreement. But skim the pages and your
+eyes will be arrested again and again by sentences like these:--
+
+ The calculation of profit in all such wars is false. On balancing
+ the account of such wars, ten thousand hogsheads of sugar are
+ purchased at ten thousand times their price--the blood of man should
+ never be shed but to redeem the blood of man. It is well shed for
+ our family, for our friends, for our God, for our country, for our
+ kind. The rest is vanity; the rest is crime.
+
+Magnificent, truly! But your ear has doubtless detected the blank
+verse--three iambic lines:--
+
+ Are purchased at ten thousand times their price...
+ Be shed but to redeem the blood of man...
+ The rest is vanity; the rest is crime.
+
+Again Burke catches your eye by rhetorical inversions:--
+
+ But too often different is rational conjecture from melancholy fact,
+
+ Well is it known that ambition can creep as well as soar,
+
+by repetitions:--
+
+ Never, no never, did Nature say one thing and Wisdom say another ...
+ Algiers is not near; Algiers is not powerful; Algiers is not our
+ neighbour; Algiers is not infectious. Algiers, whatever it may be,
+ is an old creation; and we have good data to calculate all the
+ mischief to be apprehended from it. When I find Algiers transferred
+ to Calais, I will tell you what I think of that point--
+
+by quick staccato utterances, such as:--
+
+ And is this example nothing? It is everything. Example is the school
+ of mankind, and they will learn at no other--
+
+or
+
+ Our dignity? That is gone. I shall say no more about it. Light lie
+ the earth on the ashes of English pride!
+
+I say that the eye or ear, caught by such tropes, must (if it be
+critical) recognise them at once as _rhetoric_, as the spoken word
+masquerading under guise of the written. Burke may pretend to be seated,
+penning a letter to a worthy man who will read it in his slippers: but
+actually Burke is up and pacing his library at Beaconsfield, now striding
+from fire-place to window with hands clasped under his coat tails, anon
+pausing to fling out an arm with some familiar accustomed gesture in a
+House of Commons that knows him no more, towards a Front Bench peopled by
+shades. In fine the pretence is Cicero writing to Atticus, but the style
+is Cicero denouncing Catiline.
+
+As such it is not for your imitation. Burke happened to be a genius, with
+a swoop and range of mind, as of language to interpret it, with a gift to
+enchant, a power to strike and astound, which together make him, to my
+thinking, the man in our literature most nearly comparable with
+Shakespeare. Others may be more to your taste; you may love others
+better: but no other two leave you so hopeless of discovering _how it is
+done_. Yet not for this reason only would I warn you against imitating
+either. For like all great artists they accepted their conditions and
+wrought for them, and those conditions have changed. When Jacques wished
+to recite to an Elizabethan audience that
+
+ All the world's a stage,
+ And all the men and women merely players--
+
+or Hamlet to soliloquise
+
+ To be, or not to be: that is the question--
+
+the one did not stretch himself under a property oak, nor did the other
+cast himself back in a chair and dangle his legs. They both advanced
+boldly from the stage, down a narrow platform provided for such
+recitations and for that purpose built boldly forward into the
+auditorium, struck an attitude, declaimed the purple passage, and
+returned, covered with applause, to continue the action of the play. This
+was the theatrical convention; this the audience expected and understood;
+for this Shakespeare wrote. Similarly, though the device must have been
+wearing thin even in 1795-6, Burke cast a familiar epistle into language
+proper to be addressed to Mr Speaker of the House of Commons. Shakespeare
+wrote, as Burke wrote, for his audience; and their glory is that they
+have outlasted the conditions they observed. Yet it was by observing them
+that they gained the world's ear. Let us, who are less than they, beware
+of scorning to belong to our own time.
+
+For my part I have a great hankering to see English Literature feeling
+back through these old modes to its origins. I think, for example, that
+if we studied to write verse that could really be sung, or if we were
+more studious to write prose that could be read aloud with pleasure to
+the ear, we should be opening the pores to the ancient sap; since the
+roots are always the roots, and we can only reinvigorate our growth
+through them.
+
+Unhappily, however, I cannot preach this just yet; for we are aiming at
+practice, and at Cambridge (they tell me) while you speak well, you write
+less expertly. A contributor to "The Cambridge Review," a fortnight ago,
+lamented this at length: so you will not set the aspersion down to me,
+nor blame me if these early lectures too officiously offer a kind of
+'First Aid': that, while all the time eager to descant on the
+_affinities_ of speech and writing, I dwell first on their _differences_;
+or that, in speaking of Burke, an author I adore only 'on this side
+idolatry,' I first present him in some aspects for your avoidance.
+Similarly I adore the prose of Sir Thomas Browne, yet should no more
+commend it to you for instant imitation than I could encourage you to
+walk with a feather in your cap and a sword under your gown. Let us
+observe proprieties.
+
+To return to Burke.--At his most flagrant, in these "Letters on the
+Regicide Peace," he boldly raids Shakespeare. You are all, I doubt not,
+conversant with the Prologue to "Henry the Fifth":--
+
+ O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
+ The brightest heaven of invention!
+ A kingdom for a stage, princes to act
+ And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!
+ Then should the warlike Harry, like himself,
+ Assume the port of Mars: and at his heels,
+ Leash'd in like hounds, should Famine, Sword and Fire
+ Crouch for employment.
+
+Well, this passage Burke, assuming his correspondent to be familiar with
+it, boldly claps into prose and inserts into a long diatribe against Pitt
+for having tamely submitted to the rebuffs of the French Directory. Thus
+it becomes:--
+
+ On that day it was thought he would have assumed the port of Mars: that
+ he would bid to be brought forth from their hideous Kennel (where his
+ scrupulous tenderness had too long immured them) those impatient dogs
+ of War, whose fierce regards affright even the minister of vengeance
+ that feeds them; that he would let them loose in Famine, Plagues and
+ Death, upon a guilty race to whose frame and to all whose habit, Order,
+ Peace, Religion and Virtue, are alien and abhorrent.
+
+Now Shakespeare is but apologising for the shortcomings of his'
+play-house, whereas Burke is denouncing his country's shame and
+prophesying disaster to Europe. Yet do you not feel with me that while
+Shakespeare, using great words on the lowlier subject, contrives to make
+them appropriate, with Burke, writing on the loftier subject, the same or
+similar words have become tumid, turgid?
+
+Why? I am sure that the difference lies not in the two men: nor is it all
+the secret, or even half the secret, that Burke is mixing up the spoken
+with the written word, using the one while pretending to use the other.
+That has carried us some way; but now let us take an important step
+farther. The root of the matter lies in certain essential differences
+between verse and prose. We will keep, if you please, to our rough
+practical definitions. Literature--the written word--is a permanent
+record of memorable speech; a record, at any rate, intended to be
+permanent. We set a thing down in ink--we print it in a book--because we
+feel it to be memorable, to be worth preserving. But to set this
+memorable speech down we must choose one of two forms, verse or prose;
+and I define verse to be a record in metre and rhythm, prose to be a
+record which, dispensing with metre (abhorring it indeed), uses rhythm
+laxly, preferring it to be various and unconstrained, so always that it
+convey a certain pleasure to the ear.
+
+You observe that I avoid the term Poetry, over which the critics have
+waged, and still are waging, a war that promises to be endless. Is Walt
+Whitman a poet? Is the Song of Songs (which is not Solomon's)--is the
+Book of Job--are the Psalms--all of these as rendered in our Authorised
+Version of Holy Writ--are all of these poetry? Well 'yes,' if you want my
+opinion; and again 'yes,' I am sure. But truly on this field, though
+scores of great men have fought across it--Sidney, Shelley, Coleridge,
+Scaliger (I pour the names on you at random), Johnson, Wordsworth, the
+two Schlegels, Aristotle with Twining his translator, Corneille, Goethe,
+Warton, Whately, Hazlitt, Emerson, Hegel, Gummere--but our axles grow
+hot. Let us put on the brake: for in practice the dispute comes to very
+little: since literature is an art and treats scientific definitions as
+J. K. Stephen recommended. From them
+
+ It finds out what it cannot do,
+ And then it goes and does it.
+
+I am journeying, say, in the West of England. I cross a bridge over a
+stream dividing Devon from Cornwall. These two counties, each beautiful
+in its way, are quite unlike in their beauty: yet nothing happened as I
+stepped across the brook, and for a mile or two or even ten I am aware of
+no change. Sooner or later that change will break upon the mind and I
+shall be startled, awaking suddenly to a land of altered features. But at
+what turn of the road this will happen, just how long the small
+multiplied impressions will take to break into surmise, into
+conviction--that nobody can tell. So it is with poetry and prose. They
+are different realms, but between them lies a debatable land which a De
+Quincey or a Whitman or a Paul Fort or a Marinetti may attempt. I advise
+you who are beginners to keep well one side or other of the frontier,
+remembering that there is plenty of room and what happened to Tupper.
+
+If we restrict ourselves to the terms 'verse' and 'prose,' we shall find
+the line much easier to draw. Verse is memorable speech set down in metre
+with strict rhythms; prose is memorable speech set down without
+constraint of metre and in rhythms both lax and various--so lax, so
+various, that until quite recently no real attempt has been made to
+reduce them to rule. I doubt, for my part, if they can ever be reduced to
+rule; and after a perusal of Professor Saintsbury's latest work, "A
+History of English Prose Rhythm," I am left doubting. I commend this book
+to you as one that clears up large patches of forest. No one has yet so
+well explained what our prose writers, generation after generation, have
+tried to do with prose: and he has, by the way, furnished us with a
+capital anthology--or, as he puts it, with 'divers delectable draughts of
+example.' But the road still waits to be driven. Seeking practical
+guidance--help for our present purpose--I note first that many a passage
+he scans in one way may as readily be scanned in another; that when he
+has finished with one and can say proudly with Wordsworth:--
+
+ I've measured it from side to side,
+ 'Tis three feet long and two feet wide,
+
+we still have a sensation of coming out (our good master with us) by that
+same door wherein we went; and I cannot as yet after arduous trial
+discover much profit in his table of feet--Paeons, Dochmiacs, Antispasts,
+Proceleusmatics and the rest--an Antispast being but an iamb followed by
+a trochee, and Proceleusmatic but two pyrrhics, or four consecutive short
+syllables--when I reflect that, your possible number of syllables being
+as many as five to a foot, you may label them (as Aristotle would say)
+until you come to infinity, where desire fails, without getting nearer
+any rule of application.
+
+Let us respect a genuine effort of learning, though we may not detect its
+immediate profit. In particular let us respect whatever Professor
+Saintsbury writes, who has done such splendid work upon English
+verse-prosody. I daresay he would retort upon my impatience grandly
+enough, quoting Walt Whitman:--
+
+I am the teacher of athletes;
+He that by me spreads a wider breast than my own
+ proves the width of my own;
+He most honours my style who learns under it to destroy the
+ teacher.
+
+His speculations may lead to much in time; though for the present they
+yield us small instruction in the path we seek.
+
+It is time we harked back to our own sign-posts. Verse is written in
+metre and strict rhythm; prose, without metre and with the freest
+possible rhythm. That distinction seems simple enough, but it carries
+consequences very far from simple. Let me give you an illustration taken
+almost at hazard from Milton, from the Second Book of "Paradise
+Regained":--
+
+ Up to a hill anon his steps he reared
+ From whose high top to ken the prospect round,
+ If cottage were in view, sheep-cote or herd;
+ But cottage, herd, or sheep-cote, none he saw.
+
+These few lines are verse, are obviously verse with the accent of poetry;
+while as obviously they are mere narrative and tell us of the simplest
+possible incident--how Christ climbed a hill to learn what could be seen
+from the top. Yet observe, line for line and almost word for word, how
+strangely they differ from prose. Mark the inversions: 'Up to a hill anon
+his steps he reared,' 'But cottage, herd, or sheep-cote, none he saw.'
+Mark next the diction--'his steps he reared.' In prose we should not rear
+our steps up the Gog-magog hills, or even more Alpine fastnesses; nor,
+arrived at the top, should we 'ken' the prospect round; we might 'con,'
+but should more probably 'survey' it. Even 'anon' is a tricky word in
+prose, though I deliberately palmed it off on you a few minutes ago. Mark
+thirdly the varied repetition, 'if cottage were in view, sheep-cote or
+herd--but cottage, herd, or sheep-cote, none he saw.' Lastly compare the
+whole with such an account as you or I or Cluvienus would write in plain
+prose:--
+
+ Thereupon he climbed a hill on the chance that the view from its
+ summit might disclose some sign of human habitation--a herd, a
+ sheep-cote, a cottage perhaps. But he could see nothing of the sort.
+
+But you will ask, '_Why_ should verse and prose employ diction so
+different? _Why_ should the one invert the order of words in a fashion
+not permitted to the other?' and I shall endeavour to answer these
+questions together with a third which, I dare say, you have sometimes
+been minded to put when you have been told--and truthfully told--by your
+manuals and histories, that when a nation of men starts making literature
+it invariably starts on the difficult emprise of verse, and goes on to
+prose as by an afterthought. Why should men start upon the more difficult
+form and proceed to the easier? It is not their usual way. In learning to
+skate, for instance, they do not cut figures before practising loose and
+easy propulsion.
+
+The answer is fairly simple. Literature (once more) is a record of
+memorable speech; it preserves in words a record of such thoughts or of
+such deeds as we deem worth preserving. Now if you will imagine yourself
+a very primitive man, lacking paper or parchment; or a slightly less
+primitive, but very poor, man to whom the price of parchment and ink is
+prohibitive; you have two ways of going to work. You can carve your words
+upon trees or stones (a laborious process) or you can commit them to
+memory and carry them about in your head; which is cheaper and handier.
+For an illustration, you find it useful, anticipating the tax-collector,
+to know how many days there are in the current month. But further you
+find it a nuisance and a ruinous waste of time to run off to the tribal
+tree or monolith whenever the calculation comes up; so you invent a
+formula, and you cast that formula into _verse_ for the simple reason
+that verse, with its tags, alliterations, beat of syllables, jingle of
+rhymes (however your tribe has chosen to invent it), has a knack, not
+possessed by prose, of sticking in your head. You do not say, 'Quick thy
+tablets, memory! Let me see--January has 31 days, February 28 days, March
+31 days, April 30 days.' You invent a verse:--
+
+ Thirty days hath September,
+ April, June and November...
+
+Nay, it has been whispered to me, Gentlemen, that in this University some
+such process of memorising in verse has been applied by bold bad
+irreverently-minded men even to the "Evidences" of our cherished Paley.
+
+This, you will say, is mere verse, and not yet within measurable distance
+of poetry. But wait! The men who said the more memorable things, or sang
+them--the men who recounted deeds and genealogies of heroes, plagues and
+famines, assassinations, escapes from captivity, wanderings and conquests
+of the clan, all the 'old, unhappy, far-off things and battles long
+ago'--the men who sang these things for their living, for a supper, a
+bed in the great hall, and something in their wallet to carry them on to
+the next lordship--these were gentlemen, scops, bards, minstrels (call
+them how you will), a professional class who had great need of a full
+repertory in a land swarming with petty chieftains, and to adapt their
+strains to the particular hall of entertainment. It would never do, for
+example, to flatter the prowess of the Billings in the house of the
+Hoppings, their hereditary foes, or to bore the Wokings (who lived where
+the crematorium now is) with the complicated genealogy of the Tootings:
+for this would have been to miss that appropriateness which I preached
+to you in my second lecture as a preliminary rule of good writing. Nay,
+when the Billings intermarried with the Tootings--when the Billings took
+to cooing, so to speak--a hasty blend of excerpts would be required for
+the "Epithalamium." So it was all a highly difficult business, needing
+adaptability, a quick wit, a goodly stock of songs, a retentive memory
+and every artifice to assist it. Take "Widsith," for example, the
+'far-travelled man.' He begins:--
+
+ Widsith spake: he unlocked his word-hoard.
+
+So he had a hoard of words, you see: and he must have needed them, for he
+goes on:--
+
+ Forthon ic maeg singan and secgan spell,
+ Maenan fore mengo in meoduhealle,
+ Hu me cynegode cystum dohten.
+ Ic waes mid Hunum and mid Hreth-gotum,
+ Mid Sweom and mid Geatum, and mid Suth-Denum.
+ Mid Wenlum ic waes and mid Waernum and mid Wicingum.
+ Mid Gefthum ic waes and mid Winedum....
+
+ (Therefore I can sing and tell a tale, recount in the Mead Hall, how
+ men of high race gave rich gifts to me. I was with Huns and with Hreth
+ Goths, with the Swedes, and with the Geats, and with the South Danes;
+ I was with the Wenlas, and with the Waernas, and with the Vikings; I
+ was with the Gefthas and with the Winedae....)
+
+and so on for a full dozen lines. I say that the memory of such men must
+have needed every artifice to help it: and the chief artifice to their
+hand was one which also delighted the ears of their listeners. They sang
+or intoned to the harp.
+
+There you get it, Gentlemen. I have purposely, skimming a wide subject,
+discarded much ballast; but you may read and scan and read again, and
+always you must come back to this, that the first poets sang their words
+to the harp or to some such instrument: and just there lies the secret
+why poetry differs from prose. The moment you introduce music you let in
+emotion with all its sway upon speech. From that moment you change
+everything, down to the order of the words--the _natural_ order of the
+words: and (remember this) though the harp be superseded, the voice never
+forgets it. You may take up a Barrack Room Ballad of Kipling's, and it is
+there, though you affect to despise it for a banjo or concertina:--
+
+ Ford--ford--ford of Kabul river...
+
+'Bang, whang, whang goes the drum, tootle-te-tootle the fife.' From the
+moment men introduced music they made verse a thing essentially separate
+from prose, from its natural key of emotion to its natural ordering of
+words. Do not for one moment imagine that when Milton writes:--
+
+ But cottage, herd, or sheep-cote, none he saw.
+
+or
+
+ Of man's first disobedience and the fruit
+ Of that forbidden tree...
+
+--where you must seek down five lines before you come to the verb, and
+then find it in the imperative mood--do not suppose for a moment that he
+is here fantastically shifting words, inverting phrases out of their
+natural order. For, as St Paul might say, there is a natural order of
+prose and there is a natural order of verse. The natural order of prose
+is:--
+
+ I was born in the year 1632, in the City of York, of a good family,
+ though not of that county; my father being a foreigner of Bremen,
+ who settled first in Hull.--[_Defoe._]
+
+or
+
+ Further I avow to your Highness that with these eyes I have beheld
+ the person of William Wooton, B.D., who has written a good sizeable
+ volume against a friend of your Governor (from whom, alas! he must
+ therefore look for little favour) in a most gentlemanly style,
+ adorned with the utmost politeness and civility.--[_Swift._]
+
+The natural order of poetry is:--
+
+ Thus with the year
+ Seasons return, but not to me returns
+ Day, or the sweet approach of Ev'n or Morn,
+ Or sight of vernal bloom, or Summer's Rose,
+ Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine.
+
+or
+
+ But cottage, herd, or sheep-cote, none he saw.
+
+and this basal difference you must have clear in your minds before, in
+dealing with prose or verse, you can practise either with profit or read
+either with intelligent delight.
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE IV.
+
+ON THE CAPITAL DIFFICULTY OF VERSE
+
+Thursday, April 17
+
+
+In our last lecture, Gentlemen, we discussed the difference between
+verse, or metrical writing, and prose. We traced that difference (as you
+will remember) to Music--to the harp, the lyre, the dance, the chorus,
+all those first necessary accompaniments which verse never quite forgets;
+and we concluded that, as Music ever introduces emotion, which is indeed
+her proper and only means of persuading, so the natural language of verse
+will be keyed higher than the natural language of prose; will be keyed
+higher throughout and even for its most ordinary purposes--as for
+example, to tell us that So-and-so sailed to Troy with so many ships.
+
+I grant you that our steps to this conclusion were lightly and rapidly
+taken: yet the stepping-stones are historically firm. Verse does precede
+prose in literature; verse does start with musical accompaniment; musical
+accompaniment does introduce emotion; and emotion does introduce an order
+of its own into speech. I grant you that we have travelled far from the
+days when a prose-writer, Herodotus, labelled the books of his history by
+the names of the nine Muses. I grant you that if you go to the Vatican
+and there study the statues of the Muses (noble, but of no early date)
+you may note that Calliope, Muse of the Epic--unlike her sisters Euterpe,
+Erato, Thalia--holds for symbol no instrument of music, but a stylus and
+a tablet. Yet the earlier Calliope, the Calliope of Homer, was a Muse of
+Song.
+
+ [Greek: Menin aeide, Thea--]
+
+'Had I a thousand tongues, a thousand hands.'--For what purpose does the
+poet wish for a thousand tongues, but to sing? for what purpose a
+thousand hands, but to pluck the wires? not to dip a thousand pens in a
+thousand inkpots.
+
+I doubt, in fine, if your most learned studies will discover much amiss
+with the frontier we drew between verse and prose, cursorily though we
+ran its line. Nor am I daunted on comparing it with Coleridge's more
+philosophical one, which you will find in the "Biographia Literaria"
+(c. XVIII)--
+
+ And first for the origin of metre. This I would trace to the balance
+ in the mind effected by that spontaneous effort which strives to
+ hold in check the workings of passion. It might be easily explained
+ likewise in what manner this salutary antagonism is assisted by the
+ very state which it counteracts, and how this balance of antagonism
+ becomes organised into metre (in the usual acceptation of that term)
+ by a supervening act of the will and judgment consciously and for
+ the foreseen purpose of pleasure.
+
+I will not swear to understand precisely what Coleridge means here,
+though I believe that I do. But at any rate, and on the principle that of
+two hypotheses, each in itself adequate, we should choose the simpler, I
+suggest in all modesty that we shall do better with our own than with
+Coleridge's, which has the further disadvantage of being scarcely
+amenable to positive evidence. We can say with historical warrant that
+Sappho struck the lyre, and argue therefrom, still within close range of
+correction, that her singing responded to the instrument: whereas to
+assert that Sappho's mind 'was balanced by a spontaneous effort which
+strove to hold in check the workings of passion' is to say something for
+which positive evidence will be less handily found, whether to contradict
+or to support.
+
+Yet if you choose to prefer Coleridge's explanation, no great harm will
+be done: since Coleridge, who may be presumed to have understood it,
+promptly goes on to deduce that,
+
+ as the elements of metre owe their existence to a state of increased
+ excitement, so the metre itself should be accompanied by the natural
+ language of excitement.
+
+which is precisely where we found ourselves, save that where Coleridge
+uses the word 'excitement' we used the word 'emotion.'
+
+Shall we employ an illustration before proceeding?--some sentence easily
+handled, some commonplace of the moralist, some copybook maxim, I care
+not what. 'Contentment breeds Happiness'--That is a proposition with
+which you can hardly quarrel; sententious, sedate, obviously true;
+provoking delirious advocacy as little as controversial heat; in short a
+very fair touchstone. Now hear how the lyric treats it, in these lines of
+Dekker--
+
+ Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?
+ O sweet content!
+ Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplex'd?
+ O punishment!
+ Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vex'd
+ To add to golden numbers golden numbers?
+ O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content!
+ Work apace, apace, apace, apace;
+ Honest labour wears a lovely face;
+ Then hey, nonny nonny--hey, nonny nonny!
+
+ Canst drink the waters of the crystal spring?
+ O sweet content!
+ Swim'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears?
+ O punishment!
+ Then he that patiently want's burden bears
+ No burden bears, but is a king, a king!
+ O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content!
+ Work apace, apace, apace, apace;
+ Honest labour wears a lovely face;
+ Then hey, nonny nonny--hey, nonny nonny!
+
+There, in lines obviously written for music, you have our sedate
+sentence, 'Contentment breeds Happiness,' converted to mere emotion. Note
+(to use Coleridge's word) the 'excitement' of it. There are but two plain
+indicative sentences in the two stanzas--(1) 'Honest labour wears a
+lovely face' (used as a refrain), and (2) 'Then he that patiently want's
+burden bears no burden bears, but is a king, a king!' (heightened
+emotionally by inversion and double repetition). Mark throughout how
+broken is the utterance; antithetical question answered by exclamations:
+both doubled and made more antithetical in the second stanza: with
+cunning reduplicated inversions to follow, and each stanza wound up by an
+outburst of emotional nonsense--'hey, nonny nonny--hey, nonny nonny!'--as
+a man might skip or whistle to himself for want of thought.
+
+Now (still keeping to our same subject of Contentment) let us _prosify_
+the lyrical order of language down to the lowest pitch to which genius
+has been able to reduce it and still make noble verse. You have all read
+Wordsworth's famous Introduction to the "Lyrical Ballads," and you know
+that Wordsworth's was a genius working on a theory that the languages of
+verse and of prose are identical. You know, too, I dare say, into what
+banalities that theory over and over again betrayed him: banalities such
+as--
+
+ His widowed mother, for a second mate
+ Espoused the teacher of the village school:
+ Who on her offspring zealously bestowed
+ Needful instruction.
+
+--and the rest. Nevertheless Wordsworth was a genius; and genius working
+persistently on a narrow theory will now and again 'bring it off' (as
+they say). So he, amid the flat waste of his later compositions, did
+undoubtedly 'bring it off' in the following sonnet:--
+
+ These times strike monied worldlings with dismay:
+ Ev'n rich men, brave by nature, taint the air
+ With words of apprehension and despair;
+ While tens of thousands, thinking on the affray,
+ Men unto whom sufficient for the day
+ And minds not stinted or untill'd are given,
+ Sound healthy children of the God of Heaven,
+ Are cheerful as the rising sun in May.
+ What do we gather hence but firmer faith
+ That every gift of noble origin
+ Is breath'd upon by Hope's perpetual breath;
+ That Virtue and the faculties within
+ Are vital; and that riches are akin
+ To fear, to change, to cowardice, and death?
+
+Here, I grant, are no repetitions, no inversions. The sentences, though
+metrical, run straightforwardly, verb following subject, object verb, as
+in strict prose. In short here you have verse reduced to the order and
+structure of prose as nearly as a man of genius, working on a set theory,
+could reduce it while yet maintaining its proper emotional key. But first
+let me say that you will find very few like instances of success even in
+Wordsworth; and few indeed to set against innumerable passages wherein
+either his verse defies his theory and triumphs, or succumbs to it and,
+succumbing, either drops sheer to bathos or spreads itself over dead
+flats of commonplace. Let me tell you next that the instances you will
+find in other poets are so few and so far between as to be negligible;
+and lastly that even such verse as the above has only to be compared with
+a passage of prose and its emotional pitch is at once betrayed. Take
+this, for example, from Jeremy Taylor:--
+
+ Since all the evil in the world consists in the disagreeing between the
+ object and the appetite, as when a man hath what he desires not, or
+ desires what he hath not, or desires amiss, he that compares his spirit
+ to the present accident hath variety of instance for his virtue, but
+ none to trouble him, because his desires enlarge not beyond his present
+ fortune: and a wise man is placed in a variety of chances, like the
+ nave or centre of a wheel in the midst of all the circumvolutions and
+ changes of posture, without violence or change, save that it turns
+ gently in compliance with its changed parts, and is indifferent which
+ part is up, and which is down; for there is some virtue or other to be
+ exercised whatever happens--either patience or thanksgiving, love or
+ fear, moderation or humility, charity or contentedness.
+
+Or, take this from Samuel Johnson:--
+
+ The fountain of contentment must spring up in the mind; and he who has
+ so little knowledge of human nature as to seek happiness by changing
+ anything but his own disposition, will waste his life in fruitless
+ efforts and multiply the griefs which he purposes to remove.
+
+Now, to be frank, I do not call that first passage very good prose. Like
+much of Jeremy Taylor's writing it is prose tricked out with the
+trappings and odds-and-ends of verse. It starts off, for example, with a
+brace of heroics--'Since all the evil in the world consists'...'between
+the object and the appetite.' You may say, further, that the simile of
+the wheel, though proper enough to prose, is poetical too: that Homer
+might have used it ('As in a wheel the rim turns violently, while the
+nave, though it turns also, yet seems to be at rest'--something of that
+sort). Nevertheless you will agree with me that, in exchanging
+Wordsworth for Taylor and Johnson, we have relaxed something with the
+metre, something that the metre kept taut; and this something we
+discover to be the emotional pitch.
+
+But let me give you another illustration, supplied (I dare say quite
+unconsciously) by one who combined a genuine love of verse--in which,
+however, he was no adept--with a sure instinct for beautiful prose.
+Contentment was a favourite theme with Isaak Walton: "The Compleat
+Angler" is packed with praise of it: and in "The Compleat Angler" occurs
+this well-known passage:--
+
+ But, master, first let me tell you, that very hour which you were
+ absent from me, I sat down under a willow tree by the waterside, and
+ considered what you had told me of the owner of that pleasant meadow in
+ which you then had left me; that he had a plentiful estate, and not a
+ heart to think so; that he had at this time many law-suits depending,
+ and that they both damped his mirth and took up so much of his time and
+ thoughts that he had no leisure to take the sweet content that I, who
+ pretended no title to them, took in his fields: for I could there sit
+ quietly; and looking on the water, see some fishes sport themselves in
+ the silver streams, others leaping at flies of several shapes and
+ colours; looking on the hills, I could behold them spotted with woods
+ and groves; looking down the meadows, could see, here a boy gathering
+ lilies and lady-smocks, and there a girl cropping culverlocks and
+ cowslips, all to make garlands suitable to this present month of May.
+ These and many other field-flowers so perfumed the air that I thought
+ that very meadow like that field in Sicily of which Diodorus speaks,
+ where the perfumes arising from the place make all dogs that hunt in it
+ to fall off and lose their hottest scent. I say, as I thus sat, joying
+ in my own happy condition, and pitying this poor rich man that owned
+ this and many other pleasant groves and meadows about me, I did
+ thankfully remember what my Saviour said, that the meek possess the
+ earth; or rather they enjoy what the others possess and enjoy not; for
+ Anglers and meek quiet-spirited men are free from those high, those
+ restless thoughts which corrode the sweets of life; and they, and they
+ only can say as the poet has happily exprest it:
+
+ 'Hail, blest estate of lowliness!
+ Happy enjoyments of such minds
+ As, rich in self-contentedness,
+ Can, like the reeds in roughest winds,
+ By yielding make that blow but small
+ At which proud oaks and cedars fall.'
+
+There you have a passage of felicitous prose culminating in a stanza of
+trite and fifth-rate verse. Yes, Walton's instinct is sound; for he is
+keying up the pitch; and verse, even when mediocre in quality, has its
+pitch naturally set above that of prose. So, if you will turn to your
+Walton and read the page following this passage, you will see that, still
+by a sure instinct, he proceeds from this scrap of reflective verse to a
+mere rollicking 'catch':
+
+ Man's life is but vain, for 'tis subject to pain
+ And sorrow, and short as a bubble;
+ 'Tis a hodge-podge of business and money and care,
+ And care, and money and trouble...
+
+--which is even worse rubbish, and yet a step upwards in emotion because
+Venator actually sings it to music. 'Ay marry, sir, this is music
+indeed,' approves Brother Peter; 'this cheers the heart.'
+
+In this and the preceding lecture, Gentlemen, I have enforced at some
+length the opinion that to understand the many essential differences
+between verse and prose we must constantly bear in mind that verse, being
+metrical, keeps the character originally imposed on it by musical
+accompaniment and must always, however far the remove, be referred back
+to its origin and to the emotion which music excites.
+
+Mr George Bernard Shaw having to commit his novel "Cashel Byron's
+Profession" to paper in a hurry, chose to cast it in blank verse as being
+more easily and readily written so: a performance which brilliantly
+illuminates a half-truth. Verse--or at any rate, unrhymed iambic
+verse--is easier to write than prose, if you care to leave out the
+emotion which makes verse characteristic and worth writing. I have
+little doubt that, had he chosen to attempt it, Mr Shaw would have found
+his story still more ductile in the metre of "Hiawatha." But the
+experiment proves nothing: or no more than that, all fine art costing
+labour, it may cost less if burlesqued in a category not its own.
+
+Let me take an example from a work with which you are all familiar--"The
+Student's Handbook to the University and Colleges of Cambridge." On
+p. 405 we read:--
+
+ The Medieval and Modern Languages Tripos is divided into ten sections,
+ A, A2, B, C, D, E, F, G, H and I. A student may take either one or two
+ sections at the end of his second year of residence, and either one or
+ two more sections at the end of his third or fourth year of residence;
+ or he may take two sections at the end of his third year only. Thus
+ this Tripos can be treated either as a divided or as an undivided
+ Tripos at the option of the candidate.
+
+Now I do not hold that up to you for a model of prose. Still, lucidity
+rather than emotion being its aim, I doubt not that the composer spent
+pains on it; more pains than it would have cost him to convey his
+information metrically, thus:--
+
+ There is a Tripos that aspires to blend
+ The Medieval and the Modern tongues
+ In one red burial (Sing Heavenly Muse!)
+ Divided into sections A, A2,
+ B, C, D, E, F, G and H and I.
+ A student may take either one or two
+ (With some restrictions mention'd in a footnote)
+ At th' expiration of his second year:
+ Or of his third, or of his fourth again
+ Take one or two; or of his third alone
+ Take two together. Thus this tripos is
+ (Like nothing in the Athanasian Creed)
+ Divisible or indivisible
+ At the option of the candidate--Gadzooks!
+
+This method has even some advantage over the method of prose in that it
+is more easily memorised; but it has, as you will admit, the one fatal
+flaw that it imports emotion into a theme which does not properly admit
+of emotion, and that so it offends against our first rule of
+writing--that it should be appropriate.
+
+Now if you accept the argument so far as we have led it--that verse is by
+nature more emotional than prose--certain consequences would seem to
+follow: of which the first is that while the capital difficulty of verse
+consists in saying ordinary things the capital difficulty of prose
+consists in saying extraordinary things; that while with verse, keyed for
+high moments, the trouble is to manage the intervals, with prose the
+trouble is to manage the high moments.
+
+Let us dwell awhile on this difference, for it is important. You remember
+my quoting to you in my last lecture these lines of Milton's:--
+
+ Up to a hill anon his steps he reared
+ From whose high top to ken the prospect round,
+ If cottage were in view, sheep-cote or herd;
+ But cottage, herd, or sheep-cote, none he saw.
+
+We agreed that these were good lines, with the accent of poetry: but we
+allowed it to be a highly exalted way of telling how So-and-so climbed a
+hill for a better view but found none. Now obviously this exaltation does
+not arise immediately out of the action described (which is as ordinary
+as it well could be), but is _derivative_. It borrows its wings, its
+impetus, from a previous high moment, from the emotion proper to that
+moment, from the speech proper to that emotion: and these sustain us
+across to the next height as with the glide of an aeroplane. Your own
+sense will tell you at once that the passage would be merely bombastic if
+the poet were starting to set forth how So-and-so climbed a hill for the
+view--just that, and nothing else: as your own sense tells you that the
+swoop is from one height to another. For if bathos lay ahead, if Milton
+had but to relate how the Duke of York, with twenty thousand men,
+'marched up a hill and then marched down again,' he certainly would not
+use diction such as:--
+
+ Up to a hill anon his steps he reared.
+
+Even as it is, I think we must all detect a certain artificiality in the
+passage, and confess to some relief when Satan is introduced to us, ten
+lines lower down, to revivify the story. For let us note that, in the
+nature of things, the more adorned and involved our style (and Milton's
+is both ornate and involved) the more difficulty we must find with these
+flat pedestrian intervals. Milton may 'bring it off,' largely through
+knowing how to dodge the interval and contrive that it shall at any rate
+be brief: but, as Bagehot noted, when we come to Tennyson and find
+Tennyson in "Enoch Arden" informing us of a fish-jowter, that:--
+
+ Enoch's white horse, and Enoch's ocean-spoil
+ In ocean-smelling osier--
+
+(_i.e._ in a fish-basket)
+
+ --and his face
+ Rough-reddened with a thousand winter gales,
+ Not only to the market town were known,
+ But in the leafy lanes beyond the down
+ Far as the portal-warding lion-whelp
+ And peacock yewtree of the lonely Hall
+ Whose Friday fare was Enoch's ministering,
+
+why, then we feel that the vehicle is altogether too pompous for its
+load, and those who make speech too pompous for its content commit,
+albeit in varying degrees, the error of Defoe's religious lady who,
+seeing a bottle of over-ripe beer explode and cork and froth fly up to
+the ceiling, cried out, 'O, the wonders of Omnipotent Power!' The poet
+who commends fresh fish to us as 'ocean-spoil' can cast no stone at his
+brother who writes of them as 'the finny denizens of the deep,' or even
+at his cousin the journalist, who exalts the oyster into a 'succulent
+bivalve'--
+
+ The feathered tribes on pinions cleave the air;
+ Not so the mackerel, and, still less, the bear!
+
+I believe this difficulty, which verse, by nature and origin emotional,
+encounters in dealing with ordinary unemotional narrative, to lie as a
+technical reason at the bottom of Horace's advice to the writer of Epic
+to plunge _in medias res_, thus avoiding flat preparative and catching at
+once a high wind which shall carry him hereafter across dull levels and
+intervals. I believe that it lay--though whether consciously or not he
+scarcely tells us--at the bottom of Matthew Arnold's mind when, selecting
+certain qualities for which to praise Homer, he chose, for the very
+first, Homer's _rapidity_. 'First,' he says, 'Homer is eminently rapid;
+and,' he adds justly, 'to this rapidity the elaborate movement of
+Miltonic blank verse is alien.'
+
+Now until one studies writing as an art, trying to discover what this or
+that form of it accomplishes with ease and what with difficulty, and why
+verse can do one thing and prose another, Arnold's choice of _rapidity_
+to put in the forefront of Homer's merits may seem merely capricious.
+'Homer (we say) has other great qualities. Arnold himself indicates
+Homer's simplicity, directness, nobility. Surely either one of these
+should be mentioned before rapidity, in itself not comparable as a virtue
+with either?'
+
+But when we see that the difficulty of verse-narrative lies just _here_;
+that the epic poet who is rapid has met, and has overcome, the capital
+difficulty of his form, then we begin to do justice not only to Arnold as
+a critic but (which is of far higher moment) to Homer as a craftsman.
+
+The genius of Homer in this matter is in fact something daemonic. He
+seems to shirk nothing: and the effect of this upon critics is
+bewildering. The acutest of them are left wondering how on earth an
+ordinary tale--say of how some mariners beached ship, stowed sail, walked
+ashore and cooked their dinner--can be made so poetical. They are
+inclined to divide the credit between the poet and his fortunate age--'a
+time' suggests Pater 'in which one could hardly have spoken at all
+without ideal effect, or the sailors pulled down their boat without
+making a picture "in the great style" against a sky charged with
+marvels.'
+
+Well, the object of these lectures is not to explain genius. Just here it
+is rather to state a difficulty; to admit that, once in history, genius
+overcame it; yet warn you how rare in the tale of poetical achievement is
+such a success. Homer, indeed, stands first, if not unmatched, among
+poets in this technical triumph over the capital disability of
+annihilating flat passages. I omit Shakespeare and the dramatists;
+because they have only to give a stage direction 'Enter Cassius, looking
+lean,' and Cassius comes in looking leaner than nature; whereas Homer has
+in his narrative to walk Hector or Thersites on to the scene, describe
+him, walk him off. I grant the rapidity of Dante. It is amazing; and we
+may yield him all the credit for choosing (it was his genius that chose
+it) a subject which allowed of the very highest rapidity; since Hell,
+Purgatory and Paradise, though they differ in other respects, have this
+in common, that they are populous and the inhabitants of each so
+compendiously shepherded together that the visitor can turn from one
+person to another without loss of time. But Homer does not escort us
+around a menagerie in which we can move expeditiously from one cage to
+another. He proposes at least, both in the "Iliad" and in the "Odyssey,"
+to unfold a story; and he _seems_ to unfold it so artlessly that we
+linger on the most pedestrian intervals while he tells us, for example,
+what the heroes ate and how they cooked it. A modern writer would serve
+us a far better dinner. Homer brings us to his with our appetite all the
+keener for having waited and watched the spitting and roasting.
+
+I would point out to you what art this genius conceals; how cunning is
+this apparent simplicity: and for this purpose let me take Homer at the
+extreme of his difficulty--when he has to describe a long sea-voyage.
+
+Some years ago, in his last Oxford lectures, Mr Froude lamented that no
+poet in this country had arisen to write a national epic of the great
+Elizabethan seamen, to culminate (I suppose) as his History culminated,
+in the defeat of the Armada: and one of our younger poets; Mr Alfred
+Noyes, acting on this hint has since given us an epic poem on "Drake," in
+twelve books. But Froude probably overlooked, as Mr Noyes has not
+overcome, this difficulty of the flat interval which, while ever the
+bugbear of Epic, is magnified tenfold when our action takes place on the
+sea. For whereas the verse should be rapid and the high moments frequent,
+the business of seafaring is undeniably monotonous, as the intervals
+between port and port, sea-fight and sea-fight, must be long and lazy.
+Matters move more briskly in an occasional gale; but even a gale lasts,
+and must be ridden out; and the process of riding to a gale of wind:--
+
+ For ever climbing up the climbing wave
+
+--your ship taking one wave much as she takes another--is in its nature
+monotonous. Nay, you have only to read Falconer's "Shipwreck" to discover
+how much of dulness may lie enwrapped, to discharge itself, even in a
+first-class tempest. Courses, reckonings, trimmings of canvas--these
+occur in real life and amuse the simple mariner at the time. But to the
+reader, if he be a landsman, their repetition in narrative may easily
+become intolerable; and when we get down to the 'trades,' even the seaman
+sets his sail for a long spell of weather and goes to sleep. In short you
+cannot upon the wide Atlantic push action and reaction to and fro as upon
+the plains of windy Troy: nor could any but a superhuman genius make
+sustained poetry (say) out of Nelson's untiring pursuit of Villeneuve,
+which none the less was one of the most heroic feats in history.
+
+This difficulty, inherent in navigation as a subject for the Epic Muse,
+has, I think, been very shrewdly detected and hit off in a parody of Mr
+Noyes' poem by a young friend of mine, Mr Wilfred Blair:--
+
+ Meanwhile the wind had changed, and Francis Drake
+ Put down the helm and drove against the seas--
+ Once more the wind changed, and the simple seaman,
+ Full fraught with weather wisdom, once again
+ Put down the helm and so drove on--_et cetera_.
+
+Now Homer actually has performed this feat which we declare to be next to
+impossible. He actually does convey Odysseus from Troy to Ithaca, by a
+ten years' voyage too; he actually has narrated that voyage to us in
+plain straightforward words; and, what is more, he actually has made a
+superb epic of it. Yes, but when you come to dissect the Odyssey, what
+amazing artifice is found under that apparently straightforward
+tale!--eight years of the ten sliced out, to start with, and
+magnificently presented to Circe
+
+ Where that Aeaean isle forgets the main
+
+--and (one may add), so forgetting, avoids the technical difficulties
+connected therewith.
+
+Note the space given to Telemachus and his active search for the lost
+hero: note too how the mass of Odysseus' seafaring adventures is
+condensed into a reported speech--a traveller's tale at the court of
+Alcinoues. Virgil borrowed this trick, you remember; and I dare to swear
+that had it fallen to Homer to attempt the impossible saga of Nelson's
+pursuit after Villeneuve he would have achieved it triumphantly--by means
+of a tale told in the first person by a survivor to Lady Hamilton. Note,
+again, how boldly (being free to deal with an itinerary of which his
+audience knew nothing but surmised that it comprehended a vast deal of
+the marvellous, spaced at irregular distances) Homer works in a shipwreck
+or a miracle wherever the action threatens to flag. Lessing, as you know,
+devoted several pages of the "Laokoeon" to the shield of Achilles; to
+Homer's craft in depicting it as it grew under Hephaestus' hammer: so
+that we are intrigued by the process of manufacture instead of being
+wearied by a description of the ready-made article; so also (if one may
+presume to add anything to Lessing) that we are cunningly flattered in a
+sense that the shield is being made for _us._ Well, that is one artifice
+out of many: but if you would gauge at all Homer's resource and subtlety
+in technique I recommend you to analyse the first twelve books of
+the "Odyssey" and count for yourselves the device by which the
+poet--[Greek: polutropos] as was never his hero--evades or hurries over
+each flat interval as he happens upon it.
+
+ These things, Ulysses,
+ The wise bards also
+ Behold and sing.
+ But O, what labour!
+ O Prince, what pain!
+
+You may be thinking, Gentlemen, that I take up a disproportionate amount
+of your time on such technical matters at these. But literature being an
+art (forgive the reiteration!) and therefore to be practised, I want us
+to be seeking all the time _how it is done_; to hunt out the principles
+on which the great artists wrought; to face, to rationalise, the
+difficulties by which they were confronted, and learn how they overcame
+the particular obstacle. Surely even for mere criticism, apart from
+practice, we shall equip ourselves better by seeking, so far as we may,
+how the thing is done than by standing at gaze before this or that
+masterpiece and murmuring 'Isn't that beautiful! How in the world, now...!'
+
+I am told that these lectures are criticised as tending to make you
+conceited: to encourage in you a belief that you can do things, when it
+were better that you merely admired. Well I would not dishearten you by
+telling to what a shred of conceit, even of hope, a man can be reduced
+after twenty-odd years of the discipline. But I can, and do, affirm that
+the farther you penetrate in these discoveries the more sacred the
+ultimate mystery will become for you: that the better you understand the
+great authors as exemplars of practice, the more certainly you will
+realise what is the condescension of the gods.
+
+Next time, then, we will attempt an enquiry into the capital difficulty
+of Prose.
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE V.
+
+INTERLUDE: ON JARGON
+
+Thursday, May 1
+
+
+We parted, Gentlemen, upon a promise to discuss the capital difficulty of
+Prose, as we have discussed the capital difficulty of Verse. But,
+although we shall come to it, on second thoughts I ask leave to break the
+order of my argument and to interpose some words upon a kind of writing
+which, from a superficial likeness, commonly passes for prose in these
+days, and by lazy folk is commonly written for prose, yet actually is not
+prose at all; my excuse being the simple practical one that, by first
+clearing this sham prose out of the way, we shall the better deal with
+honest prose when we come to it. The proper difficulties of prose will
+remain: but we shall be agreed in understanding what it is, or at any
+rate what it is not, that we talk about. I remember to have heard
+somewhere of a religious body in the United States of America which had
+reason to suspect one of its churches of accepting Spiritual consolation
+from a coloured preacher--an offence against the laws of the Synod--and
+despatched a Disciplinary Committee with power to act; and of the
+Committee's returning to report itself unable to take any action under
+its terms of reference, for that while a person undoubtedly coloured had
+undoubtedly occupied the pulpit and had audibly spoken from it in the
+Committee's presence, the performance could be brought within no
+definition of preaching known or discoverable. So it is with that
+infirmity of speech--that flux, that determination of words to the mouth,
+or to the pen--which, though it be familiar to you in parliamentary
+debates, in newspapers, and as the staple language of Blue Books,
+Committees, Official Reports, I take leave to introduce to you as prose
+which is not prose and under its real name of Jargon.
+
+You must not confuse this Jargon with what is called Journalese. The two
+overlap, indeed, and have a knack of assimilating each other's vices. But
+Jargon finds, maybe, the most of its votaries among good douce people who
+have never written to or for a newspaper in their life, who would never
+talk of 'adverse climatic conditions' when they mean 'bad weather'; who
+have never trifled with verbs such as 'obsess,' 'recrudesce,' 'envisage,'
+'adumbrate,' or with phrases such as 'the psychological moment,' 'the
+true inwardness,' 'it gives furiously to think.' It dallies with
+Latinity--'sub silentio,' 'de die in diem,' 'cui bono?' (always in the
+sense, unsuspected by Cicero, of 'What is the profit?')--but not for the
+sake of style. Your journalist at the worst is an artist in his way: he
+daubs paint of this kind upon the lily with a professional zeal; the more
+flagrant (or, to use his own word, arresting) the pigment, the happier is
+his soul. Like the Babu he is trying all the while to embellish our poor
+language, to make it more floriferous, more poetical--like the Babu for
+example who, reporting his mother's death, wrote, 'Regret to inform you,
+the hand that rocked the cradle has kicked the bucket.'
+
+_There_ is metaphor: _there_ is ornament: _there_ is a sense of poetry,
+though as yet groping in a world unrealised. No such gusto marks--no such
+zeal, artistic or professional, animates--the practitioners of Jargon,
+who are, most of them (I repeat), douce respectable persons. Caution is
+its father: the instinct to save everything and especially trouble: its
+mother, Indolence. It looks precise, but it is not. It is, in these
+times, _safe_: a thousand men have said it before and not one to your
+knowledge had been prosecuted for it. And so, like respectability in
+Chicago, Jargon stalks unchecked in our midst. It is becoming the
+language of Parliament: it has become the medium through which Boards of
+Government, County Councils, Syndicates, Committees, Commercial Firms,
+express the processes as well as the conclusions of their thought and so
+voice the reason of their being.
+
+Has a Minister to say 'No' in the House of Commons? Some men are
+constitutionally incapable of saying no: but the Minister conveys it
+thus--'The answer to the question is in the negative.' That means 'no.'
+Can you discover it to mean anything less, or anything more except that
+the speaker is a pompous person?--which was no part of the information
+demanded.
+
+That is Jargon, and it happens to be accurate. But as a rule Jargon is by
+no means accurate, its method being to walk circumspectly around its
+target; and its faith, that having done so it has either hit the
+bull's-eye or at least achieved something equivalent, and safer.
+
+Thus the Clerk of a Board of Guardians will minute that--
+
+ In the case of John Jenkins deceased the coffin provided was of the
+ usual character.
+
+Now this is not accurate. 'In the case of John Jenkins deceased,' for
+whom a coffin was supplied, it is wholly superfluous to tell us that he
+is deceased. But actually John Jenkins never had more than one case, and
+that was the coffin. The Clerk says he had two,--a coffin in a case: but
+I suspect the Clerk to be mistaken, and I am sure he errs in telling us
+that the coffin was of the usual character: for coffins have no
+character, usual or unusual.
+
+For another example (I shall not tell you whence derived)--
+
+ In the case of every candidate who is placed in the first class [So you
+ see the lucky fellow gets a case as well as a first-class. He might be
+ a stuffed animal: perhaps he is] In the case of every candidate who is
+ placed in the first class the class-list will show by some convenient
+ mark (1) the Section or Sections for proficiency in which he is placed
+ in the first class and (2) the Section or Sections (if any) in which he
+ has passed with special distinction.
+
+'The Section or Sections (if any)'--But, how, if they are not any, could
+they be indicated by a mark however convenient?
+
+ The Examiners will have regard to the style and method of the
+ candidate's answers, and will give credit for excellence _in these
+ respects_.
+
+Have you begun to detect the two main vices of Jargon? The first is that
+it uses circumlocution rather than short straight speech. It says 'In the
+case of John Jenkins deceased, the coffin' when it means 'John Jenkins's
+coffin': and its yea is not yea, neither is its nay nay: but its answer
+is in the affirmative or in the negative, as the foolish and superfluous
+'case' may be. The second vice is that it habitually chooses vague woolly
+abstract nouns rather than concrete ones. I shall have something to say
+by-and-by about the concrete noun, and how you should ever be struggling
+for it whether in prose or in verse. For the moment I content myself with
+advising you, if you would write masculine English, never to forget the
+old tag of your Latin Grammar--
+
+ Masculine will only be
+ Things that you can touch and see.
+
+But since these lectures are meant to be a course in First Aid to
+writing, I will content myself with one or two extremely rough rules: yet
+I shall be disappointed if you do not find them serviceable.
+
+The first is:--Whenever in your reading you come across one of these
+words, _case, instance, character, nature, condition, persuasion,
+degree_--whenever in writing your pen betrays you to one or another of
+them--pull yourself up and take thought. If it be 'case' (I choose it as
+Jargon's dearest child--'in Heaven yclept Metonomy') turn to the
+dictionary, if you will, and seek out what meaning can be derived from
+_casus_, its Latin ancestor: then try how, with a little trouble, you can
+extricate yourself from that case. The odds are, you will feel like a
+butterfly who has discarded his chrysalis.
+
+Here are some specimens to try your hand on--
+
+ (1) All those tears which inundated Lord Hugh Cecil's head were
+ dry in the case of Mr Harold Cox.
+
+Poor Mr Cox! left gasping in his aquarium!
+
+ (2) [From a cigar-merchant] In any case, let us send you a case
+ on approval.
+
+ (3) It is contended that Consols have fallen in consequence:
+ but such is by no means the case.
+
+'Such,' by the way, is another spoilt child of Jargon, especially in
+Committee's Rules--'Co-opted members may be eligible as such; such
+members to continue to serve for such time as'--and so on.
+
+ (4) Even in the purely Celtic areas, only in two or three cases
+ do the Bishops bear Celtic names.
+
+For 'cases' read 'dioceses.'
+
+ _Instance._ In most instances the players were below their form.
+
+But what were they playing at? Instances?
+
+ _Character--Nature._ There can be no doubt that the accident was
+ caused through the dangerous nature of the spot, the hidden
+ character of the by-road, and the utter absence of any warning
+ or danger signal.
+
+Mark the foggy wording of it all! And yet the man hit something and broke
+his neck! Contrast that explanation with the verdict of a coroner's jury
+in the West of England on a drowned postman--'We find that deceased met
+his death by an act of God, caused by sudden overflowing of the river
+Walkhan and helped out by the scandalous neglect of the way-wardens.'
+
+ The Aintree course is notoriously of a trying nature.
+
+ On account of its light character, purity and age, Usher's whiskey
+ is a whiskey that will agree with you.
+
+ _Order._ The mesalliance was of a pronounced order.
+
+ _Condition._ He was conveyed to his place of residence in an
+ intoxicated condition.
+
+'He was carried home drunk.'
+
+ _Quality and Section._ Mr ----, exhibiting no less than five works,
+ all of a superior quality, figures prominently in the oil section.
+
+This was written of an exhibition of pictures.
+
+ _Degree._ A singular degree of rarity prevails in the earlier
+ editions of this romance.
+
+That is Jargon. In prose it runs simply 'The earlier editions of this
+romance are rare'--or 'are very rare'--or even (if you believe what I take
+leave to doubt), 'are singularly rare'; which should mean that they are
+rarer than the editions of any other work in the world.
+
+Now what I ask you to consider about these quotations is that in each the
+writer was using Jargon to shirk prose, palming off periphrases upon us
+when with a little trouble he could have gone straight to the point. 'A
+singular degree of rarity prevails,' 'the accident was caused through the
+dangerous nature of the spot,' 'but such is by no means the case.' We may
+not be capable of much; but we can all write better than that, if we take
+a little trouble. In place of, 'the Aintree course is of a trying nature'
+we can surely say 'Aintree is a trying course' or 'the Aintree course is
+a trying one'--just that and nothing more.
+
+Next, having trained yourself to keep a look-out for these worst
+offenders (and you will be surprised to find how quickly you get into the
+way of it), proceed to push your suspicions out among the whole cloudy
+host of abstract terms. 'How excellent a thing is sleep,' sighed Sancho
+Panza; 'it wraps a man round like a cloak'--an excellent example, by the
+way, of how to say a thing concretely: a Jargoneer would have said that
+'among the beneficent qualities of sleep its capacity for withdrawing the
+human consciousness from the contemplation of immediate circumstances may
+perhaps be accounted not the least remarkable.' How vile a thing--shall
+we say?--is the abstract noun! It wraps a man's thoughts round like
+cotton wool.
+
+Here is a pretty little nest of specimens, found in "The Times" newspaper
+by Messrs. H. W. and F. G. Fowler, authors of that capital little book
+"The King's English":--
+
+ One of the most important reforms mentioned in the rescript is the
+ unification of the organisation of judicial institutions and the
+ guarantee for all the tribunals of the independence necessary for
+ securing to all classes of the community equality before the law.
+
+I do not dwell on the cacophony; but, to convey a straightforward piece
+of news, might not the Editor of "The Times" as well employ a man to
+write:--
+
+ One of the most important reforms is that of the Courts, which need
+ a uniform system and to be made independent. In this way only can
+ men be assured that all are equal before the law.
+
+I think he might.
+
+A day or two ago the musical critic of the "Standard" wrote this:--
+
+ MR LAMOND IN BEETHOVEN
+
+ Mr Frederick Lamond, the Scottish pianist, as an interpreter of
+ Beethoven has few rivals. At his second recital of the composer's works
+ at Bechstein Hall on Saturday afternoon he again displayed a complete
+ sympathy and understanding of his material that extracted the very
+ essence of aesthetic and musical value from each selection he
+ undertook. The delightful intimacy of his playing and his unusual force
+ of individual expression are invaluable assets, which, allied to his
+ technical brilliancy, enable him to achieve an artistic triumph. The
+ two lengthy Variations in E flat major (Op. 35) and in D major, the
+ latter on the Turkish March from 'The Ruins of Athens,' when included
+ in the same programme, require a master hand to provide continuity of
+ interest. _To say that Mr Lamond successfully avoided moments that
+ might at times, in these works, have inclined to comparative
+ disinterestedness, would be but a moderate way of expressing the
+ remarkable fascination with which his versatile playing endowed them_,
+ but _at the same time_ two of the sonatas given included a similar form
+ of composition, and no matter how intellectually brilliant may be the
+ interpretation, the extravagant use of a certain mode is bound in time
+ to become somewhat ineffective. In the Three Sonatas, the E major (Op.
+ 109), the A major (Op. 2), No. 2, and the C minor (Op. 111), Mr Lamond
+ signalised his perfect insight into the composer's varying moods.
+
+Will you not agree with me that here is no writing, here is no prose,
+here is not even English, but merely a flux of words to the pen?
+
+Here again is a string, a concatenation--say, rather, a tiara--of gems of
+purest ray serene from the dark unfathomed caves of a Scottish
+newspaper:--
+
+ The Chinese viewpoint, as indicated in this letter, may not be without
+ interest to your readers, because it evidently is suggestive of more
+ than an academic attempt to explain an unpleasant aspect of things
+ which, if allowed to materialise, might suddenly culminate in disaster
+ resembling the Chang-Sha riots. It also ventures to illustrate
+ incidents having their inception in recent premature endeavours to
+ accelerate the development of Protestant missions in China; but we
+ would hope for the sake of the interests involved that what my
+ correspondent describes as 'the irresponsible ruffian element' may be
+ known by their various religious designations only within very
+ restricted areas.
+
+Well, the Chinese have given it up, poor fellows! and are asking the
+Christians--as to-day's newspapers inform us--to pray for them. Do you
+wonder? But that is, or was, the Chinese 'viewpoint,'--and what a
+willow-pattern viewpoint! Observe its delicacy. It does not venture to
+interest or be interesting; merely 'to be not without interest.' But it
+does 'venture to illustrate incidents'--which, for a viewpoint, is brave
+enough: and this illustration 'is suggestive of something more than an
+academic attempt to explain an unpleasant aspect of things which, if
+allowed to materialise, might suddenly culminate.' What materialises? The
+unpleasant aspect? or the things? Grammar says the 'things,' 'things
+which if allowed to materialise.' But things are materialised already,
+and as a condition of their being things. It must be the aspect, then,
+that materialises. But, if so, it is also the aspect that culminates, and
+an aspect, however unpleasant, can hardly do that, or at worst cannot
+culminate in anything resembling the Chang-Sha riots.... I give it up.
+
+Let us turn to another trick of Jargon: the trick of Elegant Variation,
+so rampant in the Sporting Press that there, without needing to attend
+these lectures, the Undergraduate detects it for laughter:--
+
+ Hayward and C. B. Fry now faced the bowling; which apparently had
+ no terrors for the Surrey crack. The old Oxonian, however,
+ took some time in settling to work....
+
+Yes, you all recognise it and laugh at it. But why do you practise it in
+your Essays? An undergraduate brings me an essay on Byron. In an essay on
+Byron, Byron is (or ought to be) mentioned many times. I expect, nay
+exact, that Bryon shall be mentioned again and again. But my
+undergraduate has a blushing sense that to call Byron Byron twice on one
+page is indelicate. So Byron, after starting bravely as Byron, in the
+second sentence turns into 'that great but unequal poet' and
+thenceforward I have as much trouble with Byron as ever Telemachus with
+Proteus to hold and pin him back to his proper self. Half-way down the
+page he becomes 'the gloomy master of Newstead': overleaf he is
+reincarnated into 'the meteoric darling of society': and so proceeds
+through successive avatars--'this arch-rebel,' 'the author of Childe
+Harold,' 'the apostle of scorn,' 'the ex-Harrovian, proud, but abnormally
+sensitive of his club-foot,' 'the martyr of Missolonghi,' 'the
+pageant-monger of a bleeding heart.' Now this again is Jargon. It does
+not, as most Jargon does, come of laziness; but it comes of timidity,
+which is worse. In literature as in life he makes himself felt who not
+only calls a spade a spade but has the pluck to double spades and
+re-double.
+
+For another rule--just as rough and ready, but just as useful: Train your
+suspicions to bristle up whenever you come upon 'as regards,' 'with
+regard to,' 'in respect of,' 'in connection with,' 'according as to
+whether,' and the like. They are all dodges of Jargon, circumlocutions
+for evading this or that simple statement: and I say that it is not
+enough to avoid them nine times out of ten, or nine-and-ninety times out
+of a hundred. You should never use them. That is positive enough, I hope?
+Though I cannot admire his style, I admire the man who wrote to me, 'Re
+Tennyson--your remarks anent his "In Memoriam" make me sick': for though
+re is not a preposition of the first water, and 'anent' has enjoyed its
+day, the finish crowned the work. But here are a few specimens far, very
+far, worse:--
+
+ The special difficulty in Professor Minocelsi's case [our old friend
+ 'case' again] arose _in connexion with_ the view he holds _relative
+ to_ the historical value of the opening pages of Genesis.
+
+That is Jargon. In prose, even taking the miserable sentence as it stands
+constructed, we should write 'the difficulty arose over the views he
+holds about the historical value,' etc.
+
+From a popular novelist:--
+
+ I was entirely indifferent _as to_ the results of the game, caring
+ nothing at all _as to_ whether _I had losses or gains_--
+
+Cut out the first 'as' in 'as to,' and the second 'as to' altogether, and
+the sentence begins to be prose--'I was indifferent to the results of the
+game, caring nothing whether I had losses or gains.'
+
+But why, like Dogberry, have 'had losses'? Why not simply 'lose.' Let us
+try again. 'I was entirely indifferent to the results of the game, caring
+nothing at all whether I won or lost.'
+
+Still the sentence remains absurd: for the second clause but repeats the
+first without adding one jot. For if you care not at all whether you win
+or lose, you must be entirely indifferent to the results of the game. So
+why not say 'I was careless if I won or lost,' and have done with it?
+
+ A man of simple and charming character, he was fitly _associated
+ with_ the distinction of the Order of Merit.
+
+I take this gem with some others from a collection made three years ago,
+by the "Oxford Magazine"; and I hope you admire it as one beyond price.
+'He was associated with the distinction of the Order of Merit' means 'he
+was given the Order of Merit.' If the members of that Order make a
+society then he was associated with them; but you cannot associate a man
+with a distinction. The inventor of such fine writing would doubtless
+have answered Canning's Needy Knife-grinder with:--
+
+ I associate thee with sixpence! I will see thee in another
+ association first!
+
+But let us close our _florilegium_ and attempt to illustrate Jargon by
+the converse method of taking a famous piece of English (say Hamlet's
+soliloquy) and remoulding a few lines of it in this fashion:--
+
+ To be, or the contrary? Whether the former or the latter be preferable
+ would seem to admit of some difference of opinion; the answer in the
+ present case being of an affirmative or of a negative character
+ according as to whether one elects on the one hand to mentally suffer
+ the disfavour of fortune, albeit in an extreme degree, or on the other
+ to boldly envisage adverse conditions in the prospect of eventually
+ bringing them to a conclusion. The condition of sleep is similar to, if
+ not indistinguishable from, that of death; and with the addition of
+ finality the former might be considered identical with the latter: so
+ that in this connection it might be argued with regard to sleep that,
+ could the addition be effected, a termination would be put to the
+ endurance of a multiplicity of inconveniences, not to mention a number
+ of downright evils incidental to our fallen humanity, and thus a
+ consummation achieved of a most gratifying nature.
+
+That is Jargon: and to write Jargon is to be perpetually shuffling around
+in the fog and cotton-wool of abstract terms; to be for ever hearkening,
+like Ibsen's Peer Gynt, to the voice of the Boyg exhorting you to
+circumvent the difficulty, to beat the air because it is easier than to
+flesh your sword in the thing. The first virtue, the touchstone of a
+masculine style, is its use of the active verb and the concrete noun.
+When you write in the active voice, 'They gave him a silver teapot,' you
+write as a man. When you write 'He was made the recipient of a silver
+teapot,' you write jargon. But at the beginning set even higher store on
+the concrete noun. Somebody--I think it was FitzGerald--once posited the
+question 'What would have become of Christianity if Jeremy Bentham had
+had the writing of the Parables?' Without pursuing that dreadful enquiry
+I ask you to note how carefully the Parables--those exquisite short
+stories--speak only of 'things which you can touch and see'--'A sower
+went forth to sow,' 'The kingdom of heaven is like unto leaven, which a
+woman took,'--and not the Parables only, but the Sermon on the Mount and
+almost every verse of the Gospel. The Gospel does not, like my young
+essayist, fear to repeat a word, if the word be good. The Gospel says
+'Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's'--not 'Render unto
+Caesar the things that appertain to that potentate.' The Gospel does not
+say 'Consider the growth of the lilies,' or even 'Consider how the lilies
+grow.' It says, 'Consider the lilies, how they grow.'
+
+Or take Shakespeare. I wager you that no writer of English so constantly
+chooses the concrete word, in phrase after phrase forcing you to touch
+and see. No writer so insistently teaches the general through the
+particular. He does it even in "Venus and Adonis" (as Professor Wendell,
+of Harvard, pointed out in a brilliant little monograph on Shakespeare,
+published some ten years ago). Read any page of "Venus and Adonis" side
+by side with any page of Marlowe's "Hero and Leander" and you cannot but
+mark the contrast: in Shakespeare the definite, particular, visualised
+image, in Marlowe the beautiful generalisation, the abstract term, the
+thing seen at a literary remove. Take the two openings, both of which
+start out with the sunrise. Marlowe begins:--
+
+ Now had the Morn espied her lover's steeds:
+ Whereat she starts, puts on her purple weeds,
+ And, red for anger that he stay'd so long,
+ All headlong throws herself the clouds among.
+
+Shakespeare wastes no words on Aurora and her feelings, but gets to his
+hero and to business without ado:--
+
+ Even as the sun with purple-colour'd face--
+(You have the sun visualised at once),
+ Even as the sun with purple-colour'd face
+ Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
+ Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase;
+ Hunting he loved, but love he laugh'd to scorn.
+
+When Shakespeare has to describe a horse, mark how definite he is:--
+
+ Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long,
+ Broad breast, full eye, small head and nostril wide,
+ High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong;
+ Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide.
+
+Or again, in a casual simile, how definite:--
+
+ Upon this promise did he raise his chin,
+ Like a dive-dipper peering through a wave,
+ Which, being look'd on, ducks as quickly in.
+
+Or take, if you will, Marlowe's description of Hero's first meeting
+Leander:--
+
+ It lies not in our power to love or hate,
+ For will in us is over-ruled by fate...,
+
+and set against it Shakespeare's description of Venus' last meeting with
+Adonis, as she came on him lying in his blood:--
+
+ Or as a snail whose tender horns being hit
+ Shrinks backward in his shelly cave with pain,
+ And there, all smother'd up, in shade doth sit,
+ Long after fearing to creep forth again;
+ So, at his bloody view--
+
+I do not deny Marlowe's lines (if you will study the whole passage) to be
+lovely. You may even judge Shakespeare's to be crude by comparison. But
+you cannot help noting that whereas Marlowe steadily deals in abstract,
+nebulous terms, Shakespeare constantly uses concrete ones, which later on
+he learned to pack into verse, such as:--
+
+ Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care.
+
+Is it unfair to instance Marlowe, who died young? Then let us take
+Webster for the comparison; Webster, a man of genius or of something very
+like it, and commonly praised by the critics for his mastery over
+definite, detailed, and what I may call _solidified sensation_. Let us
+take this admired passage from his "Duchess of Malfy":--
+
+ _Ferdinand._ How doth our sister Duchess bear herself
+ In her imprisonment?
+
+ _Basola._ Nobly: I'll describe her.
+ She's sad as one long used to 't, and she seems
+ Rather to welcome the end of misery
+ Than shun it: a behaviour so noble
+ As gives a majesty to adversity
+(Note the abstract terms.)
+ You may discern the shape of loveliness
+ More perfect in her tears than in her smiles;
+ She will muse for hours together; and her silence
+(Here we first come on the concrete: and beautiful it is.)
+ Methinks expresseth more than if she spake.
+
+Now set against this the well-known passage from "Twelfth Night" where
+the Duke asks and Viola answers a question about someone unknown to him
+and invented by her--a mere phantasm, in short: yet note how much more
+definite is the language:--
+
+_Viola._ My father had a daughter lov'd a man;
+ As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
+ _I_ should your lordship.
+
+_Duke._ And what's her history?
+
+_Viola._ A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
+ But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
+ Feed on her damask cheek; she pined in thought,
+ And with a green and yellow melancholy
+ She sat like Patience on a monument
+ Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
+
+Observe (apart from the dramatic skill of it) how, when Shakespeare _has_
+to use the abstract noun 'concealment,' on an instant it turns into a
+visible worm 'feeding' on the visible rose; how, having to use a second
+abstract word 'patience,' at once he solidifies it in tangible stone.
+
+Turning to prose, you may easily assure yourselves that men who have
+written learnedly on the art agree in treating our maxim--to prefer the
+concrete term to the abstract, the particular to the general, the
+definite to the vague--as a canon of rhetoric. Whately has much to say on
+it. The late Mr E. J. Payne, in one of his admirable prefaces to Burke
+(prefaces too little known and valued, as too often happens to
+scholarship hidden away in a schoolbook), illustrated the maxim by
+setting a passage from Burke's speech "On Conciliation with America"
+alongside a passage of like purport from Lord Brougham's "Inquiry into
+the Policy of the European Powers." Here is the deadly parallel:--
+
+BURKE.
+
+ In large bodies the circulation of power must be less vigorous at the
+ extremities. Nature has said it. The Turk cannot govern AEgypt and
+ Arabia and Curdistan as he governs Thrace; nor has he the same dominion
+ in Crimea and Algiers which he has at Brusa and Smyrna. Despotism
+ itself is obliged to truck and huckster. The Sultan gets such obedience
+ as he can. He governs with a loose rein, that he may govern at all; and
+ the whole of the force and vigour of his authority in his centre is
+ derived from a prudent relaxation in all his borders.
+
+BROUGHAM.
+
+ In all the despotisms of the East, it has been observed that the
+ further any part of the empire is removed from the capital, the more do
+ its inhabitants enjoy some sort of rights and privileges: the more
+ inefficacious is the power of the monarch; and the more feeble and
+ easily decayed is the organisation of the government.
+
+You perceive that Brougham has transferred Burke's thought to his own
+page: but will you not also perceive how pitiably, by dissolving Burke's
+vivid particulars into smooth generalities, he has enervated its hold on
+the mind?
+
+'This particularising style,' comments Mr Payne, 'is the essence of
+Poetry; and in Prose it is impossible not to be struck with the energy it
+produces. Brougham's passage is excellent in its way: but it pales before
+the flashing lights of Burke's sentences. The best instances of this
+energy of style, he adds, are to be found in the classical writers of the
+seventeenth century. 'When South says, "An Aristotle was but the rubbish
+of an Adam, and Athens but the rudiments of Paradise," he communicates
+more effectually the notion of the difference between the intellect of
+fallen and of unfallen humanity than in all the philosophy of his sermons
+put together.'
+
+You may agree with me, or you may not, that South in this passage is
+expounding trash; but you will agree with Mr Payne and me that he uttered
+it vividly.
+
+Let me quote to you, as a final example of this vivid style of writing, a
+passage from Dr John Donne far beyond and above anything that ever lay
+within South's compass:--
+
+ The ashes of an Oak in the Chimney are no epitaph of that Oak, to tell
+ me how high or how large that was; it tells me not what flocks it
+ sheltered while it stood, nor what men it hurt when it fell. The dust
+ of great persons' graves is speechless, too; it says nothing, it
+ distinguishes nothing. As soon the dust of a wretch whom thou wouldest
+ not, as of a prince whom thou couldest not look upon will trouble thine
+ eyes if the wind blow it thither; and when a whirle-wind hath blown the
+ dust of the Churchyard into the Church, and the man sweeps out the dust
+ of the Church into the Churchyard, who will undertake to sift those
+ dusts again and to pronounce, This is the Patrician, this is the noble
+ flowre [flour], this the yeomanly, this the Plebeian bran? So is the
+ death of Iesabel (Iesabel was a Queen) expressed. They shall not say
+ _This is Iesabel_; not only not wonder that it is, nor pity that it
+ should be; but they shall not say, they shall not know, _This is
+ Iesabel._
+
+Carlyle noted of Goethe, 'his emblematic intellect, his never-failing
+tendency to transform into _shape_, into _life_, the feeling that may
+dwell in him. Everything has form, has visual excellence: the poet's
+imagination bodies forth the forms of things unseen, and his pen turns
+them into shape.'
+
+Perpend this, Gentlemen, and maybe you will not hereafter set it down to
+my reproach that I wasted an hour of a May morning in a denunciation of
+Jargon, and in exhorting you upon a technical matter at first sight so
+trivial as the choice between abstract and definite words.
+
+A lesson about writing your language may go deeper than language; for
+language (as in a former lecture I tried to preach to you) is your
+reason, your [Greek: logos]. So long as you prefer abstract words, which
+express other men's summarised concepts of things, to concrete ones which
+as near as can be reached to things themselves and are the first-hand
+material for your thoughts, you will remain, at the best, writers at
+second-hand. If your language be Jargon, your intellect, if not your
+whole character, will almost certainly correspond. Where your mind should
+go straight, it will dodge: the difficulties it should approach with a
+fair front and grip with a firm hand it will be seeking to evade or
+circumvent. For the Style is the Man, and where a man's treasure is there
+his heart, and his brain, and his writing, will be also.
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE VI.
+
+ON THE CAPITAL DIFFICULTY OF PROSE
+
+Thursday, May 15
+
+
+To-day, Gentlemen, leaving the Vanity Fair of Jargon behind us, we have
+to essay a difficult country; of which, though fairly confident of his
+compass-bearings, your guide confesses, that wide tracts lie outside his
+knowledge--outside of anything that can properly be called his knowledge.
+I feel indeed somewhat as Gideon must have felt when he divided his host
+on the slopes of Mount Gilead, warning back all who were afraid. In
+asking the remnant to follow as attentively as they can, I promise only
+that, if Heaven carry us safely across, we shall have 'broken the back'
+of the desert.
+
+In my last lecture but one, then,--and before our small interlude with
+Jargon--the argument had carried us, more or less neatly, up to this
+point: that the capital difficulty of verse consisted in saying ordinary
+unemotional things, of bridging the flat intervals between high moments.
+This point, I believe, we made effectively enough.
+
+Now, for logical neatness, we should be able to oppose a corresponding
+point, that the capital difficulty of prose consists in saying
+extraordinary things, in running it up from its proper level to these
+high emotional, musical, moments. And mightily convenient that would be,
+Gentlemen, if I were here to help you to answer scientific questions
+about prose and verse instead of helping you, in what small degree I can,
+to write. But in Literature (which, let me remind you yet once again, is
+an art) you cannot classify as in a science.
+
+Pray attend while I impress on you this most necessary warning. In
+studying literature, and still more in studying to write it, distrust all
+classification! All classifying of literature intrudes 'science' upon an
+art, and is artificially 'scientific'; a trick of pedants, that they may
+make it the easier to examine you on things with which no man should have
+any earthly concern, as I am sure he will never have a heavenly one.
+Beetles, minerals, gases, may be classified; and to have them classified
+is not only convenient but a genuine advance of knowledge. But if you had
+to _make_ a beetle, as men are making poetry, how much would
+classification help? To classify in a science is necessary for the
+purpose of that science: to classify when you come to art is at the best
+an expedient, useful to some critics and to a multitude of examiners. It
+serves the art-critic to talk about Tuscan, Flemish, Pre-Raphaelite,
+schools of painting. The expressions are handy, and we know more or less
+what they intend. Just so handily it may serve us to talk about
+'Renaissance poets,' 'the Elizabethans,' 'the Augustan age.' But such
+terms at best cannot be scientific, precise, determinate, as for examples
+the terms 'inorganic,' 'mammal,' 'univalve,' 'Old Red Sandstone' are
+scientific, precise, determinate. An animal is either a mammal or it is
+not: you cannot say as assuredly that a man is or is not an Elizabethan.
+We call Shakespeare an Elizabethan and the greatest of Elizabethans,
+though as a fact he wrote his most famous plays when Elizabeth was dead.
+Shirley was but seven years old when Elizabeth died; yet (if
+'Elizabethan' have any meaning but a chronological one) Shirley belongs
+to the Elizabethan firmament, albeit but as a pale star low on the
+horizon: whereas Donne--a post-Elizabethan if ever there was one--had by
+1603 reached his thirtieth year and written almost every line of those
+wonderful lyrics which for a good sixty years gave the dominant note to
+Jacobean and Caroline poetry.
+
+In treating of an art we classify for handiness, not for purposes of
+exact knowledge; and man (_improbus homo_) with his wicked inventions is
+for ever making fools of our formulae. Be consoled--and, if you are wise,
+thank Heaven--that genius uses our best-laid logic to explode it.
+
+Be consoled, at any rate, on finding that after deciding the capital
+difficulty of prose to lie in saying extraordinary things, in running up
+to the high emotional moments, the prose-writers explode and blow our
+admirable conclusions to ruins.
+
+You see, we gave them the chance to astonish us when we defined prose as
+'a record of human thought, dispensing with metre and using rhythm
+laxly.' When you give genius leave to use something laxly, at its will,
+genius will pretty surely get the better of you.
+
+Observe, now, following the story of English prose, what has happened.
+Its difficulty--the inherent, the native disability of prose--is to
+handle the high emotional moments which more properly belong to verse.
+Well, we strike into the line of our prose-writers, say as early as
+Malory. We come on this; of the Passing of Arthur:--
+
+ 'My time hieth fast,' said the king. Therefore said Arthur unto Sir
+ Bedivere, 'Take thou Excalibur my good sword, and go with it to yonder
+ water side; and when thou comest there I charge thee throw my sword in
+ that water and come again and tell me what there thou seest.' 'My
+ lord,' said Bedivere, 'Your commandment shall be done; and lightly
+ bring you word again.' So Sir Bedivere departed, and by the way he
+ beheld that noble sword, that the pommel and the haft was all of
+ precious stones, and then he said to himself, 'If I throw this rich
+ sword in the water, thereof shall never come good, but harm and loss.'
+ And then Sir Bedivere hid Excaliber under a tree. And so, as soon as he
+ might, he came again unto the king, and said he had been at the water
+ and had thrown the sword into the water, 'What saw thou there?' said
+ the king, 'Sir,' he said, 'I saw nothing but waves and winds.'
+
+Now I might say a dozen things of this and of the whole passage that
+follows, down to Arthur's last words. Specially might I speak to you of
+the music of its monosyllables--'"What sawest you there?" said the king...
+"Do as well as thou mayest; for in me is no trust for to trust in. For I
+will into the Vale of Avilion, to heal me of my grievous wound. And if
+thou hear never more of me, pray for my soul."' But, before making
+comment at all, I shall quote you another passage; this from Lord
+Berners' translation of Froissart, of the death of Robert Bruce:--
+
+ It fortuned that King Robert of Scotland was right sore aged and
+ feeble: for he was greatly charged with the great sickness, so that
+ there was no way for him but death. And when he felt that his end drew
+ near, he sent for such barons and lords of his realm as he trusted
+ best, and shewed them how there was no remedy with him, but he must
+ needs leave this transitory life.... Then he called to him the gentle
+ knight, Sir William Douglas, and said before all the lords, 'Sir
+ William, my dear friend, ye know well that I have had much ado in my
+ days to uphold and sustain the right of this realm; and when I had most
+ ado I made a solemn vow, the which as yet I have not accomplished,
+ whereof I am right sorry; the which was, if I might achieve and make an
+ end of all my wars, so that I might once have brought this realm in
+ rest and peace, then I promised in my mind to have gone and warred on
+ Christ's enemies, adversaries to our holy Christian faith. To this
+ purpose mine heart hath ever intended, but our Lord would not consent
+ thereto... And sith it is so that my body can not go, nor achieve that my
+ heart desireth, I will send the heart instead of the body, to
+ accomplish mine avow... I will, that as soon as I am trespassed out of
+ this world, that ye take my heart out of my body, and embalm it, and
+ take of my treasure as ye shall think sufficient for that enterprise,
+ both for yourself and such company as ye will take with you, and
+ present my heart to the Holy Sepulchre, whereas our Lord lay, seeing my
+ body can not come there. And take with you such company and purveyance
+ as shall be appertaining to your estate. And, wheresoever ye come, let
+ it be known how ye carry with you the heart of King Robert of Scotland,
+ at his instance and desire to be presented to the Holy Sepulchre.' Then
+ all the lords, that heard these words, wept for pity.
+
+There, in the fifteenth century and early in the sixteenth, you have
+Malory and Berners writing beautiful English prose; prose the emotion of
+which (I dare to say) you must recognise if you have ears to hear. So you
+see that already our English prose not only achieves the 'high moment,'
+but seems to obey it rather and be lifted by it, until we ask ourselves,
+'Who could help writing nobly, having to tell how King Arthur died or how
+the Bruce?' Yes, but I bid you observe that Malory and Berners are both
+relating what, however noble, is quite simple, quite straightforward. It
+is when prose attempts to _philosophise_, to _express thoughts_ as well
+as to relate simple sayings and doings--it is then that the trouble
+begins. When Malory has to philosophise death, to _think_ about it, this
+is as far as he attains:--
+
+ 'Ah, Sir Lancelot,' said he, 'thou wert head of all Christian Knights!
+ And now I dare say,' said Sir Ector, 'that, Sir Lancelot, there thou
+ liest, thou were never matched of none earthly hands; and thou were the
+ curtiest knight that ever bare shield: and thou were the truest friend
+ to thy lover that ever strood horse, and thou were the truest lover of
+ a sinful man that ever loved woman; and thou were the kindest man that
+ ever strooke with sword; and thou were the goodliest person that ever
+ came among press of knights; and thou were the meekest man and gentlest
+ that ever sat in hall among ladies; and thou were the sternest Knight
+ to thy mortal foe that ever put spear in the rest.'
+
+Beautiful again, I grant! But note you that, eloquent as he can be on the
+virtues of his dead friend, when Sir Ector comes to the thought of death
+itself all he can accomplish is, 'And now I dare say that, Sir Lancelot,
+there thou liest.'
+
+Let us make a leap in time and contrast this with Tyndale and the
+translators of our Bible, how they are able to make St Paul speak of
+death:--
+
+ So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this
+ mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass
+ the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. O
+ death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?
+
+There you have something clean beyond what Malory or Berners could
+compass: there you have a different kind of high moment--a high moment of
+philosophising: there you have emotion impregnated with thought. It was
+necessary that our English verse even after Chaucer, our English prose
+after Malory and Berners, should overcome this most difficult gap (which
+stands for a real intellectual difference) if it aspired to be what
+to-day it is--a language of the first class, comparable with Greek and
+certainly no whit inferior to Latin or French.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Let us leave prose for a moment, and see how Verse threw its bridge over
+the gap. If you would hear the note of Chaucer at its deepest, you will
+find it in the famous exquisite lines of the Prioress' Prologue:--
+
+ O moder mayde! O mayde moder fre!
+ O bush unbrent, brenning in Moyses' sight!
+
+in the complaint of Troilus, in the rapture of Griselda restored to her
+children:--
+
+ O tendre, O dere, O yonge children myne,
+ Your woful moder wende stedfastly
+ That cruel houndes or some foul vermyne
+ Hadde eten you; but God of his mercy
+ And your benigne fader tendrely
+ Hath doon you kept...
+
+You will find a note quite as sincere in many a carol, many a ballad, of
+that time:--
+
+ He came al so still
+ There his mother was,
+ As dew in April
+ That falleth on the grass.
+
+ He came al so still
+ To his mother's bour,
+ As dew in April
+ That falleth on the flour.
+
+ He came al so still
+ There his mother lay,
+ As dew in April
+ That falleth on the spray.
+
+ Mother and maiden
+ Was never none but she;
+ Well may such a lady
+ Goddes mother be.
+
+You get the most emotional note of the Ballad in such a stanza
+as this, from "The Nut-Brown Maid":--
+
+ Though it be sung of old and young
+ That I should be to blame,
+ Their's be the charge that speak so large
+ In hurting of my name;
+ For I will prove that faithful love
+ It is devoid of shame;
+ In your distress and heaviness
+ To part with you the same:
+ And sure all tho that do not so
+ True lovers are they none:
+ For, in my mind, of all mankind
+ I love but you alone.
+
+All these notes, again, you will admit to be exquisite: but they gush
+straight from the unsophisticated heart: they are nowise deep save in
+innocent emotion: they are not _thoughtful_. So when Barbour breaks out
+in praise of Freedom, he cries
+
+ A! Fredome is a noble thing!
+
+And that is really as far as he gets. He goes on
+
+ Fredome mayse man to hafe liking.
+
+(Freedom makes man to choose what he likes; that is, makes him free)
+
+ Fredome all solace to man giffis,
+ He livis at ese that frely livis!
+ A noble hart may haif nane ese,
+ Na ellys nocht that may him plese,
+ Gif fredome fail'th: for fre liking
+ Is yharnit ouer all othir thing...
+
+--and so on for many lines; all saying the same thing, that man yearns
+for Freedom and is glad when he gets it, because then he is free; all
+hammering out the same observed fact, but all knocking vainly on the door
+of thought, which never opens to explain what Freedom _is_.
+
+Now let us take a leap as we did with prose, and 'taking off' from the
+Nut-Brown Maid's artless confession,
+
+ in my mind, of all mankind
+ I love but you alone,
+
+let us alight on a sonnet of Shakespeare's--
+
+ Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts
+ Which I by lacking have supposed dead:
+ And there reigns Love, and all Love's loving parts,
+ And all those friends which I thought buried.
+ How many a holy and obsequious tear
+ Hath dear religious love stolen from mine eye
+ As interest of the dead!--which now appear
+ But things removed, that hidden in thee lie.
+ Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,
+ Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone,
+ Who all their parts of me to thee did give;
+ That due of many now is mine alone:
+ Their images I loved I view in thee,
+ And thou, all they, hast all the all of me.
+
+What a new way of talking about love! Not a happier way--there is less of
+heart's-ease in these doubts, delicacies, subtleties--but how much more
+thoughtful! How has our Nut-Brown Maid eaten of the tree of knowledge!
+
+Well, there happened a Shakespeare, to do this for English Verse: and
+Shakespeare was a miracle which I cheerfully leave others to rationalise
+for you, having, for my own part and so far as I have fared in life,
+found more profit in a capacity for simple wonder.
+
+But I can tell you how the path was made straight to that miracle. The
+shock of the New Learning upon Europe awoke men and unsealed men's
+eyes--unsealed the eyes of Englishmen in particular--to discover a
+literature, and the finest in the world, which _habitually philosophised
+life_: a literature which, whether in a chorus of Sophocles or a talk
+reported by Plato, or in a ribald page of Aristophanes or in a knotty
+chapter of Thucydides, was in one guise or another for ever asking _Why?_
+'What is man doing here, and why is he doing it?' 'What is his purpose?
+his destiny?' 'How stands he towards those unseen powers--call them the
+gods, or whatever you will--that guide and thwart, provoke, madden,
+control him so mysteriously?' 'What are these things we call good and
+evil, life, love, death?'
+
+These are questions which, once raised, haunt Man until he finds an
+answer--some sort of answer to satisfy him. Englishmen, hitherto content
+with the Church's answers but now aware of this great literature which
+answered so differently--and having other reasons to suspect what the
+Church said and did--grew aware that their literature had been as a child
+at play. It had never philosophised good and evil, life, love or death:
+it had no literary forms for doing this; it had not even the vocabulary.
+So our ancestors saw that to catch up their lee-way--to make their report
+worthy of this wonderful, alluring discovery--new literary forms had to
+be invented--new, that is, in English: the sonnet, the drama, the verse
+in which the actors were to declaim, the essay, the invented tale. Then,
+for the vocabulary, obviously our fathers had either to go to Greek,
+which had invented the A.B.C. of philosophising; or to seek in the other
+languages which were already ahead of English in adapting that alphabet;
+or to give our English Words new contents, new connotations, new
+meanings; or lastly, to do all three together.
+
+Well, it was done; and in verse very fortunately done; thanks of course
+to many men, but thanks to two especially--to Sir Thomas Wyat, who led
+our poets to Italy, to study and adopt the forms in which Italy had cast
+its classical heritage; and to Marlowe, who impressed blank verse upon
+the drama. Of Marlowe I shall say nothing; for with what he achieved you
+are familiar enough. Of Wyat I may speak at length to you, one of these
+days; but here, to prepare you for what I hope to prove--that Wyat is one
+of the heroes of our literature--I will give you three brief reasons why
+we should honour his memory:--
+
+(1) He led the way. On the value of that service I shall content myself
+with quoting a passage from Newman:--
+
+ When a language has been cultivated in any particular department of
+ thought, and so far as it has been generally perfected, an existing
+ want has been supplied, and there is no need for further workmen. In
+ its earliest times, while it is yet unformed, to write in it at all is
+ almost a work of genius. It is like crossing a country before roads are
+ made communicating between place and place. The authors of that age
+ deserve to be Classics both because of what they do and because they
+ can do it. It requires the courage and force of great talent to compose
+ in the language at all; and the composition, when effected, makes a
+ permanent impression on it.
+
+This Wyat did. He was a pioneer and opened up a new country to
+Englishmen. But he did more.
+
+(2) Secondly, he had the instinct to perceive that the lyric, if it would
+philosophise life, love, and the rest, must boldly introduce the personal
+note: since in fact when man asks questions about his fortune or destiny
+he asks them most effectively in the first person. 'What am _I_ doing?
+Why are _we_ mortal? Why do _I_ love _thee_?'
+
+This again Wyat did: and again he did more.
+
+For (3) thirdly--and because of this I am surest of his genius--again and
+again, using new thoughts in unfamiliar forms, he wrought out the result
+in language so direct, economical, natural, easy, that I know to this day
+no one who can better Wyat's best in combining straight speech with
+melodious cadence. Take the lines _Is it possible?_--
+
+ Is it possible?
+ For to turn so oft;
+ To bring that lowest that was most aloft:
+ And to fall highest, yet to light soft?
+ Is it possible?
+
+ All is possible!
+ Whoso list believe;
+ Trust therefore first, and after preve;
+ As men wed ladies by licence and leave,
+ All is possible!
+
+or again--
+
+ Forget not! O forget not this!--
+ How long ago hath been, and is,
+ The mind that never meant amiss:
+ Forget not yet!
+
+or again (can personal note go straighter?)--
+
+ And wilt thou leave me thus?
+ Say nay, say nay, for shame!
+ To save thee from the blame
+ --Of all my grief and grame.
+ And wilt thou leave me thus?
+ Say nay! say nay!
+
+(Say 'nay,' say 'nay'; and don't say, 'the answer is in the negative.')
+
+No: I have yet to mention the straightest, most natural of them all, and
+will read it to you in full--
+
+ What should I say?
+ Since Faith is dead
+ And Truth away
+ From you is fled?
+ Should I be led
+ With doubleness?
+ Nay! nay! mistress.
+
+ I promised you
+ And you promised me
+ To be as true
+ As I would be:
+ But since I see
+ Your double heart,
+ Farewell my part!
+
+ Thought for to take
+ Is not my mind;
+ But to forsake
+ One so unkind;
+ And as I find,
+ So will I trust,
+ Farewell, unjust!
+
+ Can ye say nay
+ But that you said
+ That I alway
+ Should be obeyed?
+ And--thus betrayed
+ Or that I wist!
+ Farewell, unkist!
+
+I observe it noted on p. 169 of Volume iii of "The Cambridge History of
+English Literature" that Wyat 'was a pioneer and perfection was not to be
+expected of him. He has been described as a man stumbling over obstacles,
+continually falling but always pressing forward.' I know not to what
+wiseacre we owe that pronouncement: but what do you think of it, after
+the lyric I have just quoted? I observe, further, on p. 23 of the same
+volume of the same work, that the Rev. T. M. Lindsay, D.D., Principal of
+the Glasgow College of the United Free Church of Scotland, informs us of
+Wilson's "Arte of Rhetorique" that
+
+ there is little or no originality in the volume, save, perhaps, the
+ author's condemnation of the use of French and Italian phrases and
+ idioms, which he complains are 'counterfeiting the kinges Englishe.'
+ The warnings of Wilson will not seem untimely if to be remembered that
+ the earlier English poets of the period--Sir Thomas Wyatt the elder,
+ and the Earl of Surrey--drew their inspiration from Petrarch and
+ Ariosto, that their earlier attempts at poetry were translations from
+ Italian sonnets, and that their maturer efforts were imitations of the
+ sweet and stately measures and style of Italian poesie. The polish
+ which men like Wyatt and Surrey were praised for giving to our 'rude
+ and homely manner of vulgar poesie' might have led to some
+ degeneration.
+
+Might it, indeed? As another Dominie would have said, 'Pro-digious.'
+
+ (Thought for to take
+ Is not my mind;
+ But to forsake
+
+This Principal of the Glasgow College of the United Free Church of
+Scotland--
+
+ Farewell unkiss'd!)
+
+But I have lingered too long with this favourite poet of mine and left
+myself room only to hand you the thread by following which you will come
+to the melodious philosophising of Shakespeare's Sonnets--
+
+ Let me not to the marriage of true Minds
+ Admit impediment. Love is not love
+ Which alters where it alteration finds
+ Or bends with the remover to remove.
+
+Note the Latin words 'impediment,' 'alteration,' 'remove.' We are using
+the language of philosophy here or, rather, the 'universal language,'
+which had taken over the legacy of Greek. You may trace the use of it
+growing as, for example, you trace it through the Elizabethan song-books:
+and then (as I said) comes Shakespeare, and with Shakespeare the miracle.
+
+The education of Prose was more difficult, and went through more violent
+convulsions. I suppose that the most of us--if, after reading a quantity
+of Elizabethan prose, we had the courage to tell plain truth, undaunted
+by the name of a great epoch--would confess to finding the mass of it
+clotted in sense as well as unmusical in sound, a disappointment almost
+intolerable after the simple melodious clarity of Malory and Berners. I,
+at any rate, must own that the most of Elizabethan prose pleases me
+little; and I speak not of Elizabethan prose at its worst, of such stuff
+as disgraced the already disgraceful Martin Marprelate Controversy, but
+of such as a really ingenious and ingenuous man like Thomas Nashe could
+write at his average. For a sample:--
+
+ English Seneca read by candle-light yields many good sentences such as
+ 'Blood is a beggar' and so forth; and if you entreat him fair on a
+ frosty morning, he will afford you whole Hamlets, I should say handfuls
+ of tragical speeches.... Sufficeth them [that is, modern followers of
+ Seneca] to bodge up a blank verse with if's and and's, and others,
+ while for recreation after their candle-stuff, having starched their
+ beards most curiously, to make a peripatetical path into the inner
+ parts of the city, and spend two or three hours in turning over the
+ French _Doudie_, where they attract more infection in one minute than
+ they can do eloquence all the days of their life by conversing with any
+ authors of like argument.
+
+This may be worth studying historically, to understand the difficulties
+our prose had to encounter and overcome. But no one would seriously
+propose it as a model for those who would write well, which is our
+present business. I have called it 'clotted.' It is, to use a word of the
+time, 'farced' with conceits; it needs straining.
+
+Its one merit consists in this, that it is struggling, fumbling, to say
+something: that is, to _make_ something. It is not, like modern Jargon,
+trying to dodge something. English prose, in short, just here is passing
+through a period of puberty, of green sickness: and, looking at it
+historically, we may own that its throes are commensurate with the
+stature of the grown man to be.
+
+These throes tear it every way. On the one hand we have Ascham,
+pendantically enough, apologising that he writes in the English tongue
+(yet with a sure instinct he does it):--
+
+ If any man would blame me, either for taking such a matter in hand, or
+ else for writing it in the English tongue, this answer I may make him,
+ that what the best of the realm think it honest for them to use, I, one
+ of the meanest sort, ought not to suppose it vile for me to write... And
+ as for the Latin or Greek tongue, everything is so excellently done in
+ them that none can do better. In the English tongue, contrary,
+ everything in a manner so meanly, both for the matter and the handling,
+ that no man can do worse.
+
+On the other hand you have Euphuism with its antithetical tricks and
+poises, taking all prose by storm for a time: Euphuism, to be revived two
+hundred years later, and find a new avatar in the Johnsonian balance;
+Euphuism, dead now, yet alive enough in its day.
+
+For all these writers were alive: and I tell you it is an inspiriting
+thing to be alive and trying to write English. All these authors were
+alive and trying to _do_ something. Unconsciously for the most part they
+were striving to philosophise the vocabulary of English prose and find a
+rhythm for its periods.
+
+And then, as already had happened to our Verse, to our Prose too there
+befel a miracle.
+
+You will not ask me 'What miracle?' I mean, of course, the Authorised
+Version of the Bible.
+
+I grant you, to be sure, that the path to the Authorised Version was made
+straight by previous translators, notably by William Tyndale. I grant you
+that Tyndale was a man of genius, and Wyclif before him a man of genius.
+I grant you that the forty-seven men who produced the Authorised Version
+worked in the main upon Tyndale's version, taking that for their basis.
+Nay, if you choose to say that Tyndale was a miracle in himself, I
+cheerfully grant you that as well. But, in a lecture one must not
+multiply miracles _praeter necessitatem_; and when Tyndale has been
+granted you have yet to face the miracle that forty-seven men--not one of
+them known, outside of this performance, for any superlative talent--sat
+in committee and almost consistently, over a vast extent of
+work--improved upon what Genius had done. I give you the word of an old
+committee-man that this is not the way of committees--that only by
+miracle is it the way of any committee. Doubtless the forty-seven were
+all good men and godly: but doubtless also good and godly were the Dean
+and Chapter who dealt with Alfred Steven's tomb of the Duke of Wellington
+in St Paul's Cathedral; and you know what _they_ did. Individual genius
+such as Tyndale's or even Shakespeare's, though we cannot explain it, we
+may admit as occurring somehow, and not incredibly, in the course of
+nature. But that a large committee of forty-seven should have gone
+steadily through the great mass of Holy Writ, seldom interfering with
+genius, yet, when interfering, seldom missing to improve: that a
+committee of forty-seven should have captured (or even, let us say,
+should have retained and improved) a rhythm so personal, so constant,
+that our Bible has the voice of one author speaking through its many
+mouths: that, Gentlemen, is a wonder before which I can only stand humble
+and aghast.
+
+Does it or does it not strike you as queer that the people who set you
+'courses of study' in English Literature never include the Authorised
+Version, which not only intrinsically but historically is out and away
+the greatest book of English Prose. Perhaps they can pay you the silent
+compliment of supposing that you are perfectly acquainted with it?... I
+wonder. It seems as if they thought the Martin Marprelate Controversy,
+for example, more important somehow.
+
+ 'So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this
+ mortal shall have put on immortality...'
+
+ 'Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it:
+ if a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it
+ would utterly be contemned.'
+
+ 'The king's daughter is all glorious within: her clothing is of
+ wrought gold.'
+
+ 'Thine eyes shall see the King in his beauty: they shall behold the
+ land that is very far off.'
+
+ 'And a man shall be as an hiding-place from the wind, and a covert
+ from the tempest; as rivers of water in a dry place, as the shadow
+ of a great rock in a weary land.'
+
+When a nation has achieved this manner of diction, those rhythms for its
+dearest beliefs, a literature is surely established. Just there I find
+the effective miracle, making the blind to see, the lame to leap. Wyclif,
+Tyndale, Coverdale and others before the forty-seven had wrought. The
+Authorised Version, setting a seal on all, set a seal on our national
+style, thinking and speaking. It has cadences homely and sublime, yet so
+harmonises them that the voice is always one. Simple men--holy and humble
+men of heart like Isaak Walton or Bunyan--have their lips touched and
+speak to the homelier tune. Proud men, scholars,--Milton, Sir Thomas
+Browne--practice the rolling Latin sentence; but upon the rhythms of our
+Bible they, too, fall back. 'The great mutations of the world are acted,
+or time may be too short for our designs.' 'Acquaint thyself with the
+Choragium of the stars.' 'There is nothing immortal but immortality.' The
+precise man Addison cannot excel one parable in brevity or in heavenly
+clarity: the two parts of Johnson's antithesis come to no more than this
+'Our Lord has gone up to the sound of a trump: with the sound of a trump
+our Lord has gone up.' The Bible controls its enemy Gibbon as surely as
+it haunts the curious music of a light sentence of Thackeray's. It is in
+everything we see, hear, feel, because it is in us, in our blood.
+
+What madman, then, will say 'Thus or thus far shalt thou go' to a prose
+thus invented and thus with its free rhythms, after three hundred years,
+working on the imagination of Englishmen? Or who shall determine its
+range, whether of thought or of music? You have received it by
+inheritance, Gentlemen: it is yours, freely yours--to direct your words
+through life as well as your hearts.
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE VII
+
+SOME PRINCIPLES REAFFIRMED
+
+Thursday, May 29
+
+
+Let me begin to-day, Gentlemen, with a footnote to my last lecture. It
+ended, as you may remember, upon an earnest appeal to you, if you would
+write good English, to study the Authorised Version of the Scriptures; to
+learn from it, moreover, how by mastering _rhythm_, our Prose overcame
+the capital difficulty of Prose and attuned itself to rival its twin
+instrument, Verse; compassing almost equally with Verse man's thought
+however sublime, his emotion however profound.
+
+Now in the course of my remarks I happened--maybe a little
+incautiously--to call the Authorised Version a 'miracle'; using that
+word in a colloquial sense, in which no doubt you accepted it; meaning
+no more than that the thing passed my understanding. I have allowed that
+the famous forty-seven owed an immense deal to earlier translators--to
+the Bishops, to Tyndale, to the Wyclif Version, as themselves allowed it
+eagerly in their preface:--
+
+ Truly (good Christian reader) wee never thought from the beginning that
+ we should needs to make a new Translation, nor yet to make of a bad one
+ a good one ... but to make a good one better, or out of many good ones
+ one principall good one, not justly to be excepted against: that hath
+ bene our indeavour, that our marke.
+
+(See [Footnote 1] at the end of this lecture.)
+
+Nevertheless the Authorised Version astounds me, as I believe it will
+astound you when you compare it with earlier translations. Aristotle (it
+has been said) invented Chance to cover the astonishing fact that there
+were certain phenomena for which he found himself wholly unable to
+account. Just so, if one may compare very small things with very great, I
+spoke of the Authorised Version as a 'miracle.' It was, it remains,
+marvellous to me.
+
+Should these deciduous discourses ever come to be pressed within the
+leaves of a book, I believe their general meaning will be as clear to
+readers as I hope it is to you who give me so much pleasure by pursuing
+them--almost (shall I say?) like Wordsworth's Kitten with those other
+falling leaves:--
+
+ That almost I could repine
+ That your transports are not mine.
+
+But meanwhile certain writers in the newspapers are assuming that by this
+word 'miracle' I meant to suggest to you a something like plenary
+inspiration at once supernatural and so authoritative that it were
+sacrilege now to alter their text by one jot or tittle.
+
+Believe me, I intended nothing of the sort: for that, in my plain
+opinion, would be to make a fetish of the book. One of these days I hope
+to discuss with you what inspiration is: with what accuracy--with what
+meaning, if any--we can say of a poet that he is inspired; questions
+which have puzzled many wise men from Plato downwards.
+
+But certainly I never dreamt of claiming plenary inspiration for the
+forty-seven. Nay, if you will have it, they now and again wrote stark
+nonsense. Remember that I used this very same word 'miracle' of
+Shakespeare, meaning again that the total Shakespeare quite outpasses my
+comprehension; yet Shakespeare, too, on occasion talks stark nonsense, or
+at any rate stark bombast. He never blotted a line--'I would he had
+blotted a thousand' says Ben Jonson: and Ben Jonson was right.
+Shakespeare could have blotted out two or three thousand lines: he was
+great enough to afford it. Somewhere Matthew Arnold supposes us as
+challenging Shakespeare over this and that weak or bombastic passage, and
+Shakespeare answering with his tolerant smile, that no doubt we were
+right, but after all, 'Did it greatly matter?'
+
+So we offer no real derogation to the forty-seven in asserting that here
+and there they wrote nonsense. They could afford it. But we do stultify
+criticism if, adoring the grand total of wisdom and beauty, we prostrate
+ourselves indiscriminately before what is good and what is bad, what is
+sublime sense and what is nonsense, and forbid any reviser to put forth a
+hand to the ark.
+
+The most of us Christians go to church on Christmas Day, and there we
+listen to this from Isaiah, chapter ix, verses 1-7:--
+
+ Nevertheless the dimness shall not be such as was in her vexation,
+ when at the first he lightly afflicted the land of Zebulun and the
+ land of Naphtali, and afterwards did more grievously afflict her
+ by the way of the sea, beyond Jordan, in Galilee of the nations.
+
+ The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they
+ that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the
+ light shined.
+
+ Thou hast multiplied the nation, and not increased the joy: they
+ joy before thee according to the joy in harvest, and as men
+ rejoice when they divide the spoil.
+
+ For thou hast broken the yoke of his burden, and the staff of his
+ shoulder, the rod of his oppressor, as in the day of Midian.
+
+ For every battle of the warrior is with confused noise, and
+ garments rolled in blood: but this shall be with burning and fuel
+ of fire.
+
+ For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given.
+
+The forty-seven keep their majestic rhythm. But have you ever, sitting in
+church on a Christmas morning, asked yourself what it all means, or if it
+mean anything more than a sing-song according somehow with the holly and
+ivy around the pillars? _'Thou hast multiplied the nation, and not
+increased the joy: they joy before thee according to the joy in
+harvest,'_ But why--if the joy be not increased? _'For every battle of
+the warrior is with confused noise, and garments rolled in blood: but
+this shall be with burning and fuel of fire.'_ Granted the rhythmical
+antithesis, where is the real antithesis, the difference, the
+improvement? If a battle there must be, how is burning better than
+garments rolled in blood? And, in fine, what is it all about? Now let us
+turn to the Revised Version:--
+
+ But there shall be no gloom to her that was in anguish. In the
+ former time he brought into contempt the land of Zebulun and the
+ land of Naphtali, but in the latter time hath he made it glorious,
+ by the way of the sea, beyond Jordan, Galilee of the nations.
+
+ The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they
+ that dwelt in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the
+ light shined. Thou hast multiplied the nation, thou hast
+ increased their joy: they joy before thee according to the joy in
+ harvest, as men rejoice when they divide the spoil.
+
+ For the yoke of his burden, and the staff of his shoulder, the
+ rod of his oppressor, thou hast broken as in the day of Midian.
+
+ For all the armour of the armed man in the tumult, and the
+ garments rolled in blood, shall even be for burning, for fuel of
+ fire.
+
+ For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given; and the
+ government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be
+ called Wonderful, Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father,
+ Prince of Peace.
+
+I say (knowing no Hebrew, merely assuming our Revisers to be at least no
+worse scholars than the forty-seven) that here, with the old cadences
+kept so far as possible, we are given sense in place of nonsense: and I
+ask you to come to the Revised Version with a fair mind. I myself came to
+it with some prejudice; in complete ignorance of Hebrew, and with no more
+than the usual amount of Hellenistic Greek. I grant at once that the
+Revised New Testament was a literary fiasco; largely due (if gossip may
+be trusted) to trouble with the Greek Aorist, and an unwise decision--in
+my opinion the most gratuitously unwise a translator can take--to use one
+and the same English word, always and in every connotation, as
+representing one and the same Greek word: for in any two languages few
+words are precisely equivalent. A fiasco at any rate the Revised New
+Testament was, deserving in a dozen ways and in a thousand passages the
+scorn which Professor Saintsbury has recently heaped on it. But I protest
+against the injustice of treating the two Revisions--of the New Testament
+and of the Old--as a single work, and saddling the whole with the sins of
+a part. For two years I spent half-an-hour daily in reading the
+Authorised and Revised Versions side by side, marking as I went, and in
+this way worked through the whole--Old Testament, Apocrypha, New
+Testament. I came to it (as I have said) with some prejudice; but I
+closed the books on a conviction, which my notes sustain for me, that the
+Revisers of the Old Testament performed their task delicately,
+scrupulously, on the whole with great good judgment; that the critic does
+a wrong who brings them under his indiscriminate censure; that on the
+whole they have clarified the sense of the Authorised Version while
+respecting its consecrated rhythms; and that--to name an example, that
+you may test my words and judge for yourselves--the solemn splendour of
+that most wonderful poem, the story of Job, [Greek: dialampei], 'shines
+through' the new translation as it never shone through the old.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+And now Gentlemen (as George Herbert said on a famous occasion), let us
+tune our instruments.
+
+Before discussing with you another and highly important question of style
+in writing, I will ask you to look back for a few moments on the road we
+have travelled.
+
+We have agreed that our writing should be _appropriate_: that it should
+fit the occasion; that it should rise and fall with the subject, be grave
+where that is serious, where it is light not afraid of what Stevenson in
+"The Wrong Box" calls 'a little judicious levity.' If your writing
+observe these precepts, it will be well-mannered writing.
+
+To be sure, much in addition will depend on yourself--on what you are or
+have made yourself, since in writing the style can never be separated
+from the man. But neither can it in the practice of virtue: yet, though
+men differ in character, I do not observe that moralists forbear from
+laying down general rules of excellence. Now if you will recall our
+further conclusion, that writing to be good must be persuasive (since
+persuasion is the only true intellectual process), and will test this by
+a passage of Newman's I am presently to quote to you, from his famous
+'definition of a gentleman,' I think you will guess pretty accurately the
+general law of excellence I would have you, as Cambridge men, tribally
+and particularly obey.
+
+Newman says of a gentleman that among other things:
+
+ He is never mean or little in his disputes, never takes unfair
+ advantage, never mistakes personalities or sharp sayings for arguments,
+ or insinuates evil which he dare not say out.... If he engages in
+ controversy of any kind, his disciplined intellect preserves him from
+ the blundering discourtesy of better perhaps, but less educated minds;
+ who, like blunt weapons, tear and hack instead of cutting clean, who
+ mistake the point in argument, waste their strength on trifles,
+ misconceive their adversary, and leave the question more involved than
+ they found it. He may be right or wrong in his opinion: but he is too
+ clear-sighted to be unjust. He is simple as he is forcible, and as
+ brief as he is decisive.
+
+Enough for the moment on this subject: but commit these words to your
+hearts, and you will not only triumph in newspaper controversy. You will
+do better: you will avoid it.
+
+To proceed.--We found further that our writing should be _accurate_:
+because language expresses thought--is, indeed, the only expression of
+thought--and if we lack the skill to speak precisely, our thought will
+remain confused, ill-defined. The editor of a mining paper in Denver,
+U.S.A., boldly the other day laid down this law, that niceties of
+language were mere 'frills': all a man needed was to 'get there,' that
+is, to say what he wished in his own way. But just here, we found, lies
+the mischief. You will not get there by hammering away on your own
+untutored impulse. You must first be your own reader, chiselling out the
+thought definitely for yourself: and, after that, must carve out the
+intaglio yet more sharply and neatly, if you would impress its image
+accurately upon the wax of other men's minds. We found that even for Men
+of Science this neat clean carving of words was a very necessary
+accomplishment. As Sir James Barrie once observed, 'The Man of Science
+appears to be the only man who has something to say, just now--and the
+only man who does not know how to say it.' But the trouble by no means
+ends with Science. Our poets--those gifted strangely prehensile men who,
+as I said in my first lecture, seem to be born with filaments by which
+they apprehend, and along which they conduct, the half-secrets of life to
+us ordinary mortals--our poets would appear to be scamping artistic
+labour, neglecting to reduce the vague impressions to the clearly cut
+image which is, after all, what helps. It may be a triumph that they have
+taught modern French poetry to be suggestive. I think it would be more
+profitable could they learn from France--that nation of fine workmen--to
+be definite.
+
+But about 'getting there'--I ask you to remember Wolfe, with the seal of
+his fate on him, stepping into his bateau on the dark St. Lawrence River
+and quoting as they tided him over:--
+
+ The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
+ And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
+ Await alike th' inevitable hour;
+ The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
+
+'I had rather have written those lines,' said Wolfe, 'than conquer
+Canada.' That is how our forefathers valued noble writing. The Denver
+editor holds that you may write as you please so long as you get there.
+Well, Wolfe got there: and so, in Wolfe's opinion, did Gray: but perhaps
+to Wolfe and Gray, and to the Denver editor, 'there' happened to mean two
+different places. Wolfe got to the Heights of Abraham.
+
+Further, it was against this loose adaptation of words to thought and to
+things that we protested in our interpolated lecture on Jargon, which is
+not so much bad writing as the avoidance of writing. The man who employs
+Jargon does not get 'there' at all, even in a raw rough pioneering
+fashion: he just walks around 'there' in the ambient tracks of others.
+Let me fly as high as I can and quote you two recent achievements by
+Cabinet Ministers, as reported in the Press:--(1) 'Mr McKenna's reasons
+for releasing from Holloway Prison Miss Lenton while on remand charged
+_in connexion with_ (sweet phrase!) the firing of the tea pavilion in Kew
+Gardens are given in a letter which he has _caused to be forwarded_ to a
+correspondent who inquired _as to_ the circumstances of the release. The
+letter says "I am desired by the Home Secretary to say that Lilian Lenton
+was reported by the medical officer at Holloway Prison to be in a state
+of collapse and in imminent danger of death _consequent upon_ her refusal
+to take food. Three courses were open--(1) To leave her to die; (2) To
+attempt to feed her forcibly, which the medical officer advised would
+probably entail death in her existing condition: (3) To release her. The
+Home Secretary adopted the last course."'
+
+'Would probably entail death in her existing condition'! Will anyone tell
+me how Mr McKenna or anyone else could kill, or (as he prefers to put it)
+entail death upon, Miss Lenton in a non-existing condition?
+
+(2) Next take the Chancellor of the Exchequer. As we know, the Chancellor
+of the Exchequer can use incisive speech when he chooses. On May 8th as
+reported in next day's "Morning Post," Mr Lloyd George, answering a
+question, delivered himself of this to an attentive Senate:--
+
+ With regard to Mr Noel Buxton's questions, I cannot answer for an
+ enquiry which is _of a private and confidential character_, for
+ although I am associated with it I am not associated with it as a
+ Minister of the Crown.... Those enquiries are of a very careful
+ systematic and scientific character, and are being conducted by the
+ ablest investigators in this country, some of whom have reputations
+ of international character. I am glad to think that the
+ investigation is of a most impartial character.
+
+It must be a comforting thought, that an inquiry of a private and
+confidential character is also of a very systematic and scientific
+character, and besides being of a most impartial character, is conducted
+by men of international character--whatever that may happen to mean. What
+_is_ an international character, and what would you give for one?
+
+We found that this way of talking, while pretending to be something
+pontifical, is really not prose at all, nor reputable speech at all, but
+Jargon; nor is the offence to be excused by pleading, as I have heard it
+pleaded, that Mr Lloyd George was not using his own phraseology but
+quoting from a paper supplied him by some permanent official of the
+Treasury: since we select our civil servants among men of decent
+education and their salaries warrant our stipulating that they shall be
+able, at least, to speak and write their mother tongue.
+
+We laid down certain rules to help us in the way of straight
+Prose:--
+
+(1) _Always always prefer the concrete word to the abstract._
+
+(2) _Almost always prefer the direct word to the circumlocution._
+
+(3) _Generally, use transitive verbs, that strike their object; and use
+them in the active voice, eschewing the stationary passive, with its
+little auxiliary its's and was's, and its participles getting into the
+light of your adjectives, which should be few. For, as a rough law, by
+his use of the straight verb and by his economy of adjectives you can
+tell a man's style, if it be masculine or neuter, writing or
+'composition.'_
+
+The authors of that capital handbook "The King's English," which I have
+already recommended to you, add two rules:--
+
+(4) _Prefer the short word to the long._
+(5) _Prefer the Saxon word to the Romance._
+
+But these two precepts you would have to modify by so long a string of
+exceptions that I do not commend them to you. In fact I think them false
+in theory and likely to be fatal in practice. For, as my last lecture
+tried to show, you no sooner begin to philosophise things instead of
+merely telling a tale of them than you must go to the Mediterranean
+languages: because in these man first learnt to discuss his 'why' and
+'how,' and these languages yet guard the vocabulary.
+
+Lastly, we saw how, by experimenting with rhythm, our prose 'broke its
+birth's invidious bar' and learnt to scale the forbidden heights.
+
+Now by attending to the few plain rules given above you may train
+yourselves to write sound, straightforward, work-a-day English. But if
+you would write melodious English, I fear the gods will require of you
+what they ought to have given you at birth--something of an ear. Yet the
+most of us have ears, of sorts; and I believe that, though we can only
+acquire it by assiduous practice, the most of us can wonderfully improve
+our talent of the ear.
+
+If you will possess yourselves of a copy of Quintilian or borrow one from
+any library (Bohn's translation will do) and turn to his 9th book, you
+will find a hundred ways indicated, illustrated, classified, in which a
+writer or speaker can vary his Style, modulate it, lift or depress it,
+regulate its balance.
+
+All these rules, separately worth studying, if taken together may easily
+bewilder and dishearten you. Let me choose just two, and try to hearten
+you by showing that, even with these two only, you can go a long way.
+
+Take the use of right emphasis. What Quintilian says of right
+emphasis--or the most important thing he says--is this:--
+
+ There is sometimes an extraordinary force in some particular word,
+ which, if it be placed in no very conspicuous position in the middle
+ part of a sentence, is likely to escape the attention of the hearer
+ and to be obscured by the words surrounding it; but if it be put at
+ the end of the sentence is urged upon the reader's sense and
+ imprinted on his mind.
+
+That seems obvious enough, for English use as well as for Latin. 'The
+wages of sin is Death'--anyone can see how much more emphatic that is
+than 'Death is the wages of sin.' But let your minds work on this matter
+of emphasis, and discover how emphasis has always its right point
+somewhere, though it be not at all necessarily at the end of the
+sentence. Take a sentence in which the strong words actually repeat
+themselves for emphasis:--
+
+ Babylon is fallen, is fallen, that great city.
+
+Our first impulse would be to place the emphasis at the end:--
+
+ Babylon, that great city, is fallen, is fallen.
+
+The Latin puts it at the beginning:--
+
+ Cecidit, cecidit, Babylonia illa magna.
+ Fallen, fallen, is Babylon, that great city.
+
+The forty-seven preserved the 'falling close' so exquisite in the Latin;
+the emphasis, already secured by repetition, they accentuated by
+lengthening the pause. I would urge on you that in every sentence there
+is just a right point of emphasis which you must train your ears to
+detect. So your writing will acquire not only emphasis, but balance, and
+you will instinctively avoid such an ill-emphasised sentence as this,
+which, not naming the author, I will quote for your delectation:--
+
+ 'Are Japanese Aprils always as lovely as this?' asked the man in the
+ light tweed suit of two others in immaculate flannels with crimson
+ sashes round their waists and puggarees folded in cunning plaits
+ round their broad Terai hats.
+
+Explore, next, what (though critics have strangely neglected it) to my
+mind stands the first, or almost the first, secret of beautiful writing
+in English, whether in prose or in verse; I mean that inter-play of
+vowel-sounds in which no language can match us. We have so many vowel
+sounds indeed, and so few vowels to express them, that the foreigner,
+mistaking our modesty, complains against God's plenty. We alone, for
+example, sound by a natural vowel that noble _I_, which other nations can
+only compass by diphthongs. Let us consider that vowel for a moment or
+two and mark how it leads off the dance of the Graces, its sisters:--
+
+ Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the
+ Lord is risen upon thee.
+
+Mark how expressively it drops to the solemn vowel 'O,' and
+anon how expressively it reasserts itself to express rearisen
+delight:--
+
+ Arise, shine, for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is
+ risen upon thee. For behold the darkness shall cover the earth, and
+ gross darkness the people: but the Lord shall arise upon thee, and
+ his glory shall be seen upon thee. And the Gentiles shall come to
+ thy light, and Kings to the brightness of thy rising.
+
+Take another passage in which the first lift of this _I_ vowel yields to
+its graver sisters as though the sound sank into the very heart of the
+sense.
+
+ I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, 'Father,
+ I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, and am no more
+ worthy to be called thy son.'
+
+'And am no more worthy to be called thy son.' Mark the deep O's. 'For
+this my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' 'O my
+son, my son Absalom'--observe the I and O how they interchime, until the O
+of sorrow tolls the lighter note down:--
+
+ O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would God I had died
+ for thee, O Absolom, my son, my son!
+
+Or take this lyric, by admission one of the loveliest written in this
+present age, and mark here too how the vowels play and ring and chime and
+toll.
+
+ I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
+ And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
+ Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,
+ And live alone in the bee-loud glade.[2]
+ And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping
+ slow,
+ Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket
+ sings;
+ There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
+ And evening full of the linnet's wings.
+ I will arise and go now, for always night and day
+ I hear lake-water lapping, with low sounds by the shore;
+ While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
+ I hear it in the deep heart's core.
+
+I think if you will but open your ears to this beautiful vowel-play which
+runs through all the best of our prose and poetry, whether you ever learn
+to master it or not, you will have acquired a new delight, and one
+various enough to last you though you live to a very old age.
+
+All this of which I am speaking is Art: and Literature being an Art, do
+you not see how personal a thing it is--how it cannot escape being
+personal? No two men (unless they talk Jargon) say the same thing in the
+same way. As is a man's imagination, as is his character, as is the
+harmony in himself, as is his ear, as is his skill, so and not otherwise
+he will speak, so and not otherwise than they can respond to that
+imagination, that character, that order of his intellect, that harmony of
+his soul, his hearers will hear him. Let me conclude with this great
+passage from Newman which I beg you, having heard it, to ponder:--
+
+ If then the power of speech is as great as any that can be named,
+ --if the origin of language is by many philosophers considered
+ nothing short of divine--if by means of words the secrets of the
+ heart are brought to light, pain of soul is relieved, hidden grief
+ is carried off, sympathy conveyed, experience recorded, and wisdom
+ perpetuated,--if by great authors the many are drawn up into unity,
+ national character is fixed, a people speaks, the past and the
+ future, the East and the West are brought into communication with
+ each other,--if such men are, in a word, the spokesmen and the
+ prophets of the human family--it will not answer to make light of
+ Literature or to neglect its study: rather we may be sure that, in
+ proportion as we master it in whatever language, and imbibe its
+ spirit, we shall ourselves become in our own measure the ministers
+ of like benefits to others--be they many or few, be they in the
+ obscurer or the more distinguished walks of life--who are united to
+ us by social ties, and are within the sphere of our personal
+ influence.
+
+
+
+
+[Footnote 1: I append the following specimen translations of the famous
+passage in St Paul's "First Epistle to the Corinthians" xv. 51 sqq. I
+choose this because (1) it is an important passage; (2) it touches a high
+moment of philosophising; (3) the comparison seems to me to represent
+with great fairness to Tyndale the extent of the forty-seven's debt to
+him; (4) it shows that they meant exactly what they said in their
+Preface; and (5) it illustrates, towards the close, their genius for
+improvement. From the Greek, Wyclif translates:--
+
+ Lo, I seie to you pryvyte of holi thingis | and alle we schulen rise
+ agen | but not alle we schuln be chaungid | in a moment in the
+ twynkelynge of an ye, in the last trumpe | for the trumpe schal
+ sowne: and deed men schulen rise agen with out corrupcion, and we
+ schuln be changid | for it bihoveth this corruptible thing to clothe
+ uncorropcion and this deedly thing to putte aweye undeedlynesse. But
+ whanne this deedli thing schal clothe undeedlynesse | thanne schal
+ the word be don that is written | deeth is sopun up in victorie |
+ deeth, where is thi victorie? deeth, where is thi pricke?
+
+Tyndale:--
+
+ Beholde I shewe you a mystery. We shall not all slepe: but we shall
+ all be chaunged | and that in a moment | and in the twinclinge of an
+ eye | at the sounde of the last trompe. For the trompe shall blowe,
+ and the deed shall ryse incorruptible and we shalbe chaunged. For
+ this corruptible must put on incorruptibilite: and this mortall must
+ put on immortalite. When this corruptible hath put on
+ incorruptibilite | and this mortall hath put on immortalite: than
+ shalbe brought to pass the saying that is written, 'Deeth is
+ consumed in to victory.' Deeth, where is thy stynge? Hell, where is
+ thy victory?
+
+The Authorised Version:--
+
+ Behold, I shew you a mystery; we shall not all sleepe, but wee shall
+ all be changed, in a moment, in the twinckling of an eye, at the
+ last trumpe, (for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be
+ raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed). For this corruptible
+ must put on incorruption, and this mortall must put on immortalitie.
+ So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this
+ mortall shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to
+ passe the saying that is written, 'Death is swallowed up in
+ victory.' O Death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy
+ victory?]
+
+
+[Footnote 2: I E O : I O E
+ I O : E OU A
+ 'As musing slow, I hail ('as m_u_sing sl_o_w _I_ ha_i_l)
+ Thy genial loved return.' (Th_y_ g_e_nial l_o_ved ret_u_rn.')
+ COLLINS, "Ode to Evening."]
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE VIII.
+
+ON THE LINEAGE OF ENGLISH LITERATURE (I)
+
+Wednesday, October 22
+
+
+You may think it strange, Gentlemen, that of a course of ten lectures
+which aim to treat English Literature as an affair of practice, I should
+propose to spend two in discussing our literary lineage: a man's lineage
+and geniture being reckoned, as a rule, among the things he cannot be
+reasonably asked to amend. But since of high breeding is begotten (as
+most of us believe) a disposition to high thoughts, high deeds; since to
+have it and be modestly conscious of it is to carry within us a faithful
+monitor persuading us to whatsoever in conduct is gentle, honourable, of
+good repute, and so silently dissuading us from base thoughts, low ends,
+ignoble gains; seeing, moreover, that a man will often do more to match
+his father's virtue than he would to improve himself; I shall endeavour,
+in this and my next lecture, to scour that spur of ancestry and present
+it to you as so bright and sharp an incentive that you, who read English
+Literature and practise writing here in Cambridge, shall not pass out
+from her insensible of the dignity of your studies, or without pride or
+remorse according as you have interpreted in practice the motto,
+_Noblesse oblige_.
+
+ 'Tis wisdom, and that high,
+ For men to use their fortune reverently
+ Even in youth.
+
+Let me add that, just as a knowledge of his family failings will help one
+man in economising his estate, or warn another to shun for his health the
+pleasures of the table, so some knowledge of our lineage in letters may
+put us, as Englishmen, on the watch for certain national defects (for
+such we have), on our guard against certain sins which too easily beset
+us. Nay, this watchfulness may well reach down from matters of great
+moment to seeming trifles. It is good for us to recognise with Wordsworth
+that
+
+ We must be free or die, who speak the tongue
+ That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold
+ Which Milton held. In everything we are sprung
+ Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold.
+
+But, though less important, it is good also to recognise that, as sons of
+Cambridge, we equally offend against her breeding when in our scientific
+writings we allow ourselves to talk of a microbe as an 'antibody.'
+
+Now, because a great deal of what I have to say this morning, if not
+heretical, will yet run contrary to the vogue and practice of the Schools
+for these thirty years, I will take the leap into my subject over a
+greater man's back and ask you to listen with particular attention to the
+following long passage from a writer whose opinion you may challenge, but
+whose authority to speak as a master of English prose no one in this room
+will deny.
+
+ When (says Cardinal Newman) we survey the stream of human affairs for
+ the last three thousand years, we find it to run thus:--At first sight
+ there is so much fluctuation, agitation, ebbing and flowing, that we
+ may despair to discern any law in its movements, taking the earth as
+ its bed and mankind as its contents; but on looking more closely and
+ attentively we shall discern, in spite of the heterogeneous materials
+ and the various histories and fortunes which are found in the race of
+ man during the long period I have mentioned, a certain formation amid
+ the chaos--one and one only,--and extending, though not over the whole
+ earth, yet through a very considerable portion of it. Man is a social
+ being and can hardly exist without society, and in matter of fact
+ societies have ever existed all over the habitable earth. The greater
+ part of these associations have been political or religious, and have
+ been comparatively limited in extent and temporary. They have been
+ formed and dissolved by the force of accidents, or by inevitable
+ circumstances; and when we have enumerated them one by one we have made
+ of them all that can be made. But there is one remarkable association
+ which attracts the attention of the philosopher, not political nor
+ religious--or at least only partially and not essentially such--which
+ began in the earliest times and grew with each succeeding age till it
+ reached its complete development, and then continued on, vigorous and
+ unwearied, and still remains as definite and as firm as ever it was.
+ Its bond is a _common civilisation_: and though there are other
+ civilisations in the world, as there are other societies, yet _this_
+ civilisation, together with the society which is its creation and its
+ home, is so distinctive and luminous in its character, so imperial in
+ its extent, so imposing in its duration, and so utterly without rival
+ on the face of the earth, that the association may fitly assume to
+ itself the title of 'Human Society,' and _its_ civilisation the
+ abstract term 'Civilisation.'
+
+ There are indeed great outlying portions of mankind which are not,
+ perhaps never have been, included in this Human Society; still they are
+ outlying portions and nothing else, fragmentary, unsociable, solitary
+ and unmeaning, protesting and revolting against the grand central
+ formation of which I am speaking, but not uniting with each other into
+ a second whole. I am not denying, of course, the civilisation of the
+ Chinese, for instance, though it be not our civilisation; but it is a
+ huge, stationary, unattractive, morose civilisation. Nor do I deny a
+ civilisation to the Hindoos, nor to the ancient Mexicans, nor to the
+ Saracens, nor (in a certain sense) to the Turks; but each of these
+ races has its own civilisation, as separate from one another as from
+ ours.
+
+ I do not see how they can be all brought under one idea....
+
+ Gentlemen, let me here observe that I am not entering upon the question
+ of races, or upon their history. I have nothing to do with ethnology; I
+ take things as I find them on the surface of history and am but
+ classifying phenomena. Looking, then, at the countries which surround
+ the Mediterranean Sea as a whole, I see them to be from time
+ immemorial, the seat of an association of intellect and mind such as to
+ deserve to be called the Intellect and the Mind of the Human Kind.
+ Starting as it does, and advancing from certain centres, till their
+ respective influences intersect and conflict, and then at length
+ intermingle and combine, a common Thought has been generated, and a
+ common Civilisation defined and established. Egypt is one such starting
+ point, Syria, another, Greece a third, Italy a fourth and North Africa
+ a fifth--afterwards France and Spain. As time goes on, and as
+ colonisation and conquest work their changes, we see a great
+ association of nations formed, of which the Roman Empire is the
+ maturity and the most intelligible expression: an association, however,
+ not political but mental, based on the same intellectual ideas and
+ advancing by common intellectual methods.... In its earliest age it
+ included far more of the Eastern world than it has since; in these
+ later times it has taken into its compass a new hemisphere; in the
+ Middle Ages it lost Africa, Egypt and Syria, and extended itself to
+ Germany, Scandinavia and the British Isles. At one time its territory
+ was flooded by strange and barbarous races, but the existing
+ civilisation was vigorous enough to vivify what threatened to stifle
+ it, and to assimilate to the old social forms what came to expel them:
+ and thus the civilisation of modern times remains what it was of old;
+ not Chinese, or Hindoo, or Mexican, or Saracen ... but the lineal
+ descendant, or rather the continuation--_mutatis mutandis_--of the
+ civilisation which began in Palestine and Greece.
+
+To omit, then, all minor debts such as what of arithmetic, what of
+astronomy, what of geography, we owe to the Saracen, from Palestine we
+derive the faith of Europe shared (in the language of the Bidding Prayer)
+by all Christian people dispersed throughout the world; as to Greece we
+owe the rudiments of our Western art, philosophy, letters; and not only
+the rudiments but the continuing inspiration, so that--though entirely
+superseded in worship, as even in the Athens of Pericles they were
+worshipped only by an easy, urbane, more than half humorous
+tolerance--Apollo and the Muses, Zeus and the great ones of Olympus,
+Hermes and Hephaestus, Athene in her armour, with her vanquisher the
+foam-born irresistible Aphrodite, these remain the authentic gods of our
+literature, beside whom the gods of northern Europe--Odin, Thor,
+Freya--are strangers, unhomely, uncanny as the shadows of unfamiliar
+furniture on the walls of an inn. Sprung though great numbers of us are
+from the loins of Northmen, it is in these gracious deities of the South
+that we find the familiar and the real, as from the heroes of the
+sister-island, Cucullain and Concobar, we turn to Hercules, to Perseus,
+to Bellerophon, even to actual men of history, saying 'Give us Leonidas,
+give us Horatius, give us Regulus. These are the mighty ones we
+understand, and from whom, in a direct line of tradition, we understand
+Harry of Agincourt, Philip Sidney and our Nelson.'
+
+Now since, of the Mediterranean peoples, the Hebrews discovered the
+Unseen God whom the body of Western civilisation has learnt to worship;
+since the Greeks invented art, philosophy, letters; since Rome found and
+developed the idea of imperial government, of imperial colonies as
+superseding merely fissiparous ones, of settling where she conquered
+(_ubi Romanus vicit ibi habitat_) and so extending with Government that
+system of law which Europe still obeys; we cannot be surprised that
+Israel, Greece, Rome--each in turn--set store on a pure ancestry. Though
+Christ be the veritable Son of God, his ancestry must be traced back
+through his supposed father Joseph to the stem of Jesse, and so to
+Abraham, father of the race. Again, as jealously as the Evangelist
+claimed Jesus for a Hebrew of the Hebrews, so, if you will turn to the
+"Menexenus" of Plato in the Oration of Aspasia over the dead who perished
+in battle, you hear her claim that 'No Pelopes nor Cadmians, nor
+Egyptians, nor Dauni, nor the rest of the crowd of born foreigners dwell
+with us; but ours is the land of pure Hellenes, free from admixture.'
+These proud Athenians, as you know, wore brooches in the shape of golden
+grasshoppers, to signify that they were [Greek: autochthones], children
+of Attica, sprung direct from her soil. And so, again, the true Roman,
+while enlarging Rome's citizenship over Asia, Africa, Gaul, to our remote
+Britain, insisted, even in days of the later Empire, on his pure descent
+from AEneas and Romulus--
+
+ Unde Remnes et Quirites proque prole posterum
+ Romuli matrem crearet et nepotem Caesarem.
+
+ With the Ramnes, Quirites, together ancestrally proud as they drew
+ From Romulus down to our Caesar-last, best of that blood, of that threw.
+
+Here is a boast that we English must be content to forgo. We may wear a
+rose on St George's day, if we are clever enough to grow one. The Welsh,
+I dare say, have less difficulty with the leek. But April the 23rd is not
+a time of roses that we can pluck them as we pass, nor can we claim St
+George as a compatriot--_Cappadocius nostras_. We have, to be sure, a few
+legendary heroes, of whom King Arthur and Robin Hood are (I suppose) the
+greatest; but, save in some Celtic corners of the land, we have few
+fairies, and these no great matter; while, as for tutelary gods, our
+springs, our wells, our groves, cliffs, mountain-sides, either never
+possessed them or possess them no longer. Not of our landscape did it
+happen that
+
+ The lonely mountains o'er,
+ And the resounding shore,
+ A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament;
+ From haunted spring and dale
+ Edg'd with poplar pale,
+ The parting Genius is with sighing sent.
+
+--for the sufficient reason that no tutelary gods of importance were ever
+here to be dispersed.
+
+Let me press this home upon you by an illustration which I choose with
+the double purpose of enforcing my argument and sending you to make
+acquaintance (if you have not already made it) with one of the loveliest
+poems written in our time.
+
+In one of Pliny's letters you will find a very pleasant description of
+the source of the Clitumnus, a small Umbrian river which, springing from
+a rock in a grove of cypresses, descends into the Tinia, a tributary of
+the Tiber. 'Have you ever,' writes Pliny to his friend Romanus--
+
+ Have you ever seen the source of the Clitumnus? I suppose not, as I
+ never heard you mention it. Let me advise you to go there at once. I
+ have just visited it and am sorry that I put off my visit so long. At
+ the foot of a little hill, covered with old and shady cypress trees, a
+ spring gushes and bursts into a number of streamlets of various size.
+ Breaking, so to speak, forth from its imprisonment, it expands into a
+ broad basin, so clear and transparent that you may count the pebbles
+ and little pieces of money which are thrown into it. From this point
+ the force and weight of the water, rather than the slope of the ground,
+ hurry it onward. What was a mere spring becomes a noble river, broad
+ enough to allow vessels to pass each other as they sail with or against
+ the stream. The current is so strong, though the ground is level, that
+ barges of beam, as they go down, require no assistance of oars; while
+ to go up is as much as can be done with oars and long poles.... The banks
+ are clothed with abundant ash and poplar, so distinctly reflected in
+ the transparent waters that they seem to be growing at the bottom of
+ the river and can be counted with ease. The water is as cold as snow
+ and as pure in colour. Hard by the spring stands an ancient and
+ venerable temple with a statue of the river-god Clitumnus, clothed in
+ the customary robe of state. The Oracles here delivered attest the
+ presence of the deity. Close in the precinct stand several little
+ chapels dedicated to particular gods, each of whom owns his distinctive
+ name and special worship, and is the tutelary deity of a runlet. For
+ beside the principal spring, which is, as it were, the parent of all
+ the rest, there are several smaller ones which have their distinct
+ sources but unite their waters with the Clitumnus, over which a bridge
+ is thrown, separating the sacred part of the river from that which is
+ open to general use. Above the bridge you may only go in a boat; below
+ it, you may swim. The people of the town of Hispallum, to whom Augustus
+ gave this place, furnish baths and lodgings at the public expense.
+ There are several small dwelling-houses on the banks, in specially
+ picturesque situations, and they stand quite close to the waterside. In
+ short, everything in the neighbourhood will give you pleasure. You may
+ also amuse yourself with numberless inscriptions on the pillars and
+ walls, celebrating the praises of the stream and of its tutelary god.
+ Many of these you will admire, and some will make you laugh. But no!
+ You are too well cultivated to laugh at such things. Farewell.
+
+Clitumnus still gushes from its rocks among the cypresses, as in Pliny's
+day. The god has gone from his temple, on the frieze of which you may
+read this later inscription--'_Deus Angelorum, qui fecit Resurrectionem._'
+After many centuries and almost in our day, by the brain of Cavour and
+the sword of Garibaldi, he has made a resurrection for Italy. As part of
+that resurrection (for no nation can live and be great without its poet)
+was born a true poet, Carducci. He visited the bountiful, everlasting
+source, and of what did he sing? Possess yourselves, as for a shilling
+you may, of his Ode "Alle fonte del Clitumno," and read: for few nobler
+poems have adorned our time. He sang of the weeping willow, the ilex,
+ivy, cypress and the presence of the god still immanent among them. He
+sang of Umbria, of the ensigns of Rome, of Hannibal swooping down over
+the Alps; he sang of the nuptials of Janus and Comesena, progenitors of
+the Italian people; of nymphs, naiads, and the moonlight dances of
+Oreads; of flocks descending to the river at dusk, of the homestead, the
+bare-footed mother, the clinging child, the father, clad in goat-skins,
+guiding the ox-wagon; and he ends on the very note of Virgil's famous
+apostrophe
+
+ _Sed neque Medorum silvae, ditissima terra..._
+
+with an invocation of Italy--Italy, mother of bullocks for agriculture,
+of wild colts for battle, mother of corn and of the vine, Roman mother of
+enduring laws and mediaeval mother of illustrious arts. The mountains,
+woods and waters of green Umbria applaud the song, and across their
+applause is heard the whistle of the railway train bearing promise of new
+industries and a new national life.
+
+ E tu, pia madre di giovenchi invitti
+ a franger glebe e rintegrar maggesi
+ e d' annitrenti in guerra aspri polledri,
+ Italia madre,
+
+ madre di biade e viti e leggi eterne
+ ed incliti arti a raddolcir la vita
+ salve! a te i canti de l' antica lode
+ io rinovello.
+
+ Plaudono i monti al carme e i boschi e l' acque
+ de l' Umbria verde: in faccia a noi fumando
+ ed anelando nuove industrie in corsa
+ fischia il vapore.
+
+ And thou, O pious mother of unvanquished
+ Bullocks to break glebe, to restore the fallow,
+ And of fierce colts for neighing in the battle:
+ Italy, mother,
+
+ Mother of corn and vines and of eternal
+ Laws and illustrious arts the life to sweeten,
+ Hail, hail, all hail! The song of ancient praises
+ Renew I to thee!
+
+ The mountains, woods and waters of green Umbria
+ Applaud the song: and here before us fuming
+ And longing for new industries, a-racing
+ Whistles the white steam.
+
+(I quote from a translation by Mr E.J. Watson, recently published by
+Messrs J.W. Arrowsmith, of Bristol.)
+
+I put it to you, Gentlemen, that, worthy as are the glories of England to
+be sung, this note of Carducci's we cannot decently or honestly strike.
+Great lives have been bled away into Tweed and Avon: great spirits have
+been oared down the Thames to Traitor's Gate and the Tower. Deeds done on
+the Cam have found their way into history. But I once traced the Avon to
+its source under Naseby battlefield, and found it issuing from the
+fragments of a stucco swan. No god mounts guard over the head-water of
+the Thames; and the only Englishman who boldly claims a divine descent is
+(I understand) an impostor who runs an Agapemone. In short we are a mixed
+race, and our literature is derivative. Let us confine our pride to those
+virtues, not few, which are honestly ours. A Roman noble, even to-day,
+has some excuse for reckoning a god in his ancestry, or at least a wolf
+among its wet-nurses: but of us English even those who came over with
+William the Norman have the son of a tanner's daughter for escort. I very
+well remember that, the other day, writers who vindicated our hereditary
+House of Lords against a certain Parliament Act commonly did so on the
+ground that since the Reform Bill of 1832, by inclusion of all that was
+eminent in politics, war and commerce, the Peerage had been so changed as
+to know itself no longer for the same thing. That is our practical way.
+
+At all events, the men who made our literature had never a doubt, as they
+were careless to dissimulate, that they were conquering our tongue to
+bring it into the great European comity, the civilisation of Greece and
+Rome. An Elizabethan writer, for example, would begin almost as with a
+formula by begging to be forgiven that he has sought to render the divine
+accent of Plato, the sugared music of Ovid, into our uncouth and
+barbarous tongue. There may have been some mock-modesty in this, but it
+rested on a base of belief. Much of the glory of English Literature was
+achieved by men who, with the splendour of the Renaissance in their eyes,
+supposed themselves to be working all the while upon pale and borrowed
+shadows.
+
+Let us pass the enthusiasms of days when 'bliss was it in that dawn to be
+alive' and come down to Alexander Pope and the Age of Reason. Pope at one
+time proposed to write a History of English Poetry, and the draft scheme
+of that History has been preserved. How does it begin? Why thus:--
+
+ ERA I.
+
+1. School of Provence Chaucer's Visions. _Romaunt of the Rose._
+ _Piers Plowman._ Tales from Boccace. Gower.
+
+2. School of Chaucer Lydgate.
+ T. Occleve.
+ Walt. de Mapes (a bad error, that!).
+ Skelton.
+
+3. School of Petrarch E. of Surrey.
+ Sir Thomas Wyatt.
+ Sir Philip Sidney.
+ G. Gascoyn.
+
+4. School of Dante Lord Buckhurst's _Induction. Gorboduc._
+ Original of Good Tragedy. Seneca his model.
+
+--and so on. The scheme after Pope's death came into the hands of Gray,
+who for a time was fired with the notion of writing the History in
+collaboration with his friend Mason. Knowing Gray's congenital
+self-distrust, you will not be surprised that in the end he declined the
+task and handed it over to Warton. But, says Mant in his Life of Warton,
+'their design'--that is, Gray's design with Mason--'was to introduce
+specimens of the Provecal poetry, and of the Scaldic, British and Saxon,
+as preliminary to what first deserved to be called English poetry, about
+the time of Chaucer, from whence their history properly so called was to
+commence.' A letter of Gray's on the whole subject, addressed to Warton,
+is extant, and you may read it in Dr Courthope's "History of English
+Poetry."
+
+Few in this room are old enough to remember the shock of awed surmise
+which fell upon young minds presented, in the late 'seventies or early
+'eighties of the last century, with Freeman's "Norman Conquest" or
+Green's "Short History of the English People"; in which as through paring
+clouds of darkness, we beheld our ancestry, literary as well as
+political, radiantly legitimised; though not, to be sure, in the England
+that we knew--but far away in Sleswick, happy Sleswick! 'Its pleasant
+pastures, its black-timbered homesteads, its prim little townships
+looking down on inlets of purple water, were then but a wild waste of
+heather and sand, girt along the coast with sunless woodland, broken here
+and there with meadows which crept down to the marshes and to the sea.'
+But what of that? There--surely there, in Sleswick--had been discovered
+for us our august mother's marriage lines; and if the most of that bright
+assurance came out of an old political skit, the "Germania" of Tacitus,
+who recked at the time? For along followed Mr Stopford Brooke with an
+admirable little Primer published at one shilling, to instruct the
+meanest of us in our common father's actual name--Beowulf.
+
+ _Beowulf_ is an old English Epic.... There is not one word about our
+ England in the poem.... The whole poem, pagan as it is, is English
+ to its very root. It is sacred to us; our Genesis, the book of
+ our origins.
+
+Now I am not only incompetent to discuss with you the more recondite
+beauties of "Beowulf" but providentially forbidden the attempt by the
+conditions laid down for this Chair. I gather--and my own perusal of the
+poem and of much writing about it confirms the belief--that it has been
+largely over-praised by some critics, who have thus naturally provoked
+others to underrate it. Such things happen. I note, but without
+subscribing to it, the opinion of Vigfusson and York Powell, the learned
+editors of the "Corpus Poeticum Boreale," that in the "Beowulf" we have
+'an epic completely metamorphosed in form, blown out with long-winded
+empty repetitions and comments by a book poet, so that one must be
+careful not to take it as a type of the old poetry,' and I seem to hear
+as from the grave the very voice of my old friend the younger editor in
+that unfaltering pronouncement. But on the whole I rather incline to
+accept the cautious surmise of Professor W. P. Ker that 'a reasonable
+view of the merit of Beowulf is not impossible, though rash enthusiasm
+may have made too much of it; while a correct and sober taste may have
+too contemptuously refused to attend to Grendel and the Firedrake,' and
+to leave it at that. I speak very cautiously because the manner of the
+late Professor Freeman, in especial, had a knack of provoking in gentle
+breasts a resentment which the mind in its frailty too easily converted
+to a prejudice against his matter: while to men trained to admire
+Thucydides and Tacitus and acquainted with Lucian's 'Way to Write
+History' ([Greek: Pos dei istorian suggraphein]) his loud insistence that
+the art was not an art but a science, and moreover recently invented by
+Bishop Stubbs, was a perpetual irritant.
+
+But to return to "Beowulf"--You have just heard the opinions of scholars
+whose names you must respect. I, who construe Anglo-Saxon with
+difficulty, must admit the poem to contain many fine, even noble,
+passages. Take for example Hrothgar's lament for AEschere:--
+
+ Hrothgar mathelode, helm Scyldinga:
+ 'Ne frin thu aefter saelum; sorh is geniwod
+ Denigea leodum; dead is AEschere,
+ Yrmenlafes yldra brothor,
+ Min run-wita, ond min raed-bora;
+ Eaxl-gestealla, thonne we on orlege
+ Hafelan weredon, thonne hniton fethan,
+ Eoferas cnysedan: swylc scolde eorl wesan
+ AEtheling aer-god, swylc AEschere waes.'
+
+ (Hrothgar spake, helm of the Scyldings: 'Ask not after good tidings.
+ Sorrow is renewed among the Dane-folk. Dead is AEschere, Yrmenlaf's
+ elder brother, who read me rune and bore me rede; comrade at shoulder
+ when we fended our heads in war and the boar-helms rang. Even so
+ should we each be an atheling passing good, as AEschere was.')
+
+This is simple, manly, dignified. It avoids the besetting sin of the
+Anglo-Saxon gleeman--the pretentious trick of calling things 'out of
+their right names' for the sake of literary effect (as if e.g. the sea
+could be improved by being phrased into 'the seals' domain'). Its
+Anglo-Saxon _staccato_, so tiresome in sustained narrative, here happens
+to suit the broken utterance of mourning. In short, it exhibits the
+Anglo-Saxon Muse at her best, not at her customary. But set beside it a
+passage in which Homer tells of a fallen warrior--at haphazard, as it
+were, a single corpse chosen from the press of battle--
+
+ [Greek: polla de chermadia megal aspidas estuphelixam
+ marnamenon amph auton o d en strophaliggi konies
+ keito megas megalosti, lelasmenos ipposunaom.]
+
+Can you--can anyone--compare the two passages and miss to see that they
+belong to two different kingdoms of poetry? I lay no stress here on
+'architectonics.' I waive that the "Iliad" is a well-knit epic and the
+story of "Beowulf" a shapeless monstrosity. I ask you but to note the
+difference of note, of accent, of mere music. And I have quoted you but a
+passage of the habitual Homer. To assure yourselves that he can rise even
+from this habitual height to express the extreme of majesty and of human
+anguish in poetry which betrays no false note, no strain upon the store
+of emotion man may own with self-respect and exhibit without derogation
+of dignity, turn to the last book of the "Iliad" and read of Priam
+raising to his lips the hand that has murdered his son. I say confidently
+that no one unable to distinguish this, as poetry, from the very best of
+"Beowulf" is fit to engage upon business as a literary critic.
+
+In "Beowulf" then, as an imported poem, let us allow much barbarian
+merit. It came of dubious ancestry, and it had no progeny. The pretence
+that our glorious literature derives its lineage from "Beowulf" is in
+vulgar phrase 'a put up job'; a falsehood grafted upon our text-books by
+Teutonic and Teutonising professors who can bring less evidence for it
+than will cover a threepenny-piece. Its run for something like that
+money, in small educational manuals, has been in its way a triumph of
+pedagogic _reclame_.
+
+Our rude forefathers--the author of "The Rape of the Lock" and of the
+"Elegy written in a Country Churchyard"--knew nothing of the Exeter and
+Vercelli Books, nothing of the Ruthwell Cross. But they were poets,
+practitioners of our literature in the true line of descent, and they
+knew certain things which all such artists know by instinct. So, before
+our historians of thirty-odd years ago started to make Chaucer and
+Beowulf one, these rude forefathers made them two. 'Nor am I confident
+they erred.' Rather I am confident, and hope in succeeding lectures to
+convince you, that, venerable as Anglo-Saxon is, and worthy to be studied
+as the mother of our vernacular speech (as for a dozen other reasons
+which my friend Professor Chadwick will give you), its value is
+historical rather than literary, since from it our Literature
+is not descended. Let me repeat it in words that admit of no
+misunderstanding--_From Anglo-Saxon Prose, from Anglo-Saxon Poetry our
+living Prose and Poetry have, save linguistically, no derivation_. I
+shall attempt to demonstrate that, whether or not Anglo-Saxon
+literature, such as it was, died of inherent weakness, die it did, and
+of its collapse the "Vision of Piers Plowman" may be regarded as the
+last dying spasm. I shall attempt to convince you that Chaucer did not
+inherit any secret from Caedmon or Cynewulf, but deserves his old title,
+'Father of English Poetry,' because through Dante, through Boccaccio,
+through the lays and songs of Provence, he explored back to the
+Mediterranean, and opened for Englishmen a commerce in the true
+intellectual mart of Europe. I shall attempt to heap proof on you that
+whatever the agency--whether through Wyat or Spenser, Marlowe or
+Shakespeare, or Donne, or Milton, or Dryden, or Pope, or Johnson, or
+even Wordsworth--always our literature has obeyed, however
+unconsciously, the precept _Antiquam exquirite matrem_, 'Seek back to
+the ancient mother'; always it has recreated itself, has kept itself
+pure and strong, by harking back to bathe in those native--yes,
+_native_--Mediterranean springs.
+
+Do not presume me to be right in this. Rather, if you will, presume me to
+be wrong until the evidence is laid out for your judgment. But at least
+understand to-day how profoundly a man, holding that view, must deplore
+the whole course of academical literary study during these thirty years
+or so, and how distrust what he holds to be its basal fallacies.
+
+For, literature being written in language, yet being something quite
+distinct, and the development of our language having been fairly
+continuous, while the literature of our nation exhibits a false start--a
+break, silence, repentance, then a renewal on right glorious lines--our
+students of literature have been drilled to follow the specious
+continuance while ignoring the actual break, and so to commit the one
+most fatal error in any study; that of mistaking the inessential for the
+essential.
+
+As I tried to persuade you in my Inaugural Lecture, our first duty to
+Literature is to study it absolutely, to understand, in Aristotelian
+phrase, its [Greek: to ti en einae]; what it _is_ and what it _means_. If
+that be our quest, and the height of it be realised, it is nothing to
+us--or almost nothing--to know of a certain alleged poet of the fifteenth
+century, that he helped us over a local or temporary disturbance in our
+vowel-endings. It is everything to have acquired and to possess such a
+norm of Poetry within us that we know whether or not what he wrote was
+POETRY.
+
+Do not think this easy. The study of right literary criticism is much
+more difficult than the false path usually trodden; so difficult, indeed,
+that you may easily count the men who have attempted to grasp the great
+rules and apply them to writing as an art to be practised. But the names
+include some very great ones--Aristotle, Horace, Quintilian, Corneille,
+Boileau, Dryden, Johnson, Lessing, Coleridge, Goethe, Sainte-Beuve,
+Arnold: and the study, though it may not find its pattern in our time, is
+not unworthy to be proposed for another attempt before a great
+University.
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE IX.
+
+ON THE LINEAGE OF ENGLISH LITERATURE (II)
+
+Wednesday, November 5
+
+
+Some of you whose avocations call them, from time to time, to Newmarket
+may have noted, at a little distance out from Cambridge, a by-road
+advertised as leading to Quy and Swaffham. It also leads to the site of
+an old Roman villa; but you need not interrupt your business to visit
+this, since the best thing discovered there--a piece of tessellated
+pavement--has been removed and deposited in the Geological Museum here in
+Downing Street, where you may study it very conveniently. It is not at
+all a first-class specimen of its kind: not to be compared, for example,
+with the wonderful pavement at Dorchester, or with that (measuring 35
+feet by 20) of the great villa unearthed, a hundred years ago, at
+Stonesfield in Oxfordshire: but I take it as the handiest, and am going
+to build a small conjecture upon it, or rather a small suggestion of a
+guess. Remember there is no harm in guessing so long as we do not pretend
+our guess-work to be something else.
+
+I will ask you to consider first that in these pavements, laid bare for
+us as 'the whistling rustic tends his plough,' we have work dating
+somewhere between the first and fifth centuries, work of unchallengeable
+beauty, work of a beauty certainly not rivalled until we come to the
+Norman builders of five or six hundred years later. I want you to let
+your minds dwell on these long stretches of time--four hundred years or
+so of Roman occupation (counting, not from Caesar's raids, but from the
+serious invasion of 43 A.D. under Aulus Plautius, say to some while after
+the famous letter of Honorius, calling home the legions). You may safely
+put it at four hundred years, and then count six hundred as the space
+before the Normans arrive--a thousand years altogether, or but a
+fraction--one short generation--less than the interval of time that
+separates us from King Alfred. In the great Cathedral of Winchester
+(where sleep, by the way, two gentle writers specially beloved, Isaak
+Walton and Jane Austen) above the choir-screen to the south, you may see
+a line of painted chests, of which the inscription on one tells you that
+it holds what was mortal of King Canute.
+
+ Here are sands, ignoble things,
+ Dropp'd from the ruin'd sides of Kings.
+
+But if you walk around to the north of the altar you will find yourself
+treading on tiles not so very far short of twice that antiquity.
+Gentlemen, do not think that I would ever speak lightly of our lineage:
+only let us make as certain as we may what that lineage is.
+
+I want you to-day to understand just what such a pavement as that
+preserved for your inspection in Downing Street meant to the man who saw
+it laid and owned it these fifteen hundred years--more or less--ago. _Ubi
+Romanus vicit, ibi habitat_--'where the Roman has conquered, there he
+settles': but whether he conquered or settled he carried these small
+tiles, these _tessellae_, as religiously as ever Rachel stole her
+teraphin. 'Wherever his feet went there went the tessellated pavement for
+them to stand on. Even generals on foreign service carried in panniers on
+muleback the little coloured cubes or _tessellae_ for laying down a
+pavement in each camping-place, to be taken up again when they moved
+forward. In England the same sweet emblems of the younger gods of poetic
+legend, of love, youth, plenty, and all their happy naturalism, are found
+constantly repeated.'[1] I am quoting these sentences from a local
+historian, but you see how these relics have a knack of inspiring prose
+at once scholarly and imaginative, as (for a more famous instance) the
+urns disinterred at Walsingham once inspired Sir Thomas Browne's. To
+continue and adapt the quotation--
+
+ Bacchus with his wild rout, Orpheus playing to a spell-bound audience,
+ Apollo singing to the lyre, Venus in Mars' embrace, Neptune with a host
+ of seamen, scollops, and trumpets, Narcissus by the fountain, Jove and
+ Ganymede, Leda and the swan, wood-nymphs and naiads, satyrs and fauns,
+ masks, hautboys, cornucopiae, flowers and baskets of golden fruit--what
+ touches of home they must have seemed to these old dwellers in the
+ Cambridgeshire wilds!
+
+Yes, touches of home! For the owner of this villa (you may conceive) is
+the grandson or even great-great-grandson of the colonist who first built
+it, following in the wake of the legionaries. The family has prospered
+and our man is now a considerable landowner. He was born in Britain: his
+children have been born here: and here he lives a comfortable,
+well-to-do, out-of-door life, in its essentials I daresay not so very
+unlike the life of an English country squire to-day. Instead of chasing
+foxes or hares he hunts the wolf and the wild boar; but the sport is
+good and he returns with an appetite. He has added a summer parlour to
+the house, with a northern aspect and no heating-flues: for the old
+parlour he has enlarged the praefurnium, and through the long winter
+evenings sits far better warmed than many a master of a modern
+country-house. A belt of trees on the brow of the rise protects him from
+the worst winds, and to the south his daughters have planted violet-beds
+which will breathe odorously in the spring. He has rebuilt and enlarged
+the slave-quarters and outhouses, replaced the stucco pillars around the
+atrium with a colonnade of polished stone, and, where stucco remains,
+has repainted it in fresh colours. He knows that there are no gaps or
+weak spots in his stockade fence--wood is always cheap. In a word he has
+improved the estate; is modestly proud of it; and will be content, like
+the old Athenian, to leave his patrimony not worse but something better
+than he found it.
+
+Sensible men--and the Romans were eminently that--as a rule contrive to
+live decently, or, at least, tolerably. What struck Arthur Young more
+than anything else in his travels through France on the very eve of the
+Revolution seems to have been the general good-tempered happiness of the
+French gentry on their estates. We may moralise of the Roman colonists as
+of the French proprietors that 'unconscious of their doom the little
+victims played'; but we have no right to throw back on them the shadow of
+what was to come or to cloud the picture of a useful, peaceable, maybe
+more than moderately happy life, with our later knowledge of disaster
+mercifully hidden from it.
+
+Although our colonist and his family have all been born in Britain, are
+happy enough here on the whole, and talk without more than half meaning
+it, and to amuse themselves with speculations half-wistful, of daring the
+tremendous journey and setting eyes on Rome some day, their pride is to
+belong to her, to Rome, the imperial City, the city afar: their windows
+open back towards her as Daniel's did towards Jerusalem--_Urbs quam
+dicunt Roman--the_ City. Along the great road, hard by, her imperial writ
+runs. They have never subscribed to the vow of Ruth, 'Thy people shall be
+my people and thy God my God.' They dwell under the Pax Romana, not
+merely protected by it but as _citizens_. Theirs are the ancestral
+deities portrayed on that unfading pavement in the very centre of the
+villa--Apollo and Daphne, Bacchus and Ariadne--
+
+ For ever warm and still to be enjoyed,
+ For ever panting, and for ever young.
+
+Parcels come to them, forwarded from the near military station; come by
+those trade-routes, mysterious to us, concerning which a most
+illuminating book waits to be written by somebody. There are parcels of
+seeds--useful vegetables and potherbs, helichryse (marigold as we call
+them now) for the flower garden, for the colonnade even roses with real
+Italian earth damp about their roots. There are parcels of books,
+too--rolls rather, or tablets--wherein the family reads about Rome; of
+its wealth, the uproar of its traffic, the innumerable chimneys smoking,
+_fumum et opes strepitumque_. For they are always reading of Rome;
+feeling themselves, as they read, to belong to it, to be neither savage
+nor even rustic, but by birthright _of the city_, urbane; and what these
+exiles read is of how Horace met a bore on the Sacred Road (which would
+correspond, more or less, with our Piccadilly)--
+
+ Along the Sacred Road I strolled one day
+ Deep in some bagatelle (you know my way)
+ When up comes one whose face I scarcely knew--
+ 'The dearest of dear fellows! how d'ye do?'
+ --He grasped my hand. 'Well, thanks! The same to you?'
+
+--or of how Horace apologises for protracting a summer jaunt to his
+country seat:--
+
+ Five days I told you at my farm I'd stay,
+ And lo! the whole of August I'm away.
+ Well but, Maecenas, you would have me live,
+ And, were I sick, my absence you'd forgive.
+ So let me crave indulgence for the fear
+ Of falling ill at this bad time of year.
+ When, thanks to early figs and sultry heat,
+ The undertaker figures with his suite;
+ When fathers all and fond mammas grow pale
+ At what may happen to their young heirs male,
+ And courts and levees, town-bred mortals' ills,
+ Bring fevers on, and break the seals of wills.
+
+ (Conington's translation.)
+
+Consider those lines; then consider how long it took the inhabitants
+of this island--the cultured ones who count as readers or
+writers--to recapture just that note of urbanity. Other things
+our forefathers --Britons, Saxons, Normans, Dutch or French
+refugees--discovered by the way; worthier things if you will; but not
+until the eighteenth century do you find just that note recaptured; the
+note of easy confidence that our London had become what Rome had been,
+the Capital city. You begin to meet it in Dryden; with Addison it is
+fairly established. Pass a few years, and with Samuel Johnson it is
+taken for granted. His _London_ is Juvenal's Rome, and the same satire
+applies to one as applied to the other. But against the urbane lines
+written by one Horace some while before Juvenal let us set a passage
+from another Horace--Horace Walpole, seventeen hundred years later and
+some little while ahead of Johnson. He, like our Roman colonist, is a
+settler in a new country, Twickenham; and like Flaccus he loves to
+escape from town life.
+
+ TWICKENHAM, June 8th, 1747.
+
+ To the Hon. H. S. CONWAY.
+
+ You perceive by my date that I am got into a new camp, and have left
+ my tub at Windsor. It is a little plaything-house that I got out of
+ Mrs Chevenix's shop, and the prettiest bauble you ever saw. It is set
+ in enamelled meadows with filagree hedges:
+
+ A small Euphrates through the place is roll'd,
+ And little finches wave their wings of gold.
+
+ Two delightful roads; that you would call dusty, supply me continually
+ with coaches and chaises: barges as solemn as Barons of the Exchequer
+ move under my window; Richmond Hill and Ham Walks bound my prospect;
+ but, thank God! the Thames is between me and the Duchess of
+ Queensberry. Dowagers as plenty as flounders inhabit all around, and
+ Pope's ghost is just now skimming under my window by the most poetical
+ moonlight.... The Chevenixes had tricked it out for themselves; up two
+ pairs of stairs is what they call Mr Chevenix's library, furnished
+ with three maps, one shelf, a bust of Sir Isaac Newton and a lame
+ telescope without any glasses. Lord John Sackville _predeceased_ me
+ here and instituted certain games called _cricketalia_, which has been
+ celebrated this very evening in honour of him in a neighbouring
+ meadow.
+
+ You will think I have removed my philosophy from Windsor with my
+ tea-things hither; for I am writing to you in all tranquility while a
+ Parliament is bursting about my ears. You know it is going to be
+ dissolved.... They say the Prince has taken up two hundred thousand
+ pounds, to carry elections which he won't carry--he had much better
+ have saved it to buy the Parliament after it is chosen.
+
+There you have Horatio Walpole, the man-about-town, almost precisely
+echoing Horatius Flaccus, the man-about-town; and this (if you will bring
+your minds to it) is just the sort of passage a Roman colonist in Britain
+would open upon, out of his parcel of new books, and read, _and
+understand_, some eighteen hundred years ago.
+
+What became of it all?--of that easy colonial life, of the men and women
+who trod those tessellated pavements? 'Wiped out,' say the historians,
+knowing nothing, merely guessing: for you may with small trouble assure
+yourselves that the fifth and sixth centuries in the story of this island
+are a blind spot, concerning which one man's guess may be as good as
+another's. 'Wiped out,' they will commonly agree; for while, as I warned
+you in another lecture, the pedantic mind, faced with a difficulty, tends
+to remove it conveniently into a category to which it does not belong,
+still more prone is the pedantic mind to remove it out of existence
+altogether. So 'wiped out' is the theory; and upon it a sympathetic
+imagination can invent what sorrowful pictures it will of departing
+legions, the last little cloud of dust down the highway, the lovers by
+the gate watching it, not comprehending; the peaceful homestead in the
+background, ripe for doom--and what-not.
+
+Or, stay! There is another theory to which the late Professor Freeman
+inclined (if so sturdy a figure could be said to incline), laying stress
+on a passage in Gildas, that the Romans in Britain, faced by the Saxon
+invader, got together their money, and bolted away into Gaul. 'The Romans
+that were in Britain gathered together their gold-hoard, hid part in the
+ground and carried the rest over to Gaul,' writes Gildas. 'The hiding in
+the ground,' says Freeman, 'is of course a guess to explain the frequent
+finding of Roman coins'--which indeed it _does_ explain better than the
+guess that they were carried away, and perhaps better than the
+schoolboy's suggestion that during their occupation of Britain the Romans
+spent most of their time in dropping money about. Likely enough, large
+numbers of the colonists did gather up what they could and flee before
+the approaching storm; but by no means all, I think. For (since, where
+all is uncertain, we must reason from what is probable of human nature)
+in the first place men with large estates do not behave in that way
+before a danger which creeps upon them little by little, as this Saxon
+danger did. These colonists could not dig up their fields and carry them
+over to Gaul. They did not keep banking accounts; and in the course of
+four hundred years their main wealth had certainly been sunk in the land.
+They could not carry away their villas. We know that many of them did not
+carry away the _tessellae_ for which (as we have seen) they had so
+peculiar a veneration; for these remain. Secondly, if the colonists left
+Britain in a mass, when in the middle of the sixth century we find
+Belisarius offering the Goths to trade Britain for Sicily, as being 'much
+larger and this long time subservient to Roman rule,'[2] we must suppose
+either (as Freeman appears to suppose) that Belisarius did not know what
+he was offering, or that he was attempting a gigantic 'bluff,' or lastly
+that he really was offering an exchange not flatly derisory; of which
+three possible suppositions I prefer the last as the likeliest. Nor am I
+the less inclined to choose it, because these very English historians go
+on to clear the ground in a like convenient way of the Celtic
+inhabitants, exterminating them as they exterminated the Romans,
+with a wave of the hand, quite in the fashion of Mr Podsnap. 'This is
+un-English: therefore for me it merely ceases to exist.'
+
+'_Probable extirpation of the Celtic inhabitants_' jots down Freeman in
+his margin, and proceeds to write:
+
+ In short, though the literal extirpation of a nation is an
+ impossibility, there is every reason to believe that the Celtic
+ inhabitants of those parts of Britain which had become English at the
+ end of the sixth century had been as nearly extinguished as a nation
+ could be. The women doubtless would be largely spared, but as far as
+ the male sex is concerned we may feel sure that death, emigration, or
+ personal slavery were the only alternatives which the vanquished found
+ at the hands of our fathers.
+
+Upon this passage, if brought to me in an undergraduate essay, I should
+have much to say. The style, with its abstract nouns ('the literal
+extirpation of a nation is an impossibility'), its padding and
+periphrasis ('there is every reason to believe' ... 'as far as the male
+sex is concerned we may feel sure') betrays the loose thought. It begins
+with 'in short' and proceeds to be long-winded. It commits what even
+schoolboys know to be a solecism by inviting us to consider three
+'alternatives'; and what can I say of 'the women doubtless would be
+largely spared,' save that besides scanning in iambics it says what
+Freeman never meant and what no-one outside of an Aristophanic comedy
+could ever suggest? 'The women doubtless would be largely spared'! It
+reminds me of the young lady in Cornwall who, asked by her vicar if she
+had been confirmed, admitted blushingly that 'she had reason to believe,
+partially so.'
+
+'The women doubtless would be largely spared'!--But I thank the Professor
+for teaching me that phrase, because it tries to convey just what I am
+driving at. The Jutes, Angles, Saxons, did not extirpate the Britons,
+whatever you may hold concerning the Romans. For, once again, men do not
+behave in that way, and certainly will not when a live slave is worth
+money. Secondly, the very horror with which men spoke, centuries after,
+of Anderida quite plainly indicates that such a wholesale massacre was
+exceptional, monstrous. If not exceptional, monstrous, why should this
+particular slaughter have lingered so ineffaceably in their memories?
+Finally,--and to be as curt as the question deserves--the Celtic Briton
+in the island was not exterminated and never came near to being
+exterminated: but on the contrary, remains equipollent with the Saxon in
+our blood, and perhaps equipollent with that mysterious race we call
+Iberian, which came before either and endures in this island to-day, as
+anyone travelling it with eyes in his head can see. Pict, Dane, Norman,
+Frisian, Huguenot French--these and others come in. If mixture of blood
+be a shame, we have purchased at the price of that shame the glory of
+catholicism; and I know of nothing more false in science or more actively
+poisonous in politics or in the arts than the assumption that we belong
+as a race to the Teutonic family.
+
+Dane, Norman, Frisian, French Huguenot--they all come in. And will you
+refuse a hearing when I claim that the Roman came in too? Bethink you how
+deeply Rome engraved itself on this island and its features. Bethink you
+that, as human nature is, no conquering race ever lived or could
+live--even in garrison--among a tributary one without begetting children
+on it. Bethink you yet further of Freeman's admission that in the
+wholesale (and quite hypothetical) general massacre 'the women doubtless
+would be largely spared'; and you advance nearer to my point. I see a
+people which for four hundred years was permeated by Rome. If you insist
+on its being a Teutonic people (which I flatly deny) then you have one
+which _alone of Teutonic peoples_ has inherited the Roman gift of
+consolidating conquest, of colonising in the wake of its armies; of
+driving the road, bridging the ford, bringing the lawless under its
+sense of law. I see that this nation of ours concurrently, when it seeks
+back to what alone can inspire and glorify these activities, seeks back,
+not to any supposed native North, but south to the Middle Sea of our
+civilisation and steadily to Italy, which we understand far more easily
+than France--though France has helped us times and again. Putting these
+things together, I retort upon the ethnologists--for I come from the
+West of England, where we suffer incredible things from them--_'Semper
+ego auditor tantum?'_ I hazard that the most important thing in our
+blood is that purple drop of the imperial murex we derive from Rome.
+
+You must, of course, take this for nothing more than it pretends to be--a
+conjecture, a suggestion. I will follow it up with two statements of
+fact, neither doubtful nor disputable.
+
+The first is, that when English poetry awoke, long after the Conquest
+(or, as I should prefer to put it, after the Crusades) it awoke a new
+thing; in its vocabulary as much like Anglo-Saxon poetry as ever you
+will, but in metre, rhythm, lilt--and more, in style, feeling,
+imaginative play--and yet more again, in knowledge of what it aimed to
+be, in the essentials, in the qualities that make Poetry Poetry--as
+different from Anglo-Saxon poetry as cheese is from chalk, and as much
+more nutritious. Listen to this--
+
+ Bytuene Mershe ant Averil
+ When spray biginnith to spring,
+ The lutel foul hath hire wyl
+ On hire lud to synge:
+ Ich libbe in love-longinge
+ For semlokest of alle thynge,
+ He may me blisse bringe,
+ Icham in hire bandoun.
+ An hendy hap ichabbe y-hent,
+ Ichot from hevene it is me sent,
+ From alle wymmen my love is lent,
+ And lyht on Alisoun.
+
+Here you have alliteration in plenty; you even have what some hold to be
+the pattern of Anglo-Saxon alliterative verse (though in practice
+disregarded, may be, as often as not), the chosen initial used twice in
+the first line and once at least in the second:
+
+ From alle wymmen my _l_ove is _l_ent,
+ And _l_yht on A_l_isoun.
+
+But if a man cannot see a difference infinitely deeper than any
+similarity between this song of Alison and the old Anglo-Saxon verse--_a
+difference of nature_--I must despair of his literary sense.
+
+What has happened? Well, in Normandy, too, and in another tongue, men are
+singing much the same thing in the same way:
+
+ A la fontenelle
+ Qui sort seur l'araine,
+ Trouvai pastorella
+ Qui n'iert pas vilaine...
+ Merci, merci, douce Marote,
+ N'ociez pas vostre ami doux,
+
+and this Norman and the Englishman were singing to a new tune, which was
+yet an old tune re-set to Europe by the Provence, the Roman Province; by
+the troubadours--Pons de Capdeuil, Bernard de Ventadour, Bertrand de
+Born, Pierre Vidal, and the rest, with William of Poitou, William of
+Poitiers. Read and compare; you will perceive that the note then set
+persists and has never perished. Take Giraud de Borneil--
+
+ Bel companhos, si dormetz o velhatz
+ Non dortmatz plus, qu'el jorn es apropchatz--
+
+and set it beside a lyric of our day, written without a thought of Giraud
+de Borneil--
+
+ Heigh! Brother mine, art a-waking or a-sleeping:
+ Mind'st thou the merry moon a many summers fled?
+ Mind'st thou the green and the dancing and the leaping?
+ Mind'st thou the haycocks and the moon above them creeping?...
+
+Or take Bernard de Ventadour's--
+
+ Quand erba vertz, e fuelha par
+ E'l flor brotonon per verjan,
+ E'l rossinhols autet e clar
+ Leva sa votz e mov son chan,
+ Joy ai de luy, e joy ai de la flor,
+ Joy ai de me, e de me dons maior.
+
+Why, it runs straight off into English verse--
+
+ When grass is green and leaves appear
+ With flowers in bud the meads among,
+ And nightingale aloft and clear
+ Lifts up his voice and pricks his song,
+ Joy, joy have I in song and flower,
+ Joy in myself, and in my lady more.
+
+And that may be doggerel; yet what is it but
+
+ It was a lover and his lass,
+ With a hey and a ho and a hey nonino,
+ That o'er the green cornfield did pass
+ In the spring-time, the only pretty ring-time--
+
+or
+
+ When daffodils begin to peer,
+ With heigh! the doxy over the dale,
+ Why then comes in the sweet o' the year;
+ For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale.
+
+Nay, flatter the Anglo-Saxon tradition by picking its very best--and I
+suppose it hard to find better than the much-admired opening of Piers
+Plowman, in which that tradition shot up like the flame of a dying
+candle:
+
+ Bote in a Mayes Morwnynge--on Malverne hulles
+ Me bi-fel a ferly--a Feyrie me thouhte;
+ I was weori of wandringe--and wente me to reste
+ Under a brod banke--bi a Bourne syde,
+ And as I lay and leonede--and lokede on the watres,
+ I slumberde in a slepynge--hit sownede so murie.
+
+This is good, solid stuff, no doubt: but tame, inert, if not actually
+lifeless. As M. Jusserand says of Anglo-Saxon poetry in general, it is
+like the river Saone--one doubts which way it flows. How tame in
+comparison with this, for example!--
+
+ In somer, when the shawes be sheyne,
+ And leves be large and long,
+ Hit is full mery in feyre foreste
+ To here the foulys song:
+
+ To se the dere draw to the dale
+ And leve the hilles hee,
+ And shadow hem in the leves grene
+ Under the grene-wode tre.
+
+ Hit befel on Whitsontide,
+ Erly in a May mornyng,
+ The Son up feyre can shyne,
+ And the briddis mery can syng.
+
+ 'This is a mery mornyng,' said litell John,
+ 'Be Hym that dyed on tre;
+ A more mery man than I am one
+ Lyves not in Cristiante.
+
+ 'Pluk up thi hert, my dere mayster,'
+ Litull John can sey,
+ 'And thynk hit is a full fayre tyme
+ In a mornyng of May.'
+
+There is no doubting which way _that_ flows! And this vivacity, this new
+beat of the heart of poetry, is common to Chaucer and the humblest
+ballad-maker; it pulses through any book of lyrics printed yesterday, and
+it came straight to us out of Provence, the Roman Province. It was the
+Provencal Troubadour who, like the Prince in the fairy tale, broke
+through the hedge of briers and kissed Beauty awake again.
+
+
+You will urge that he wakened Poetry not in England alone but all over
+Europe, in Dante before our Chaucer, in the trouveres and minnesingers as
+well as in our ballad-writers. To that I might easily retort, 'So much
+the better for Europe, and the more of it the merrier, to win their way
+into the great comity.' But here I put in my second assertion, that we
+English have had above all nations lying wide of the Mediterranean, the
+instinct to refresh and renew ourselves at Mediterranean wells; that
+again and again our writers--our poets especially--have sought them as
+the hart panteth after the water-brooks. If you accept this assertion,
+and if you believe as well that our literature, surpassing Rome's, may
+vie with that of Athens--if you believe that a literature which includes
+Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, Pope, Wordsworth, Shelley--the Authorised
+Version of Holy Writ, with Browne, Bunyan, Swift, Addison, Johnson,
+Arnold, Newman--has entered the circle to take its seat with the first--
+why then, heartily believing this with you, I leave you to find some
+better explanation than mine if you can.
+
+But what I content myself with asserting here you can scarcely deny.
+Chaucer's initial and enormous debt to Dante and Boccaccio stands in as
+little dispute as Dunbar's to Chaucer. On that favourite poet of mine,
+Sir Thomas Wyat, I descanted in a former lecture. He is one of your
+glories here, having entered St. John's College at the age of twelve
+(which must have been precocious even for those days.) Anthony Wood
+asserts that after finishing his course here, he proceeded to Cardinal
+Wolsey's new College at Oxford; but, as Christchurch was not founded
+until 1524, and Wyat, still precocious, had married a wife two years
+before that, the statement (to quote Dr Courthope) 'seems no better
+founded than many others advanced by that patriotic but not very
+scrupulous author.' It is more to the point that he went travelling, and
+brought home from France, Italy, afterwards Spain--always from Latin
+altars--the flame of lyrical poetry to England; the flame of the
+Petrarchists, caught from the Troubadours, clarified (so to speak) by the
+salt of humane letters. On what our Elizabethan literature owes to the
+Classical revival hundreds of volumes have been written and hundreds more
+will be written; I will but remind you of what Spencer talked about with
+Gabriel Harvey, what Daniel disputed with Campion; that Marlowe tried to
+re-incarnate Machiavelli, that Jonson was a sworn Latinist and the 'tribe
+of Ben' a classical tribe; while, as for Shakespeare, go and reckon the
+proportion of Italian and Roman names in his _dramatis personae_. Of
+Donne's debt to France, Italy, Rome, Greece, you may read much in
+Professor Grierson's great edition, and I daresay Professor Grierson
+would be the first to allow that all has not yet been computed. You know
+how Milton prepared himself to be a poet. Have you realised that, in
+those somewhat strangely constructed sonnets of his, Milton was
+deliberately modelling upon the "Horatian Ode," as his confrere, Andrew
+Marvell, was avowedly attempting the like in his famous Horation Ode on
+Cromwell's Return from Ireland; so that if Cromwell had returned (like Mr
+Quilp), walked in and caught his pair of Latin Secretaries scribbling
+verse, one at either end of the office table, both might colourably have
+pleaded that they were, after all, writing Latin. Waller's task in poetry
+was to labour true classical polish where Cowley laboured sham-classical
+form. Put together Dryden's various Prefaces and you will find them one
+solid monument to his classical faith. Of Pope, Gray, Collins, you will
+not ask me to speak. What is salt in Cowper you can taste only when you
+have detected that by a stroke of madness he missed, or barely missed,
+being our true English Horace, that almost more nearly than the rest he
+hit what the rest had been seeking. Then, of the 'romantic revival'--
+enemy of false classicism, not of classicism--bethink you what, in his
+few great years, Wordsworth owed directly to France of the early
+Revolution; what Keats drew forth out of Lempriere: and again bethink you
+how Tennyson wrought upon Theocritus, Virgil, Catullus; upon what Arnold
+constantly shaped his verse; how Browning returned ever upon Italy to
+inspire his best and correct his worse.
+
+Of Anglo-Saxon prose I know little indeed, but enough of the world to
+feel reasonably sure that if it contained any single masterpiece--or
+anything that could be paraded as a masterpiece--we should have heard
+enough about it long before now. It was invented by King Alfred for
+excellent political reasons; but, like other ready-made political
+inventions in this country, it refused to thrive. I think it can be
+demonstrated, that the true line of intellectual descent in prose lies
+through Bede (who wrote in Latin, the 'universal language'), and not
+through the Blickling Homilies, or, AElfric, or the Saxon Chronicle. And I
+am sure that Freeman is perversely wrong when he laments as a 'great
+mistake' that the first Christian missionaries from Rome did not teach
+their converts to pray and give praise in the vernacular. The vernacular
+being what it was, these men did better to teach the religion of the
+civilised world--_orbis terrarum_--in the language of the civilised
+world. I am not thinking of its efficiency for spreading the faith; but
+neither is Freeman; and, for that, we must allow these old missionaries
+to have known their own business. I am thinking only of how this 'great
+mistake' affected our literature; and if you will read Professor
+Saintsbury's "History of English Prose Rhythm" (pioneer work, which yet
+wonderfully succeeds in illustrating what our prose-writers from time to
+time were trying to do); if you will study the Psalms in the Authorised
+Version; if you will consider what Milton, Clarendon, Sir Thomas Browne,
+were aiming at; what Addison, Gibbon, Johnson; what Landor, Thackeray,
+Newman, Arnold, Pater; I doubt not your rising from the perusal convinced
+that our nation, in this storehouse of Latin to refresh and replenish its
+most sacred thoughts, has enjoyed a continuous blessing: that the Latin
+of the Vulgate and the Offices has been a background giving depth and, as
+the painters say, 'value' to nine-tenths of our serious writing.
+
+And now, since this and the previous lecture run something counter to a
+great deal of that teaching in English Literature which nowadays passes
+most acceptably, let me avoid offence, so far as may be, by defining one
+or two things I am _not_ trying to do.
+
+I am not persuading you to despise your linguistic descent. English is
+English--our language; and all its history to be venerated by us.
+
+I am not persuading you to despise linguistic study. _All_ learning is
+venerable.
+
+I am not persuading you to behave like Ascham, and turn English prose
+into pedantic Latin; nor would I have you doubt that in the set quarrel
+between Campion, who wished to divert English verse into strict classical
+channels, and Daniel, who vindicated our free English way (derived from
+Latin through the Provencal), Daniel was on the whole, right, Campion on
+the whole, wrong: though I believe that both ways yet lie open, and we
+may learn, if we study them intelligently, a hundred things from the old
+classical metres.
+
+I do not ask you to forget what there is of the Northmen in your blood.
+If I desired this, I could not worship William Morris as I do, among the
+later poets.
+
+I do not ask you to doubt that the barbarian invaders from the north,
+with their myths and legends, brought new and most necessary blood of
+imagination into the literary material--for the time almost exhausted--of
+Greece and Rome.
+
+Nevertheless, I do contend that when Britain (or, if you prefer it,
+Sleswick)
+
+ When Sleswick first at Heaven's command
+ Arose from out the azure main,
+
+she differed from Aphrodite, that other foam-born, in sundry important
+features of ear, of lip, of eye.
+
+Lastly, if vehement assertions on the one side have driven me into too
+vehement dissent on the other, I crave pardon; not for the dissent but
+for the vehemence, as sinning against the very principle I would hold up
+to your admiration--the old Greek principle of avoiding excess.
+
+
+
+But I _do_ commend the patient study of Greek and Latin authors--in the
+original or in translation--to all of you who would write English; and
+for three reasons.
+
+(1) In the first place they will correct your insularity of mind; or,
+rather, will teach you to forget it. The Anglo-Saxon, it has been noted,
+ever left an empty space around his houses; and that, no doubt, is good
+for a house. It is not so good for the mind.
+
+(2) Secondly, we have a tribal habit, confirmed by Protestant meditation
+upon a Hebraic religion, of confining our literary enjoyment to the
+written word and frowning down the drama, the song, the dance. A fairly
+attentive study of modern lyrical verse has persuaded me that this
+exclusiveness may be carried too far, and threatens to be deadening. 'I
+will sing and give praise,' says the Scripture, 'with the best member
+that I have'--meaning the tongue. But the old Greek was an 'all-round
+man' as we say. He sought to praise and give thanks with all his members,
+and to tune each to perfection. I think his way worth your considering.
+
+(3) Lastly, and chiefly, I commend these classical authors to you because
+they, in the European civilisation which we all inherit, conserve the
+norm of literature; the steady grip on the essential; the clean outline
+at which in verse or in prose--in epic, drama, history, or philosophical
+treatise--a writer should aim.
+
+So sure am I of this, and of its importance to those who think of
+writing, that were this University to limit me to three texts on which to
+preach English Literature to you, I should choose the Bible in our
+Authorised Version, Shakespeare, and Homer (though it were but in a prose
+translation). Two of these lie outside my marked province. Only one of
+them finds a place in your English school. But Homer, who comes neither
+within my map, nor within the ambit of the Tripos, would--because he most
+evidently holds the norm, the essence, the secret of all--rank first of
+the three for my purpose.
+
+
+[Footnote 1: From "A History of Oxfordshire," by Mr J. Meade Falkner,
+author of Murray's excellent Handbook of Oxfordshire.]
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE X.
+
+ENGLISH LITERATURE IN OUR UNIVERSITIES (I)
+
+Wednesday, November 19
+
+
+All lectures are too long. Towards the close of my last, Gentlemen, I let
+fall a sentence which, heard by you in a moment of exhausted or languid
+interest, has since, like enough, escaped your memory even if it earned
+passing attention. So let me repeat it, for a fresh start.
+
+Having quoted to you the words of our Holy Writ, 'I will sing and give
+praise with the best member that I have,' I added 'But the old Greek was
+an "all-round" man; he sought to praise and give thanks with all his
+members, and to tune each to perfection.' Now a great many instructive
+lectures might be written on that text: nevertheless you may think it a
+strange one, and obscure, for the discourse on 'English Literature in our
+Universities' which, according to promise, I must now attempt.
+
+The term 'an all-round man' may easily mislead you unless you take it
+with the rest of the sentence and particularly with the words 'praise and
+give thanks.' Praise whom? Give thanks to whom? To _whom_ did our Greek
+train all his members to render adoration?
+
+Why, to the gods--his gods: to Zeus, Apollo, Aphrodite; and from them
+down to the lesser guardian deities of the hearth, the field, the
+farmstead. We modern men suffer a double temptation to misunderstand, by
+belittling, the reverence in which Hellas and Rome held their gods. To
+start with, our religion has superseded theirs. We approach the Olympians
+with no bent towards venerating them; with minds easy, detached, to which
+a great deal of their theology--the amativeness of Zeus for example--must
+needs seem broadly comic, and a great deal of it not only comic but
+childish. We are encouraged in this, moreover, when we read such writers
+as Aristophanes and Lucian, and observe how they poked fun at the gods.
+We assume--so modern he seems--Aristophanes' attitude towards his
+immortals to be ours; that when, for example, Prometheus walks on to the
+stage under an umbrella, to hide himself from the gaze of all-seeing
+Zeus, the Athenian audience laughed just as we laugh who have read
+Voltaire. Believe me, they laughed quite differently; believe me,
+Aristophanes and Voltaire had remarkably different minds and worked on
+utterly different backgrounds. Believe me, you will understand
+Aristophanes only less than you will understand AEschylus himself if you
+confuse Aristophanes' mockery of Olympus with modern mockery. But, if you
+will not take my word for it, let me quote what Professor Gilbert Murray
+said, the other day, speaking before the English Association on Greek
+poetry, how constantly connected it is with religion:
+
+ 'All thoughts, all passions, all desires' ... In our Art it is true, no
+ doubt, that they are 'the ministers of love'; in Greek they are as a
+ whole the ministers of religion, and this is what in a curious degree
+ makes Greek poetry matter, makes it relevant. There is a sense in each
+ song of a relation to the whole of things, and it was apt to be
+ expressed with the whole body, or, one may say, the whole being.[1]
+
+To a Greek, in short, his gods mattered enormously; and to a Roman. To a
+Roman they continued to matter enormously, down to the end. Do you
+remember that tessellated pavement with its emblems and images of the
+younger gods? and how I told you that a Roman general on foreign service
+would carry the little cubes in panniers on mule-back, to be laid down
+for his feet at the next camping place? Will you suggest that he did this
+because they were pretty? You know that practical men--conquering
+generals--don't behave in that way. He did it because they were sacred;
+because, like most practical men, he was religious, and his gods must go
+with him. They filled his literature: for why? He believed himself to be
+sprung from their loins. Where would Latin literature be, for example, if
+you could cut Venus out of it? Consider Lucretius' grand invocation:
+
+ AEneadum genetrix, hominum divumque voluptas,
+ Alma Venus!
+
+Consider the part Virgil makes her play as moving spirit of his whole
+great poem. So follow her down to the days of the later Empire and open
+the "Pervigilium Veneris" and discover her, under the name of Dione,
+still the eternal Aphrodite sprung from the foam amid the churning hooves
+of the sea-horses--_inter et bipedes equos_:--
+
+ Time was that a rain-cloud begat her, impregning the heave of the deep,
+ 'Twixt hooves of sea-horses a-scatter, stampeding the dolphins as
+ sheep.
+ Lo! arose of that bridal Dione, rainbow'd and besprent of its dew!
+ _Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love
+ anew!_
+ Her favour it was fill'd the sails of the Trojan for Latium bound,
+ Her favour that won her AEneas a bride on Laurentian ground,
+ And anon from the cloister inveigled the Virgin, the Vestal, to Mars;
+ As her wit by the wild Sabine rape recreated her Rome for its wars
+ With the Ramnes, Quirites, together ancestrally proud as they drew
+ From Romulus down to our Caesar--last, best of that blood, of that thew.
+ _Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love
+ anew!_
+
+'Last, best of that blood'--her blood, _fusa Paphies de cruore_, and the
+blood of Teucer, _revocato a sanguine Teucri_, 'of that thew'--the thew
+of Tros and of Mars. Of these and no less than these our Roman believed
+himself the son and inheritor.
+
+If we grasp this, that the old literature was packed with the old
+religion, and not only packed with it but permeated by it, we have within
+our ten fingers the secret of the 'Dark Ages,' the real reason why the
+Christian Fathers fought down literature and almost prevailed to the
+point of stamping it out. They hated it, not as literature; or at any
+rate, not to begin with; nor, to begin with, because it happened to be
+voluptuous and they austere: but they hated it because it held in its
+very texture, not to be separated, a religion over which they had hardly
+triumphed, a religion actively inimical to that of Christ, inimical to
+truth; so that for the sake of truth and in the name of Christ they had
+to fight it, accepting no compromise, yielding no quarter, foreseeing no
+issue save that one of the twain--Jupiter or Christ, Deus Optimus Maximus
+or the carpenter's son of Nazareth--must go under.
+
+It all ended in compromise, to be sure; as all struggles must between
+adversaries so tremendous. To-day, in Dr Smith's "Classical Dictionary,"
+Origen rubs shoulders with Orpheus and Orcus; Tertullian reposes cheek by
+jowl with Terpsichore. But we are not concerned, here, with what happened
+in the end. We are concerned with what these forthright Christian
+fighters had in their minds--to trample out the old literature _because_
+of the false religion. Milton understood this, and was thinking of it
+when he wrote of the effect of Christ's Nativity--
+
+ The Oracles are dumb;
+ No voice or hideous hum
+ Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving.
+ Apollo from his shrine
+ Can no more divine,
+ With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving.
+ No mighty trance, or breathed spell
+ Inspires the pale-eyed Priest from the prophetic cell.
+
+ The lonely mountains o'er,
+ And the resounding shore,
+ A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament;
+ From haunted spring, and dale
+ Edg'd with poplar pale,
+ The parting Genius is with sighing sent;
+ With flower-inwoven tresses torn
+ The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
+
+as Swinburne understands and expresses it in his "Hymn to Proserpine,"
+supposed to be chanted by a Roman of the 'old profession' on the morrow
+of Constantine's proclaiming the Christian faith--
+
+ O Gods dethroned and deceased, cast forth, wiped out in a day!
+ From your wrath is the world released, redeem'd from your chains,
+ men say.
+ New Gods are crown'd in the city; their flowers have broken your rods;
+ They are merciful, clothed with pity, the young compassionate Gods.
+ But for me their new device is barren, the days are bare;
+ Things long past over suffice, and men forgotten that were...
+ Wilt thou yet take all, Galilean? but these thou shalt not take,
+ The laurel, the palms and the paean, the breasts of the nymphs in
+ the brake;
+ Thou hast conquer'd, O pale Galilean; the world has grown grey from
+ thy breath;
+ We have drunken of things Lethean, and fed on the fullness of death.
+
+'Thou hast conquer'd, O pale Galilean!' However the struggle might sway
+in this or that other part of the field, Literature had to be beaten to
+her knees, and still beaten flat until the breath left her body. You will
+not be surprised that the heavy hand of these Christian fathers fell
+first upon the Theatre: for the actor in Rome was by legal definition an
+'infamous' man, even as in England until the other day he was by legal
+definition a vagabond and liable to whipping. The policy of religious
+reformers has ever been to close the theatres, as our Puritans did in
+1642; and a recent pronouncement by the Bishop of Kensington would seem
+to show that the instinct survives to this day. Queen Elizabeth--like her
+brother, King Edward VI--signalized the opening of a new reign by
+inhibiting stage-plays; and I invite you to share with me the pensive
+speculation, 'How much of English Literature, had she not relented, would
+exist to-day for a King Edward VII Professor to talk about?' Certainly
+the works of Shakespeare would not; and that seems to me a thought so
+impressive as to deserve the attention of Bishops as well as of Kings.
+
+Apart from this instinct the Christian Fathers, it would appear, had
+plenty of provocation. For the actors, who had jested with the Old
+Religion on a ground of accepted understanding--much as a good husband
+(if you will permit the simile) may gently tease his wife, not loving her
+one whit the less, taught by affection to play without offending--had
+mocked at the New Religion in a very different way: savagely, as enemies,
+holding up to ridicule the Church's most sacred mysteries. Tertullian, in
+an uncompromising treatise "De Spectaculis," denounces stage-plays root
+and branch; tells of a demon who entered into a woman in a theatre and on
+being exorcised pleaded that the mistake might well be excused, since he
+had found her in his own demesne. Christians should avoid these shows and
+await the greatest _spectaculum_ of all--the Last Judgment. 'Then,' he
+promises genially, 'will be the time to listen to the tragedians, whose
+lamentations will be more poignant, for their proper pain. Then will the
+comedians turn and twist in capers rendered nimbler than ever by the
+sting of the fire that is not quenched.' By 400 A.D. Augustine cries
+triumphantly that the theatres are falling--the very walls of them
+tumbling--throughout the Empire. _'Per omnes paene civitates cadunt
+theatra ... cadunt et fora vel moenia in quibus demonia colebantur'_; the
+very walls within which these devilments were practised. But the fury is
+unabated and goes on stamping down the embers. In the eighth century our
+own Alcuin (as the school of Freeman would affectionately call him) is no
+less fierce. All plays are anathema to him, and he even disapproves of
+dancing bears--though not, it would appear, of bad puns: _'nec tibi sit
+ursorum saltantium cura, sed clericorum psallentium.'_[2]
+
+The banning of _all_ literature you will find harder to understand; nay
+impossible, I believe, unless you accept the explanation I gave you. Yet
+there it is, an historical fact. 'What hath it profited posterity--_quid
+posteritas emolumenti tulit,_' wrote Sulpicius Severus, about 400 A.D.,
+'to read of Hector's fighting or Socrates' philosophising?' Pope Gregory
+the Great--St Gregory, who sent us the Roman missionaries--made no bones
+about it at all. '_Quoniam non cognovi literaturam,_' he quoted
+approvingly from the 70th Psalm, '_introibo in potentias Domini_':
+'Because I know nothing of literature I shall enter into the strength of
+the Lord.' 'The praises of Christ cannot be uttered in the same tongue as
+those of Jove,' writes this same Gregory to Desiderius, Archbishop of
+Vienne, who had been rash enough to introduce some of his young men to
+the ancient authors, with no worse purpose than to teach them a little
+grammar. Yet no one was prouder than this Pope of the historical Rome
+which he had inherited. Alcuin, again, forbade the reading of Virgil in
+the monastery over which he presided: it would sully his disciples'
+imagination. 'How is this, _Virgilian!_' he cried out upon one taken in
+the damnable act,--'that without my knowledge and against my order thou
+hast taken to studying Virgil?' To put a stop to this unhallowed
+indulgence the clergy solemnly taught that Virgil was a wizard.
+
+To us, long used as we are to the innocent gaieties of the Classical
+Tripos, these measures to discourage the study of Virgil may appear
+drastic, as the mental attitude of Gregory and Alcuin towards the Latin
+hexameter (so closely resembling that of Byron towards the waltz) not far
+removed from foolishness. But there you have in its quiddity the
+mediaeval mind: and the point I now put to you is, that _out of this soil
+our Universities grew._
+
+We, who claim Oxford and Cambridge for our nursing mothers, have of all
+men least excuse to forget it. A man of Leyden, of Louvain, of Liepzig,
+of Berlin, may be pardoned that he passes it by. More than a hundred
+years ago Salamanca had the most of her stones torn down to make defences
+against Wellington's cannon. Paris, greatest of all, has kept her renown;
+but you shall search the slums of the Latin Quarter in vain for the sixty
+or seventy Colleges that, before the close of the fifteenth century, had
+arisen to adorn her, the intellectual Queen of Europe. In Bologna, the
+ancient and stately, almost alone among the continental Universities,
+survive a few relics of the old collegiate system--the College of Spain,
+harbouring some five or six students, and a little house founded for
+Flemings in 1650: and in Bologna the system never attained to real
+importance.
+
+But in England where, great as London is, the national mind has always
+harked to the country for the graces of life, so that we seem by instinct
+to see it as only desirable in a green setting, our Universities, planted
+by the same instinct on lawns watered by pastoral streams, have suffered
+so little and received as much from the years that now we can hardly
+conceive of Oxford or Cambridge as ruined save by 'the unimaginable touch
+of Time.' Of all the secular Colleges bequeathed to Oxford, she has lost
+not one; while Cambridge (I believe) has parted only with Cavendish. Some
+have been subsumed into newer foundations; but always the process has
+been one of merging, of blending, of justifying the new bottle by the old
+wine. The vengeance of civil war--always very much of a family affair in
+England--has dealt tenderly with Oxford and Cambridge; the more
+calculating malignity of Royal Commissions not harshly on the whole.
+University reformers may accuse both Oxford and Cambridge of
+
+ Annihilating all that's made
+ To a green thought in a green shade:
+
+but with those sour men we have nothing here to do: like Isaak Walton's
+milkmaid we will not 'load our minds with any fears of many things that
+will never be.'
+
+But, as they stand, Oxford and Cambridge--so amazingly alike while they
+play at differences, and both so amazingly unlike anything else in the
+wide world--do by a hundred daily reminders connect us with the Middle
+Age, or, if you prefer Arnold's phrase, whisper its lost enchantments.
+The cloister, the grave grace in hall, the chapel bell, the men hurrying
+into their surplices or to lectures 'with the wind in their gowns,' the
+staircase, the nest of chambers within the oak--all these softly
+reverberate over our life here, as from belfries, the mediaeval mind.
+
+And that mediaeval mind actively hated (of partial acquaintance or by
+anticipation) almost everything we now study! Between it and us, except
+these memorials, nothing survives to-day but the dreadful temptation to
+learn, the dreadful instinct in men, as they grow older and wiser, to
+trust learning after all and endow it--that, and the confidence of a
+steady stream of youth.
+
+The Universities, then, sprang out of mediaeval life, out of the
+mediaeval mind; and the mediaeval mind had for centuries been taught to
+abominate literature. I would not exaggerate or darken the 'Dark Ages'
+for you by throwing too much bitumen into the picture. I know that at the
+beginning there had been a school of Origen which advocated the study of
+Greek poetry and philosophy, as well as the school of Tertullian which
+condemned it. There is evidence that the 'humanities' were cultivated
+here and there and after a fashion behind Gregory's august back. I grant
+that, while in Alcuin's cloister (and Alcuin, remember, became a sort of
+Imperial Director of Studies in Charlemagne's court) the wretched monk
+who loved Virgil had to study him with an illicit candle, to copy him
+with numbed fingers in a corner of the bitter-cold cloister, on the other
+hand many beautiful manuscripts preserved to us bear witness of cloisters
+where literature was tolerated if not officially honoured. I would not
+have you so uncritical as to blame the Church or its clergy for what
+happened; as I would have you remember that if the Church killed
+literature, she--and, one may say, she alone--kept it alive.
+
+Yet, and after all these reservations, it remains true that Literature
+had gone down disastrously. Even philosophy, unless you count the pale
+work of Boethius--_real_ philosophy had so nearly perished that men
+possessed no more of Aristotle than a fragment of his Logic, and '_the_
+Philosopher' had to creep back into Western Europe through translations
+from the Arabic! But this is the point I wish to make clear.--Philosophy
+came back in the great intellectual revival of the twelfth century;
+Literature did not. Literature's hour had not come. Men had to catch up
+on a dreadful leeway of ignorance. The form did not matter as yet: they
+wanted science--to know. I should say, rather, that as yet form _seemed_
+not to matter: for in fact form always matters: the personal always
+matters: and you cannot explain the vast crowds Abelard drew to Paris
+save by the fascination in the man, the fire communicated by the living
+voice. Moreover (as in a previous lecture I tried to prove) you cannot
+divorce accurate thought from accurate speech; but for accuracy, even for
+hair-splitting accuracy, of speech the Universities had the definitions
+of the Schoolmen. In literature they had yet to discover a concern.
+Literature was a thing of the past, inanimate. Nowhere in Europe could it
+be felt even to breathe. To borrow a beautiful phrase of Wordsworth's,
+men numbered it among 'things silently gone out of mind or things
+violently destroyed.'
+
+Nobody quite knows how these Universities began. Least of all can anybody
+tell how Oxford and Cambridge began. In Bede, for instance--that is, in
+England as the eighth century opens--we see scholarship already moving
+towards the _thing_, treading with sure instinct towards the light.
+Though a hundred historians have quoted it, I doubt if a feeling man who
+loves scholarship can read the famous letter of Cuthbert describing
+Bede's end and not come nigh to tears.
+
+And Bede's story contains no less wonder than beauty, when you consider
+how the fame of this holy and humble man of heart, who never left his
+cloisters at Jarrow, spread over Europe, so that, though it sound
+incredible, our Northumbria narrowly missed in its day to become the
+pole-star of Western culture. But he was a disinterested genius, and his
+pupil, Alcuin, a pushing dull man and a born reactionary; so that, while
+Alcuin scored the personal success and went off to teach in the court of
+Charlemagne, the great chance was lost.
+
+No one knows when the great Universities were founded, or precisely out
+of what schools they grew; and you may derive amusement from the
+historians when they start to explain how Oxford and Cambridge in
+particular came to be chosen for sites. My own conjecture, that they were
+chosen for the extraordinary salubrity of their climates, has met (I
+regret to say) with derision, and may be set down to the caprice of one
+who ever inclines to think the weather good where he is happy. Our own
+learned historian, indeed--Mr J. Bass Mullinger--devotes some closely
+reasoned pages to proving that Cambridge was chosen as the unlikeliest
+spot in the world, and is driven to quote the learned Poggio's opinion
+that the unhealthiness of a locality recommended it as a place of
+education for youth; as Plato, knowing naught of Christianity, but gifted
+with a soul naturally Christian, '_had selected a noisome spot for his
+Academe, in order that the mind might be strengthened by the weakness of
+the body._' So difficult still it is for the modern mind to interpret the
+mediaeval!
+
+Most likely these Universities grew as a tree grows from a seed blown by
+chance of the wind. It seems easy enough to understand why Paris, that
+great city, should have possessed a great University; yet I surmise the
+processes at Oxford and Cambridge to have been only a little less
+fortuitous. The schools of Remigius and of William of Champeaux (we will
+say) have given Paris a certain prestige, when Abelard, a pupil of
+William's, springs into fame and draws a horde of students from all over
+Europe to sit at his feet. These 'nations' of young men have to be
+organised, brought under some sort of discipline, if only to make the
+citizens' lives endurable: and lo! the thing is done. In like manner
+Irnerius at Bologna, Vacarius at Oxford, and at Cambridge some innominate
+teacher, 'of importance,' as Browning would put it, 'in his day,'
+possibly set the ball rolling; or again it is suggested that a body of
+scholars dissatisfied with Oxford (such dissatisfaction has been known
+even in historical times) migrated hither--a laborious journey, even
+nowadays--and that so
+
+ A brighter Hellas rears its mountains
+ From waves serener far!
+
+These young or nascent bodies had a trick of breaking away after this
+fashion. For reasons no longer obvious they hankered specially towards
+Stamford or Northampton. Until quite recently, within living memory, all
+candidates for a Mastership of Arts at Oxford had to promise never to
+lecture at Stamford. A flood here in 1520, which swept away Garret Hostel
+Bridge, put Cambridge in like mind and started a prophecy (to which you
+may find allusion in the fourth book of "The Faerie Queene") that both
+Universities would meet in the end, and kiss, at Stamford. Each in turn
+broke away for Northampton, and the worthy Fuller (a Northamptonshire
+man) has recorded his wonder that so eligible a spot was not finally
+chosen.
+
+I have mentioned a flood: but the immediate causes of the migrations or
+attempted migrations were not usually respectable enough to rank with any
+such act of God. They started as a rule with some Town and Gown row, or
+some bloody affray between scholars of the North and of the South.
+Without diminishing your sense of the real fervour for learning which
+drew young men from the remotest parts of Europe to these centres, but
+having for my immediate object to make clear to you that, whatever these
+young men sought, it was not literature, I wish you first to have in your
+minds a vivid picture of what a University town was like, and what its
+students were like during the greater part of the 12th and 13th
+centuries; that is to say, after the first enthusiasm had died down, when
+Oxford or Cambridge had organised itself into a _Studium Generale_, or
+_Universitas_ (which, of course, has nothing to do with Universality,
+whether of teaching or of frequenting, but simply means a Society.
+_Universitas_ = all of us).
+
+To begin with, the town was of wood, often on fire in places; with the
+alleviation of frequent winter floods, which in return, in the words of a
+modern poet, would 'leave a lot of little things behind them.' It
+requires but a small effort of the imagination in Cambridge to picture
+the streets as narrow, dark, almost meeting overhead in gables out of
+which the house slops would be discharged after casual warning down into
+a central gutter. That these narrow streets were populous with students
+remains certain, however much discount we allow on contemporary bills of
+reckoning. And the crowd was noisy. Men have always been ingenious in
+their ways of celebrating academical success. Pythagoras, for example,
+sacrificed an ox on solving the theorem numbered 47 in the first book of
+Euclid; and even to-day a Professor in his solitary lodge may be
+encouraged to believe now and then, from certain evidences in the sky,
+that the spirit of Pythagoras is not dead but translated.
+
+But of the mediaeval University the lawlessness, though well attested,
+can scarcely be conceived. When in the streets 'nation' drew the knife
+upon 'nation,' 'town' upon 'gown'; when the city bell started to answer
+the clang of St. Mary's; horrible deeds were done. I pass over massacres,
+tumults such as the famous one of St Scholastica's Day at Oxford, and
+choose one at a decent distance (yet entirely typical) exhumed from the
+annals of the University of Toulouse, in the year 1332. In that year
+
+ Five brothers of the noble family de la Penne lived together in a
+ Hospicium at Toulouse as students of the Civil and Canon Law. One of
+ them was Provost of a Monastery, another Archdeacon of Albi, another an
+ Archpriest, another Canon of Toledo. A bastard son of their father,
+ named Peter, lived with them as squire to the Canon. On Easter Day,
+ Peter, with another squire of the household named Aimery Beranger and
+ other students, having dined at a tavern, were dancing with women,
+ singing, shouting, and beating 'metallic vessels and iron culinary
+ instruments' in the street before their masters' house. The Provost and
+ the Archpriest were sympathetically watching the jovial scene from a
+ window, until it was disturbed by the appearance of a Capitoul and his
+ officers, who summoned some of the party to surrender the prohibited
+ arms which they were wearing. '_Ben Senhor, non fassat_' was the
+ impudent reply. The Capitoul attempted to arrest one of the offenders;
+ whereupon the ecclesiastical party made a combined attack upon the
+ official. Aimery Beranger struck him in the face with a poignard,
+ cutting off his nose and part of his chin and lips, and knocking out or
+ breaking no less than eleven teeth. The surgeons deposed that if he
+ recovered (he eventually did recover) he would never be able to speak
+ intelligibly. One of the watch was killed outright by Peter de la
+ Penne. That night the murderer slept, just as if nothing had happened,
+ in the house of his ecclesiastical masters. The whole household,
+ masters and servants alike, were, however, surprised by the other
+ Capitouls and a crowd of 200 citizens, and led off to prison, and the
+ house is alleged to have been pillaged. The Archbishop's Official
+ demanded their surrender. In the case of the superior ecclesiastics
+ this, after a short delay, was granted. But Aimery, who dressed like a
+ layman in 'divided and striped clothes' and wore a long beard, they
+ refused to treat as a clerk, though it was afterwards alleged that the
+ tonsure was plainly discernible upon his head until it was shaved by
+ order of the Capitouls. Aimery was put to the torture, admitted his
+ crime, and was sentenced to death. The sentence was carried out by
+ hanging, after he had had his hand cut off on the scene of the crime,
+ and been dragged by horses to the place of execution. The Capitouls
+ were then excommunicated by the Official, and the ecclesiastical side
+ of the quarrel was eventually transferred to the Roman Court. Before
+ the Parlement of Paris the University complained of the violation of
+ the Royal privilege exempting scholars' servants from the ordinary
+ tribunals. The Capitouls were imprisoned, and after long litigation
+ sentenced to pay enormous damages to the ruffian's family and erect a
+ chapel for the good of his soul. The city was condemned for a time to
+ the forfeiture of all its privileges. The body was cut down from the
+ gibbet on which it had been hanging for three years, and accorded a
+ solemn funeral. Four Capitouls bore the pall, and all fathers of
+ families were required to walk in the procession. When they came to the
+ Schools, the citizens solemnly begged pardon of the University, and the
+ cortege was joined by 3000 scholars. Finally, it cost the city 15,000
+ livres tournois or more to regain their civic privileges.[3]
+
+The late Mr Cecil Rhodes once summarized all Fellows of Colleges as
+children in matters of finance. Be that as it may, you will find nothing
+more constant in history than the talent of the Universities for
+extracting money or money's worth out of a riot. Time (I speak as a
+parent) has scarcely blunted that faculty; and still--since where young
+men congregate, noise there must be--our Universities like Wordsworth's
+Happy Warrior
+
+ turn their necessity to glorious gain.
+
+These were the excesses of young 'bloods,' and their servants: but with
+them mingled scholars not less ferocious in their habits because almost
+desperately poor. You all know, I dare say, that very poor scholars would
+be granted licences to beg by the Chancellor. The sleeve of this gown in
+which I address you represents the purse or pocket of a Master of Arts,
+and may hint to you by its amplitude how many crusts he was prepared to
+receive from the charitable.
+
+Now, choosing to ignore (because it has been challenged as overpainted) a
+picture of penury endured by the scholars of St John's College in this
+University, let me tell you two stories, one well attested, the other
+fiction if you will, but both agreeable as testifying to the spirit of
+youth which, ever blowing upon their sacred embers, has kept Oxford and
+Cambridge perennially alive.
+
+My first is of three scholars so poor that they possessed but one 'cappa'
+and gown between them. They took it in turns therefore, and when one went
+to lecture the other two kept to their lodgings. I invite you even to
+reflect on the joy of the lucky one, in a winter lecture room, dark, with
+unglazed windows, as he listened and shuffled his feet for warmth in the
+straw of the floor. [No one, by the way, can understand the incessant
+harping of our early poets upon May-time and the return of summer until
+he has pictured to himself the dark and cold discomfort of a
+Middle-English winter.] These three poor scholars fed habitually on
+bread, with soup and a little wine, tasting meat only on Sundays and
+feasts of the Church. Yet one of them, Richard of Chichester, who lived
+to become a saint, _saepe retulit quod nunquam in vita sua tam jucundam,
+tam delectabilem duxerat vitam_--that never had he lived so jollily, so
+delectably.
+
+That is youth, youth blessed by friendship. Now for my second story,
+which is also of youth and friendship.--
+
+Two poor scholars, who had with pains become Masters of Arts and saved
+their pence to purchase the coveted garb, on the afternoon of their
+admission took a country walk in it, together flaunting their new finery.
+But, the day being gusty, on their return across the bridge, a puff of
+wind caught the _biretta_ of one and blew it into the river. The loss was
+irrecoverable, since neither could swim. The poor fellow looked at his
+friend. His friend looked at him. 'Between us two,' he said, 'it is all
+or naught,' and cast his own cap to float and sink with the other down
+stream.
+
+You will never begin to understand literature until you understand
+something of life. These young men, your forerunners, understood
+something of life while as yet completely careless of literature. After
+the impulse of Abelard and others had died down, the mass of students
+betook themselves to the Universities, no doubt, for quite ordinary,
+mercenary reasons. The University led to the Church, and the Church, in
+England at any rate, was the door to professional life.
+
+Nearly all the civil servants of the Crown--I am here quoting freely--the
+diplomatists, the secretaries or advisers of great nobles, the
+physicians, the architects, at one time the secular law-givers, all
+through the Middle Ages the then large tribe of ecclesiastical lawyers,
+were ecclesiastics.... Clerkship did not necessarily involve even minor
+orders. But as it was cheaper to a King or a Bishop or a temporal magnate
+to reward his physician, his legal adviser, his secretary, or his agent
+by a Canonry or a Rectory than by large salaries, the average student of
+Paris or Oxford or Cambridge looked toward the Church as the 'main
+chance' as we say, and small blame to him! He never at any rate looked
+towards Literature: nor did the Universities, wise in their generation,
+encourage him to do anything of the sort.
+
+You may realise, Gentlemen, how tardily, even in later and more
+enlightened times, the study of Literature has crept its way into
+official Cambridge, if you will take down your "University Calendar" and
+study the list of Professorships there set forth in order of foundation.
+It begins in 1502 with the Lady Margaret's Chair of Divinity, founded by
+the mother of Henry VII. Five Regius Professorships follow: of Divinity,
+Civil Law, Physic, Hebrew, Greek, all of 1540. So Greek comes in upon the
+flush of the Renaissance; and the Calendar bravely, yet not committing
+itself to a date, heads with Erasmus the noble roll which concludes (as
+may it long conclude) with Henry Jackson. But Greek comes in last of the
+five. Close on a hundred years elapse before the foundation of the next
+chair--it is of Arabic; and more than a hundred before we arrive at
+Mathematics. So Sir William Hamilton was not without historical excuse
+when he declared the study of Mathematics to be no part of the business
+of this University! Then follow Moral Philosophy (1683), Music (1684),
+Chemistry (1702), Astronomy (1704), Anatomy (1707), Modern History and
+more Arabic, with Botany (1724), Geology (1727), closely followed by Mr
+Hulse's Christian Advocate, more Astronomy (1749), more Divinity (1777),
+Experimental Philosophy (1783): then in the nineteenth century more Law,
+more Medicine, Mineralogy, Archaeology, Political Economy, Pure
+Mathematics, Comparative Anatomy, Sanskrit and yet again more Law, before
+we arrive in 1869 at a Chair of Latin. Faint yet pursuing, we have yet to
+pass chairs of Fine Art (belated), Experimental Physics, Applied
+Mechanics, Anglo-Saxon, Animal Morphology, Surgery, Physiology,
+Pathology, Ecclesiastical History, Chinese, more Divinity, Mental
+Philosophy, Ancient History, Agriculture, Biology, Agricultural Botany,
+more Biology, Astrophysics, and German, before arriving in 1910 at a
+Chair of English Literature which by this time I have not breath to
+defend.
+
+The enumeration has, I hope, been instructive. If it has also plunged you
+in gloom, to that atmosphere (as the clock warns me) for a fortnight I
+must leave you: with a promise, however, in another lecture to cheer you,
+if it may be, with some broken gleams of hope.
+
+
+[Footnote 1: "What English Poetry may still learn from Greek": a paper
+read before the English Association on Nov. 17, 1911.]
+
+[Footnote 2: See Mr E. K. Chambers' "Mediaeval Stage", Dr Courthope's
+"History of English Poetry," and Professor W. P. Ker's "The Dark Ages".]
+
+[Footnote 3: Rashdall, "The Universities of Europe in the Middle Ages",
+vol. ii, p. 684, from documents printed in Fournier's collection.]
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE XI.
+
+ENGLISH LITERATURE IN OUR UNIVERSITIES nglish Literature in Our
+Universities (II)
+
+Wednesday, December 3
+
+
+We broke off, Gentlemen, upon the somewhat painful conclusion that our
+Universities were not founded for the study of literature, and tardily
+admitted it. The dates of our three literary chairs in Cambridge--I speak
+of our Western literature only, and omit Arabic, Sanskrit, and
+Chinese--clenched that conclusion for us. Greek in 1540, Latin not until
+1869, English but three years ago--from the lesson of these intervals
+there is no getting away.
+
+Now I do not propose to dwell on the Renaissance and how Greek came in:
+for a number of writers in our time have been busy with the Renaissance,
+and have--I was going to say 'over-written the subject,' but no--it is
+better to say that they have focussed the period so as to distort the
+general perspective at the cost of other periods which have earned less
+attention; the twelfth century, for example. At any rate their efforts,
+with the amount they claim of your reading, absolve me from doing more
+than remind you that the Renaissance brought in the study of Greek, and
+Greek necessarily brought in the study of literature: since no man can
+read what the Greeks wrote and not have his eyes unsealed to what I have
+called a norm of human expression; a guide to conduct, a standard to
+correct our efforts, whether in poetry, or in philosophy, or in art. For
+the rest, I need only quote to you Gibbon's magnificent saying, that the
+Greek language gave a soul to the objects of sense and a body to the
+abstractions of metaphysics. [May I add, in parenthesis, that, while no
+believer in compulsory Greek, holding, indeed, that you can hardly
+reconcile learning with compulsion, and still more hardly force them to
+be compatibles, I subscribe with all my heart to Bagehot's shrewd saying,
+'while a knowledge of Greek and Latin is not necessary to a writer of
+English, he should at least have a firm conviction that those two
+languages existed.']
+
+But, assuming you to know something of the Renaissance, and how it
+brought Greek into Oxford and Cambridge, I find that in the course of the
+argument two things fall to be said, and both to be said with some
+emphasis.
+
+In the first place, without officially acknowledging their native tongue
+or its literature, our two Universities had no sooner acquired Greek than
+their members became immensely interested in English. Take, for one
+witness out of many, Gabriel Harvey, Fellow of Pembroke Hall. His letters
+to Edmund Spenser have been preserved, as you know. Now Gabriel Harvey
+was a man whom few will praise, and very few could have loved. Few will
+quarrel with Dr Courthope's description of him as 'a person of
+considerable intellectual force, but intolerably arrogant and conceited,
+and with a taste vitiated by all the affectations of Italian humanism,'
+or deny that 'his tone in his published correspondence with Spenser is
+that of an intellectual bully.'[1] None will refuse him the title of fool
+for attempting to mislead Spenser into writing hexameters. But all you
+can urge against Gabriel Harvey, on this count or that or the other, but
+accumulates proof that this donnish man was all the while giving
+thought--giving even ferocious thought--to the business of making
+an English Literature.
+
+Let me adduce more pleasing evidence. At or about Christmas, in the year
+1597, there was enacted here in Cambridge, in the hall of St John's
+College, a play called "The Pilgrimage to Parnassus," a skittish work,
+having for subject the 'discontent of scholars'; the misery attending
+those who, unsupported by a private purse, would follow after Apollo and
+the Nine. No one knows the author's name: but he had a wit which has kept
+something of its salt to this day, and in Christmas, 1597, it took
+Cambridge by storm. The public demanded a sequel, and "The Return from
+Parnassus" made its appearance on the following Christmas (again in St
+John's College hall); to be followed by a "Second Part of the Return from
+Parnassus," the author's overflow of wit, three years later. Of the
+popularity of the first and second plays--"The Pilgrimage" and "The
+Return, Part I"--we have good evidence in the prologue to "The Return,
+Part II," where the author makes Momus say, before an audience which knew
+the truth:
+
+ "The Pilgrimage to Parnassus" and "The Returne from Parnassus" have
+ stood the honest Stagekeepers in many a crowne's expense for linckes
+ and vizards: purchased many a Sophister a knocke with a clubbe:
+ hindred the butler's box, and emptied the Colledge barrells; and now,
+ unlesse you have heard the former, you may returne home as wise as you
+ came: for this last is the last part of The Returne from Parnassus;
+ that is, the last time that the Author's wit will turne upon the toe
+ in this vaine.
+
+In other words, these plays had set everybody in Cambridge agog, had been
+acted by link-light, had led to brawls--either between literary factions
+or through offensive personal allusions to which we have lost all
+clue--had swept into the box-office much money usually spent on Christmas
+gambling, and had set up an inappeasable thirst for College ale. The
+point for us is that (in 1597-1601) they abound in topical allusions to
+the London theatres: that Shakespeare is obviously just as much a concern
+to these young men of Cambridge as Mr Shaw (say) is to our young men
+to-day, and an allusion to him is dropped in confidence that it will be
+aptly taken. For instance, one of the characters, Gullio, will have some
+love-verses recited to him 'in two or three diverse veins, in Chaucer's,
+Gower's and Spenser's and Mr Shakespeare's.' Having listened to Chaucer,
+he cries, 'Tush! Chaucer is a foole'; but coming to some lines of Mr
+Shakespeare's "Venus and Adonis," he cries, 'Ey, marry, Sir! these have
+some life in them! Let this duncified world esteeme of Spenser and
+Chaucer, I'le worship sweet Mr Shakespeare, and to honoure him I will lay
+his "Venus and Adonis" under my pillowe.' For another allusion--'Few of
+the University pen plaies well,' says the actor Kempe in Part II of the
+"Returne"; 'they smell too much of that writer _Ovid_ and that writer
+_Metamorphosis_, and talke too much of Proserpina and Jupiter. Why here's
+our fellow _Shakespeare_ puts them all downe, ay and _Ben Jonson_, too.'
+Here you have Cambridge assembling at Christmas-tide to laugh at
+well-understood hits upon the theatrical taste of London. Here you have,
+to make Cambridge laugh, three farcical quasi-Aristophanic plays all
+hinging on the tribulations of scholars who depart to pursue literature
+for a livelihood. For a piece of definite corroborative evidence you have
+a statute of Queens' College (quoted by Mr Bass Mullinger) which directs
+that 'any student refusing to take part in the acting of a comedy or
+tragedy in the College and absenting himself from the performance,
+contrary to the injunctions of the President, shall be expelled from the
+Society'--which seems drastic. And on top of all this, you have evidence
+enough and to spare of the part played in Elizabethan drama by the
+'University Wits.' Why, Marlowe (of Corpus Christi) may be held to have
+invented its form--blank verse; Ben Jonson (of St John's) to have carried
+it on past its meridian and through its decline, into the masque. Both
+Universities claim Lyly and Chapman. Marston, Peel, Massinger, hailed
+from Oxford. But Greene and Nashe were of Cambridge--of St John's both,
+and Day of Caius. They sought to London, and there (for tragic truth
+underlay that Christmas comedy of "The Pilgrimage of Parnassus") many of
+them came to bitter ends: but before reaching their sordid personal
+ruin--and let the deaths of Marlowe and Greene be remembered--they built
+the Elizabethan drama, as some of them lived to add its last ornaments.
+We know what, meanwhile, Spenser had done. I think it scarcely needs
+further proof that Cambridge, towards the end of the sixteenth century,
+was fermenting with a desire to read, criticise, yes and write, English
+literature, albeit officially the University recognised no such thing.
+
+There remains a second question--How happened it that Cambridge, after
+admitting Greek, took more than three hundred years to establish a Chair
+of Latin, and that a Chair of English is, so to speak, a mushroom (call
+it not toadstool!) of yesterday? Why simply enough. Latin continued to be
+the working language of Science. In Latin Bacon naturally composed his
+"Novum Organum" and indeed almost all his scientific and philosophical
+work, although a central figure of his age among English prose-writers.
+In Latin, in the eighteenth century, Newton wrote his "Principia": and I
+suppose that of no two books written by Englishmen before the close of
+that century, or indeed before Darwin's "Origin of Species," can it be
+less extravagantly said than of the "Novum Organum" and the "Principia"
+that they shook the world. Now, without forgetting our Classical Tripos
+(founded in 1822), as without forgetting the great names of Bentley and
+Porson, we may observe it as generally true, that whenever and wherever
+large numbers of scientific men use a particular language as their
+working instrument, they have a disposition to look askance on its
+refinements; to be jealous of its literary professors; to accuse these of
+treating as an end in itself what is properly a means. Like the Denver
+editor I quoted to you in a previous lecture, these scientific workers
+want to 'get there' in a hurry, forgetting that (to use another
+Americanism) the sharper the chisel the more ice it is likely to cut. You
+may observe this disposition--this suspicion of 'literature,' this thinly
+veiled contempt--in many a scientific man to-day; though because his
+language has changed from Latin to English, it is English he now chooses
+to cheapen. Well, we cannot help it, perhaps. Perhaps he cannot help it.
+It is human nature. We must go on persuading him, not losing our tempers.
+
+None the less we should not shut our eyes to the fact that while a
+language is the working instrument of scientific men there will always be
+a number of them to decry any study of it for its beauty, and even any
+study of it for the sake of accuracy--its beauty and its accuracy being
+indeed scarcely distinguishable.
+
+I fear, Gentlemen, you may go on from this to the dreadful conclusion
+that the date 1869, when Cambridge at length came to possess a Chair of
+Latin, marks definitely the hour at which Latin closed its eyes and
+became a dead language; that you may proceed to a yet more dreadful
+application of this to the Chair of English founded in 1910: and that
+henceforward (to misquote what Mr Max Beerbohm once wickedly said of
+Walter Pater) you will be apt to regard Professor Housman and me as two
+widowers engaged, while the undertaker waits, in composing the features
+of our beloveds.
+
+But (to speak seriously) that is what I stand here to controvert: and I
+derive no small encouragement when--as has more than once happened--A, a
+scientific man, comes to me and complains that he for his part cannot
+understand B, another scientific man, 'because the fellow can't express
+himself.' And the need to study precision in writing has grown far more
+instant since men of science have abandoned the 'universal language' and
+taken to writing in their own tongues. Let us, while not on the whole
+regretting the change, at least recognise some dangers, some possible
+disadvantages. I will confine myself to English, considered as a
+substitute for Latin. In Latin you have a language which may be thin in
+its vocabulary and inelastic for modern use; but a language which at all
+events compels a man to clear his thought and communicate it to other men
+precisely.
+
+ Thoughts hardly to be packed
+ Into the narrow act
+
+--may be all impossible of compression into the Latin speech. In English,
+on the other hand, you have a language which by its very copiousness and
+elasticity tempts you to believe that you can do without packing, without
+compression, arrangement, order; that, with the Denver editor, all you
+need is to 'get there'--though it be with all your intellectual
+belongings in a jumble, overflowing the portmanteau. Rather I preach to
+you that having proudly inherited English with its _copia fandi_, you
+should keep your estate in order by constantly applying to it that _jus
+et norma loquendi_ of which, if you seek to the great models, you will
+likewise find yourselves inheritors.
+
+'But,' it is sometimes urged, 'why not leave this new study of English to
+the younger Universities now being set up all over the country?' 'Ours is
+an age of specialising. Let these newcomers have something--what better
+than English?--to specialise upon.'
+
+I might respond by asking if the fame of Cambridge would stand where it
+stands to-day had she followed a like counsel concerning other studies
+and, resting upon Mathematics, given over this or that branch of Natural
+Science to be grasped by new hands. What of Electricity, for example? Or
+what of Physiology? Yes, and among the unnatural sciences, what of
+Political Economy? But I will use a more philosophical argument.
+
+Some years ago I happened on a collection of Bulgarian proverbs of which
+my memory retains but two, yet each an abiding joy. In a lecture on
+English Literature in our Universities you will certainly not miss to
+apply the first, which runs, 'Many an ass has entered Jerusalem.'
+
+The application of the second may elude you for a moment. It voices the
+impatience of an honest Bulgar who has been worried overmuch to subscribe
+to what, in this England of ours, we call Church Purposes; and it runs,
+'All these two-penny saints will be the ruin of the Church.'
+
+Now far be it from me to apply the term 'two-penny saint' to any existing
+University. To avoid the accusation I hereby solemnly declare my deep
+conviction that every single University at this moment in England,
+Scotland, Wales or Ireland has reasons--strong in all, in some
+overwhelmingly strong--for its existence. That is plainly said, I hope?
+Yet I do maintain that if we go on multiplying Universities we shall not
+increase the joy; that the reign of two-penny saints lies not far off
+and will soon lie within measurable distance; and that it will be
+a pestilent reign. As we saw in out last lecture the word
+'University'--_Universitas_--had, in its origin, nothing to do with
+Universality: it meant no more than a Society, organised (as it
+happened) to promote learning. But words, like institutions, often rise
+above their beginnings, and in time acquire a proud secondary
+connotation. For an instance let me give you the beautiful Wykehamist
+motto _Manners Makyeth Man_, wherein 'manners' originally meant no more
+than 'morals.' So there has grown around our two great Universities of
+Oxford and Cambridge a connotation (secondary, if you will, but valuable
+above price) of universality; of standing like great beacons of light,
+to attract the young wings of all who would seek learning for their
+sustenance. Thousands have singed, thousands have burned themselves, no
+doubt: but what thousands of thousands have caught the sacred fire into
+their souls as they passed through and passed out, to carry it, to drop
+it, still as from wings, upon waste places of the world! Think of
+country vicarages, of Australian or Himalayan outposts, where men have
+nourished out lives of duty upon the fire of three transient, priceless
+years. Think of the generations of children to whom their fathers'
+lives, prosaic enough, could always be re-illumined if someone let fall
+the word 'Oxford' or 'Cambridge,' so that they themselves came to
+surmise an aura about the name as of a land very far off; and then say
+if the ineffable spell of those two words do not lie somewhere in the
+conflux of generous youth with its rivalries and clash of minds, ere it
+disperses, generation after generation, to the duller business of life.
+Would you have your mother University, Gentlemen, undecorated by some
+true study of your mother-English?
+
+I think not, having been there, and known such thoughts as you will carry
+away, and having been against expectation called back to report them.
+
+ And sometimes I remember days of old
+ When fellowship seem'd not so far to seek,
+ And all the world and I seem'd far less cold,
+ And at the rainbow's foot lay surely gold,
+ And hope was strong, and life itself not weak.
+
+My purpose here (and I cannot too often recur to it) is to wean your
+minds from hankering after false Germanic standards and persuade you, or
+at least point out to you, in what direction that true study lies if you
+are men enough to take up your inheritance and believe in it as a glory
+to be improved.
+
+Neither Oxford nor Cambridge nor any University on earth can study
+English Literature truthfully or worthily, or even at all profitably,
+unless by studying it in the category for which Heaven, or Nature (call
+the ultimate cause what you will), intended it; or, to put the assertion
+more concretely, in any other category than that for which the particular
+author--be his name Chaucer or Chesterton, Shakespeare or Shaw--designed
+it; as neither can Oxford nor Cambridge nor any University study English
+Literature, to understand it, unless by bracing itself to consider a
+living art. Origins, roots, all the gropings towards light--let these be
+granted as accessories; let those who search in them be granted all
+honour, all respect. It is only when they preach or teach these
+preliminaries, these accessories, to be more important than Literature
+itself--it is only when they, owing all their excuse in life to the
+established daylight, din upon us that the precedent darkness claims
+precedence in honour, that one is driven to utter upon them this
+dialogue, in monosyllables:
+
+ _And God said, 'Let there be light': and there was light.
+ 'Oh, thank you, Sir,' said the Bat and the Owl; 'then we are off!'_
+
+I grant you, Gentlemen, that there must always inhere a difficulty in
+correlating for the purposes of a Tripos a study of Literature itself
+with a study of these accessories; the thing itself being _naturally_ so
+much more difficult: being so difficult indeed that (to take literary
+criticism alone and leave for a moment the actual practice of writing
+out of the question) though some of the first intellects in the
+world--Aristotle, Longinus, Quintilian, Boileau, Dryden, Lessing, Goethe,
+Coleridge, Sainte-Beuve--have broken into parcels of that territory, the
+mass of it remains unexplored, and nobody as yet has found courage to
+reduce the reports of these great explorers to any system; so that a very
+eminent person indeed found it easy to write to me the other day, 'The
+principles of Criticism? What are they? Who made them?' To this I could
+only answer that I did not know Who made them; but that Aristotle,
+Dryden, Lessing, had, as it was credibly reported, discovered five or, it
+might be, six. And this difficulty of appraising literature absolutely
+inheres in your study of it from the beginning. No one can have set a
+General Paper on Literature and examined on it, setting it and marking
+the written answers, alongside of papers about language, inflexions and
+the rest, without having borne in upon him that _here_ the student finds
+his difficulty. While in a paper set about inflexions, etc., a pupil with
+a moderately retentive memory will easily obtain sixty or seventy per
+cent. of the total marks, in a paper on the book or play considered
+critically an examiner, even after setting his paper with a view to some
+certain inferiority of average, has to be lenient before he can award
+fifty, forty, or even thirty per cent. of the total.
+
+You will find a somewhat illuminating passage--illuminating, that is, if
+you choose to interpret and apply it to our subject--in Lucian's "True
+History," where the veracious traveller, who tells the tale, affirms that
+he visited Hades among other places, and had some conversation with
+Homer, among its many inhabitants--
+
+ Before many days had passed, I accosted the poet Homer, when we were
+ both disengaged, and asked him, among other things, where he came
+ from; it was still a burning question with us, I explained. He said he
+ was aware that some derived him from Chios, others from Smyrna, and
+ others again from Colophon; but in fact he was a Babylonian, generally
+ known not as Homer but as Tigranes; but when later in life he was
+ given as a homer or hostage to the Greeks, that name clung to him.
+ Another of my questions was about the so-called spurious books; had he
+ written them or not? He said that they were all genuine: so I now knew
+ what to think of the critics Zenodotus and Aristarchus and all their
+ lucubrations. Having got a categorical answer on that point, I tried
+ him next on his reason for starting the "Iliad" with the wrath of
+ Achilles. He said he had no exquisite reason; it just came into his
+ head that way.
+
+Even so diverse are the questions that may be asked concerning any great
+work of art. But to discover its full intent is always the most difficult
+task of all. That task, however, and nothing less difficult, will always
+be the one worthiest of a great University.
+
+On that, and on that alone, Gentlemen, do I base all claims for our
+School of English Literature. And yet in conclusion I will ask you,
+reminding yourselves how fortunate is your lot in Cambridge, to think of
+fellow-Englishmen far less fortunate.
+
+Years ago I took some pains to examine the examination papers set by a
+renowned Examining Body and I found this--'I humbly solicit' (to use a
+phrase of Lucian's) 'my hearers' incredulity'--that in a paper set upon
+three Acts of "Hamlet"--three Acts of "Hamlet"!--the first question
+started with 'G.tt. p..cha' 'Al..g.tor' and invited the candidate to fill
+in the missing letters correctly. Now I was morally certain that the
+words 'gutta-percha' and 'alligator' did not occur in the first three
+Acts of "Hamlet"; but having carefully re-read them I invited this
+examining body to explain itself. The answer I got was that, to
+understand Shakespeare, a student must first understand the English
+Language! Some of you on leaving Cambridge will go out--a company of
+Christian folk dispersed throughout the world--to tell English children
+of English Literature. Such are the pedagogic fetters you will have to
+knock off their young minds before they can stand and walk.
+
+Gentlemen, on a day early in this term I sought the mound which is the
+old Castle of Cambridge. Access to it, as perhaps you know, lies through
+the precincts of the County Prison. An iron railing encloses the mound,
+having a small gate, for the key of which a notice-board advised me to
+ring the prison bell. I rang. A very courteous gaoler answered the bell
+and opened the gate, which stands just against his wicket. I thanked him,
+but could not forbear asking 'Why do they keep this gate closed?' 'I
+don't know, sir,' he answered, 'but I suppose if they didn't the children
+might get in and play.'
+
+So with his answer I went up the hill and from the top saw Cambridge
+spread at my feet; Magdalene below me, and the bridge which--poor product
+as it is of the municipal taste--has given its name to so many bridges
+all over the world; the river on its long ambit to Chesterton; the tower
+of St John's, and beyond it the unpretentious but more beautiful tower of
+Jesus College. To my right the magnificent chine of King's College Chapel
+made its own horizon above the yellowing elms. I looked down on the
+streets--the narrow streets--the very streets which, a fortnight ago, I
+tried to people for you with that mediaeval throng which has passed as we
+shall pass. Still in my ear the gaoler's answer repeated itself--_'I
+suppose, if they didn't keep it locked, the children might get in and
+play'_: and a broken echo seemed to take it up, in words that for a while
+had no more coherence than the scattered jangle of bells in the town
+below. But as I turned to leave, they chimed into an articulate sentence
+and the voice was the voice of Francis Bacon--_Regnum Scientiae ut regnum
+Coeli non nisi sub persona infantis intratur.--Into the Kingdom of
+Knowledge, as into the Kingdom of Heaven, whoso would enter must become
+as a little child._
+
+
+[Footnote 1: "Cambridge History of English Literature", vol. iii, p. 213.]
+
+
+
+
+LECTURE XII.
+
+ON STYLE
+
+Wednesday, January 28, 1914
+
+
+Should Providence, Gentlemen, destine any one of you to write books for
+his living, he will find experimentally true what I here promise him,
+that few pleasures sooner cloy than reading what the reviewers say. This
+promise I hand on with the better confidence since it was endorsed for me
+once in conversation by that eminently good man the late Henry Sidgwick;
+who added, however, 'Perhaps I ought to make a single exception. There
+was a critic who called one of my books "epoch-making." Being anonymous,
+he would have been hard to find and thank, perhaps; but I ought to have
+made the effort.'
+
+May I follow up this experience of his with one of my own, as a preface
+or brief apology for this lecture? Short-lived as is the author's joy in
+his critics, far-spent as may be his hope of fame, mournful his consent
+with Sir Thomas Browne that 'there is nothing immortal but immortality,'
+he cannot hide from certain sanguine men of business, who in England call
+themselves 'Press-Cutting Agencies,' in America 'Press-Clipping Bureaux,'
+and, as each successive child of his invention comes to birth,
+unbecomingly presume in him an almost virginal trepidation. 'Your book,'
+they write falsely, 'is exciting much comment. May we collect and send
+you notices of it appearing in the World's Press? We submit a specimen
+cutting with our terms; and are, dear Sir,' etc.
+
+Now, although steadily unresponsive to this wile, I am sometimes guilty
+of taking the enclosed specimen review and thrusting it for preservation
+among the scarcely less deciduous leaves of the book it was written to
+appraise. So it happened that having this vacation, to dust--not to
+read--a line of obsolete or obsolescent works on a shelf, I happened on a
+review signed by no smaller a man than Mr Gilbert Chesterton and
+informing the world that the author of my obsolete book was full of good
+stories as a kindly uncle, but had a careless or impatient way of
+stopping short and leaving his readers to guess what they most wanted to
+know: that, reaching the last chapter, or what he chose to make the last
+chapter, instead of winding up and telling 'how everybody lived ever
+after,' he (so to speak) slid you off his avuncular knee with a blessing
+and the remark that nine o'clock was striking and all good children
+should be in their beds.
+
+That criticism has haunted me during the vacation. Looking back on a
+course of lectures which I deemed to be accomplished; correcting them in
+print; revising them with all the nervousness of a beginner; I have
+seemed to hear you complain--'He has exhorted us to write accurately,
+appropriately; to eschew Jargon; to be bold and essay Verse. He has
+insisted that Literature is a living art, to be practised. But just what
+we most needed he has not told. At the final doorway to the secret he
+turned his back and left us. Accuracy, propriety, perspicuity--these we
+may achieve. But where has he helped us to write with beauty, with charm,
+with distinction? Where has he given us rules for what is called _Style_
+in short?--having attained which an author may count himself set up in
+business.'
+
+Thus, Gentlemen, with my mind's ear I heard you reproaching me. I beg you
+to accept what follows for my apology.
+
+To begin with, let me plead that you have been told of one or two things
+which Style is _not_; which have little or nothing to do with Style,
+though sometimes vulgarly mistaken for it. Style, for example, is
+not--can never be--extraneous Ornament. You remember, may be, the Persian
+lover whom I quoted to you out of Newman: how to convey his passion he
+sought a professional letter-writer and purchased a vocabulary charged
+with ornament, wherewith to attract the fair one as with a basket of
+jewels. Well, in this extraneous, professional, purchased ornamentation,
+you have something which Style is not: and if you here require a
+practical rule of me, I will present you with this: 'Whenever you feel an
+impulse to perpetrate a piece of exceptionally fine writing, obey it
+--whole-heartedly--and delete it before sending your manuscript to press.
+_Murder your darlings._'
+
+But let me plead further that you have not been left altogether without
+clue to the secret of what Style is. That you must master the secret for
+yourselves lay implicit in our bargain, and you were never promised that
+a writer's training would be easy. Yet a clue was certainly put in your
+hands when, having insisted that Literature is a living art, I added that
+therefore it must be personal and of its essence personal.
+
+This goes very deep: it conditions all our criticism of art. Yet it
+conceals no mystery. You may see its meaning most easily and clearly,
+perhaps, by contrasting Science and Art at their two extremes--say Pure
+Mathematics with Acting. Science as a rule deals with things, Art with
+man's thought and emotion about things. In Pure Mathematics things are
+rarefied into ideas, numbers, concepts, but still farther and farther
+away from the individual man. Two and two make four, and fourpence is not
+ninepence (or at any rate four is not nine) whether Alcibiades or Cleon
+keep the tally. In Acting on the other hand almost everything depends on
+personal interpretation--on the gesture, the walk, the gaze, the tone of
+a Siddons, the _ruse_ smile of a Coquelin, the exquisite, vibrant
+intonation of a Bernhardt. 'English Art?' exclaimed Whistler, 'there is
+no such thing! Art is art and mathematics is mathematics.' Whistler
+erred. Precisely because Art is Art, and Mathematics is Mathematics and a
+Science, Art being Art can be English or French; and, more than this,
+must be the personal expression of an Englishman or a Frenchman, as a
+'Constable' differs from a 'Corot' and a 'Whistler' from both. Surely I
+need not labour this. But what is true of the extremes of Art and Science
+is true also, though sometimes less recognisably true, of the mean: and
+where they meet and seem to conflict (as in History) the impact is that
+of the personal or individual mind upon universal truth, and the question
+becomes whether what happened in the Sicilian Expedition, or at the trial
+of Charles I, can be set forth naked as an alegebraical sum, serene in
+its certainty, indifferent to opinion, uncoloured in the telling as in
+the hearing by sympathy or dislike, by passion or by character. I doubt,
+while we should strive in history as in all things to be fair, if history
+can be written in that colourless way, to interest men in human doings. I
+am sure that nothing which lies further towards imaginative, creative,
+Art can be written in that way.
+
+It follows then that Literature, being by its nature personal, must be by
+its nature almost infinitely various. 'Two persons cannot be the authors
+of the sounds which strike our ear; and as they cannot be speaking one
+and the same speech, neither can they be writing one and the same lecture
+or discourse.' _Quot homines tot sententiae._ You may translate that, if
+you will, 'Every man of us constructs his sentence differently'; and if
+there be indeed any quarrel between Literature and Science (as I never
+can see why there should be), I for one will readily grant Science all
+her cold superiority, her ease in Sion with universal facts, so it be
+mine to serve among the multifarious race who have to adjust, as best
+they may, Science's cold conclusions (and much else) to the brotherly
+give-and-take of human life.
+
+_Quicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas..._ Is it possible,
+Gentlemen, that you can have read one, two, three or more of the
+acknowledged masterpieces of literature without having it borne in on you
+that they are great because they are alive, and traffic not with cold
+celestial certainties, but with men's hopes, aspirations, doubts, loves,
+hates, breakings of the heart; the glory and vanity of human endeavour,
+the transience of beauty, the capricious uncertain lease on which you and
+I hold life, the dark coast to which we inevitably steer; all that amuses
+or vexes, all that gladdens, saddens, maddens us men and women on this
+brief and mutable traject which yet must be home for a while, the
+anchorage of our hearts? For an instance:--
+
+ Here lies a most beautiful lady,
+ Light of step and heart was she:
+ I think she was the most beautiful lady
+ That ever was in the West Country.
+ But beauty vanishes, beauty passes,
+ However rare, rare it be;
+ And when I crumble who shall remember
+ That lady of the West Country?
+
+ (Walter de la Mare.)
+
+Or take a critic--a literary critic--such as Samuel Johnson, of whom we
+are used to think as of a man artificial in phrase and pedantic in
+judgment. He lives, and why? Because, if you test his criticism, he never
+saw literature but as a part of life, nor would allow in literature what
+was false to life, as he saw it. He could be wrong-headed, perverse;
+could damn Milton because he hated Milton's politics; on any question of
+passion or prejudice could make injustice his daily food. But he could
+not, even in a friend's epitaph, let pass a phrase (however well turned)
+which struck him as empty of life or false to it. All Boswell testifies
+to this: and this is why Samuel Johnson survives.
+
+Now let me carry this contention--that all Literature is personal and
+therefore various--into a field much exploited by the pedant, and fenced
+about with many notice-boards and public warnings. _'Neologisms not
+allowed here,' 'All persons using slang, or trespassing in pursuit of
+originality....'_
+
+Well, I answer these notice-boards by saying that, literature being
+personal, and men various--and even the "Oxford English Dictionary" being
+no Canonical book--man's use or defiance of the dictionary depends for
+its justification on nothing but his success: adding that, since it takes
+all kinds to make a world, or a literature, his success will probably
+depend on the occasion. A few months ago I found myself seated at a
+bump-supper next to a cheerful youth who, towards the close, suggested
+thoughtfully, as I arose to make a speech, that, the bonfire (which of
+course he called the 'bonner') being due at nine-thirty o'clock, there
+was little more than bare time left for 'langers and godders.' It cost
+me, who think slowly, some seconds to interpret that by 'langers' he
+meant 'Auld Lang Syne' and by 'godders' 'God Save the King.' I thought at
+the time, and still think, and will maintain against any schoolmaster,
+that the neologisms of my young neighbour, though not to be recommended
+for essays or sermons, did admirably suit the time, place, and occasion.
+
+Seeing that in human discourse, infinitely varied as it is, so much must
+ever depend on _who_ speaks, and to _whom_, in what mood and upon what
+occasion; and seeing that Literature must needs take account of all
+manner of writers, audiences, moods, occasions; I hold it a sin against
+the light to put up a warning against any word that comes to us in the
+fair way of use and wont (as 'wire,' for instance, for a telegram), even
+as surely as we should warn off hybrids or deliberately pedantic
+impostors, such as 'antibody' and 'picture-drome'; and that, generally,
+it is better to err on the side of liberty than on the side of the
+censor: since by the manumitting of new words we infuse new blood into a
+tongue of which (or we have learnt nothing from Shakespeare's audacity)
+our first pride should be that it is flexible, alive, capable of
+responding to new demands of man's untiring quest after knowledge and
+experience. Not because it was an ugly thing did I denounce Jargon to
+you, the other day: but because it was a dead thing, leading no-whither,
+meaning naught. There is _wickedness_ in human speech, sometimes. You
+will detect it all the better for having ruled out what is _naughty_.
+
+Let us err, then, if we err, on the side of liberty. I came, the other
+day, upon this passage in Mr Frank Harris's study of 'The Man
+Shakespeare':--
+
+ In the last hundred years the language of Moliere has grown fourfold;
+ the slang of the studios and the gutter and the laboratory, of the
+ engineering school and the dissecting table, has been ransacked for
+ special terms to enrich and strengthen the language in order that it
+ may deal easily with the new thoughts. French is now a superb
+ instrument, while English is positively poorer than it was in the time
+ of Shakespeare, thanks to the prudery of our illiterate middle
+ class.[1]
+
+Well, let us not lose our heads over this, any more than over other
+prophecies of our national decadence. The "Oxford English Dictionary" has
+not yet unfolded the last of its coils, which yet are ample enough to
+enfold us in seven words for every three an active man can grapple with.
+Yet the warning has point, and a particular point, for those who aspire
+to write poetry: as Francis Thompson has noted in his Essay on Shelley:--
+
+ Theoretically, of course, one ought always to try for the best word.
+ But practically, the habit of excessive care in word-selection
+ frequently results in loss of spontaneity; and, still worse, the habit
+ of always taking the best word too easily becomes the habit of always
+ taking the most ornate word, the word most removed from ordinary
+ speech. In consequence of this, poetic diction has become latterly a
+ kaleidoscope, and one's chief curiosity is as to the precise
+ combinations into which the pieces will be shifted. There is, in fact,
+ a certain band of words, the Praetorian cohorts of Poetry, whose
+ prescriptive aid is invoked by every aspirant to the poetic purple....
+ Against these it is time some banner should be raised.... It is at any
+ rate curious to note that the literary revolution against the despotic
+ diction of Pope seems issuing, like political revolutions, in a
+ despotism of his own making;
+
+and he adds a note that this is the more surprising to him because so
+many Victorian poets were prose-writers as well.
+
+ Now, according to our theory, the practice of prose should maintain
+ fresh and comprehensive a poet's diction, should save him from falling
+ into the hands of an exclusive coterie of poetic words. It should
+ react upon his metrical vocabulary to its beneficial expansion, by
+ taking him outside his aristocratic circle of language, and keeping
+ him in touch with the great commonalty, the proletariat of speech. For
+ it is with words as with men: constant intermarriage within the limits
+ of a patrician clan begets effete refinement; and to reinvigorate the
+ stock, its veins must be replenished from hardy plebeian blood.
+
+In diction, then, let us acquire all the store we can, rejecting no coin
+for its minting but only if its metal be base. So shall we bring out of
+our treasuries new things and old.
+
+Diction, however, is but a part of Style, and perhaps not the most
+important part. So I revert to the larger question, 'What is Style? What
+its [Greek: to ti en einai], its essence, the law of its being?'
+
+Now, as I sat down to write this lecture, memory evoked a scene and with
+the scene a chance word of boyish slang, both of which may seem to you
+irrelevant until, or unless, I can make you feel how they hold for me the
+heart of the matter.
+
+I once happened to be standing in a corner of a ball-room when there
+entered the most beautiful girl these eyes have ever seen or now--since
+they grow dull--ever will see. It was, I believe, her first ball, and by
+some freak or in some premonition she wore black: and not pearls--which,
+I am told, maidens are wont to wear on these occasions--but one crescent
+of diamonds in her black hair. _Et vera incessu patuit dea._ Here, I say,
+was absolute beauty. It startled.
+
+ I think she was the most beautiful lady
+ That ever was in the West Country.
+ But beauty vanishes, beauty passes....
+
+She died a year or two later. She may have been too beautiful to live
+long. I have a thought that she may also have been too good.
+
+For I saw her with the crowd about her: I saw led up and presented among
+others the man who was to be, for a few months, her husband: and then, as
+the men bowed, pencilling on their programmes, over their shoulders I saw
+her eyes travel to an awkward young naval cadet (Do you remember Crossjay
+in Meredith's "The Egoist"? It was just such a boy) who sat abashed and
+glowering sulkily beside me on the far bench. Promptly with a laugh, she
+advanced, claimed him, and swept him off into the first waltz.
+
+When it was over he came back, a trifle flushed, and I felicitated him;
+my remark (which I forget) being no doubt 'just the sort of banality, you
+know, one does come out with'--as maybe that the British Navy kept its
+old knack of cutting out. But he looked at me almost in tears and
+blurted, 'It isn't her beauty, sir. You saw? It's--it's--my God, it's the
+_style_!'
+
+Now you may think that a somewhat cheap, or at any rate inadequate, cry
+of the heart in my young seaman; as you may think it inadequate in me,
+and moreover a trifle capricious, to assure you (as I do) that the first
+and last secret of a good Style consists in thinking with the heart as
+well as with the head.
+
+But let us philosophise a little. You have been told, I daresay often
+enough, that the business of writing demands _two_--the author and the
+reader. Add to this what is equally obvious, that the obligation of
+courtesy rests first with the author, who invites the seance, and
+commonly charges for it. What follows, but that in speaking or writing we
+have an obligation to put ourselves into the hearer's or reader's place?
+It is _his_ comfort, _his_ convenience, we have to consult. To _express_
+ourselves is a very small part of the business: very small and almost
+unimportant as compared with _impressing_ ourselves: the aim of the whole
+process being to persuade.
+
+All reading demands an effort. The energy, the good-will which a reader
+brings to the book is, and must be, partly expended in the labour of
+reading, marking, learning, inwardly digesting what the author means. The
+more difficulties, then, we authors obtrude on him by obscure or careless
+writing, the more we blunt the edge of his attention: so that if only in
+our own interest--though I had rather keep it on the ground of
+courtesy--we should study to anticipate his comfort.
+
+But let me go a little deeper. You all know that a great part of
+Lessing's argument in his "Laokoeon", on the essentials of Literature as
+opposed to Pictorial Art or Sculpture, depends on this--that in Pictorial
+Art or in Sculpture the eye sees, the mind apprehends, the whole in a
+moment of time, with the correspondent disadvantage that this moment of
+time is fixed and stationary; whereas in writing, whether in prose or in
+verse, we can only produce our effect by a series of successive small
+impressions, dripping our meaning (so to speak) into the reader's
+mind--with the correspondent advantage, in point of vivacity, that our
+picture keeps moving all the while. Now obviously this throws a greater
+strain on his patience whom we address. Man at the best is a
+narrow-mouthed bottle. Through the conduit of speech he can utter--as
+you, my hearers, can receive--only one word at a time. In writing (as my
+old friend Professor Minto used to say) you are as a commander filing out
+his battalion through a narrow gate that allows only one man at a time to
+pass; and your reader, as he receives the troops, has to re-form and
+reconstruct them. No matter how large or how involved the subject, it can
+be communicated only in that way. You see, then, what an obligation we
+owe to him of order and arrangement; and why, apart from felicities and
+curiosities of diction, the old rhetoricians laid such stress upon order
+and arrangement as duties we owe to those who honour us with their
+attention. '_La clarte,_' says a French writer, '_est la politesse._'
+[Greek: Charisi kai sapheneia thue], recommends Lucian. Pay your
+sacrifice to the Graces, and to [Greek: sapheneia]--Clarity--first among
+the Graces.
+
+What am I urging? 'That Style in writing is much the same thing as good
+manners in other human intercourse?' Well, and why not? At all events we
+have reached a point where Buffon's often-quoted saying that 'Style is
+the man himself' touches and coincides with William of Wykeham's old
+motto that 'Manners makyth Man': and before you condemn my doctrine as
+inadequate listen to this from Coventry Patmore, still bearing in mind
+that a writer's main object is to _impress_ his thought or vision upon
+his hearer.
+
+'There is nothing comparable _for moral force_ to the charm of truly
+noble manners....'
+
+I grant you, to be sure, that the claim to possess a Style must be
+conceded to many writers--Carlyle is one--who take no care to put
+listeners at their ease, but rely rather on native force of genius to
+shock and astound. Nor will I grudge them your admiration. But I do say
+that, as more and more you grow to value truth and the modest grace of
+truth, it is less and less to such writers that you will turn: and I say
+even more confidently that the qualities of Style we allow them are not
+the qualities we should seek as a norm, for they one and all offend
+against Art's true maxim of avoiding excess.
+
+And this brings me to the two great _paradoxes_ of Style. For the first
+(1),--although Style is so curiously personal and individual, and
+although men are so variously built that no two in the world carry away
+the same impressions from a show, there is always a norm somewhere; in
+literature and art, as in morality. Yes, even in man's most terrific,
+most potent inventions--when, for example, in "Hamlet" or in "Lear"
+Shakespeare seems to be breaking up the solid earth under our feet--there
+is always some point and standard of sanity--a Kent or an Horatio--to
+which all enormities and passionate errors may be referred; to which the
+agitated mind of the spectator settles back as upon its centre of
+gravity, its pivot of repose.
+
+(2) The second paradox, though it is equally true, you may find a little
+subtler. Yet it but applies to Art the simple truth of the Gospel, that
+he who would save his soul must first lose it. Though personality
+pervades Style and cannot be escaped, the first sin against Style as
+against good Manners is to obtrude or exploit personality. The very
+greatest work in Literature--the "Iliad," the "Odyssey," the
+"Purgatorio," "The Tempest," "Paradise Lost," the "Republic," "Don
+Quixote"--is all
+
+ Seraphically free
+ From taint of personality.
+
+And Flaubert, that gladiator among artists, held that, at its highest,
+literary art could be carried into pure science. 'I believe,' said he,
+'that great art is scientific and impersonal. You should by an
+intellectual effort transport yourself into characters, not draw _them_
+into _yourself_. That at least is the method.' On the other hand, says
+Goethe, 'We should endeavour to use words that correspond as closely as
+possible with what we feel, see, think, imagine, experience, and reason.
+It is an endeavour we cannot evade and must daily renew.' I call
+Flaubert's the better counsel, even though I have spent a part of this
+lecture in attempting to prove it impossible. It at least is noble,
+encouraging us to what is difficult. The shrewder Goethe encourages us to
+exploit ourselves to the top of our bent. I think Flaubert would have hit
+the mark if for 'impersonal' he had substituted 'disinterested.'
+
+For--believe me, Gentlemen--so far as Handel stands above Chopin, as
+Velasquez above Greuze, even so far stand the great masculine objective
+writers above all who appeal to you by parade of personality or private
+sentiment.
+
+Mention of these great masculine 'objective' writers brings me to my last
+word: which is, 'Steep yourselves in _them_: habitually bring all to the
+test of _them_: for while you cannot escape the fate of all style, which
+is to be personal, the more of catholic manhood you inherit from those
+great loins the more you will assuredly beget.'
+
+This then is Style. As technically manifested in Literature it is the
+power to touch with ease, grace, precision, any note in the gamut of
+human thought or emotion.
+
+But essentially it resembles good manners. It comes of endeavouring to
+understand others, of thinking for them rather than for yourself--of
+thinking, that is, with the heart as well as the head. It gives rather
+than receives; it is nobly careless of thanks or applause, not being fed
+by these but rather sustained and continually refreshed by an inward
+loyalty to the best. Yet, like 'character' it has its altar within; to
+that retires for counsel, from that fetches its illumination, to ray
+outwards. Cultivate, Gentlemen, that habit of withdrawing to be advised
+by the best. So, says Fenelon, 'you will find yourself infinitely
+quieter, your words will be fewer and more effectual; and while you make
+less ado, what you do will be more profitable.'
+
+
+[Footnote 1: 'An oration,' says Quintilian, 'may find room for almost any
+word saving a few indecent ones (_quae sunt parum verecunda_).' He adds
+that writers of the Old Comedy were often commended even for these: 'but
+it is enough for us to mind our present business--_sed nobis nostrum opus
+intueri sat est._']
+
+
+
+
+INDEX
+
+
+Abelard 203, 205, 212
+Abercrombie, Lascelles 18
+Addison, Joseph 124, 172
+Alcuin 199, 200, 204, 205
+Alfred, King 186
+Aristophanes 192
+Aristotle 128, 203, 227
+Arnold, Matthew 35, 76, 139, 186, 202
+"Arte of Rhetorique," Wilson's 118
+Ascham, Roger 121, 188
+Augustine 199
+
+Bacon, Lord 6, 7, 10, 220, 231
+Bagehot, Walter 216
+"Ballata" 45
+Barbour, John 112
+Barrie, Sir James Matthew 17, 135
+Bede 204
+Beerbohm, Max 222
+Belisarius 175
+Bentham, Jeremy 97
+"Beowulf" 159-165
+Beranger, Pierre-Jean de 45
+Berners, Lord 108-110,120
+Bible, The:
+ Authorised Version 53, 97, 110, 122 et seq., 141, 143, 190
+ Revised Version 131-133
+Blair, Wilfred 80
+Blake, William 12
+Boccaccio 184
+Boethius 203
+Bologna, University of 200-1, 206
+Borneil, Giraud de 181
+Boswell, James 238
+Bridges, Robert 19
+Brooke, the Rev. Stopford A. 159
+Brougham, Ld 47, 101
+Browne, Sir Thomas 10, 51, 124, 168, 232
+Browning, Robert 39, 186
+Buffon 245
+Bunyan, John 124
+Burke, Edmund 27, 28, 46, 47-52, 101
+Burns, Robert 45
+Butler, Arthur John 20
+
+Caedmon 163
+Cambridge 201 _et seqq._
+Campion, Thomas 185, 188
+Carducci, Giosue 154-5
+Carlyle, Thomas 18, 103, 245
+Cellini, Benvenuto 41
+Cervantes 7, 25
+Chadwick, Professor H. M. 163
+Chair of English Literature, University Ordinance 7
+Chambers, E. K. 199
+Champeaux, William of 205
+Chaucer, Geoffrey 10, 110-111, 163, 183, 184, 219
+Chesterton, Gilbert K. 233
+Chichester, Richard of 211
+Cicero 28, 49
+Clare, John 39
+Coleridge, Samuel Taylor 41, 64, 65
+Conington, John 171-2
+Courthope, W. J. 13, 158, 184, 199
+Coverdale, Miles 124
+Cowley, Abraham 185
+Cowper, William 186
+Crewe, Ld Chief Justice 7
+Cynewulf 163
+
+Daniel, Samuel 185, 188
+Dante 77, 184
+Darwin, Charles 221
+Defoe, Daniel 61, 75.
+Dekker, Thomas 65
+De La Mare, Walter 237
+De Quincey, Thomas 54
+Desiderius, Archbishop 199
+Dionysius of Halicarnassus 28
+Donne, John 102, 106, 185
+Dryden, John 172, 186, 227
+"Duchess of Malfy," Webster's 99
+Dunbar 10
+
+'Eliot, George' 11
+Emerson, Ralph Waldo 11
+
+Falconer, William 79
+Falkner, J. Meade 168-9
+Fenelon 248
+FitzGerald, Edward 97
+Flaubert, Gustave 247
+Fletcher, John 13
+Fowler, W. H. and F. G. 90, 137
+Freeman, Professor E. A. 158, 160, 174-179, 186
+"Froissart," Berners' 108
+Froude, James Anthony 78
+Fuller, Thomas 206
+
+Gibbon, Edward 124, 216
+Gildas 175
+Goethe 103, 247
+Gray, Thomas 11, 16, 136, 157-8, 162
+Green, J. R. 158
+Green, T. H. 8
+Gregory the Great, Pope 199
+Grierson, Professor H. J. C. 185
+
+Hamilton, Sir William 213
+Hardy, Thomas 18
+Harris, Frank 240
+Harvey, Gabriel 185, 216-7
+Heine, Heinrich 45
+Herbert, George 133
+"Hero and Leander," Marlowe's 98
+Herodotus 44, 63
+Homer 25, 64, 69, 76-78, 80, 81, 161, 190, 228
+Horace 171-2
+Housman, Professor A. E. 222
+
+Ibsen 96
+Irnerius 206
+Isaiah 130-133
+
+Jackson, Dr Henry 213
+Johnson, Samuel 11, 37, 69, 121, 172, 238
+Jonson, Ben 129, 146, 185, 219, 220
+Jowett, Benjamin 29
+Jusserand, J. J. 182
+Juvenal, 172
+
+Keats, John 16, 39, 186
+Kempis, Thomas a 15
+Ker, Professor W. P. 160, 199
+Kipling, Rudyard 61
+
+Lamb, Charles 41
+Lessing 81, 227, 244
+Lindsay, the Rev. T. M., D.D. 118
+Lloyd George, the Right Hon. David 137-8
+Lucian 6, 160, 192, 228, 245
+Lucretius 193
+
+Malory, Sir Thomas 107-110, 120
+Marlowe, Christopher 98-9, 185, 220
+Marvell, Andrew 185
+Mason, William 157
+Masson, David 12
+McKenna, the Right Hon. Reginald 137-8
+Meredith, George 243, 247
+Milton, John 1, 10, 16, 43, 56-62, 74-76, 124, 152, 185, 195, 238
+Minto, Professor William 245
+Moore, Thomas 45
+Morris, William 188
+Mullinger, J. Bass 205, 219
+Murray, Professor Gilbert 193
+
+Nashe, Thomas 120
+Newman, Cardinal 5, 30, 31-2, 115, 134, 144, 147, 234
+Newton, Sir Isaac 221
+Noyes, Alfred 78
+"Nut-Brown Maid, The" 111
+
+Oates, Captain 42
+Origen 195, 202
+Oxford 201 _et seq._
+
+Paris, University of 200, 205
+Pater, Walter 77, 222
+Patmore, Coventry 245
+Payne, E. J. 100-103
+"Pervigilium Veneris" 151, 194
+Pheidias 14
+Philosophy and Poetry 1
+Piers Plowman 163, 182
+"Pilgrimage to Parnassus, The" 217-220
+Plato 1-4, 150, 205
+Pliny 152-3
+Podsnap (_see_ Freeman)
+Poggio 205
+Pope, Alexander 157, 162
+Powell, F. York 159
+Provencal Song 181-183
+Pythagoras 208
+
+Quintilian 29, 140, 240
+
+Raleigh, Professor Sir Walter 9
+Rashdall, Hastings 208-213
+Remigius 206
+Renan 1
+Reynolds, Sir Joshua 23-25
+
+Sainte-Beuve, Charles Augustus 20
+Saintsbury, Prof. George 55, 56, 187
+Salamanca, University of 200
+Scott, The Antarctic Expedition 42
+Severus, Sulpicius 199
+Shakespeare, William 15, 41, 50, 51-2, 97-100, 113, 129, 185,
+ 190, 197, 219, 229, 246
+Shaw, George Bernard 72
+Shelley 40
+Shirley, James 106
+Sidgwick, Henry 232
+Sidney, Sir Philip 41-2
+Skeat, Walter W. 12
+"Sonata" 45
+South, Robert 102
+Spenser, Edmund 185, 206, 217, 219
+Stevenson, Robert Louis 133
+Stubbs, Bishop W. 44
+'Student's Handbook, The' 72-3
+Swift, Jonathan 61
+Swinburne, Algernon 196
+
+Taylor, Jeremy 68-9
+Tennyson, Lord 75, 186
+Tertullian 195, 198, 202
+Thackeray, William Makepeace 124
+Thompson, Francis 241
+Thomson, James 39
+Toulouse, University of 208
+Tyndale, William 122, 126, 127
+
+Vacarius 206
+Ventadour, Bernard de 181
+"Venus and Adonis" 98-9
+Verrall, Dr A. W. 7
+Vigfusson, Gudbrand 159
+Virgil 25, 80, 194, 200
+Voltaire 192
+
+Waller, Edmund 85
+Walpole, Horatio 173
+Walton, Isaak 70-1, 124, 201
+Warton, Thomas 158
+Watson, E. J. 155
+Watson, William 16
+Webster, John 99
+Wendell, Barrett 97
+Whistler, James McNeill 236
+Whitman, Walt 53, 56
+"Widsith" 60
+Wolfe, General 134
+Wood, Anthony 184
+Wordsworth, William 11, 12, 55, 67, 68, 129, 146, 186, 204, 210
+Wright, Aldis 12
+Wyat, Sir Thomas 115-118, 184
+Wyclif, John 124, 127
+
+Yeats, William Butler 143
+Young, Arthur 171
+
+
+
+Cambridge:
+Printed by J. B. Peace, M.A.,
+at the University Press.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's On the Art of Writing, by Arthur Quiller-Couch
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