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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e3575d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #68420 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/68420) diff --git a/old/68420-0.txt b/old/68420-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b44d8ef..0000000 --- a/old/68420-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7966 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Poetic diction, by Thomas Quayle - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Poetic diction - A study of eighteenth century verse - -Author: Thomas Quayle - -Release Date: June 28, 2022 [eBook #68420] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Tim Lindell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETIC DICTION *** - - - - - - -POETIC DICTION - - - - - POETIC DICTION - - A STUDY OF EIGHTEENTH CENTURY VERSE - - BY - THOMAS QUAYLE - - METHUEN & CO. LTD. - 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. - LONDON - - _First Published in 1924_ - - PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. THE AGE OF PROSE AND REASON 1 - - II. THE THEORY OF DICTION 5 - - III. THE “STOCK” DICTION 25 - - IV. LATINISM 56 - - V. ARCHAISM 80 - - VI. COMPOUND EPITHETS 102 - - VII. PERSONIFICATION AND ABSTRACTION 132 - - VIII. THE DICTION OF POETRY 181 - - INDEX 207 - - - - -PREFACE - - -The studies on which this book is based were begun during my tenure of -the “William Noble” Fellowship in English Literature at the University of -Liverpool, and I wish to thank the members of the Fellowship Committee, -and especially Professor Elton, under whom I had for two years the great -privilege of working, for much valuable advice and criticism. I must also -express my sincere obligation to the University for a generous grant -towards the cost of publication. - - - - -POETIC DICTION - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE AGE OF PROSE AND REASON - - -From the time of the publication of the first Preface to the “Lyrical -Ballads” (1798) the poetical language of the eighteenth century, or -rather of the so-called “classical” writers of the period, has been more -or less under a cloud of suspicion. The condemnation which Wordsworth -then passed upon it, and even the more rational and penetrating criticism -which Coleridge later brought to his own analysis of the whole question -of the language fit and proper for poetry, undoubtedly led in the -course of the nineteenth century to a definite but uncritical tendency -to disparage and underrate the entire poetic output of the period, not -only of the Popian supremacy, but even of the interregnum, when the old -order was slowly making way for the new. The Romantic rebels of course -have nearly always received their meed of praise, but even in their -case there is not seldom a suspicion of critical reservation, a sort -of implied reproach that they ought to have done better than they did, -and that they could and might have done so if they had reacted more -violently against the poetic atmosphere of their age. In brief, what -with the Preface to the “Lyrical Ballads” and its successive expansions -at the beginning of the century, and what, some eighty years later, -with Matthew Arnold’s calm description of the eighteenth century as -an “age of prose and reason,” the poetry of that period, and not only -the neo-classical portion of it, fared somewhat badly. There could be -no better illustration of the influence and danger of labels and tags; -“poetic diction,” and “age of prose and reason” tended to become a sort -of critical legend or tradition, by means of which eighteenth century -verse, alike at its highest and its lowest levels, could be safely and -adequately understood and explained. - -Nowadays we are little likely to fall into the error of assuming that any -one cut and dried formula, however pregnant and apt, could adequately -sum up the literary aspects and characteristics of an entire age; the -contributory and essential factors are too many, and often too elusive, -for the tabloid method. And now that the poetry of the first half or -so of the eighteenth century is in process of rehabilitation, and more -than a few of its practitioners have even been allowed access to the -slopes, at least, of Parnassus, it may perhaps be useful to examine, a -little more closely than has hitherto been customary, one of the critical -labels which, it would almost seem, has sometimes been taken as a sort of -generic description of eighteenth century verse, as if “poetic diction” -was something which suddenly sprang into being when Pope translated -Homer, and had never been heard of before or since. - -This, of course, is to overstate the case, the more so as it can hardly -be denied that there is much to be said for the other side. It may -perhaps be put this way, by saying, at the risk of a laborious assertion -of the obvious, that if poetry is to be written there must be a diction -in which to write it—a diction which, whatever its relation to the -language of contemporary speech or prose may be, is yet in many essential -respects distinct and different from it, in that, even when it does not -draw upon a special and peculiar word-power of its own, yet so uses or -combines common speech as to heighten and intensify its possibilities of -suggestion and evocation. If, therefore, we speak of the “poetic diction” -of the eighteenth century, or of any portion of it, the reference ought -to be, of course, to the whole body of language in which the poetry of -that period is written, viewed as a medium, good, bad, or indifferent, -for poetical expression. But this has rarely or never been the case; -it is not too much to say that, thanks to Wordsworth’s attack and its -subsequent reverberations, “poetic diction,” so far as the eighteenth -century is concerned, has too often been taken to mean, “bad poetic -diction,” and it has been in this sense indiscriminately applied to the -whole poetic output of Pope and his school. - -In the present study it is hoped, by a careful examination of the poetry -of the eighteenth century, by an analysis of the conditions and species -of its diction, to arrive at some estimate of its value, of what was -good and what was bad in it, of how far it was the outcome of the age -which produced it, and how far a continuation of inherited tradition -in poetic language, to what extent writers went back to their great -predecessors in their search for a fresh vocabulary, and finally, to what -extent the poets of the triumphant Romantic reaction, who had to fashion -for themselves a new vehicle of expression, were indebted to their -forerunners in the revolt, to those who had helped to prepare the way. - -It is proposed to make the study both a literary and a linguistic one. In -the first place, the aim will be to show how the poetic language, which -is usually labelled “the eighteenth century style,” was, in certain of -its most pronounced aspects, a reflex of the literary conditions of its -period; in the second place, the study will be a linguistic one, in that -it will deal also with the words themselves. Here the attention will -be directed to certain features characteristic of, though not peculiar -to, the diction of the eighteenth century poetry—the use of Latinisms, -of archaic and obsolete words, and of those compound words by means of -which English poets from the time of the Elizabethans have added some of -the happiest and most expressive epithets to the language; finally, the -employment of abstractions and personifications will be discussed. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE THEORY OF POETICAL DICTION IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY - - -About the time when Dryden was beginning his literary career the -preoccupation of men of letters with the language as a literary -instrument was obvious enough. There was a decided movement toward -simplicity in both prose and poetry, and, so far as the latter was -concerned, it was in large measure an expression of the critical reaction -against the “metaphysical” verse commonly associated with the names -of Donne and his disciples. Furetière in his “Nouvelle Allegorique ou -Histoire des dernier troubles arrivez au Royaume d’Eloquence,” published -at Paris in 1658,[1] expresses the parallel struggle which had been -raging amongst French poets and critics, and the allegory he presents may -be taken to symbolize the general critical attitude in both countries. - -Rhetoric, Queen of the Realm of Eloquence, and her Prime Minister, Good -Sense, are represented as threatened by innumerable foes. The troops of -the Queen, marshalled in defence of the Academy, her citadel, are the -accepted literary forms, Histories, Epics, Lyrics, Dramas, Romances, -Letters, Sermons, Philosophical Treatises, Translations, Orations, and -the like. Her enemies are the rhetorical figures and the perversions -of style, Metaphors, Hyperboles, Similes, Descriptions, Comparisons, -Allegories, Pedantries, Antitheses, Puns, Exaggerations, and a host -of others. Ultimately the latter are defeated, and are in some cases -banished, or else agree to serve as dependents in the realm of Eloquence. - -We may interpret the struggle thus allegorically expressed by saying that -a new age, increasingly scientific and rational in its outlook, felt -it was high time to analyze critically and accurately the traditional -canons and ideals of form and matter that classical learning, since -the Renaissance, had been able to impose upon literature. This is not -to say that seventeenth century writers and critics suddenly decided -that all the accepted standards were radically wrong, and should be -thrown overboard; but some of them at least showed and expressed -themselves dissatisfied, and, alongside of the unconscious and, as it -were, instinctive changes that reflected the spirit of the age, there -were deliberate efforts to re-fashion both the matter and the manner -of literary expression, to give creative literature new laws and new -ideals.[2] - -The movement towards purity and simplicity of expression received its -first definite statement in Thomas Sprat’s “History of the Royal Society, -1667.” One section of the History contains an account of the French -Academy, and Sprat’s efforts were directed towards the formation of a -similar body in England as an arbiter in matters of language and style. -The ideal was to be the expression of “so many _things_ almost in an -equal number of _words_.”[3] A Committee of the Royal Society, which -included Dryden, Evelyn, and Sprat amongst its members, had already met -in 1664, to discuss ways and means of “improving the English tongue,” -and it was the discussions of this committee which had doubtless led up -to Evelyn’s letter to Sir Peter Wyche, its chairman, in June 1665.[4] -Evelyn there gives in detail his ideas of what an English academy, -acting as arbiter in matters of vocabulary and style, might do towards -purifying the language. Twenty-three years later Joseph Glanvill defined -the new ideal briefly in a passage of his “Essay Concerning Preaching”: -“Plainness is a character of great latitude and stands in opposition, -First to _hard words_: Secondly, to _deep and mysterious notions_: -Thirdly, to _affected Rhetorications_: and Fourthly, to _Phantastical -Phrases_.”[5] In short, the ideal to be aimed at was the precise and -definite language of experimental science, but the trend of the times -tended to make it more and more that ideal of poetry also which was -later to be summed up in Dryden’s definition of “wit” as a “propriety of -thoughts and words.”[6] - -It is of some little interest perhaps to note that it is not until the -end of the seventeenth century that the word _diction_ definitely takes -on the sense which it now usually bears as a term of literary criticism. -In the preface to “Sylvae, or The Second Part of Poetical Miscellanies” -(1685), Dryden even seems to regard the term as not completely -naturalized.[7] Moreover, the critics and poets of the eighteenth century -were for the most part quite convinced that the special language of -poetry had begun with Dryden. Johnson asserted this in his usual dogmatic -fashion, and thus emphasized the doctrine, afterwards vigorously opposed -by Wordsworth, that between the language of prose, and that proper to -poetry, there is a sharp distinction. “There was therefore before the -time of Dryden no poetical diction.... Those happy combinations of words -which distinguished poetry from prose had been rarely attempted; we had -few elegancies or flowers of speech.”[8] Gray moreover, while agreeing -that English poetry had now a language of its own, declared in a letter -to West that this special language was the creation of a long succession -of English writers themselves, and especially of Shakespeare and Milton, -to whom (he asserts) Pope and Dryden were greatly indebted.[9] - -It is not very difficult to understand Dryden’s own attitude, as -laid down in the various Prefaces. He is quite ready to subscribe -to the accepted neo-classical views on the language of poetry, but -characteristically reserves for himself the right to reject them, -or to take up a new line, if he thinks his own work, or that of his -contemporaries, is likely to benefit thereby. Thus in the preface to -“Annus Mirabilis” (1666) he boldly claims the liberty to coin words on -Latin models, and to make use of technical details.[10] In his apology -for “Heroic Poetry and Poetic License” (1677) prefixed to “The State of -Innocence and Fall of Man,” his operatic “tagging” of “Paradise Lost,” he -seems to lay down distinctly the principle that poetry demands a medium -of its own, distinct from that of prose,[11] whilst towards the end of -his literary career he reiterates his readiness to enrich his poetic -language from any and every source, for “poetry requires ornament,” and -he is therefore willing to “trade both with the living and the dead for -the enrichment of our native language.”[12] But it is significant that at -the same time he rejects the technical terms he had formerly advocated, -apparently on the grounds that such terms would be unfamiliar to “men and -ladies of the first quality.” Dryden has thus become more “classical,” in -the sense that he has gone over or reverted to the school of “general” -terms, which appeared to base its ideal of expression on the accepted -language of cultured speakers and writers.[13] - -Toward the establishment of this principle of the pseudo-classical creed -the theory and practice of Pope naturally contributed; indeed, it has -been claimed that it was in large measure the result of the profound -effect of the “Essay on Criticism,” or at least of the current of thought -which it represents, on the taste of the age.[14] In the Essay, Pope, -after duly enumerating the various “idols” of taste in poetical thought -and diction, clearly states his own doctrine; as the poets’ aim was the -teaching of “True Wit” or “Nature,” the language used must be universal -and general, and neologisms must be regarded as heresies. For Pope, as -for Dryden, universal and general language meant such as would appeal to -the cultured society for whom he wrote,[15] and in his practice he thus -reflected the traditional attitude towards the question of language as a -vehicle of literary expression. A common “poetics” drawn and formulated -by the classical scholars mainly (and often incorrectly) from Aristotle -had established itself throughout Western Europe, and it professed to -prescribe the true relation which should exist between form and matter, -between the creative mind and the work of art.[16] - -The critical reaction against these traditional canons had, as we have -noted, already begun, but Pope and his contemporaries are in the main -supporters of the established order, in full agreement with its guiding -principle that the imitation of “Nature” should be the chief aim and end -of art. It is scarcely necessary to add that it was not “Nature” in the -Wordsworthian sense that was thus to be “imitated”; sometimes, indeed, -it is difficult to discover what was meant by the term. But for Pope and -his followers we usually find it to mean man as he lives his life in this -world, and the phrase to “imitate Nature” might thus have an ethical -purpose, signifying the moral “improvement” of man. - -But to appreciate the full significance of this “doctrine,” and its -eighteenth century interpretation, it is necessary to glance at the -Aristotelian canon in which it had its origin. For Aristotle poetry -was an objective “imitation” with a definite plan or purpose, of human -actions, not as they are, but as they ought to be. The ultimate aim, -then, according to the _Poetics_, is ideal truth, stripped of the local -and the accidental; Nature is to be improved upon with means drawn from -Nature herself. This theory, as extracted and interpreted by the Italian -and French critics of the Renaissance, was early twisted into a notion -of poetry as an agreeable falsity, and by the end of the seventeenth -century it had come to mean, especially with the French, the imitation -of a selected and embellished Nature, not directly, but rather through -the medium of those great writers of antiquity, such as Homer and Virgil, -whose works provided the received and recognized models of idealized -nature.[17] - -As a corollary to this interpretation of the Aristotelian doctrine of -ideal imitation, there appeared a tendency to ignore more and more the -element of personal feeling in poetry,[18] and to concentrate attention -on the formal elements of the art. This tendency, reinforced by the -authority of the Horatian tag, _ut pictura poesis_ (“as is painting, so -is poetry”), led naturally, and in an ever-increasing degree, to the -formal identification of poetry with painting. Critics became accustomed -to discussing the elements in the art of writing that correspond to the -other elements in pictorial art, such as light, colour, expression, etc. -And as the poet was to be an imitator of accepted models, so also he was -to be imitative and traditional in using poetical colouring, in which -phrase were included, as Dryden wrote, “the words, the expressions, the -tropes and figures, the versification, and all the other elegancies of -sound.”[19] That this parallelism directly encourages the growth of a -set “poetic diction” is obvious; the poet’s language was not to be a -reflection of a genuine emotion felt in the mind for his words, phrases, -and figures of speech, his _operum colores_,[20] he must not look to -Nature but to models. In brief, a poetical _gradus_, compiled from -accepted models, was to be the ideal source on which the poet was to draw -for his medium of expression. - -It is not necessary to dwell long on this pseudo-classical confusion of -the two arts, as revealed in the critical writings of Western Europe down -to the very outbreak of the Romantic revolt.[21] In English criticism, -Dryden’s “Parallel” was only one of many. Of the eighteenth century -English critics who developed a detailed parallelism between pictorial -and plastic art on the one hand and poetry on the other, maintaining -that their standards were interchangeable, the most important perhaps -is Spence, whose “Polymetis” appeared in 1747, and who sums the general -position of his fellow-critics on this point in the remark, “Scarce -anything can be good in a poetical description which would appear absurd -if represented in a statue or picture.”[22] The ultimate outcome of this -confusion of poetry and painting found its expression in the last decade -of the eighteenth century in the theory and practice of Erasmus Darwin, -whose work, “The Botanic Garden,” consisted of a “second part,” “The -Loves of the Plants,” published in 1789, two years before its inclusion -with the “first part” the “Economy of Vegetation,” in one volume. -Darwin’s theory of poetry is contained in the “Interludes” between the -cantos of his poems, which take the form of dialogues between the “Poet” -and a “Bookseller.” In the Interlude to Canto 1 of Part II (“The Loves of -the Plants”) he maintains the thesis that poetry is a process of painting -to the eye, and in the cantos themselves he proceeds with great zeal to -show in practice how words and images should be laid on like pigments -from the outside. The young Wordsworth himself, as his early poems show, -was influenced by the theory and practice of Darwin, but Coleridge was -not slow to detect the danger of the elaborate word-painting that might -arise from the confusion of the two arts. “The poet,” he wrote,[23] -“should paint to the Imagination and not to the Fancy.” For Coleridge -Fancy was the “Drapery” of poetic genius, Imagination was its “Soul” or -its “synthetic and magical power,”[24] and he thus emphasized what may be -regarded as one of the chief distinctions between the pseudo-classical, -and the romantic, interpretations of the language of poetry. In its -groping after the “grand style,” as reflected in a deliberate avoidance -of accidental and superficial “particularities,” and in its insistence on -generalized or abstract forms, eighteenth century poetry, or at least the -“neo-classical” portion of it, reflected its inability to achieve that -intensity of imaginative conception which is the supreme need of all art. - -The confusion between the two arts of poetry and painting which Coleridge -thus condemned did not, it is needless to say, disappear with the -eighteenth century. The Romanticists themselves finally borrowed that -much-abused phrase “local colour” from the technical vocabulary of the -painter, and in other respects the whole question became merged in the -symbolism of the nineteenth century where literature is to be seen -attempting to do the work of both music and painting.[25] - -As regards the language of poetry then—its vocabulary, the actual -_words_ in which it was to be given expression—the early eighteenth -century had first this pseudo-classical doctrine of a treasury of select -words, phrases, and other “ornaments,” a doctrine which was to receive -splendid emphasis and exemplification in Pope’s translation of Homer. -But alongside of this ideal of style there was another ideal which Pope -again, as we have seen, had insisted upon in his “Essay on Criticism,” -and which demanded that the language of poetry should in general -conform to that of cultivated conversation and prose. These two ideals -of poetical language can be seen persisting throughout the eighteenth -century, though later criticism, in its haste to condemn the _gradus_ -ideal, has not often found time to do justice to the other. - -But, apart from these general considerations, the question of poetic -diction is rarely treated as a thing _per se_ by the writers who, after -Dryden or Pope, or alongside of them, took up the question. There are no -attempts, in the manner of the Elizabethans,[26] to conduct a critical -inquiry into the actual present resources of the vernacular, and its -possibilities as a vehicle of expression. Though the attention is -more than once directed to certain special problems, on the whole the -discussions are of a general nature, and centre round such points as the -language suitable for an Heroic Poem, or for the “imitation” of aspects -of nature, or for Descriptive Poetry, questions which had been discussed -from the sixteenth century onwards, and were not exhausted by the time of -Dr. Johnson.[27] - -Goldsmith’s remarks, reflecting as they do a sort of half-way attitude -between the old order and the new, are interesting. Poetry has a language -of its own; it is a species of painting with words, and hence he will -not condemn Pope for “deviating in some instances from the simplicity -of Homer,” whilst such phrases as _the sighing reed_, _the warbling -rivulet_, _the gushing spring_, _the whispering breeze_ are approvingly -quoted.[28] It is thus somewhat surprising to find that in his “Life -of Parnell” he had pilloried certain “misguided innovators” to whose -efforts he attributed the gradual debasing of poetical language since the -happy days when Dryden, Addison, and Pope had brought it to its highest -pitch of refinement.[29] These writers had forgotten that poetry is “the -language of life” and that the simplest expression was the best: brief -statements which, if we knew what Goldsmith meant by “life,” would seem -to adumbrate the theories which Wordsworth was to expound as the Romantic -doctrine. - -Dr. Johnson has many things to say on the subject of poetic language, -including general remarks and particular judgments on special points, -or on the work of the poets of whom he treated in his “Lives.” As -might be expected, he clings tenaciously to the accepted standards of -neo-classicism, and repeats the old commonplaces which had done duty for -so long, pays the usual tribute to Waller and Denham, but ascribes the -actual birth of poetical diction to the practice of Dryden. What Johnson -meant by “poetical diction” is clearly indicated; it was a “system of -words at once refined from the grossness of domestic use, and free from -the harshness of terms appropriated to different arts,”[30] that is, the -language of poetry must shun popular and technical words, since language -is “the dress of thought” and “splendid ideas lose their magnificence if -they are conveyed by low and vulgar words.”[31] From this standpoint, and -reinforced by his classical preference for regular rhymes,[32] all his -particular judgments of his predecessors and contemporaries were made; -and when this is remembered it is easier to understand, for instance, his -praise of Akenside[33] and his criticism of Collins.[34] - -Gray, however, perhaps the most scrupulous and precise of all our poets -with regard to the use of words in poetry,[35] has some pertinent things -to say on the matter. There is his important letter to West, already -referred to, with its dogmatic assertion that “the language of the age -is never the language of poetry,” and that “our poetry has a language -to itself,” an assertion which, with other remarks of Gray, helps to -emphasize the distinction to be made between the two ideals of poetical -diction to be seen persisting through the eighteenth century. It was -generally agreed that there must be a special language for poetry, with -all its artificial “heightening,” “licenses,” and variations from the -language of prose, to serve the purpose of the traditional “Kinds,” -especially the Epic and the Lyric. This is the view taken by Gray, but -with a difference. He does not accept the conventional diction which -Pope’s “Homer” had done so much to perpetuate, and hence he creates a -poetic language of his own, a glittering array of words and phrases, -blending material from varied sources, and including echoes and -reminiscences of Milton and Dryden. - -The second ideal of style was that of which, as we have seen, the canons -had been definitely stated by Pope, and which had been splendidly -exemplified in the satires, essays, and epistles. The aim was to -reproduce “the colloquial idiom of living society,”[36] and the result -was a plain, unaffected style, devoid of the ornaments of the poetic -language proper, and, in its simplicity and directness, equally suitable -for either poetry or prose. Gray could make use of this vehicle of -expression, whenever, as in “The Long Story,” or the fragmentary -“Alliance of Education and Government,” it was suitable and adequate -for his purpose; but in the main his own practice stood distinct from -both the eighteenth century ideals of poetical language. Hence, as it -conformed to neither of the accepted standards, Goldsmith and Johnson -agreed in condemning his diction, which was perhaps in itself sufficient -proof that Gray had struck out a new language for himself. - -Among the special problems connected with the diction of poetry to which -the eighteenth century critics directed their attention, that of the -use of archaic and obsolete words was prominent. It had been one of the -methods by which the Elizabethans had hoped to enrich their language, but -contemporary critics had expressed their disapproval, and it was left to -Jonson, in this as in other similar matters, to express the reasonable -view that “the eldest of the present and the newest of the past language -is best.”[37] Dryden, when about to turn the “Canterbury Tales” “into our -language as it is now refined,”[38] was to express a similar common-sense -view. “When an ancient word,” he said, with his Horace no doubt in his -mind, “for its sound and significancy deserves to be revived, I have that -reasonable veneration for antiquity to restore it. All beyond this is -superstition.” - -A few years later the long series of Spenserian imitations had begun, -so that the question of the poetic use of archaic and obsolete words -naturally came into prominence. Pope, as might be expected, is to be -found among the opposition, and in the “Dunciad” he takes the opportunity -of showing his contempt for this kind of writing by a satiric gird, -couched in supposedly archaic language: - - But who is he in closet close y-pent - Of sober face with learned dust besprent? - Right well mine eyes arede the myster wight - On parchment scraps y-fed and Wormius hight— - - (Bk. III, ll. 185-8) - -an attack which is augmented by the ironic comment passed by “Scriblerus” -in a footnote.[39] Nevertheless, when engaged on his translation of Homer -he had an inclination, like Cowper, towards a certain amount of archaism, -though it is evident that he is not altogether satisfied on the point.[40] - -In Gray’s well-known letter to West, mentioned above, there is given a -selection of epithets from Dryden, which he notes as instances of archaic -words preserved in poetry. Gray, as we know, had a keen sense of the -value of words, and his list is therefore of special importance, for -it appears to show that words like _mood_, _smouldering_, _beverage_, -_array_, _wayward_, _boon_, _foiled_, etc., seemed to readers of 1742 -much more old-fashioned than they do to us. Thirty years or so later -he practically retracts the views expressed in this earlier letter, in -which he had admirably defended the use in poetry of words obsolete in -the current language of the day. “I think,” he wrote to James Beattie, -criticizing “The Minstrel,”[41] “that we should wholly adopt the language -of Spenser or wholly renounce it.” And he goes on to object to such -words as _fared_, _meed_, _sheen_, etc., objections which were answered -by Beattie, who showed that all the words had the sanction of such -illustrious predecessors as Milton and Pope, and who added that “the -poetical style in every nation abounds in old words”—exactly what Gray -had written in his letter of 1742. - -Johnson, it need hardly be said, was of Pope’s opinion on this matter, -and the emphatic protest which he, alarmed by such tendencies in the -direction of Romanticism, apparent not only in the Spenserian imitations, -but still more in such signs of the times as were to culminate in Percy’s -“Reliques,” the Ossianic “simplicities” of Macpherson, and the Rowley -“forgeries,” is evidence of the strength which the Spenserian revival had -by then gained. “To imitate Spenser’s fiction and sentiments can incur no -reproach,” he wrote: “but I am very far from extending the same respect -to his diction and his stanza.”[42] To the end he continued to express -his disapproval of those who favoured the “obsolete style,” and, like -Pope, he finally indulges in a metrical fling at the innovators: - - Phrase that time has flung away - Uncouth words in disarray; - Tricked in antique ruff and bonnet, - Ode and Elegy and Sonnet.[43] - -Goldsmith too had his misgivings. “I dislike the imitations of our -old English poets in general,” he wrote with reference to “The -Schoolmistress,” “yet, on this minute subject, the antiquity of the style -produces a very ludicrous solemnity.”[44] - -On this matter of poetic archaism, the point of view of the average -cultured reader, as distinct from the writer, is probably accurately -represented in one of Chesterfield’s letters. Writing to his son,[45] he -was particularly urgent that those words only should be employed which -were found in the writers of the Augustan age, or of the age immediately -preceding. To enforce his point he carefully explained to the boy the -distinction between the pedant and the gentleman who is at the same -time a scholar; the former affected rare words found only in the pages -of obscure or antiquated authors rather than those used by the great -classical writers. - -This was the attitude adopted in the main by William Cowper, who, after -an early enthusiasm for the “quaintness” of old words, when first engaged -on his translation of Homer, later repented and congratulated himself -on having, in his last revisal, pruned away every “single expression of -the obsolete kind.”[46] But against these opinions we have to set the -frankly romantic attitude of Thomas Warton, who, in his “Observations -on the Faerie Queen” (1754), boldly asserts that “if the critic is not -satisfied, yet the reader is transported,” whilst he is quite confident -that Spenser’s language is not so difficult and obsolete as it is -generally supposed to be.[47] - -Here and there we also come across references to other devices by which -the poet is entitled to add to his word-power. Thus Addison grants the -right of indulging in coinages, since this is a practice sanctioned by -example, especially by that of Homer and Milton.[48] Pope considered that -only such of Homer’s compound epithets as could be “done literally into -English without destroying the purity of our language” or those with good -literary sanctions should be adopted.[49] Gray, however, enters a caveat -against coinages; in the letter to Beattie, already quoted, he objects to -the word “infuriated,” and adds a warning not to “make new words without -great necessity; it is very hazardous at best.” - -Finally, as a legacy or survival of that veneration for the “heroic -poem,” which had found its latest expression in Davenant’s “Preface to -Gondibert”[50] (1650), the question of technical words is occasionally -touched upon. Dryden, who had begun by asserting that general terms were -often a mere excuse for ignorance, could later give sufficient reasons -for the avoidance of technical terms,[51] and it is not surprising to -find that Gray was of a similar opinion. In his criticism of Beattie’s -“Minstrel” he objects to the terms _medium_ and _incongruous_ as being -words of art, which savour too much of prose. Gray, we may presume, did -not object to such words because they were not “elegant,” or even mainly -because they were “technical” expressions. He would reject them because, -for him, with his keen sense of the value of words, they were too little -endowed with poetic colour and imagination. When these protests are -remembered, the great and lasting popularity of “The Shipwreck” (1762) of -William Falconer, with its free employment of nautical words and phrases, -may be considered to possess a certain significance in the history of the -Romantic reaction. The daring use of technical terms in the poem must -have given pleasure to a generation of readers accustomed mainly to the -conventional words and phrases of the accepted diction. - -When we review the “theory” of poetical language in the eighteenth -century, as revealed in the sayings, direct and indirect, of poets and -critics, we feel that there is little freshness or originality in the -views expressed, very little to suggest the changes that were going on -underneath, and which were soon to find their first great and reasoned -expression. Nominally, it would seem that the views of the eighteenth -century “classicists” were adequately represented and summed up in those -of Johnson, for whom the ideal of poetical language was that which Dryden -had “invented,” and of which Pope had made such splendid use in his -translation of Homer. In reality, the practice of the “neo-classical” -poets was largely influenced by the critical tenets of the school to -which they belonged, especially by that pseudo-Aristotelian doctrine -according to which poetry was to be an “imitation” of the best models, -whilst its words, phrases, and similes were to be such as were generally -accepted and consecrated by poetic use. It was this conventionalism, -reinforced by, as well as reflecting, the neo-classical outlook on -external nature, that resulted in the “poetic diction” which Wordsworth -attacked, and it is important to note that a similar stereotyped language -is to be found in most of the contemporary poetry of Western Europe, and -especially in that of France.[52] - -We need not be surprised, therefore, to find that neither Johnson, nor -any of his “classical” contemporaries, appears to attach any importance -to the fact that Pope in his essays and epistles had set up a standard -of diction, of which it is not too much to say that it was an ideal -vehicle of expression for the thoughts and feelings it had to convey. -So enamoured were they of the pomp and glitter of the “Homer” that -they apparently failed to see in this real “Pope style” an admirable -model for all writers aiming at lucidity, simplicity, and directness of -thought. We may see this clearly by means of an instructive comparison -of Johnson’s judgments on the two “Pope styles.” “It is remarked by -Watts,” he writes, “that there is scarcely a happy combination of words -or a phrase poetically elegant in the English language which Pope has not -inserted into his version of Homer.”[53] On the other hand, he is perhaps -more than unjust to Pope’s plain didactic style when he speaks of the -“harshness of diction,” the “levity without elegance” of the “Essay on -Man.”[54] - -It was not until the neo-classical poetry was in its death-agony that -we meet with adequate appreciation of the admirable language which -Pope brought to perfection and bequeathed to his successors. “The -familiar style,” wrote Cowper to Unwin,[55] “is of all the styles the -most difficult to succeed in. To make verse speak the language of prose -without being prosaic—to marshal the words of it in such an order as they -might naturally take in falling from the lips of an extemporary speaker, -yet without meanness, harmoniously, elegantly, and without seeming -to displace a syllable for the sake of the rhyme, is one of the most -arduous tasks a poet can undertake.” The “familiar style,” which Cowper -here definitely characterizes, was in its own special province as good -a model as was the beautiful simplicity of Blake when “poetical poetry” -had once more come into its own; and it is important to remember that -this fact received due recognition from both Wordsworth and Coleridge. -“The mischief,” wrote the former,[56] “was effected not by Pope’s -satirical and moral pieces, for these entitle him to the highest place -among the poets of his class; it was by his ‘Homer.’... No other work -in the language so greatly vitiated the diction of English poetry.” And -Coleridge, too, called attention to the “almost faultless position and -choice of words” in Pope’s original compositions, in comparison with -the absurd “pseudo-poetic diction” of his translations of Homer.[57] -The “Pope style” failed to produce real poetry—poetry of infinite and -universal appeal, animated with personal feeling and emotion not merely -because of its preference for the generic rather than the typical, but -because its practitioners for the most part lacked those qualities of -intense imagination in which alone the highest art can have its birth. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE “STOCK” DICTION OF EIGHTEENTH CENTURY POETRY - - -Since the time when Wordsworth launched his manifestoes on the language -fit and proper for poetry, it may almost be said that whenever the term -“poetic diction” is found used as a more or less generic term of critical -disparagement, it has been with reference, implied or explicit, to the -so-called classical poetry of the Augustan ages. But the condemnation has -perhaps been given too wide an application, and hence there has arisen a -tendency to place in this category all the language of all the poets who -were supposed to have taken Pope as their model, so that “the Pope style” -and “eighteenth century diction” have almost become synonymous terms, as -labels for a lifeless, imitative language in which poets felt themselves -constrained to express all their thoughts and feelings. This criticism is -both unjust and misleading. For when this “false and gaudy splendour” is -unsparingly condemned, it is not always recognized or remembered that it -is mainly to be found in the descriptive poetry of the period. - -It is sufficient to glance at the descriptive verse of practically -all the typical “classical” poets to discover how generally true this -statement is. We cannot say, of course, that the varied sights and sounds -of outdoor life made no appeal at all to them; but what we do feel is -that whenever they were constrained to indulge in descriptive verse -they either could not, or would not, try to convey their impressions in -language of their very own, but were content in large measure to draw -upon a common stock of dead and colourless epithets. Local colour, in the -sense of accurate and particular observation of natural facts, is almost -entirely lacking; there is no writing with the eye on the object, and it -has been well remarked that their highly generalized descriptions could -be transferred from poet to poet or from scene to scene, without any -injustice. Thus Shenstone[58] describes his birthplace: - - Romantic scenes of pendent hills - And verdant vales, and falling rills, - And mossy banks, the fields adorn - Where Damon, simple swain, was born— - -a quatrain which, with little or no change of epithet, was the common -property of the versifiers, and may be met with almost everywhere in -early eighteenth century poetry. Every type of English scenery and every -phase of outdoor life finds its description in lines of this sort, where -the reader instinctively feels that the poet has not been careful to -record his individual impressions or emotions, but has contented himself -with accepting epithets and phrases consecrated to the use of natural -description. A similar inability or indifference is seen even in the -attempts to re-fashion Chaucer, or the Bible, or other old material, -where the vigour and freshness and colour of the originals might have -been expected to exercise a salutary influence. But to no purpose: all -must be cast in the one mould, and clothed in the elegant diction of -the time. Thus in Dryden’s modernization of the “Canterbury Tales” the -beautiful simplicity of Chaucer’s descriptions of the sights and sounds -of nature vanishes when garbed in the rapid and conventional phrases and -locutions of the classicists. Chaucer’s “briddes” becomes “the painted -birds,” a “goldfinch” is amplified into a “goldfinch with gaudy pride of -painted plumes,” whilst a plain and simple mention of sunrise, “at the -sun upriste,” has to be paraphrased into - - Aurora had but newly chased the night - And purpled o’er the sky with blushing light. - -The old ballads and the Psalms suffered severely in the same way.[59] - -The fact that the words most frequently used in this stock poetic -diction have usually some sort of connexion with dress or ornament has -not escaped notice, and it has its own significance. It is, as it were, -a reflex of the fact that the nature poetry of the period is in large -measure the work of writers to whom social life is the central fact of -existence, for whom meadow, and woodland, and running water, mountain -and sea, the silent hills, and the starry sky brought no inspiration, or -at least no inspiration powerful enough to lead them to break through -the shackles of conventionality imposed upon them by the taste of their -age. Words like “paint” and “painted,” “gaudy,” “adorn,” “deck,” “gilds” -and “gilded,” “damasked,” “enamelled,” “embroidered,” and dozens similar -form the stock vocabulary of natural description; apart from the best of -Akenside, and the works of one or two writers such as John Cunningham, -it can safely be said that but few new descriptive terms were added to -the “nature vocabulary” of English poetry during this period. How far -English poetry is yet distant from a recognition of the sea as a source -of poetic inspiration may be perhaps seen from the fact that its most -frequent epithet is the feeble term “watery,” whilst the magic of the sky -by night or day evokes no image other than one that can be expressed by -changes rung on such words as “azure,” “concave,” “serene,” “ætherial.” -Even in “Night Thoughts,” where the subject might have led to something -new and fresh in the way of a “star-vocabulary,” the best that Young can -do is to take refuge in such periphrases as “tuneful spheres,” “nocturnal -sparks,” “lucid orbs,” “ethereal armies,” “mathematic glories,” “radiant -choirs,” “midnight counsellors,” etc. - -And the same lack of direct observation and individual expression is -obvious whenever the classicists have to mention birds or animals. Wild -life had to wait for White of Selborne, and for Blake and Burns and -Cowper and Wordsworth, to be observed with accuracy and treated with -sympathy; and it has been well remarked that if we are to judge from -their verse, most of the poets of the first quarter of the eighteenth -century knew no bird except the goldfinch or nightingale, and even these -probably only by hearsay. For the same generalized diction is usually -called upon, and birds are merely a “feathered,” “tuneful,” “plumy” -or “warbling” choir, whilst a periphrasis, allowing of numerous and -varied labels for the same animal, is felt to be the correct thing. In -Dryden sheep are “the woolly breed” or “the woolly race”; bees are the -“industrious kind” or “the frugal kind”; pigs are “the bristly care” or -“the tusky kind”; frogs are “the loquacious race”; crows, “the craven -kind,” and so on: “the guiding principle seems to be that nothing must be -mentioned by its own name.”[60] - -Many of these stock epithets owed their appearance of course to the -requirements imposed upon poets by their adherence to the heroic couplet. -Pope himself calls attention to the fact that the necessities of rhyme -led to the unceasing repetition of stereotyped phrases and locutions: - - Where’er you find the “cooling western breeze.” - In the next line it “whispers through the trees”; - If crystal streams “with pleasing murmur creep” - The reader’s threaten’d, not in vain, with “sleep”— - -adducing, with unconscious irony, the very rhymes prevalent in much of -his own practice.[61] - -It was also recognized by the versifiers that the indispensable polish -and “correctness” of the decasyllabic line could only be secured by a -mechanical use of epithets in certain positions. “There is a vast beauty -[to me],” wrote Shenstone, “in using a word of a particular nature in -the 8th and 9th syllable of an English verse. I mean what is virtually a -dactyl. For instance, - - And pykes, the tyrants of the wat’ry plains. - -Let any person of any ear substitute _liquid_ for _wat’ry_ and he will -find the disadvantage.”[62] Saintsbury has pointed out[63] that the -“drastic but dangerous device of securing the undulating penetration -of the line by the use of the _gradus_ epithet was one of the chief -causes of the intensely artificial character of the versification and -its attendant diction.... There are passages in the ‘Dispensary’ and -‘The Rape of the Lock,’ where you can convert the decasyllable into the -octosyllable for several lines together without detriment to sense or -poetry by simply taking out these specious superfluities.” - -In the year of Dryden’s death (or perhaps in the following year) there -had appeared the “Art of Poetry” by Edward Bysshe, whose metrical -laws were generally accepted, as authoritative, during the eighteenth -century. During the forty years of Dryden’s literary career the -supremacy of the stopped regular decasyllabic couplet had gradually -established itself as the perfect form of verse. But Bysshe was the first -prosodist to formulate the “rules” of the couplet, and in doing so he -succeeded, probably because his views reflected the general prosodic -tendencies of the time, in “codifying and mummifying” a system which -soon became erected into a creed. “The foregoing rules (_of accent on -the even places and pause mainly at the 4th, 5th, or 6th syllable_) -ought indispensably to be followed in all our verses of 10 syllables: -and the observation of them will produce Harmony, the neglect of them -harshness and discord.”[64] Into this rigid mechanical mould contemporary -and succeeding versifiers felt themselves constrained to place their -couplets. But to pad out their lines they were nearly always beset with -a temptation to use the trochaic epithets, of which numerous examples -have been given above. As a natural result such epithets soon became part -and parcel of the poetic stock of language, and hence most of them were -freely used by poets, not because of any intrinsic poetic value, but -because they were necessary to comply with the absurd mechanics of their -vehicle of expression. - -Since the “Lives of the Poets” it has been customary to regard this -“poetic diction” as the peculiar invention of the late seventeenth and -early eighteenth century, and especially of Dryden and Pope, a belief -largely due to Johnson’s eulogies of these poets. As an ardent admirer of -the school of Dryden and Pope, it was only natural that Johnson should -express an exalted opinion of their influence on the poetic practice -of his contemporaries. But others—Gray amongst them—did not view their -innovations with much complacency, and towards the end of the century -Cowper was already foreshadowing the attack to be made by Wordsworth and -Coleridge in the next generation. To Pope’s influence, he says in effect, -after paying his predecessor a more or less formal compliment, was due -the stereotyped form both of the couplet and of much of the language in -which it was clothed. Pope had made - - poetry a mere mechanic art - And every warbler had his tune by heart; - -and in one of his letters he stigmatizes and pillories the inflated and -stilted phraseology of Pope, and especially his translation of Homer.[65] -Finally, Wordsworth and Coleridge agreed in ascribing the “poetical -diction,” against which their manifestoes were directed, to that source. - -It is to be admitted that Pope’s translation is to some extent open -to the charge brought against it of corrupting the language with a -meretricious standard of poetic diction. In his Preface he expresses his -misgivings as to the language fit and proper for an English rendering of -Homer, and indeed it is usually recognized that his diction was, to a -certain extent, imposed upon him both by the nature of his original, as -well as by the lack of elasticity in his closed couplet. To the latter -cause was doubtless due, not only the use of stock epithets to fill out -the line, but also the inevitable repetition of certain words, due to -the requirements of rhyme, even at the expense of straining or distorting -their ordinary meaning. Thus _train_, for instance, on account of its -convenience as a rhyming word, is often used to signify “a host,” or -“body,” and similarly _plain_, _main_, for the ocean. In this connexion -it has also been aptly pointed out that some of the defects resulted from -the fact that Pope had founded his own epic style on that of the Latin -poets, whose manner is most opposed to Homer’s. Thus he often sought to -deck out or expand simple thoughts or commonplace situations by using -what he no doubt considered really “poetical language,” and thus, for -instance, where Homer simply says, “And the people perished,” Pope has -to say, “And heaped the camp with mountains of the dead.” The repeated -use of periphrases: _feathered fates_, for “arrows”; _fleecy breed_ for -“sheep”; _the wandering nation of a summer’s day_ for “insects”; _the -beauteous kind_ for “women”; _the shining mischief_ for “a fascinating -woman”; _rural care_ for “the occupations of the shepherd”; _the social -shades_ for “the ghosts of two brothers,” may be traced to the same -influence.[66] - -But apart from these defects the criticisms of Coleridge and Wordsworth, -and their ascribing of the “poetical diction,” which they wished to -abolish, to the influence of Pope’s “Homer,” are to a large extent -unjust. Many of the characteristics of this “spurious poetic language” -were well established long before Pope produced his translation. It is -probable that they are present to a much larger extent, for instance, in -Dryden; _painted_, _rural_, _finny_, _briny_, _shady_, _vocal_, _mossy_, -_fleecy_, come everywhere in his translations, and not only there. Some -of his adjectives in y are more audacious than those of Pope: _spongy -clouds_, _chinky hives_, _snary webs_, _roomy sea_, etc. Most of the -periphrases used by Pope and many more are already to be found in Dryden: -“summer” is _the sylvan reign_; “bees,” _the frugal_ or _industrious -kind_; “arrows,” _the feathered wood_ or _feathered fates_; “sheep,” _the -woolly breed_; “frogs,” _the loquacious race_! From all Pope’s immediate -predecessors and contemporaries similar examples may be quoted, like Gay’s - - When floating clouds their spongy fleeces drain - - (“Rural Sports”) - -or Ambrose Philips: - - Hark: how they warble in the brambly bush - The gaudy goldfinch or the speckly thrush - - (“Fourth Pastoral”) - -and that “Epistle to a Friend,” in which he ridicules the very jargon so -much used in his own Pastorals.[67] - -Pope then may justly be judged “not guilty,” at least “in the first -degree,” of having originated the poetic diction which Johnson praised -and Wordsworth condemned; in using it, he was simply using the stock -language for descriptive poetry, whether original or in translations, -which had slowly come into being during the last decade of the -seventeenth century. If it be traced to its origins, it will be found -that most of it originated with that poet who may fairly be called the -founder of the English “classical” school of poetry—to Milton, to whom -in large measure is due, not merely the invention, but also, by the very -potency of the influence exercised by his great works, its vogue in the -eighteenth century. - -Before the time of Milton, it is not too much to say, even when we -remember the practice of Spenser and Donne and their followers, that -there was no special language for poetry, little or nothing of the -diction consecrated solely to the purposes of poets. The poets of the -Elizabethan age and their immediate successors had access to all diction, -upon which they freely drew. But it seems natural, indeed inevitable, -that for Milton, resolved to sing of things “unattempted yet in prose -or rhyme,” the ordinary language of contemporary prose or poetry should -be found lacking. He was thus impelled, we may say, consciously and -deliberately to form for himself a special poetical vocabulary, which, in -his case, was abundantly justified, because it was so essentially fitted -to his purpose, and bore the stamp of his lofty poetic genius. - -This poetical vocabulary was made up of diverse elements. Besides the -numerous “classical” words, which brought with them all the added charm -of literary reminiscence, there were archaisms, and words of Latin -origin, as well as words deliberately coined on Latin and Greek roots. -But it included also most of the epithets of which the eighteenth -century versifiers were so fond. Examples may be taken from any of the -descriptive portions of the “Paradise Lost”: - - On the soft downy bank damasked with flowers - - (IV, 334) - -or - - About me round I saw - Hill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains, - And liquid lapse of murmuring streams. - - (VIII, 260-263) - -Other phrases, like “vernal bloom,” “lucid stream,” “starry sphere,” -“flowery vale,” “umbrageous grots,” were to become the worn-out -penny-pieces of the eighteenth century poetical mint. Milton indeed -seems to have been one of the great inventors of adjectives ending in -y, though in this respect he had been anticipated by Browne and others, -and especially by Chapman, who has large numbers of them, and whose -predilection for this method of making adjectives out of nouns amounts -almost to an obsession.[68] - -Milton was also perhaps the great innovator with another kind of -epithet, which called forth the censure of Johnson, who described it -as “the practice of giving to adjectives derived from substantives the -terminations of participles,” though the great dictator is here attacking -a perfectly legitimate device freely used by the Jacobeans and by most of -the poets since their time.[69] Nor are there wanting in Milton’s epic -instances of the idle periphrases banned by Wordsworth: _straw-built -citadel_ for “bee-hive,” _vernal bloom_ for “spring flowers,” _smutty -grain_ for “gunpowder,” _humid train_ for the flowery waters of a river, -etc.[70] - -With Milton, then, may be said to have originated the “poetic diction,” -which drew forth Wordsworth’s strictures, and which in the sequel -proved a dangerous model for the swarm of versifiers who essayed to -borrow or imitate it for the purpose of their dull and commonplace -themes. How much the Miltonic language, as aped and imitated by the -“landscape gardeners and travelling pedlars” of the eighteenth century, -lost in originality and freshness, may be felt, rather than described, -if we compare so well-known a passage as the following with any of the -quotations given earlier: - - Yet not the more - Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt - Clear Spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, - Smit with the love of sacred song; but chief - Thee, Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath, - That wash thy hallowed feet and warbling flow. - - (P.L. III, 26-30) - -But the minor poets of the eighteenth century, who, by their mechanical -imitations, succeeded in reducing Milton’s diction to the level of -an almost meaningless jargon, had had every encouragement from their -greater predecessors and contemporaries. The process of depreciation may -be seen already in Dryden, and it is probably by way of Pope that much -of the Miltonic language became part of the eighteenth century poetic -stock-in-trade. Pope was a frequent borrower from Milton, and, in his -“Homer” especially, very many reminiscences are to be found, often used -in an artificial, and sometimes in an absurd, manner.[71] Moreover, -Pope’s free and cheapened use of many of Milton’s descriptive epithets -did much to reduce them to the rank of merely conventional terms, and -in this respect the attack of Wordsworth and Coleridge was not without -justice. But on the whole the proper conclusion would seem to be that -what is usually labelled as “the _Pope_ style” could with more justice -and aptness be described as “the pseudo-Miltonic style.” It is true that -the versifiers freely pilfered the “Homer,” and the vogue of much of the -stock diction is thus due to that source, but so far as Pope himself is -concerned there is justice in his plea that he left this style behind him -when he emerged from “Fancy’s maze” and “moralized his song.” - -To what extent this catalogue of lifeless words and phrases had -established itself as the poetical thesaurus is to be seen in the -persistency with which it maintained its position until the very end of -the century, when Erasmus Darwin with a fatal certainty evolved from -it all its worst features, and thus did much unconsciously to crush it -out of existence. James Thomson is rightly regarded as one of the most -important figures in the early history of the Romantic Revolt, and he -has had merited praise for his attempts to provide himself with a new -language of his own. In this respect, however, he had been anticipated -by John Philips, whose “Splendid Shilling” appeared in 1705, followed by -“Cyder” a year later. Philips, though not the first Miltonic imitator, -was practically the first to introduce the Miltonic diction and phrases, -whilst at the same time he acquired the knack of adding phrases of his -own to the common stock. He was thus an innovator from whom Thomson -himself learned not a little. - -But though the “Seasons” is ample testimony to a new and growing -alertness to natural scenery, Thomson found it hard to escape from the -fetters of the current poetic language. We feel that he is at least -trying to write with his eye steadily fixed upon the object, but he could -perhaps hardly be expected to get things right from the very beginning. -Thus a stanza from his “Pastoral Entertainment” is purely conventional: - - The place appointed was a spacious vale - Fanned always by a cooling western gale - Which in soft breezes through the meadow stray - And steal the ripened fragrances away— - -while he paraphrases a portion of the sixth chapter of St. Matthew into: - - Observe the rising lily’s snowy grace, - Observe the various vegetable race, - They neither toil nor spin, but careless grow - Yet see how warm they blush, how bright they glow, - -where the stock terms scarcely harmonize with the simple Biblical -diction. He was well aware of the attendant dangers and difficulties, -and in the first book of “The Seasons” he gives expression to the need -he feels of a language fit to render adequately all that he sees in -Nature.[72] But though there is much that is fresh and vivid in his -descriptive diction, and much that reveals him as a bold pioneer in -poetic outlook and treatment, the tastes and tendencies of his age were -too strong entirely to be escaped. Birds are the _plumy_, or _feathered -people_, or _the glossy kind_,[73] and a flight of swallows is _a -feathered eddy_; sheep are _the bleating kind_, etc. In one passage -(“Spring,” ll. 114-135) he deals at length with the insects that attack -the crops without once mentioning them by name: they are _the feeble -race_, _the frosty tribe_, _the latent foe_, and even _the sacred sons -of vengeance_. He has in general the traditional phraseology for the -mountains and the sea, though a few of his epithets for the mountains, -as _keen-air’d_ and _forest-rustling_, are new. He speaks of the Alps as -_dreadful_, _horrid_, _vast_, _sublime_. _Shaggy_ and _nodding_ are also -applied to mountains as well as to rocks and forests; winter is usually -described in the usual classical manner as _deformed_ and _inverted_. -Leaves are the _honours_ of trees, paths are _erroneous_, caverns -_sweat_, etc., and he also makes large use of Latinisms.[74] - -John Dyer (1700-1758), though now and then conventional in his diction, -has a good deal to his credit, and is a worthy contemporary of the author -of “The Seasons.” Thus in the “Country Walk” it is the old stock diction -he gives us: - - Look upon that _flowery plain_ - How the sheep surround their _swain_; - And there behold a _bloomy mead_, - A silver stream, a willow shade; - -and much the same thing is to be found in “The Fleece,” published in 1757: - - The crystal dews, impearl’d upon the grass, - Are touched by Phœbus’ beams and mount aloft, - With various clouds to paint the azure sky; - -whilst he has almost as many adjectives in y as Ambrose Philips. But -these are more than redeemed by the new descriptive touches which appear, -sometimes curiously combined with the stereotyped phrases, as in “The -Fleece” (Bk. III): - - The scatter’d mists reveal the dusky hills; - Grey dawn appears; the golden morn ascends, - And paints the glittering rocks and purple woods. - -Nor must we forget “Grongar Hill,” which has justly received high praise -for its beauties and felicities of description. - -It is scarcely necessary to illustrate further the vogue of this sort of -diction in the first half of the eighteenth century; it is to be found -everywhere in the poetry of the period, and the conventional epithets -and phrases quoted from Dyer and Thomson may be taken as typical of the -majority of their contemporaries. But this lifeless, stereotyped language -has also invaded the work of some of the best poets of the century, -including not only the later classicists, but also those who have been -“born free,” and are foremost among the Romantic rebels. The poetic -language of William Collins shows a strange mixture of the old style -and the new. That it was new and individual is well seen from Johnson’s -condemnation, for Johnson recognized very clearly that the language of -the “Ode on the Popular Superstitions of the Highlands” did not conform -to what was probably his own view that the only language fit and proper -for poetry was such as might bear comparison with the polish and elegance -of Pope’s “Homer.” It is not difficult to make due allowance for Johnson -when he speaks of Collins’s diction as “harsh, unskilfully laboured, and -injudicially selected”; we deplore the classical bias, and are content -enough to recognize and enjoy for ourselves the matchless beauty and -charm of Collins’s diction at its best. Yet much of the language of his -earlier work betrays him as more or less a poetaster of the eighteenth -century. The early “Oriental Eclogues” abound in the usual descriptive -details, just as if the poet had picked out his words and phrases from -the approved lists. Thus, - - Yet midst the blaze of courts she fixed her love - On the cool fountain or the shady grove - Still, with the shepherd’s innocence her mind - To the sweet vale and flowery mead inclined; - -and even in the “Ode on the Popular Superstitions” there were expressions -like _watery surge_, _sheeny gold_, though now and then the “new” diction -is strikingly exemplified in a magnificent phrase such as _gleamy -pageant_. - -When Collins has nothing new to say his poetic language is that of -his time, but when his inspiration is at its loftiest his diction is -always equal to the task, and it is then that he gives us the unrivalled -felicities of “The Ode to Evening.” - -Amongst all the English poets there has probably never been one, even -when we think of Tennyson, more careful and meticulous (or “curiously -elaborate,” as Wordsworth styled it) about the diction of his verses, the -very words themselves, than Gray. This fact, and not Matthew Arnold’s -opinion that it was because Gray had fallen on an “age of prose,” may -perhaps be regarded as sufficient to explain the comparative scantiness -of his literary production. He himself, in a famous letter, has clearly -stated his ideal of literary expression: “Extreme conciseness of -expression, yet pure, perspicuous, and musical, is one of the grand -beauties of lyrical poetry.”[75] Hence all his verses bear evidence -of the most painstaking labour and rigorous self-criticism, almost as -if every word had been weighed and assessed before being allowed to -appear. His correspondence with Mason and Beattie, referred to in the -previous chapter, shows the same fastidiousness with regard to the work -of others. Gray indeed, drawing freely upon Milton and Dryden, created -for himself a special poetic language which in its way can become almost -as much an abuse as the otiosities of many of his predecessors and -contemporaries—the “cumbrous splendour” of which Johnson complained. Yet -he is never entirely free from the influence of the “classical” diction -which, for Johnson, represented the ideal. His earliest work is almost -entirely conventional in its descriptions, the prevailing tone being -exemplified in such phrases as _the purple year_, _the Attic Warbler -pours her throat_ (Ode on “The Spring”), whilst in the “Progress of -Poesy,” lines like - - Through verdant vales and Ceres’ golden reign - -are not uncommon, though of course the possibility of the direct -influence of the classics, bringing with it the added flavour of -reminiscence, is not to be ignored in this sort of diction. Moreover, a -couplet from the fragmentary “Alliance of Education and Government”: - - Scent the new fragrance of _the breathing rose_ - And quaff _the pendent vintage_ as it grows— - -is almost typical, apart from the freshness of the epithet _breathing_, -of what Wordsworth wished to abolish. Even the “Elegy” has not escaped -the contagion: _storied urn_ or _animated bust_ is perilously akin to the -pedantic periphrases of the Augustans. - -Before passing to a consideration of the work of Johnson and Goldsmith, -who best represent the later eighteenth century development of the -“classical” school of Pope, reference may be made to two other writers. -The first of these is Thomas Chatterton. In that phase of the early -Romantic Movement which took the form of attempts to revive the past, -Chatterton of course played an important part, and the pseudo-archaic -language which he fabricated for the purpose of his “Rowley” poems is -interesting, not only as an indication of the trend of the times towards -the poetic use of old and obsolete words, but also as reflecting, it -would seem, a genuine endeavour to escape from the fetters of the -conventional and stereotyped diction of his day. On the other hand, in -his avowedly original work, Chatterton’s diction is almost entirely -imitative. He has scarcely a single fresh image or description; his -series of “Elegies” and “Epistles” are clothed in the current poetic -language. He uses the stock expressions, _purling streams_, _watery -bed_, _verdant vesture of the smiling fields_, along with the usual -periphrases, such as _the muddy nation_ or _the speckled folk_ for -“frogs.” One verse of an “Elegy” written in 1768 contains in itself -nearly all the conventional images: - - Ye variegated children of the Spring, - Ye blossoms blushing with the pearly dew; - Ye birds that sweetly in the hawthorn sing; - Ye flowery meads, lawns of verdant hue. - -It can be judged from these examples how a stereotyped mode of expression -may depreciate to a large extent the value of much of the work of a -poet of real genius. Chatterton is content in most of his avowedly -“original” work to turn his poetic thoughts into the accepted moulds, -which is all the more surprising when we remember his laborious methods -of manufacturing an archaic diction for his mediaeval “discoveries,”[76] -even if we may assume that it reflected a strong desire for something -fresh and new. - -A poet of much less genius, but one who enjoyed great contemporary -fame, was William Falconer, whose “Shipwreck,” published in 1762, was -the most popular sea-poem of the eighteenth century. The most striking -characteristic of the descriptive parts of the poem is the daring and -novel use of technical sea-terms, but apart from this the language is -purely conventional. The sea is still the same _desert-waste_, _faithless -deep_, _watery way_, _world_, _plain_, _path_, or _the fluid plain_, _the -glassy plain_, whilst the landscape catalogue is as lifeless as any of -the descriptive passages of the early eighteenth century: - - on every spray - The warbling birds exalt their evening lay, - Blithe skipping o’er yon hill the fleecy train - Join the deep chorus of the lowing plain. - -When he leaves this second-hand description, and describes scenes -actually experienced and strongly felt, Falconer’s language is -correspondingly fresh and vivid, the catastrophe of the shipwreck itself, -for example, being painted with extraordinary power.[77] - -When we come to Johnson and Goldsmith, here again a distinction must be -made between the didactic or satiric portion of their work and that which -is descriptive. Johnson’s didactic verse, marked as it is by a free use -of inversion and ellipsis, rarely attains the clearness and simplicity of -Goldsmith’s, whilst he has also much more of the stock descriptive terms -and phrases. His “Odes” are almost entirely cast in this style. Thus in -“Spring”: - - Now o’er the rural Kingdom roves - Soft Pleasure with her laughing train, - Love warbles in the vocal groves - And vegetation plants the plains, - -whilst exactly the same stuff is turned out for a love poem, “To Stella”: - - Not the soft sighs of vernal gales - The fragrance of the flowery vales - The murmurs of the crystal rill - The vocal grove, the verdant hill. - -Though there is not so much of this kind of otiose description in the -poems of Goldsmith, yet Mr. Dobson’s estimate of his language may be -accepted as a just one: “In spite of their beauty and humanity,” he -says, “the lasting quality of ‘The Traveller’ and ‘The Deserted Village’ -is seriously prejudiced by his half-way attitude between the poetry of -convention and the poetry of nature—between the _gradus_ epithet of Pope -and the direct vocabulary of Wordsworth.”[78] Thus when we read such -lines as - - The slow canal, the yellow-blossomed vale, - The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail - - (“Traveller,” ll. 293-4) - -we feel that Goldsmith too has been writing with his eye on the object, -and even in such a line as - - The breezy covert of the warbling grove - - (_Ibid._, 360) - -there is a freshness of description that compensates for the use of the -hackneyed _warbling grove_. On the other hand, there are in both pieces -passages which it is difficult not to regard as purely conventional in -their language. Thus in “The Traveller,” the diction, if not entirely of -the stock type, is not far from it: - - Ye glittering towns, with wealth and splendour crowned - Ye fields, where summer spreads profusion round - Ye lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale - Ye bending swains, that dress the flowery vale, - -and so on for another dozen lines.[79] - -Only the slightest traces, however, of this mechanical word-painting -appear in “The Deserted Village,” almost the only example of the -stereotyped phrase being in the line - - These simple blessings of _the lowly train_ - - (l. 252). - -Thus whilst Goldsmith in much of his work continues the classical school -of Pope, alike in his predilection for didactic verse and his practice of -the heroic couplet, in his poetic language he is essentially individual. -In his descriptive passages he rarely uses the conventional jargon, and -the greater part of the didactic and moral observations of his two most -famous poems is written in simple and unadorned language that would -satisfy the requirements of the Wordsworthian canon. - -That pure and unaffected diction could be employed with supreme effect -in other than moral and didactic verse was soon to be shown in the lyric -poetry of William Blake, who, about thirty years before Wordsworth -launched his manifestoes, evolved for himself a poetic language, -wonderful alike in its beauty and simplicity. In those of the “Songs -of Innocence” and “The Songs of Experience,” which are concerned with -natural description, the epithets and expressions that had long been -consecrated to this purpose find little or no place. Here and there we -seem to catch echoes of the stock diction, as in the lines, - - the starry floor - the watery shore - -of the Introduction to the “Songs of Experience,” or the - - happy, silent, _moony_ beams - -of “The Cradle Song”; but in each case the expressions are redeemed and -revitalized by the pure and joyous singing note of the lyrics of which -they form part. Only once is Blake to be found using the conventional -epithet, when in his “Laughing Song” he writes - - the _painted_ birds laugh in the shade, - -whilst with his usual unerring instinct he marks down the monotonous -smoothness of so much contemporary verse in that stanza of his ode “To -the Muses” in which, as has been well said, the eighteenth century dies -to music:[80] - - How have you left the ancient love - That bards of old enjoyed in you! - The languid strings do scarcely move, - The sound is forced, the notes are few. - -Not that he altogether escaped the blighting influence of his time. In -the early “Imitation of Spenser,” we get such a couplet as - - To sit in council with his modern peers - And judge of tinkling rhimes and elegances terse, - -whilst the “vicious diction” Wordsworth was to condemn is also to be seen -in this line from one of the early “Songs”: - - and Phœbus fir’d my vocal rage. - -Even as late as 1800 Blake was capable of writing - - Receive this tribute from a harp sincere.[81] - -But these slight blemishes only seem to show up in stronger light the -essential beauty and nobility of his poetical style. - -But the significance of Blake’s work in the purging and purifying of -poetic diction was not, as might perhaps be expected, recognized by his -contemporaries and immediate successors. For Coleridge, writing some -thirty years later, it was Cowper, and his less famous contemporary -Bowles, who were the pioneers in the rejecting of the old and faded -style and the beginning of the new, the first to combine “natural -thoughts with natural diction.”[82] Coleridge’s opinion seems to us -now to be an over-statement, but we rather suspect that Cowper was not -unwilling to regard himself as an innovator in poetic language. In his -correspondence he reveals himself constantly pre-occupied with the -question of poetic expression, and especially with the language fit and -proper for his translation of Homer. His opinion of Pope’s attempt has -already been referred to, but he himself was well aware of the inherent -difficulties.[83] He had, it would seem, definite and decided opinions -on the subject of poetic language; he recognized the lifelessness of the -accepted diction, which, rightly or wrongly, he attributed especially to -the influence of Pope’s “Homer,” and tried to escape from its bondage. -His oft-quoted thesis that in the hands of the eighteenth century poets -poetry had become a “mere mechanic art,” he developed at length in his -ode “Secundum Artem,” which comprises almost a complete catalogue of the -ornaments which enabled the warblers to have their tune by heart. What -Cowper in that ode pillories—“the trim epithets,” the “sweet alternate -rhyme,” the “flowers of light description”—were in the main what were to -be held up to ridicule in the _Lyrical Ballads_ prefaces; Wordsworth’s -attack is here anticipated by twenty years. - -But, as later in the case of Wordsworth, Cowper in his early work has -not a little of the language which he is at such pains to condemn. Thus -Horace again appears in the old familiar guise, - - Now o’er the spangled hemisphere, - Diffused the starry train appear - - (“Fifth Satire”) - -whilst even in “Table Talk” we find occasional conventional descriptions -such as - - Nature... - Spreads the fresh verdure of the fields and leads - The dancing Naiads through the dewy meads. - -But there is little of this kind of description in “The Task.” Now -and then we meet with examples of the old periphrases, such as the -_pert voracious kind_ for “sparrows,” or the description of kings -as the _arbiters of this terraqueous swamp_, though many of these -pseudo-Miltonic expressions are no doubt used for playful effect. In -those parts of the poem which deal with the sights and sounds of outdoor -life the images are new and fresh, whilst in the moral and didactic -portions the language is, as a rule, uniformly simple and direct. But for -the classical purity of poetical expression in which the poet is at times -pre-eminent, it is perhaps best to turn to his shorter poems, such as “To -Mary,” or to the last two stanzas of “The Castaway,” and especially to -some of the “Olney Hymns,” of the language of which it may be said that -every word is rightly chosen and not one is superfluous. Indeed, it may -well be that these hymns, together with those of Watts and Wesley,[84] -which by their very purpose demanded a mode of expression severe in its -simplicity, but upon which were stamped the refinement and correct taste -of the scholars and gentlemen who wrote them—it may well be that the -more natural mode of poetic diction which thus arose gave to Wordsworth -a starting point when he began to expound and develop his theories -concerning the language of poetry.[85] - -Whilst Cowper was thus at once heralding, and to a not inconsiderable -extent exemplifying, the Romantic reaction in form, another poet, George -Crabbe, had by his realism given, even before Cowper, an important -indication of one characteristic aspect of the new poetry. - -But though the force and fidelity of his descriptions of the scenery -of his native place, and the depth and sincerity of his pathos, give -him a leading place among those who anticipated Wordsworth, other -characteristics stamp him as belonging to the old order and not to the -new. His language is still largely that perfected by Dryden and Pope, -and worked to death by their degenerate followers. The recognized -“elegancies” and “flowers of speech” still linger on. A peasant is still -a _swain_, poets are _sons of verse_, fishes _the finny tribe_, country -folk _the rural tribe_. The word _nymph_ appears with a frequency that -irritates the reader, and how ludicrous an effect it could produce by its -sudden appearance in tales of the realistic type that Crabbe loved may be -judged from such examples as - - It soon appeared that while this nymph divine - Moved on, there met her rude uncivil kine. - -Whilst he succeeds in depicting the life of the rustic poor, not as -it appears in the rosy tints of Goldsmith’s pictures, but in all its -reality—sordid, gloomy and stern, as it for the most part is—the old -stereotyped descriptions are to be found scattered throughout his grimly -realistic pictures of the countryside. Thus when Crabbe writes of - - tepid meads - And lawns irriguous and the blooming field - - (“Midnight”) - -or - - The lark on quavering pinion woo’d the day - Less towering linnets fill’d the vocal spray - - (“The Candidate”) - -we feel that he has not had before his eyes the real scenes of his -Suffolk home, but that he has been content to recall and imitate the -descriptive stock-in-trade that had passed current for so many years; -even the later “Tales,” published up to the years when Shelley and Keats -were beginning their activities, are not free from this defect. - -About ten years before Wordsworth launched his manifestoes, there were -published the two works of Erasmus Darwin, to which reference has already -been made, and in which this stock language was unconsciously reduced to -absurdity, not only because of the themes on which it was employed, but -also because of the fatal ease and facility with which it was used. It -is strange to think that but a few years before the famous sojourn of -Coleridge and Wordsworth on the Quantocks, “The Loves of the Plants,” and -its fellow, should have won instant and lasting popularity.[86] - -That Darwin took himself very seriously is to be seen from “The -Interludes,” in which he airs his views,[87] whilst in his two poems he -gave full play to his “fancy” (“‘theory’ we cannot call it,” comments -De Quincey) that nothing was strictly poetic except what is presented in -visual image. This in itself was not bad doctrine, as it at least implied -that poetry should be concrete, and thus reflected a desire to escape -from the abstract and highly generalized diction of his day. But Darwin -so works his dogma to death that the reader is at first dazzled, and -finally bewildered by the multitude of images presented, in couplets of -monotonous smoothness, in innumerable passages, such as - - On twinkling fins my pearly nations play - Or wind with sinuous train their trackless way: - My plumy pairs in gay embroidery dressed - Form with ingenious bill the pensile nest. - - (“Botanic Garden,” I) - -Still there is something to be said for the readers who enjoyed having -the facts and theories of contemporary science presented to them in so -coloured and fantastic a garb. - -Nor must it be forgotten that the youthful Wordsworth was much influenced -by these poems of Darwin, so that his early work shows many traces of -the very pseudo-poetic language which he was soon to condemn. Thus in -“An Evening Walk”[88] there are such stock phrases as “emerald meads,” -“watery plains,” the “forest train.” - -In “Descriptive Sketches” examples are still more numerous. Thus: - - Soft bosoms breathe around contagious sighs - And amorous music on the water dies, - -which might have come direct from Pope, or - - Here all the seasons revel hand-in-hand - ’Mid lawns and shades by breezy rivulets fanned. - -The old epithet _purple_ is frequently found (_purple_ lights and vernal -plains, the _purple_ morning, the fragrant mountain’s _purple_ side), and -there are a few awkward adjectives in y (“the _piny_ waste”), whilst a -gun is described as the _thundering tube_. - -Few poems indeed are to be found in the eighteenth century with so many -fantastic conceits as these 1793 poems of Wordsworth. Probably, as has -been suggested, the poet was influenced to an extent greater than he -himself imagined by “The Botanic Garden,” so that the poetical devices -freely employed in his early work may be the result of a determination -to conform to the “theory” of poetry which Darwin in his precept and -practice had exemplified. Later, the devices which had satisfied him -in his first youthful productions must have appeared to him as more or -less vicious, and altogether undesirable, and in disgust he resolved to -exclude at one stroke all that he was pleased to call “poetic diction.” -But, little given to self-criticism, when he penned his memorable -Prefaces, he fixed the responsibility for “the extravagant and absurd -diction” upon the whole body of his predecessors, unable or unwilling to -recognize that he himself had begun his poetic career with a free use of -many of its worst faults.[89] - -Of the stock diction of eighteenth century poetry we may say, then, that -in the first place it is in large measure a reflection of the normal -characteristic attitude of the poets of the “neo-classical” period -towards Nature and all that the term implies. The “neo-classical” poets -were but little interested in Nature; the countryside made no great -appeal to them, and it was the Town and its teeming life that focused -their interest and attention. Man, and his life as a social being, was -their “proper study”; and this concentration of interest finds its -reflection in the new and vivid language of the “essays,” satires, and -epistles, whilst in the “nature poetry” the absence of genuine feeling is -only too often betrayed by the dead epithets of the stock diction each -poet felt himself at liberty to draw upon according to his needs. It is -scarcely necessary to remind ourselves that it is in Pope’s “Pastorals” -and the “Homer,” not in the “Dunciad” or “The Essay on Man,” that the -stock words, phrases, and similes are to be found, and the remark is -equally true of most of the poets of his period. But Pope has been -unjustly pilloried, for the stock diction did not originate with him. It -is true that the most masterly and finished examples of what is usually -styled “the eighteenth century poetic diction” are to be found in his -work generally, and no doubt the splendour of his translation of Homer -did much to establish a vogue for many of the set words and phrases. At -the same time the supremacy of the heroic couplet which he did so much to -establish played its part in perpetuating the stock diction, the epithets -of which were often technically just what was required to give the -decasyllabic verse the desired “correctness” and “smoothness.” But it is -unjust to saddle him with the responsibility for the lack of originality -evident in many of his successors and imitators. - -The fact that this stock language is not confined to the neo-classical -poets proper, but is found to a large extent persisting to the very end -of the eighteenth century, and even invading the early work of the writer -who led the revolt against it, is indicative of another general cause of -its widespread prevalence. Briefly, it may be said that not only did the -conventional poetic diction reflect in the main the average neo-classical -outlook on external nature; it reflected also the average eighteenth -century view as to the nature of poetical language, which regarded its -words and phrases as satisfying the artistic canon, not in virtue of the -degree in which they reflected the individual thought or emotion of the -poet, but according as they conformed to a standard of language based on -accepted models. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -LATINISM IN EIGHTEENTH CENTURY POETRY - - -There is now to be noticed another type of eighteenth century poetic -diction which was in its way as prevalent, and, it may be added, as -vicious, as the stock diction which has been discussed in the previous -chapter. This was the use of a latinized vocabulary, from the early years -of the century down to the days when the work of Goldsmith, Cowper, and -Crabbe seemed to indicate a sort of interregnum between the old order and -the new. - -This fashion, or craze, for “latinity” was not of course a sudden and -special development which came in with the eighteenth century: it was -rather the culmination of a tendency which was not altogether unconnected -with the historic development of the language itself. As a factor in -literary composition, it had first begun to be discussed when the -Elizabethan critics and men of letters were busying themselves with the -special problem of diction. Latinism was one of the excesses to which -poets and critics alike directed their attention, and their strictures -and warnings were such as were inevitable and salutary in the then -transitional confusion of the language.[90] In the early years of the -seventeenth century this device for strengthening and ornamenting the -language was adopted more or less deliberately by such poets as Phineas -and Giles Fletcher, especially the latter, who makes free use of such -coinages as _elamping_, _appetence_, _elonging_, etc.[91] - -The example of the Fletchers in thus adding to their means of literary -expression was soon to be followed by a greater poet. When Milton came to -write his epics, it is evident, as has been said, that he felt the need -for a diction in keeping with the exalted theme he had chosen, and his -own taste and temperament, as well as the general tendencies of his age, -naturally led him to make use of numerous words of direct or indirect -“classical” origin. But his direct coinages from Latin and Greek are much -less than has often been supposed.[92] What he seems to have done in many -cases was to take words the majority of which had been recently formed, -usually for scientific or philosophic purposes, and incorporate them -in his poetical vocabulary. Thus _Atheous_, _attrite_, _conflagrant_, -_jaculation_, _myrrhine_, _paranymph_, _plenipotent_, etc., are instances -of classical formations which in most cases seem, according to “The New -English Dictionary,” to have made their first literary appearance shortly -before the Restoration. In other instances Milton’s latinisms are much -older.[93] What is important is the fact that Milton was able to infuse -these and many similar words with a real poetic power, and we may be sure -that the use of such words as _ethereal_, _adamantine_, _refulgent_, -_regal_, whose very essence, as has been remarked, is suggestiveness, -rather than close definition, was altogether deliberate.[94] In addition -to this use of a latinized vocabulary, there is a continuous latinism -of construction, which is to be found in the early poems, but which, -as might be expected, is most prominent in the great epics, where -idioms like _after his charge received_ (P.L., V 248), _since first her -salutation heard_ (P.R., II, 107) are frequent.[95] - -Milton, we may say, of purpose prepense made or culled for himself a -special poetical vocabulary which was bound to suffer severely at the -hands of incompetent and uninspired imitators. But though the widespread -use of latinized diction is no doubt largely to be traced to the -influence of Milton at a time when “English verse went Milton mad,” it -may perhaps also be regarded as a practice that reflected to a certain -extent the general literary tendencies of the Augustan age. - -When Milton was writing his great epics Dryden was just beginning his -literary career, but though there are numerous examples of latinisms -in the works of the latter, they are not such as would suggest that he -had been influenced to any extent by the Miltonic manner of creating a -poetical vocabulary. There is little or no coinage of the “magnificent” -words which Milton used so freely, though latinized forms like -_geniture_, _irremeable_, _praescious_, _tralineate_, are frequent. -Dryden, however, as might be expected, often uses words in their original -etymological sense. Thus besides the common use of _prevent_, _secure_, -etc., we find in the translation of the “Metamorphoses”: - - He had either _led_ - Thy mother then, - -where _led_ is used in the sense of Latin _ducere_ (marry) and “_refers_ -the limbs,” where “refers” means “restores.”[96] Examples are few in -Dryden’s original works, but “Annus Mirabilis” furnishes instances like -the _ponderous ball expires_, where “expires” means “is blown forth,” -and “each wonted room _require_” (“seek again”), whilst there is an -occasional reminiscence of such Latin phrases as “manifest of crimes” for -_manifestus sceleris_ (“Ab. and Achit.”). - -What has been said of the latinisms of Dryden applies also to those of -Pope. Words like _prevent_, _erring_, _succeed_, _devious_, _horrid_, -_missive_, _vagrant_, are used with their original signification, and -there are passages like - - For this he bids the _nervous_ artists vie. - -Imitations of Latin constructions are occasionally found: - - Some god has told them, or themselves survey - _The bark escaped_. - -Phrases like “_fulgid_ weapons,” “roseate _unguents_,” “_circumfusile_ -gold,” “_frustrate_ triumphs,” etc., are probably coinages imposed by -the necessities of translation. Other similar phrases, such as (tears) -“_conglobing_ on the dust,” “with _unctuous_ fir _foment_ the flame,” -seem to anticipate something of the absurdity into which this kind of -diction was later to fall.[97] - -On the whole, the latinisms found in the works of Dryden and Pope are not -usually deliberate creations for the purpose of poetic ornament. They -are such as would probably seem perfectly natural in the seventeenth -and early eighteenth century, when the traditions of classical study -still persisted strongly, and when the language of prose itself was still -receiving additions from that source. Moreover, the large amount of -translation done by both poets from the classics was bound to result in -the use of numerous classical terms and constructions. - -In 1705 there appeared the “Splendid Shilling” of John Philips, followed -by his “Cyder” and other poems a year later. These poems are among the -first of the Miltonic parodies or imitations, and, being written in -blank verse, they may be regarded as heralding the struggle against the -tyranny of the heroic couplet. Indeed, blank verse came to be distinctly -associated with the Romantic movement, probably because it was considered -that its structure was more encouraging to the unfettered imagination -than the closed couplets of the classicists. It is thus interesting -to note that the reaction in form, which marks one distinct aspect of -Romanticism, was really responsible for some of the excesses against -which the manifestoes afterwards protested; for it is in these blank -verse poems especially that there was developed a latinism both of -diction and construction that frequently borders on the ludicrous, even -when the poet’s object was not deliberately humorous. - -In “Blenheim” terms and phrases such as _globous iron_, _by chains -connexed_, etc., are frequent, and the attempts at Miltonic effects is -seen in numerous passages like - - Upborne - By frothy billows thousands float the stream - In cumbrous mail, with love of farther shore; - Confiding in their hands, that sed’lous strive - To cut th’ outrageous fluent. - -In “Cyder” latinisms are still more abundant: _the nocent brood_ (of -snails), _treacle’s viscuous juice_, _with grain incentive stored_, _the -defecated liquour_, _irriguous sleep_, as well as passages like - - Nor from the sable ground expect success - Nor from cretacious, stubborn or jejune, - -or - - Bards with volant touch - Traverse loquacious strings. - -This kind of thing became extremely common and persisted throughout the -eighteenth century. - -Incidentally, it may here be remarked that the publication of Philips’s -poems probably gave to Lady Winchilsea a hint for her poem “Fanscombe -Barn.”[98] Philips, as has been noted, was one of the very first to -attempt to use Milton’s lofty diction, and his latinized sentence -structure for commonplace and even trivial themes, and no doubt his -experiment, having attracted Lady Winchilsea’s attention, inspired her -own efforts at Miltonic parody, though it is probably “Cyder” and “The -Splendid Shilling,” rather then “Paradise Lost,” that she takes as her -model. Thus the carousings of the tramps forgathered in Fanscombe Barn -are described: - - the swarthy bowl appears, - Replete with liquor, globulous to fight, - And threat’ning inundation o’er the brim; - -and the whole poem shows traces of its second-hand inspiration. - -Even those who are now remembered chiefly as Spenserian imitators indulge -freely in a latinized style when they take to blank verse. Thus William -Thompson, who in his poem “Sickness” has many phrases like “the arm -_ignipotent_,” “_inundant_ blaze” (Bk. I), “terrestrial stores medicinal” -(Bk. III), with numerous passages, of which the following is typical: - - the poet’s mind - (Effluence essential of heat and light) - Now mounts a loftier wing when Fancy leads - The glittering track, and points him to the sky - Excursive. - - (Bk. IV) - -William Shenstone, the author of one of the most successful of the -Spenserian imitations, is more sparing in this respect, but even in his -case passages such as - - Of words indeed profuse, - Of gold tenacious, their torpescent soul - Clenches their coin, and what electric fire - Shall solve the frosty grip, and bid it flow? - - (“Economy,” Part I) - -are not infrequent. - -But it is not only the mere versifiers who have succumbed to this -temptation. By far the most important of the early blank verse poems -was Thomson’s “Seasons,” which, first appearing from 1726-1730, was -subsequently greatly revised and altered up to the edition of 1746, -the last to be issued in the author’s lifetime.[99] The importance and -success of “The Seasons” as one of the earliest indications of the -“Return to Nature” has received adequate recognition, but Thomson was -an innovator in the style, as well as in the matter, of his poem. As -Dr. Johnson remarked, he saw things always with the eyes of a poet, -and the quickened and revived interest in external nature which he -reflects inevitably impelled him to search for a new diction to give it -expression. We can see him, as it were, at work trying to replace the -current coinage with a new mintage of his own, or rather with a mixed -currency, derived partly from Milton, and partly from his own resources. -His diction is thus in some degrees as artificial as the stock diction -of his period, especially when his attempts to emulate or imitate the -magnificence of Milton betray him into pomposity or even absurdity; but -his poetical language as a whole is leavened with so much that is new and -his very own as to make it clear that the Romantic revival in the style, -as well as in the contents, of poetry has really begun. The resulting -peculiarities of style did not escape notice in his own time. He was -recognized as the creator of a new poetical language, and was severely -criticized even by some of his friends. Thus Somerville urged with -unusual frankness a close revision of the style of “The Seasons”: - - Read Philips much, consider Milton more - But from their dross extract the purer ore: - To coin new words or to restore the old - In southern lands is dangerous and bold; - But rarely, very rarely, will succeed - When minted on the other side of Tweed.[100] - -Thomson’s comment on this criticism was emphatic: “Should I alter my -ways I should write poorly. I must choose what appears to be the most -significant epithet or I cannot proceed.”[101] Hence, though lines and -whole passages of “The Seasons” were revised, and large additions made, -the characteristics of the style were on the whole preserved. And one -of the chief characteristics, due partly to the influence of Milton, -and partly to the obvious fact that for Thomson with new thoughts and -impressions to convey to his readers, the current and conventional -vocabulary of poetry needed reinforcement, is an excessive use of -latinisms.[102] - -Thus in “Spring” we find, e.g., “_prelusive_ drops,” “the _amusive_ arch” -(the rainbow), “the torpid sap _detruded_ to the root,” etc., as well as -numerous passages such as - - Joined to these - Innumerous songsters in the freshening shade - Of new-sprung leaves, their modulations mix - Mellifluous. - - (“Spring,” 607 foll.) - -In “Summer” the epithet _gelid_ appears with almost wearisome iteration, -with other examples like _flexile_ wave, _the fond sequacious bird_, -etc., while the cloud that presages a storm is called “the small -prognostic” and trees are “the noble sons of potent heat and floods.” -Continuous passages betray similar characteristics: - - From thee the sapphire, solid ether, takes - Its hue cerulean and of evening tinct. - - (“Summer,” 149 foll.) - -_Autumn_ furnishes even more surprising instances: the stag “_adhesive_ -to the track,” the sands “strowed _bibulous_ above,” “forests huge -_incult_,” etc., as well as numerous passages of sustained latinism.[103] - -In “Winter,” which grew from an original 405 lines in 1726 to 1,069 lines -in 1746, latinism of vocabulary is not prominent to the same extent as in -the three previous books, but the following is a typical sample: - - Meantime in sable cincture shadows vast - Deep-tinged, and damp and congregated clouds - And all the vapoury turbulence of heaven - Involves the face of things. - - (ll. 54 foll.)[104] - -The revisions after 1730 do not show any great pruning, or less -indulgence in these characteristics; rather the contrary, for many of -them are additions which did not appear until 1744. Now and then Thomson -has changed his terms and epithets. Thus in the lines - - the potent sun - _Melts into_ limpid air the high-raised clouds - - (“Summer,” 199) - -the expression “melts into” has replaced the earlier “attenuates -to.”[105] One of the best of the emendations, at least as regards the -disappearance of a latinism, is seen in “Summer” (48-9), where the second -verse of the couplet, - - The meek-eyed morn appears, mother of dews, - At first _faint-gleaming_ in the dappled east - -has replaced the - - _Mildly elucent_ in the streaky east - -of the earlier version. Often Thomson’s latinisms produce no other effect -on the reader than that of mere pedantry. Thus in passages such as - - See, where the winding vale its lavish stores - _Irriguous_ spreads. See, how the lily drinks - The _latent_ rill. - - (“Spring,” 494) - -or - - the canvas smooth - With glowing life _protuberant_. - - (“Autumn,” 136) - -or - - The fallow ground laid open to the sun - _Concoctive_. - - (_Ibid._, 407) - -or the description of the tempest - - Struggling through the _dissipated_ grove - - (“Winter,” 185)[106] - -(where there is Latin _order_ as well as diction), it is certain that -the terms in question have little or no poetic value, and that simpler -words in nearly every case would have produced greater effects. Now and -then, as later in the case of Cowper, the pedantry is, we may suppose, -deliberately playful, as when he speaks of the cattle that - - ruminate in the contiguous shade - - (“Winter,” 86) - -or indicates a partial thaw by the statement - - Perhaps the vale - relents awhile to the reflected ray. - - (_Ibid._, 784) - -The words illustrated above are rarely, of course, Thomson’s own coinage. -Many of them (e.g. _detruded_, _hyperborean_, _luculent_, _relucent_, -_turgent_) date from the sixteenth century or earlier, though from the -earliest references to them given in the “New English Dictionary” it -may be assumed that Thomson was not always acquainted with the sources -where they are first found, and that to him their “poetic” use is first -due. In some cases Milton was doubtless the immediate source from which -Thomson took such words, to use them with a characteristic looseness of -meaning.[107] - -It would be too much to say that Thomson’s use of such terms arises -merely out of a desire to emulate the “grand style”; it reflects rather -his general predilection for florid and luxurious diction. Moreover, it -has been noted that an analysis of his latinisms seems to point to a -definite scheme of formation. Thus there is a distinct preference for -certain groups of formations, such as adjectives in “-ive” (_affective_, -_amusive_, _excursive_, etc.), or in “-ous” (_irriguous_, _sequacious_), -or Latin participle forms, such as _clamant_, _turgent_, _incult_, etc. -In additions Latin words are frequently used in their original sense, -common instances being _sordid_, _generous_, _error_, _secure_, _horrid_, -_dome_, while his blank verse line was also characterized by the free use -of latinized constructions.[108] Thomson’s frequent use of the sandwiched -noun, “flowing rapture bright” (“Spring,” 1088), “gelid caverns -woodbine-wrought,” (“Summer,” 461), “joyless rains obscure” (“Winter,” -712), often with the second adjective used predicatively or adverbially, - - High seen the Seasons lead, _in sprightly dance_ - _Harmonious knit_, the rosy-fingered hours - - (“Summer,” 1212) - -is also worthy of note. - -Yet it can hardly be denied that the language of “The Seasons” is in -many respects highly artificial, and that Thomson was to all intents -and purposes the creator of a special poetic diction, perhaps even more -so than Gray, who had to bear the brunt of Wordsworth’s fulminations. -But on the whole his balance is on the right side; at a time when the -majority of his contemporaries were either content to draw drafts on -the conventional and consecrated words, phrases, and similes, or were -sedulously striving to ape the polished plainness of Pope, he was able to -show that new powers of expression could well be won from the language. -His nature vocabulary alone is sufficient proof of the value of his -contributions to the poetic wealth of the language, not a few of his -new-formed compounds especially being expressive and beautiful.[109] His -latinisms are less successful because they can hardly be said to belong -to any diction, and for the most part they must be classed among the -“false ornaments” derided by Wordsworth;[110] not only do they possess -none of that mysterious power of suggestion which comes to words in -virtue of their employment through generations of prose and song, but -also not infrequently their meaning is far from clear. They are never the -spontaneous reflection of the poet’s thought, but, on the contrary, they -appear only too often to have been dragged in merely for effect. - -This last remark applies still more forcibly to Somerville’s “Chase,” -which appeared in 1735. Its author was evidently following in the wake of -Thomson’s blank verse, and with this aim freely allows himself the use of -an artificial and inflated diction, as in many passages like - - Cull each salubrious plant, with bitter juice - Concoctive stored, and potent to allay - Each vicious ferment. - -About the same time Edward Young was probably writing his “Night -Thoughts,” though the poem was not published until 1742. Here again -the influence of Thomson is to be seen in the diction, though no -doubt in this case there is also not a little that derives direct -from Milton. Young has Latin formations like _terraqueous_, _to -defecate_, _feculence_, _manumit_, as well as terms such as _avocation_, -_eliminate_, and _unparadize_, used in their original sense. In the -second instalment of the “Night Thoughts” there is a striking increase in -the number of Latin terms, either borrowed directly, or at least formed -on classical roots, some of which must have been unintelligible to many -readers. Thus _indagators_ for “seekers,” _fucus_ for “false brilliance,” -_concertion_ for “intimate agreement,” and _cutaneous_ for “external,” -“skin deep”: - - All the distinctions of this little life - Are quite cutaneous.[111] - -It is difficult to understand the use of such terms when simple native -words were ready at hand, and the explanation must be that they were -thought to add to the dignity of the poem, and to give it a flavour of -scholarship; for the same blemishes appear in most of the works published -at this time. Thus in Akenside’s “Pleasures of the Imagination” (1744) -there is a similar use of latinized terms: _pensile planets_, _passion’s -fierce illapse_, _magnific praise_, though the tendency is best -illustrated in such passages as - - that trickling shower - Piercing through every crystalline convex - Of clustering dewdrops to their flight opposed, - Recoil at length where, concave all behind - The internal surface of each glassy orb - Repels their forward passage into air. - -In “The Poet” there is a striking example of what can only be the -pedantic, even if playful, use of a cumbrous epithet: - - On shelves _pulverulent_, majestic stands - His library. - -Similar examples are to be found in “The Art of Preserving Health” by -John Armstrong, published in the same year as Akenside’s “Pleasures.” -The unpoetical nature of this subject may perhaps be Armstrong’s excuse -for such passages as - - Mournful eclipse or planets ill-combined - Portend disastrous to the vital world; - -but this latinizing tendency was perhaps never responsible for a more -absurd periphrasis than one to be found in the second part of the poem, -which treats of “Diet”: - - Nor does his gorge the luscious bacon rue, - Nor that which Cestria sends, tenacious paste - Of solid milk.[112] - -The high Miltonic manner was likewise attempted by John Dyer in “The -Fleece,” which appeared in 1757, and by James Grainger in “The Sugar -Cane” (1764), to mention only the most important. Dyer, deservedly -praised for his new and fresh descriptive diction, has not escaped this -contagion of latinism: _the globe terraqueous_, _the cerule stream_, -_rich sapinaceous loam_, _detersive bay salt_, etc., while elsewhere -there are obvious efforts to recapture the Miltonic cadence. In “The -Sugar Cane” the tendency is increased by the necessity thrust upon the -poet to introduce numerous technical terms. Thus - - though all thy mills - Crackling, o’erflow with a redundant juice - Poor tastes the liquor; coction long demands - And highest temper, ere it saccharize. - -Meanwhile Joseph Warton had written his one blank verse poem “The -Enthusiast” (1740), when he was only eighteen years old. But though both -he and his brother Thomas are among the most important of the poets -who show the influence of Milton most clearly, that influence reveals -itself rather in the matter of thought than of form, and there is in -“The Enthusiast” little of the diction that marred so many of the blank -verse poems. Only here and there may traces be seen, as in the following -passage: - - fairer she - In innocence and homespun vestments dress’d - Than if cerulean sapphires at her ears - Shone pendent. - -There is still less in the poems of Thomas Warton, who was even a more -direct follower of Milton than his elder brother. There is scarcely one -example of a Latinism in “The Pleasures of Melancholy,” which is really -a companion piece to “The Enthusiast.” The truth is that it was Milton’s -early work—and especially “Il Penseroso”—that affected most deeply these -early Romanticists, and even their blank verse is charged with the -sentiments and phrases of Milton’s octosyllabics. Thus the two poets, who -were among the first to catch something of the true spirit of Milton, -have little or nothing of the cumbersome and pedantic diction found so -frequently in the so-called “Miltonics” of the eighteenth century, and -this in itself is one indication of their importance in the earlier -stages of the Romantic revival. - -This is also true in the case of Collins and Gray, who are the real -eighteenth century disciples of Milton. Collins’s fondness for -personified abstractions may perhaps be attributed to Milton’s influence, -but there are few, if any, traces of latinism in his pure and simple -diction. Gray was probably influenced more than he himself thought by -Milton, and like Milton he made for himself a special poetical language, -which owes not a little to the works of his great exemplar. But Gray’s -keen sense of the poetical value of words, and his laborious precision -and exactness in their use, kept him from any indulgence in coinages. -Only one or two latinisms are to be found in the whole of his work, and -when these do occur they are such as would come naturally to a scholar, -or as were still current in the language of his time. Thus in “The -Progress of Poesy” he has - - this _pencil_ take, - -where “pencil” stands for “brush” (Latin, _pensillum_); whilst in a -translation from Statius he gives to _prevent_ its latinized meaning - - the champions, trembling at the sight - _Prevent_ disgrace. - -There is also a solitary example in the “Elegy” in the line - - Can Honour’s voice _provoke_ the silent dust. - -The contemporary fondness for blank verse had called forth the strictures -of Goldsmith in his “Inquiry into the Present State of Polite Learning,” -and his own smooth and flowing couplets have certainly none of the -pompous epithets which he there condemns. His diction, if we except an -occasional use of the stock descriptive epithets, is admirable alike in -its simplicity and directness, and the two following lines from “The -Traveller” are, with one exception,[113] the only examples of latinisms -to be found in his poems: - - While sea-born gales their _gelid_ wings expand, - -and - - Fall blunted from each _indurated_ heart. - -Dr. Johnson, who represented the extreme classicist position with regard -to blank verse and other tendencies of the Romantic reaction, had a -good deal to say in the aggregate about the poetical language of his -predecessors and contemporaries. But the latinism of the time, which -was widespread enough to have attracted his attention, does not seem to -have provoked from him any critical comment. His own poetical works, -even when we remember the “Vanity of Human Wishes,” where plenty of -instances of Latin idiom are to be found, are practically free from this -kind of diction, though this does not warrant the inference that he -disapproved of it. We know that his prose was latinized to a remarkable -extent, so that his “sesquipedalian terminology” has been regarded as -the fountain-head of that variety of English which delights in “big,” -high-sounding words. But his ideal, we may assume, was the polished and -elegant diction of Pope, and his own verse is as free from pedantic -formations as is “The Lives of the Poets,” which perhaps represents his -best prose. - -It is in the works of a poet who, though he continues certain aspects of -neo-classicism, yet announces unmistakably the coming of the new age, -that we find a marked use of a deliberately latinized diction. Cowper has -always received just praise for the purity of his language; he is, on the -whole, singularly free from the artificialities and inversions which had -marked the accepted poetic diction, but, on the other hand, his language -is latinized to an extent that has perhaps not always been fully realized. - -This is, however, confined to “The Task” and to the translation of -the “Iliad.” In the former case there is first a use of words freely -formed on Latin roots, for most of which Cowper had no doubt abundant -precedents,[114] but which, in some cases, must have been coined by -him, perhaps playfully in some instances; _twisted form vermicular_, -_the agglomerated pile_, _the voluble and restless earth_, etc. Other -characteristics of this latinized style are perhaps best seen in -continuous passages such as - - he spares me yet - These chestnuts ranged in corresponding lines; - And, though himself so polished, still reprieves - The obsolete prolixity of shade - - (Bk. I, ll. 262 foll.) - -or in such a mock-heroic fling as - - The stable yields a stercoraceous heap - Impregnated with quick fermenting salts - And potent to resist the freezing blast. - - (Bk. III, 463)[115] - -On these and many similar occasions Cowper has turned his predilection to -playful account, as also when he diagnoses the symptoms of gout as - - pangs arthritic that infest the toe - Of libertine excess, - -or speaks of monarchs and Kings as - - The arbiters of this terraqueous swamp. - -There is still freer use of latinisms in the “Homer”:[116] _her eyes -caerulean_, _the point innocuous_, _piercing accents stridulous_, _the -triturated barley_, _candent lightnings_, _the inherent barb_, _his -stream vortiginous_, besides such passages as - - nor did the Muses spare to add - Responsive melody of vocal sweets. - -The instances given above fully illustrate on the whole the use of -a latinized diction in eighteenth century poetry.[117] It must not, -however, be supposed that the fashion was altogether confined to the -blank verse poems. Thus Matthew Prior in “Alma,” or “The Progress of the -Mind,” has passages like - - the word obscene - Or harsh which once elanced must ever fly - Irrevocable, - -whilst Richard Savage in his “Wanderer” indulges in such flights as - - his breath - A nitrous damp that strikes petrific death. - -One short stanza by William Shenstone, from his poem “Written in Spring, -1743,” contains an obvious example in three out of its four lines: - - Again the labouring hind inverts the soil, - Again the merchant ploughs the tumid wave, - Another spring renews the soldier’s toil, - And finds me vacant in the rural cave. - -But it is in the blank verse poems that the fashion is most prevalent, -and it is there that it only too often becomes ludicrous. The blind -Milton, dying, lonely and neglected, a stranger in a strange land, is -hardly likely to have looked upon himself as the founder of a “school,” -or to have suspected to what base uses his lofty diction and style were -to be put, within a few decades of his death, by a swarm of poetasters -who fondly regarded themselves as his disciples.[118] The early writers -of blank verse, such as John Philips, frankly avowed themselves imitators -of Milton, and there can be little doubt that in their efforts to -catch something of the dignity and majesty of their model the crowd of -versifiers who then appeared on the scene had recourse to high-sounding -words and phrases, as well as to latinized constructions by which they -hoped to elevate their style. The grand style of “Paradise Lost” was -bound to suffer severely at the hands of imitators, and there can be -little doubt but that much of the preposterous latinizing of the time -is to be traced to this cause. At the same time the influence of the -general literary tendencies of the Augustan ages is not to be ignored in -this connexion. When a diction freely sprinkled with latinized terms is -found used by writers like Thomson in the first quarter, and Cowper at -the end of the century, it may perhaps also be regarded as a mannerism -of style due in some degree to influences which were still powerful -enough to affect literary workmanship. For it must be remembered that in -the eighteenth century the traditional supremacy of Latin had not yet -altogether died out: pulpit and forensic eloquence, as well as the great -prose works of the period, still bore abundant traces of the persistency -of this influence.[119] Hence it need not be at all surprising to find -that it has invaded poetry. The use of latinized words and phrases gave, -or was supposed to give, an air of culture to verse, and contemporary -readers did not always, we may suppose, regard such language as a mere -display of pedantry. - -In this, as in other respects of the poetic output of the period, we may -see a further reflex of the general literary atmosphere of the first half -or so of the eighteenth century. There was no poetry of the highest -rank, and not a great deal of _poetical_ poetry; the bulk of the output -is “poetry without an atmosphere.” The very qualities most admired in -prose—lucidity, correctness, absence of “enthusiasm”—were such as were -approved for poetry; even the Romantic forerunners, with perhaps the -single exception of Blake, felt the pressure of the prosaic atmosphere of -their times. No doubt had a poet of the highest order appeared he would -have swept away much of the accumulated rubbish and fashioned for himself -a new poetic language, as Thomson tried, and Wordsworth later thought to -do. But he did not appear, and the vast majority of the practitioners -were content to ring the changes on the material they found at hand, and -were not likely to dream of anything different. - -It is thus not sufficient to say that the “rapid and almost simultaneous -diffusion of this purely cutaneous eruption,” to borrow an appropriate -description from Lowell, was due solely to the potent influence of -Milton. It reflects also the average conception of poetry held throughout -a good part of the eighteenth century, a conception which led writers -to seek in mere words qualities which are to be found in them only when -they are the reflex of profound thought or powerful emotion. In short, -latinism in eighteenth century poetry may be regarded as a literary -fashion, akin in nature to the stock epithets and phrases of the -“descriptive” poetry, which were later to be unsparingly condemned as the -typical eighteenth century poetical diction. - -Of the poetic value of these latinized words little need be said. Whether -or no they reflect a conscious effort to extend, enrich, or renew the -vocabulary of English poetry, they cannot be said to have added much -to the expressive resources of the language. This is not, of course, -merely because they are of direct Latin origin. We know that around -the central Teutonic core of English there have slowly been built up -two mighty strata of Latin and Romance formations, which, in virtue of -their long employment by writers in prose and verse, as well as on the -lips of the people, have slowly acquired that force and picturesqueness -which the poet needs for his purpose. But the latinized words of the -eighteenth century are on a different footing. To us, nowadays, there -is something pretentious and pedantic about them: they are artificial -formations or adoptions, and not living words. English poets from time -to time have been able to give a poetical colouring to such words,[120] -and the eighteenth century is not without happy instances of this power. -James Thomson here and there wins real poetic effects from his latinized -vocabulary, as in such a passage as - - Here lofty trees to ancient song unknown - The noble sons of potent heat and floods - Prone-rushing from the clouds, rear high to heaven - Their thorny stems, and broad around them throw - Meridian gloom. - - (“Summer,” 653 foll.)[121] - -The “return to Nature,” of which Thomson was perhaps the most noteworthy -pioneer, brought back all the sights and sounds of outdoor life as -subjects fit and meet for the poet’s song, and it is therefore of some -interest, in the present connexion, to note that Wordsworth himself, who -also knew how to make excellent use of high-sounding Latin formations, -has perhaps nowhere illustrated this faculty better than in the famous -passage on the Yew Trees of Borrowdale: - - Those fraternal Four of Borrowdale - Joined in one solemn and capacious grove: - Huge trunks! and each particular trunk a growth - Of intertwisted fibres serpentine - Upcoiling, and inveterately convolved; - Nor uninformed with Phantasy, and looks - That threaten the profane. - -But the bulk of eighteenth century latinisms fall within a different -category; rarely do they convey, either in themselves or in virtue -of their context, any of that mysterious power of association which -constitutes the poetic value of words and enables the writer, whether in -prose or verse, to convey to his reader delicate shades of meaning and -suggestion which are immediately recognized and appreciated. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -ARCHAISM IN EIGHTEENTH CENTURY POETRY - - -One of the earliest and most significant of those literary manifestations -which were to culminate in the triumph of Romanticism was a new enkindled -interest in the older English writers. The attitude of the great body -of the so-called “Classicists” towards the earlier English poetry was -not altogether one of absolute contempt: it was rather marked by that -indifference which is the outcome of ignorance. Readers and authors, with -certain illustrious exceptions, were totally unacquainted with Chaucer, -and though Spenser fared better, even those who did know him did not at -first consider him worthy of serious study.[122] Yet the Romantic rebels, -by their attempts to imitate Spenser, and to reveal his poetic genius to -a generation of unbelievers, did work of immediate and lasting value. - -It is perhaps too much to claim that some dim perception of the poetic -value of old words contributed in any marked degree to this Spenserian -revival in the eighteenth century. Yet it can hardly be doubted that -Spenser’s language, imperfectly understood and at first considered -“barbarous,” or “Gothic,” or at best merely “quaint,” came ultimately to -be regarded as supplying something of that atmosphere of “old romance” -which was beginning to captivate the hearts and minds of men. This -is not to say that there was any conscious or deliberate intention of -freshening or revivifying poetic language by an infusion of old or -“revived” words. But the Spenserian and similar imitations naturally -involved the use of such words, and they thus made an important -contribution to the Romantic movement on its purely formal side; they -played their part in destroying the pseudo-classical heresy that the -best, indeed the only, medium for poetic expression was the polished -idiom of Pope and his school. - -The poets and critics of Western Europe, who, as we have seen, in the -sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries had busied themselves with the -question of refining and embellishing their mother tongue, had advocated -among other means the revival of archaic and obsolete words. Spenser -himself, we know, had definitely adopted this means in the “Shepherds -Kalendar,” though the method of increasing his poetical vocabulary -had not been approved by all of his contemporaries and successors. -Milton, when forming the special poetical language he needed for his -immense task, confined himself largely to “classical” coinages, and -his archaisms, such as _swinkt_, _rathe_, _nathless_, _frore_, are -comparatively few in number.[123] - -Dryden’s attitude towards old words was stated with his customary -good sense, and though his modernization of Chaucer gave him endless -opportunities of experimenting with them, he never abused the advantage, -and indeed in all his work there is but little trace of the deliberate -revival of obsolete or archaic words. In the “Fables” may be found a few -words such as _sounded_[124] (swounded) which had been used by Malory -and Spenser, _laund_ for (lawn), _rushed_ (cut-off), etc., and he has -also Milton’s _rathe_. Dryden, however, is found using a large number of -terms which were evidently obsolete in the literary language, but which, -it may be supposed, still lingered in the spoken language, and especially -in the provincial dialects. He is fond of the word _ken_ (to know), and -amongst other examples are _stead_ (place), _to lease_ (glean), _shent_ -(rebuked), _hattered_ (worn out), _dorp_ (a village), _buries_ (burrows), -etc. Dryden is also apparently responsible for the poetic use of the term -“_doddered_,” a word of somewhat uncertain meaning, which, after his time -and following his practice, came into common use as an epithet for old -oaks, and, rarely, for other trees.[125] - -As might be expected, there are few traces of the use of obsolete or -archaic words in the works of Pope. The “correct” style did not favour -innovations in language, whether they consisted in the formation of -new words or in the revival of old forms. Pope stated in a letter to -Hughes, who edited Spenser’s works (1715), that “Spenser has been ever a -favourite poet to me,”[126] but among the imitations “done by the Author -in his Youth,” there is “The Alley,” a very coarse parody of Spenser, -which does not point to any real appreciation or understanding on the -part of Pope. In the first book of the “Dunciad” as we have seen, he -indulged in a fling at the antiquaries, especially Hearne and those who -took pleasure in our older literature, by means of a satiric stanza -written in a pseudo-archaic language.[127] But his language is much -freer than that of Dryden from archaisms or provincialisms. He has forms -like _gotten_, _whelm_ (overwhelm), _rampires_ (ramparts), _swarths_, -_catched_ (caught), _thrice-ear’d_ (ploughed), etc. Neither Dryden nor -Pope, it may be said, would ever have dreamed of reviving an archaic -word simply because it was an old word, and therefore to be regarded as -“poetical.” To imagine this is to attribute to the seventeenth and early -eighteenth centuries a state of feeling which is essentially modern, -and which lends a glamour to old and almost forgotten words. Dryden -would accept any word which he considered suitable for his purpose, but -he always insisted that old words had to prove their utility, and that -they had otherwise no claim to admission to the current vocabulary. -Pope, however, we may suspect, would not admit any words not immediately -intelligible to his readers, or requiring a footnote to explain them. - -Meanwhile, in the year 1715, there had appeared the first attempt to -give a critical text of Spenser, when John Hughes published his edition -of the poet’s works in six volumes, together with a biography, a -glossary, and some critical remarks.[128] The obsolete terms which Hughes -felt himself obliged to explain[129] include many, such as _aghast_, -_baleful_, _behest_, _bootless_, _carol_, _craven_, _dreary_, _forlorn_, -_foray_, _guerdon_, _plight_, _welkin_, _yore_, which are now for the -most part familiar words, though forty years later Thomas Warton in his -“Observations on The Faerie Queene” (1754) is found annotating many -similar terms. The well-known “Muses’ Library,” published thirteen years -previously, had described itself as “A General Collection of almost all -the old and valuable poetry extant, now so industriously inquir’d after”; -it begins with Langland and reflects the renewed interest that was -arising in the older poets. But there is as yet little evidence of any -general and genuine appreciation of either the spirit or the form of the -best of the earlier English poetry. The Spenserian imitators undoubtedly -felt that their diction must look so obsolete and archaic as to call for -a glossary of explanation, and these glossaries were often more than -necessary, not only to explain the genuine old words, but also because -of the fact that in many cases the supposedly “Spenserian” terms were -spurious coinages devoid of any real meaning at all. - -Before considering these Spenserian imitations it must not be forgotten -that there were, prior to these attempts and alongside of them, kindred -efforts to catch the manner and style of Chaucer. This practice received -its first great impulse from Dryden’s famous essay in praise of Chaucer, -and the various periodicals and miscellanies of the first half of the -eighteenth century bear witness to the fact that many eminent poets, not -to mention a crowd of poetasters, thought it their duty to publish a -poetical tribute couched in the supposed language and manner of Chaucer. - -These attempts were nearly all avowedly humorous,[130] and seemed based -on a belief that the very language of Chaucer was in some respects -suitable comic material for a would-be humorous writer. Such an attitude -was obviously the outcome of a not unnatural ignorance of the historical -development of the language. Chaucer’s language had long been regarded -as almost a dead language, and this attitude had persisted even to -the eighteenth century, so that it was felt that a mastery of the -language of the “Canterbury Tales” required prolonged study. Even Thomas -Warton, speaking of Chaucer, was of the opinion that “his uncouth and -unfamiliar language disgusts and deters many readers.”[131] Hence it -is not surprising that there was a complete failure to catch, not only -anything of the real spirit of Chaucer, but also anything that could -be described as even a distant approach to his language. The imitators -seemed to think that fourteenth century English could be imitated by the -use of common words written in an uncommon way, or of strange terms with -equally strange meanings. The result was an artificial language that -could never have been spoken by anybody, often including words to which -it is impossible to give any definite sense. It would seem that only two -genuine Chaucerian terms had really been properly grasped, and this pair, -ne and eke, is in consequence worked to death. Ignorance of the earlier -language naturally led to spurious grammatical forms, of which the most -favoured was a singular verb form ending in -_en_. Gay, for instance, -has, in a poem of seventeen lines, such phrases as “It maken doleful -song,” “There _spreaden_ a rumour,”[132] whilst Fenton writes, - - If in mine quest thou _falsen_ me.[133] - -The general style and manner of these imitations, with their “humorous” -tinge, their halting verse, bad grammar, and impossible inflections -are well illustrated in William Thompson’s “Garden Inscription—Written -in Chaucer’s Bowre,” though more serious efforts were not any more -successful. - -The death of Pope, strangely enough, called forth more than one attempt, -among them being Thomas Warton’s imitation of the characterization of the -birds from the “Parliament of Fowles.”[134] Better known at the time -was the monody “Musæus,” written by William Mason, “To the memory of Mr. -Pope.” Chaucer, Spenser, and Milton are represented as coming to mourn -the inevitable loss of him who was about to die, and Mason endeavoured to -reproduce their respective styles, “Tityrus” (Chaucer) holding forth in -this strain: - - Mickle of wele betide thy houres last - For mich gode wirke to me don and past. - For syn the days whereas my lyre ben strongen, - And deftly many a mery laie I songen, - Old Time which alle things don maliciously, - Gnawen with rusty tooth continually, - Grattrid my lines, that they all cancrid ben - Till at the last thou smoothen hem hast again. - -It is astonishing to think that this mechanical imitation, with its -harsh and forced rhythm, and its almost doggerel language, was regarded -at the time as a successful reproduction of Chaucer’s manner and style. -But probably before 1775, when Tyrwhitt announced his rediscovery of the -secret of Chaucer’s rhythm, few eighteenth century readers suspected its -presence at all. - -But the Chaucerian imitations were merely a literary fashion predoomed -to failure. It was not in any way the result of a genuine influence -of the early English poetry on contemporary taste, and thus it was -not even vitalized, as was the Spenserian revival, by a certain vague -and undefined desire to catch something at least of the spirit of the -“Faerie Queene.” The Spenserian imitations had a firmer foundation, and -because the best of them did not confine their ambition altogether to -the mechanical imitation of Spenser’s style in the narrower sense they -achieved a greater measure of success. - -It is significant to note that among the first attempts at a Spenserian -imitation was that made by one of the foremost of the Augustans. This -was Matthew Prior, who in 1706 published his “Ode, Humbly Inscribed to -the Queen on the Glorious success of Her Majesty’s Arms, Written in -Imitation of Spenser’s Style.”[135] We are surprised, however, to find -when we have read his Preface, that Prior’s aim was in reality to write -a poem on the model of Horace and of Spenser. The attitude in which he -approached Spenser’s language is made quite clear by his explanation. -He has “avoided such of his words as I found too obsolete. I have -however retained some few of them to make the colouring look more like -Spenser’s.” Follows then a list of such words, including “_behest_, -command; _band_, army; _prowess_, strength; _I weet_, I know; _I ween_, I -think; _whilom_, heretofore; and two or three more of that kind.” Though -later in his Preface Prior speaks of the _curiosa felicitas_ of Spenser’s -diction, it is evident that there is little or no real understanding or -appreciation. - -Now began a continuous series of Spenserian imitations,[136] of which, -with a few exceptions, the only distinguishing characteristic was a small -vocabulary of obsolete words, upon which the poetasters could draw for -the “local colour” considered necessary. In the majority of cases the -result was a purely artificial language, probably picked haphazard from -the “Faerie Queene,” and often used without any definite idea of its -meaning or appropriateness.[137] Fortunately, one or two real poets were -attracted by the idea, and in due course produced their “imitations.” - -William Shenstone (1714-1763) is perhaps worthy of being ranked amongst -these, in virtue at least of “The Schoolmistress,” which appeared in its -final shape in 1742. Shenstone himself confesses that the poem was not -at first intended to be a serious imitation, but his study of Spenser -led him gradually to something like a real appreciation of the earlier -poet.[138] - -“The Schoolmistress” draws upon the usual common stock of old words: -_whilom_, _mickle_, _perdie_, _eke_, _thik_, etc., but often, as in the -case of Spenser himself, the obsolete terms have a playful and humorous -effect: - - For they in gaping wonderment abound - And think, no doubt, she been the greatest wight on ground. - -Nor is there lacking a quaint, wistful tenderness, as in the description -of the refractory schoolboy, who, after being flogged, - - Behind some door, in melancholy thought, - Mindless of food, he, dreary caitiff, pines, - Ne for his fellows joyaunce careth aught, - But to the wind all merriment resigns. - -Hence “The Schoolmistress” is no mere parody or imitation: there is -a real and tender humanity in the description of the village school -(adumbrating, it would seem, Goldsmith’s efforts with a similar theme), -whilst the judicious use of Spenser’s stanza and the sprinkling of his -old words help to invest the whole poem with an atmosphere of genuine and -unaffected humour. - -The next Spenserian whose work merits attention is William Thompson, who, -it would seem, had delved not a little into the Earlier English poetry, -and who was one of the first to capture something of the real atmosphere -of the “Faerie Queene.” His “Epithalamium”[139] and “The Nativity,”[140] -which appeared in 1736, are certainly among the best of the imitations. -It is important to note that, while there is a free use of supposedly -archaic words, with the usual list of _certes_, _perdie_, _sikerly_, -_hight_, as well as others less common, such as _belgards_ (“beautiful -looks”), _bonnibel_ (“beautiful virgin”), there is no abuse of the -practice. Not a little of the genuine spirit of Spenser’s poetry, with -its love of nature and outdoor life, has been caught and rendered without -any lavish recourse to an artificial and mechanical diction, as a stanza -from “The Nativity,” despite its false rhymes, will perhaps show: - - Eftsoons he spied a grove, the Season’s pride, - All in the centre of a pleasant glade, - Where Nature flourished like a virgin bride, - Mantled with green, with hyacinths inlaid, - And crystal-rills o’er beds of lilies stray’d: - The blue-ey’d violet and King-cup gay, - And new blown roses, smiling sweetly red, - Out-glow’d the blushing infancy of Day - While amorous west-winds kist their fragrant souls away. - -This cannot altogether be said of the “Hymn to May” published over twenty -years later,[141] despite the fact that Thompson himself draws attention -to the fact that he does not consider that a genuine Spenserian imitation -may be produced by scattering a certain number of obsolete words through -the poem. Nevertheless, we find that he has sprinkled his “Hymn” -plentifully with “obsolete” terms, though they include a few, such as -_purfled_, _dispredden_, _goodlihead_, that were not the common property -of the poetasters. His explanations of the words so used show that not a -few of them were used with little knowledge of their original meaning, as -when he defines _glen_[142] as “a country hamlet,” or explains _perdie_ -as “an old word for saying anything.” It is obvious also that many -obsolete terms are often simply stuck in the lines when their more modern -equivalents would have served equally well, as for instance, - - Full suddenly the seeds of joy _recure_ (“recover”), - -or - - Myrtles to Venus _algates_ sacred been. - -With these reservations the diction of Thompson’s poems is pure and -unaffected, and the occasional happy use of archaism is well illustrated -in more than one stanza of “The Nativity.” - -It is generally agreed that the best of all the Spenserian imitations -is “The Castle of Indolence,” which James Thomson published two months -before his death in 1748.[143] Yet even in this case there is evident a -sort of quiet condescension, as if it were in Thompson’s mind that he -was about to draw the attention of his eighteenth century audience to -something quaint and old-fashioned, but which had yet a charm of its -own. “The obsolete words,” he writes in his “advertisement” to the poem, -“and a simplicity of diction in some of the lines, which borders on the -ludicrous, were necessary to make the imitation more perfect.” Hence -he makes use of a number of words intended to give an archaic air to -his poem, including the usual _certes_, _withouten_, _sheen_, _perdie,_ -_weet_, _pleasaunce_, _ycleped_, etc. To the first edition was appended -a page of explanation of these and other “obsolete words used in this -poem”: altogether between seventy and eighty such words are thus glossed, -the large majority of which are familiar enough nowadays, either as part -of the ordinary vocabulary, or as belonging especially to the diction of -poetry. - -Though the archaisms are sometimes scattered in a haphazard manner, they -are not used with such mechanical monotony as is obvious in the bulk -of the Spenserian imitations. In both cantos there are long stretches -without a single real or pseudo-archaism, and indeed, when Thomson is -indulging in one of the moral or the didactic surveys characteristic -of his age, as, for instance, when the bard, invoked by Sir Industry, -breaks into a long tirade on the Supreme Perfection (Canto II, 47-61) -his diction is the plain and unadorned idiom perfected by Pope.[144] Yet -Thompson occasionally yields to the fascination of the spurious form in -_-en_,[145] as - - But these I _passen_ by with nameless numbers moe - - (Canto I., 56) - -or - - And taunts he _casten_ forth most bitterly. - - (Canto II, 78) - -Sometimes it would seem that his archaisms owe their appearance to the -necessities of rhyme, as in - - So worked the wizard wintry storms to swell - As heaven and earth they would together _mell_ - - (Canto I, 43) - -and - - Or the brown fruit with which the woodlands teem: - The same to him glad summer, or the winter _breme_. - - (Canto II, 7) - -There are lines too where we feel that the archaisms have been dragged -in; for example, - - As _soot_ this man could sing as morning lark - - (Canto I, 57) - -(though there is here perhaps the added charm of a Chaucerian -reminiscence); or - - _replevy_ cannot be - From the strong, iron grasp of vengeful destiny. - - (Canto II, 32) - -But, on the whole, he has been successful in his efforts, half-hearted -as they sometimes seem, to give an old-world atmosphere to his poem by -a sprinkling of archaisms, and it is then that we feel in _The Castle -of Indolence_ something at least of the beauty and charm of “the poet’s -poet,” as in the well-known stanza describing the valley of Idlesse with -its - - waters sheen - That, as they bickered[146] through the sunny glade, - Though restless still, themselves a lulling murmur made. - - (Canto I, 3) - -Though the Spenserian imitations continued beyond the year which saw -the birth of Wordsworth,[147] it is not necessary to mention further -examples, except perhaps that of William Mickle, who, in 1767, published -“The Concubine,” a Spenserian imitation of two cantos, which afterwards -appeared in a later edition (1777) under the title “Sir Martyn.” Like -his predecessors, Mickle made free use of obsolete spellings and words, -while he added the usual glossary, which is significant as showing at -the end of the eighteenth century, about the time when Tyrwhitt was -completing his edition of Chaucer, not only the artificial character of -this “Spenserian diction,” but also the small acquaintance of the average -man of letters with our earlier language.[148] - -It must not be assumed, of course, that all the “obsolete” words used by -the imitators were taken directly from Spenser. Words like _nathless_, -_rathe_, _hight_, _sicker_, _areeds_, _cleeped_, _hardiment_, _felly_, -etc., had continued in fairly common use until the seventeenth century, -though actually some of them were regarded even then as archaisms. -Thus _cleoped_, though never really obsolete, is marked by Blount in -1656 as “Saxon”; _sicker_, extensively employed in Middle English, is -rarely found used after 1500 except by Scotch writers, though it still -remains current in northern dialects. On the other hand, not a few words -were undoubtedly brought directly back into literature from the pages -of Spenser, among them being _meed_, _sheen_ (boasting an illustrious -descent from _Beowulf_ through Chaucer), _erst_, _elfin_, _paramour_. -Others, like _scrannel_, and apparently also _ledded_, were made familiar -by Milton’s use the former either being the poet’s own coinage or his -borrowing from some dialect or other. On the other hand, very many of the -“revived” words failed to take root at all, such as _faitours_, which -Spenser himself had apparently revived, and also his coinage _singult_, -though Scott is found using the latter form. - -As has been said, the crowd of poetasters who attempted to reproduce -Spenser’s spirit and style thought to do so by merely mechanical -imitation of what they regarded as his “quaint” or “ludicrous” diction. -Between them and any possibility of grasping the perennial beauty -and charm of the “poet’s poet” there was a great gulf fixed, whilst, -altogether apart from this fatal limitation, then parodies were little -likely to have even ephemeral success, for parody presupposes in its -readers at least a little knowledge and appreciation of the thing -parodied. But there were amongst the imitators one or two at least who, -we may imagine, were able to find in the melody and romance of “The -Faerie Queene” an avenue of escape from the prosaic pressure of their -times. In the case of William Thompson, Shenstone, and the author of -the “Castle of Indolence,” the influence of Spenser revealed itself as -in integral and vital part of the Romantic reaction, for these, being -real poets, had been able to recapture something at least of the colour, -music, and fragrance of their original. And not only did these, helped -by others whose names have all but been forgotten restore a noble stanza -form to English verse. Even their mechanical imitation of Spenser’s -language was not without its influence, for it cannot be doubted that -these attempts to write in an archaic or pseudo-archaic style did not a -little to free poetry from the shackles of a conventional language. - -This process was greatly helped by that other aspect of the eighteenth -century revival of the past which was exemplified in the publication of -numerous collections of old ballads and songs.[149] There is, of course, -as Macaulay long ago noted, a series of conventional epithets that is -one mark of the genuine ballad manner, but the true ballad language -was not a lifeless stereotyped diction. It consisted of “plain English -without any trimmings.” The ballads had certain popular mannerisms -(_the good greenwood_, _the wan water_, etc.), but they were free from -the conventional figures of speech, or such rhetorical artifices as -personification and periphrasis. - -Hence it is not surprising that at first their fresh and spontaneous -language was regarded, when contrasted with the artificial and refined -diction of the time, as “barbarous” or “rude.” Thus Prior thought it -necessary to paraphrase the old ballad of the “Nut Brown Maid” into his -insipid “Henry and Emma” (1718), but a comparison of only a few lines of -the original with the banality of the modernized version is sufficient -testimony to the refreshing and vivifying influence of such collections -as the “Reliques.” - -The tendency to present the old ballads in an eighteenth century dress -had soon revealed itself; at least, the editors of the early collections -often felt themselves obliged to apologize for the obsolete style of -their material.[150] But in 1760 the first attempt at a critical text -appeared when Edward Capell, the famous Shakespearian editor, published -his “Prolusions”; or “Select Pieces of Antient Poetry—compil’d with -great Care from their several Originals, and offer’d to the Publick as -specimens of the Integrity that should be found in the Editions of worthy -Authors.” Capell’s care was almost entirely directed to ensuring textual -accuracy, but the “Nut-Browne Maid,” the only ballad included, receives -sympathetic mention in his brief _Preface_.[151] - -Five years later, the most famous of all the ballad collections appeared, -Thomas Percy’s “Reliques of Ancient English Poetry” (1765). The nucleus -of Percy’s collection was a certain manuscript in a handwriting of -Charles I’s time, containing 191 songs and ballads, but he had also had -access to various other manuscript collections, whilst he was quite ready -to acknowledge that he had filled gaps in his originals with stanzas and, -in some cases, with nearly entire poems of his own composition. Much -censure has been heaped upon Percy for his apparent lax ideas on the -functions of an editor, but in decking out his “parcel of old ballads” -in the false and affected style of his age, he was only doing his best -to meet the taste of his readers. He himself passes judgment on his own -labours, when, alongside of the genuine old ballads, with their freshness -and simplicity of diction, he places his own “pruned” or “refined” -versions, or additions, garbed in a sham and sickly idiom. - -It was not until over a century later, when Percy’s folio manuscript was -copied and printed,[152] that the extent of his additions, alterations, -and omissions were fully realized, though at the same time it was -admitted that the pruning and refining was not unskilfully done. - -Nevertheless the influence of the “Reliques,” as a vital part of the -Romantic revival, was considerable:[153] it was as if a breath of “the -wind on the heath” had swept across literature and its writers, bringing -with it an invigorating fragrance and freshness, whilst, on the purely -formal side, the genuine old ballads, which Percy had culled and printed -untouched, no doubt played their part in directing the attention of -Wordsworth to the whole question of the language of poetry. And when the -great Romantic manifestoes on the subject of “the language of metrical -composition” were at length launched, their author was not slow to bear -witness to the revivifying influence of the old ballads on poetic form. -“Our poetry,” he wrote, “has been absolutely redeemed by it. I do not -think that there is an able writer in verse of the present day who would -not be proud to acknowledge his obligations to the “Reliques.”[154] - -The year before the appearance of the “Reliques,” Thomas Chatterton had -published his “Rowley Poems,” and this attempt of a poet of genius to -pass off his poems as the work of a mediaeval English writer is another -striking indication of the new Romantic spirit then asserting itself. As -for the pseudo-archaic language in which Chatterton with great labour -clothed his “revivals,” there is no need to say much. It was a thoroughly -artificial language, compiled, as Skeat has shown, from various sources, -such as John Kersey’s “Dictionarium Anglo-Brittanicum,” three editions -of which had appeared before 1721. In this work there are included a -considerable number of obsolete words, chiefly from Spenser and his -contemporaries, marked “O,” and in some cases erroneously explained. This -dictionary was the chief source of Chatterton’s vocabulary, many words of -which the young poet took apparently without any definite idea of their -meaning.[155] - -Yet in the Rowley poems there are passages where the pseudo-archaic -language is quite in keeping with the poet’s theme and treatment, whilst -here and there we come across epithets and lines which, even in their -strange dress, are of a wild and artless sweetness, such as - - Where thou mayst here the sweete night-lark chant, - Or with some mocking brooklet sweetly glide, - -or the whole of the first stanza of the famous “An Excelente Balade -of Charitie,” where the old words help to transport us at once into -the fictitious world which Chatterton had made for himself. Perhaps, -as has been suggested, the “Rowley dialect” was not, as we nowadays, -with Skeat’s analysis in our minds, are a little too apt to believe, a -deliberate attempt to deceive, but rather reflected an attempt to escape -from the dead abstract diction of the period.[156] - -Apart from this special aspect of the Romantic revival marked by a -tendency to look back lovingly to the earlier English poetry, there are -few traces of the use of archaic and obsolete words, at least of such -words used consciously, in eighteenth century poetry. The great poets of -the century make little or no use of them. Collins has no examples, but -Gray, who began by advocating the poet’s right to use obsolete words, -and later seemed to recant, now and then uses an old term, as when in his -translation from Dante he writes: - - The anguish that unuttered _nathless_ wrings - My inmost heart. - -Blake, however, it is interesting to note, often used archaic forms, or -at least archaic spellings,[157] as _Tyger_, _antient_ (“To the Muses”), -“the _desart_ wild” (“The Little Girl Lost”), as well as such lines as - - In lucent words my darkling verses dight - - (“Imitation of Spenser”) - -or - - So I piped with merry _chear_. - - (Introduction to “Songs of Innocence”) - -Perhaps by these means the poet wished to give a quaint or old-fashioned -look to his verses, though it is to be remembered that most of them occur -in the “Poetical Sketches,” which are avowedly Elizabethan. - -The use of archaic and obsolete words in the eighteenth century was -then chiefly an outcome of that revival of the past which was one of -the characteristics of the new Romantic movement, and which was later -to find its culmination in the works of Scott. The old words used by -the eighteenth century imitators of Spenser were not often used, we may -imagine, because poets saw in them poetical beauty and value; most often -they were the result of a desire to catch, as it were, something of the -“local colour” of the “Faerie Queene,” just as modern writers nowadays, -poets and novelists alike, often draw upon local dialects for new means -of expression. The Spenserian imitations recovered not a few words, -such as _meed_, _sheen_, _dight_, _glen_,[158] which have since been -regarded as belonging especially to the diction of poetry, and when the -Romantic revival had burst into life the impulse, which had thus been -unconsciously given, was continued by some of its great leaders. Scott, -as is well known, was an enthusiastic lover of our older literature, -especially the ballads, from which he gleaned many words full of a beauty -and charm which won for them immediate admission into the language of -poetry; at the same time he was able to find many similar words in the -local dialects of the lowlands and the border. Perhaps in this work he -had been inspired by his famous countryman, Robert Burns, who by his -genius had raised his native language, with its stores of old and vivid -words and expressions, to classical rank.[159] - -Nevertheless it is undoubted that the main factor in the new Romantic -attitude towards old words had been the eighteenth century imitations -and collections of our older English literature. Coleridge, it is to -be remembered, made free use of archaisms; in the “Ancient Mariner,” -there are many obsolete forms: _loon_, _eftsoons_, _uprist_, _gramercy_, -_gossameres_, _corse_, etc., besides those which appeared in the first -edition, and were altered or omitted when the poem reappeared in -1800. Wordsworth, it is true, made no use of archaic diction, whether -in the form of deliberate revivals, or by drafts on the dialects, -which, following the great example of Burns, and in virtue of his -own “theories,” he might have been expected to explore. Nevertheless -the “theories” concerning poetical language which he propounded and -maintained are not without their bearing on the present question. -Reduced to their simplest terms, the manifestoes, while passing judgment -on the conventional poetical diction, conceded to the poet the right of -a style in keeping with his subject and inspiration, and Wordsworth’s -successors for the most part, so far as style in the narrower sense of -_vocabulary_ is concerned, did not fail to reap the benefits of the -emancipation won for them. And among the varied sources upon which they -began to draw for fresh reserves of diction were the abundant stores of -old words, full of colour and energy, to be gleaned from the pages of -their great predecessors. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -COMPOUND EPITHETS IN EIGHTEENTH CENTURY POETRY - - -It is proposed in this chapter to examine in some detail the use of -compound epithets in the poetry of the eighteenth century. For this -purpose the following grammatical scheme of classification has been -adopted from various sources:[160] _First Type_, noun _plus_ noun; -_Second Type_, noun _plus_ adjective; _Third Type_, noun _plus_ present -participle; _Fourth Type_, noun _plus_ past participle; _Fifth Type_, -adjective, or adjective used adverbially, _plus_ another part of speech, -usually a participle; _Sixth Type_, true adverb _plus_ a participle; -_Seventh Type_, adjective _plus_ noun plus -_ed_. Of these types it -will be evident in many cases that the first (noun _plus_ noun) and the -sixth (true adverb _plus_ participle) are not compounds at all, for the -hyphen could often be removed without any change or loss of meaning. -Occasionally the compounds will be regarded from the point of view of the -logical relation between the two elements, when a formal classification -may usually be made as follows: (_a_) _Attributive_, as in “anger-glow”; -(_b_) _Objective_, as in “anger-kindling”; (_c_) _Instrumental_, as in -“anger-boiling.” This scheme of classification permits of an examination -of the compounds from the formal point of view, whilst at the same time -it does not preclude an estimate of the æsthetic value of the new words -thus added to the language of poetry.[161] - -It may be said, to begin with, that the formation and use of compound -epithets has always been one of the distinguishing marks of the special -language of poetry in English, as distinct from that of prose. The very -ease with which they can be formed out of the almost inexhaustible -resources of the English vocabulary has been a constant source of -temptation to poets with new things to say, or new impressions to -describe. Moreover, the partial disappearance of inflections in modern -English has permitted of a vagueness in the formation of compound words, -which in itself is of value to the word-maker. Though, of course, it is -possible in most cases accurately to analyse the logical relation between -the elements of a compound, yet it sometimes happens, especially with the -compound epithets of poetry, that this cannot be done with certainty, -because the new formation may have been the result of a hasty but happy -inspiration, with no regard to the regular rules of composition.[162] -Hence, from one point of view, the free formation of compounds is -a legitimate device allowed to the poets, of which the more severe -atmosphere of prose is expected to take less advantage; from another -point of view, the greater prevalence of the compound in poetry may not -be unconnected with the rhythm of verse. Viewed in this light, the use -of compound epithets in our poetry at any period may well have been -conditioned, in part at least, by the metrical form in which that poetry -received expression; and thus in the poetry of the eighteenth century it -connects itself in some degree—first, with the supremacy of the heroic -couplet, and later with the blank verse that proved to be the chief rival -of the decasyllabic. - -The freedom of construction which facilitates the formation of compounds -had already in the earliest English period contributed to that special -poetic diction which is a distinguishing mark of Anglo-Saxon verse, as -indeed of all the old Germanic poetry; of the large number of words not -used in Anglo-Saxon prose, very many are synonymous compounds meaning -the same thing.[163] During the Middle English period, and especially -before the triumph of the East Midland dialect definitely prepared -the way for Modern English, it would seem that the language lost much -of its old power of forming compounds, one explanation being that the -large number of French words, which then came into the language, drove -out many of the Old English compounds, whilst at the same time these -in-comers, so easily acquired, tended to discourage the formation of new -compounds.[164] It was not until the great outburst of literary activity -in the second half of the sixteenth century that a fresh impetus was -given to the formation of compound nouns and epithets. The large number -of classical translations especially exercised an important influence in -this respect: each new translation had its quota of fresh compounds, but -Chapman’s “Homer” may be mentioned as especially noteworthy.[165] At -the same time the plastic state of Elizabethan English led to the making -of expressive new compounds of native growth, and from this period date -some of the happiest compound epithets to be found in the language.[166] -From the Elizabethans this gift of forming imaginative compounds was -inherited, with even greater felicity by Milton, many of whose epithets, -especially those of Type VII such as “_grey-hooded even_,” “_coral-paven -floor_,” “_flowery-kirtled_ Naiades” reveal him as a consummate master of -word-craft. - -With Dryden begins the period with which we are especially concerned, -for it is generally agreed that from nearly every point of view the -advent of what is called eighteenth century literature dates from the -Restoration. During the forty years dominated by Dryden in practically -every department of literature, the changes in the language, both of -prose and poetry, which had been slowly evolving themselves, became -apparent, and, as the sequel will show, this new ideal of style, with its -passion for “correctness,” and its impatience of innovation, was not one -likely to encourage or inspire the formation of expressive compounds; the -happy audacities of the Elizabethans, of whose tribe it is customary to -seal Milton, are no longer possible. - -The compounds in the poems of Dryden show this; of his examples of Type -I—the substantive compounds—the majority are merely the juxtaposition of -two appositional nouns, as _brother-angels_ (“Killigrew,” 4); or, more -rarely, where the first element has a descriptive or adjectival force, -as _traitor-friend_ (“Palamon,” II, 568). Not much more imaginative -power is reflected in Dryden’s compound epithets; his instances of Types -III and IV include “_cloud-dispelling_ winds” (“Ovid,” Met. I, 356), -“_sun-begotten_ tribe” (_ibid._, III, 462), with more original examples -like “_sleep-procuring_ wand.” Next comes a large number of instances -of Types V and VI: “_thick-spread_ forest” (“Palamon,” II, 123), -“_hoarse-resounding_ shore” (“Iliad” I, 54), as well as many compounded -with _long_-, _well_-, _high_-, etc. Most of these examples of Types V -and VI are scarcely compounds at all, for after such elements as “long,” -“well,” “much,” the hyphen could in most cases be omitted without any -loss of power. Of Dryden’s compound epithets it may be said in general -that they reflect admirably his poetic theory and practice; they are -never the product of a “fine frenzy.” At the same time not a few of them -seem to have something of that genius for satirical expression with which -he was amply endowed. Compounds like _court-informer_ (“Absalom,” 719), -“the rebels’ _pension-purse_” (_ibid._, Pt. II, 321), - - Og, from a _treason-tavern_ rolling home - - (_Ibid._, 480) - -play their part in the delivery of those “smacks in the face” of which -Professor Saintsbury speaks in his discussion of Dryden’s satiric -manipulation of the heroic couplet.[167] - -In the verse of Pope, compound formations are to be found in large -numbers. This may partly be attributed, no doubt, to the amount of -translation included in it, but even in his original poetry there -are many more instances than in the work of his great predecessor. -When engaged on his translation of Homer the prevalence of compounds -naturally attracted his attention, and he refers to the matter more -than once in his Preface.[168] As might be expected from the apostle -of “correctness,” he lays down cautious and conservative “rules” of -procedure. Such should be retained “as slide easily of themselves into an -English compound, without violence to the ear, or to the received rules -of composition, as well as those which have received the sanction from -the authority of our best poets, and are become familiar through their -use of them.”[169] - -An examination of Pope’s compounds in the light of “the received rules of -composition,” shows his examples to be of the usual types. Of noun _plus_ -noun combinations he has such forms as “_monarch-savage_,” (“Odyss.” -IV), whilst he is credited with the first use of “the _fury-passions_” -(Epistle III). More originality and imagination is reflected in his -compound epithets; of those formed from a noun and a present participle, -with the first element usually in an objective relation to the second, -his instances include “_love-darting_-eyes” (“Unfortunate Lady”), as well -as others found before his time, like the Elizabethan “_heart-piercing_ -anguish” (_ibid._, XII) and “_laughter-loving_ dame” (_ibid._, III). -He has large numbers of compounded nouns and past-participles, many of -which—“_moss-grown_ domes” (“Eloisa”), “_cloud-topped_ hills” (“Essay -on Man,” I, 100), “_Sea-girt_ isles” (“Iliad,” III)—were common in -the seventeenth century, as well as “borrowed” examples, such as -“_home-felt_ joys” (Epistle II) or “_air-bred_ people” (“Odyss.,” LX, -330), presumably from Milton and Drayton respectively. But he has a few -original formations of this type, such as “_heaven-directed_ spire” -(Epistle III), “_osier-fringed_ bank,” (“Odyss.,” XIII), the latter -perhaps a reminiscence of Sabrina’s song in “Comus,” as well as happier -combinations, of which the best examples are “_love-born_ confidence” -(“Odyss.,” X) and “_love-dittied_ airs” (“Odyss.,” II). - -Pope, however, makes his largest use of that type of compound which -can be formed with the greatest freedom—an adjective, or an adjective -used adverbially, joined to a present or past participle. He has -dozens of examples with the adverbial _long_, _wide_, _far_, _loud_, -_deep_, _high_, etc., as the first element, most of the examples -occurring in the Homer translations, and being attempts to reproduce -the Greek compounds.[170] Other instances have a higher æsthetic -value: “_fresh-blooming_ hope” (“Eloisa”), “_silver-quivering_ rills” -(Epistle IV), “_soft-trickling_ waters” “Iliad,” IX), “sweet airs -_soft-circling_” (_ibid._, XVII), etc. Of the formations beginning with -a true adverb, the most numerous are the quasi-compounds beginning -with “_ever_”—“_ever-during_ nights,” “_ever-fragrant_ bowers” -(“Odyss.,” XII), etc.; or “_well_”—“_well-sung_ woes” (“Eloisa”) or -“_yet_”—“_yet-untasted_ food” (“Iliad,” XV), etc. These instances do -not reveal any great originality, for the very ease with which they can -be formed naturally discounts largely their poetic value. Occasionally, -however, Pope has been more successful; perhaps his best examples of -this type are “_inly-pining_ hate” (“Odyss.,” VI—where the condensation -involved in the epithet does at least convey some impression of power—and -“the _softly-stealing_ space of time,” (“Odyss.,” XV), where the compound -almost produces a happy effect of personification. - -Of the irregular type of compound, already mentioned in connexion with -Dryden, Pope has a few instances—“_white-robed_ innocence” (“Eloisa”), -etc. But perhaps Pope’s happiest effort in this respect is to be seen in -that quatrain from the fourth book of the “Dunciad,” containing three -instances of compound epithets, which help to remind us that at times he -had at his command a diction of higher suggestive and evocative power -than the plain idiom of his satiric and didactic verse: - - To isles of fragrance, _lily-silver’d_ vales - Diffusing languor in the panting gales; - To lands of singing or of dancing slaves - _Love-whisp’ring_ woods and _lute-resounding_ waves. - -Of the poets contemporary with Pope only brief mention need be made from -our present point of view. The poems of Anne, Countess of Winchilsea -contain few instances and those of the ordinary type, a remark which is -equally applicable to the poems of Parnell and John Phillips. John Gay -(1685-1732), however, though he has many formations found in previous -writers, has also some apparently original compound epithets which have -a certain charm: “_health-breathing_ breezes” (“A Devonshire Hill,” 10), -“_dew-besprinkled_ lawn” (“Fables,” 50), and “the lark _high-poised_ in -the air” (“Sweet William’s Farewell,” 13). More noteworthy is John Dyer; -“Grongar Hill” has no very striking examples, but his blank verse poems -have one or two not devoid of imaginative value: “_soft-whispering_ -waters” (“Ruins of Rome”) and “_plaintive-echoing_ ruins” (_ibid._); he -has been able to dispense with the “classical” descriptive terms for -hills and mountains (“shaggy,” “horrid,” “terrible,” etc.), and his new -epithets reflect something at least of that changing attitude towards -natural scenery, of which he was a foremost pioneer: “_slow-climbing_ -wilds” (“Fleece,” I), “_cloud-dividing_ hill” (_ibid._), and his -irregular “_snow-nodding_ crags” (_ibid._, IV). - -Neglecting for the moment the more famous of the blank verse poems, -we may notice Robert Blair’s “Grave” (published 1743), with a few -examples, which mainly allow him to indulge in “classical” periphrases, -such as the “_sight-invigorating_ tube” for “a telescope.” David -Mallet, who imitated his greater countryman James Thomson, has one -or two noteworthy instances: “pines _high-plumed_” (“Amyntor,” II), -“_sweetly-pensive_ silence” (“Fragment”), “spring’s _flower-embroidered_ -mantle” (“Excursion,” I)—suggested, no doubt, by Milton’s -“violet-embroidered”—“the morn _sun-tinctured_” (_ibid._), compound -epithets which betray the influence of the “Seasons.” Of the other minor -blank verse poems their only aspect noteworthy from our present point of -view is their comparative freedom from compounds of any description. John -Armstrong’s “Art of Preserving Health” (1744) has only a few commonplace -examples, and the same may be said of the earlier “The Chase” (1735) -by William Somerville, though he finds a new epithet in his expression -“the strand _sea-lav’d_” (Bk. III, 431). James Grainger’s “The Sugar -Cane” (1764) shows a similar poverty, but the “_green-stol’d_ Naiad, -of the tinkling rill” (Canto I), “_soft-stealing_ dews” (Canto III), -“_wild-careering_ clouds” (Canto II), and “_cane-crowned_ vale” (Canto -IV) are not without merit. These blank verse poems, avowedly modelled -on Milton, might have been expected to attempt the “grandeur” of their -original by high-sounding compounds; but it was rather by means of -latinized words and constructions that the Miltonic imitators sought to -emulate the grand style; and moreover, as Coleridge pointed out, Milton’s -great epics are almost free from compound epithets, it being in the -early poems that “a superfluity” is to be found.[171] - -Before turning to the more famous blank verse poems of the first half -of the eighteenth century it will be convenient at this point to notice -one or two poets whose work represents, on its formal side at least, a -continuation or development of the school of Pope. The first of these -is Richard Savage, whose only poem of any real merit, “The Wanderer” -(apart perhaps from “The Bastard”), appeared in 1729. He has only one -or two new compounds of noun and part-participle, such as “the robe -_snow-wrought_” (“The Wanderer,” I, 55), his favourite combination being -that of an adjective or adverb with a participle, where, amidst numerous -examples of obvious formations, he occasionally strikes out something -new: “eyes _dim-gleaming_” (Canto I), “_soft-creeping_ murmurs” (Canto -V), etc. Of his other types the only other noteworthy compound is the -“past-participle” epithet in his phrase “the _amber-hued_ cascade” (Canto -III), though a refreshing simplicity of expression is found in such lines -as - - The bull-finch whistles soft his _flute-like_ note. - -The poetical work of Dr. Johnson contains scarcely any instances of -compounds, and none either newly invented or applied. “London” and “The -Vanity of Human Wishes” have each not more than two or three instances, -and even the four poems, in which he successively treats of the seasons, -are almost destitute of compound epithets, “_snow-topped_ cot” (“Winter”) -being almost the only example. - -There are many more instances of compound formations in the works of -Oliver Goldsmith, most of which, like “_nut-brown_ draughts” (“Deserted -Village,” II), “_sea-borne_ gales” (“Traveller,” 121), “_grass-grown_ -footway” (“Deserted Village,” 127), had either been long in the language, -or had been used by earlier eighteenth century poets. There are, -however, instances which testify to a desire to add to the descriptive -power of the vocabulary; in “The Traveller” we find mention of “the -_hollow-sounding_ bittern” (l. 44), “the _rocky-crested_ summits” (l. -85), “the _yellow-blossomed_ vale” (l. 293), and the “_willow-tufted_ -bank” (l. 294). For the rest, Goldsmith’s original compounds are, -like so many of this type, mere efforts at verbal condensation, as -“_shelter-seeking_ peasant” (“Traveller,” 162), “_joy-pronouncing_ eye” -(_ibid._, 10), etc. - -Of the more famous blank verse poems of the eighteenth century the first -and most important was “The Seasons” of James Thomson, which appeared in -their original form between 1726 and 1730. The originality of style, for -which Johnson praised him,[172] is perhaps to be seen especially in his -use of compound formations; probably no other poet has ever used them so -freely. - -As a general rule, Thomson’s compounds fall into the well-defined groups -already mentioned. He has a number of noun _plus_ noun formations (Type -I), where the first element has usually a purely adjectival value; -“_patriot-council_” (“Autumn,” 98), “_harvest-treasures_” (_ibid._, -1217), as well as a few which allow him to indulge in grandiose -periphrasis, as in the “_monarch-swain_” (“Summer,” 495) for a shepherd -with his “_sceptre-crook_” (_ibid._, 497). These are all commonplace -formations, but much more originality is found in his compound epithets. -He frequently uses the noun _plus_ present participle combinations -(Type III), “_secret-winding_, _flower-enwoven_ bowers” (“Spring,” -1058) or “_forest-rustling_ mountains” (“Winter,” 151), etc. Moreover, -the majority of his compounds are original, though now and then he -has taken a “classical” compound and given it a somewhat curious -application, as in “_cloud-compelling_ cliffs” (“Autumn,” 801). A few of -this class are difficult to justify logically, striking examples being -“_world-rejoicing_ state” (“Summer,” 116) for “the state of one in whom -the world rejoices,” and “_life-sufficing_ trees” (_ibid._, 836) for -“trees that give sustenance.” - -Thomson has also numerous instances of the juxtaposition of nouns -and past-participles (Type IV): “_love-enlivened_ cheeks” (“Spring,” -1080), “_leaf-strewn_ walks” (“Autumn,” 955), “_frost-concocted_ glebe” -(“Winter,” 706); others of this type are somewhat obscure in meaning, -as “_mind-illumined_ face” (“Spring,” 1042), and especially “_art -imagination-flushed_” (“Autumn,” 140), where economy of expression is -perhaps carried to its very limit. - -Thomson’s favourite method of forming compounds however is that of -Type V, each book of “The Seasons” containing large numbers, the first -element (_full_, _prone_, _quick_, etc.) often repeated with a variant -second element. Sometimes constant repetition in this way produces -the impression of a tiresome mannerism. Thus “many” joined to present -and past-participles is used irregularly with quasi-adverbial force, -apparently meaning “in many ways,” “many times,” or even “much,” as -“_many-twinkling_ leaves” (“Spring,” 158), “_many-bleating_ flock” -(_ibid._, 835), etc. In the same way the word “mazy” seems to have had -a fascination for Thomson. Thus he has “the _mazy-running_ soul of -melody” (“Spring,” 577), “the _mazy-running_ brook” (“Summer,” 373), -“and _mazy-running_ clefts” (“Autumn,” 816), etc. Not all of this -type, however, are mere mechanical formations; some have real poetic -value and bear witness to Thomson’s undoubted gift for achieving happy -expressive effects. Thus the “_close-embowering_ wood” (“Autumn,” 208), -“the lonesome muse _low-whispering_” (_ibid._, 955), “the _deep-tangled_ -copse” (“Spring,” 594), “the _hollow-whispering_ breeze” (_ibid._, -919), “the _grey-grown_ oaks” (“Summer,” 225), “_flowery-tempting_ -paths” (“Spring,” 1109), “the morn _faint-gleaming_” (“Summer,” 48), -“_dark-embowered_ firs” (“Winter,” 813), “the winds _hollow-blustering_” -(_ibid._, 988), “the _mossy-tinctured_ streams” (“Spring,” 380), as well -as such passages as - - the long-forgotten strain - At first _faint-warbled_ - - (“Spring,” 585) - -and - - Ships _dim-discovered_ dropping from the clouds. - - (“Summer,” 946) - -Thomson’s compound epithets with a true adverb as the first element -(Sixth Type), such as “_north-inflated_ tempest” (“Autumn,” 892), are not -particularly striking, and some of them are awkward and result in giving -a harsh effect to the verse, as - - goodness and wit - In _seldom-meeting_ harmony combined. - - (“Summer,” 25-6) - -Finally, in “The Seasons” there are to be found many examples of the -type of compound epithet, already referred to, modelled on the form -of a past-participle; here Thomson has achieved some of his happiest -expressions, charged with real suggestive power.[173] Among his instances -are such little “word-pictures” as “_rocky-channelled_ maze” (“Spring,” -401), “the _light-footed_ dews” (“Summer,” 123); “the _keen-aired_ -mountain” (“Autumn,” 434) “the _dusky-mantled_ lawn” (_ibid._, 1088), -“the _dewy-skirted_ clouds” (_ibid._, 961) Even when he borrows a -felicitous epithet he is able to apply it without loss of power, as when -he gives a new setting to Milton’s “meek-eyed” applied to “Peace” as -an epithet for the quiet in-coming of the dawn; the “_meek-eyed_ Morn” -(“Summer,” 47). - -Thomson makes good and abundant use of compound epithets, and in this -respect, as in others he was undoubtedly a bold pioneer. His language -itself, from our present point of view, apart from the thought and -outlook on external nature it reflects, entitles him to that honourable -position as a forerunner in the Romantic reaction with which he is -usually credited. He was not content to accept the stereotyped diction -of his day, and asserted the right of the poet to make a vocabulary for -himself. There is thus justice in the plea that it is Thomson, rather -than Gray, whom Wordsworth should have marked down for widening the -breach between the language of poetry and that of prose. - -No doubt the prevalence of the compound epithets in “The Seasons” is -due, to some extent at least, to the requirement of his blank verse -line; they helped him, so to speak, to secure the maximum of effect with -the minimum of word-power; and at times we can almost see him trying -to give to his unrhymed decasyllabics something of the conciseness and -polish to which Pope’s couplet had accustomed his generation. But they -owe their appearance, of course, to other causes than the mere mechanism -of verse. Thompson’s fondness for “swelling sound and phrase” has often -been touched upon, and this predilection finds full scope in the compound -epithets; they play their part in giving colour and atmosphere to “The -Seasons,” and they announce unmistakably that the old dead, descriptive -diction is doomed. - -Of the blank verse poems of the period only “The Seasons” has any real -claim to be regarded as announcing the Romantic revolt that was soon to -declare itself unmistakably. But three years after the appearance of -Thomson’s final revision of his poem the first odes of William Collins -were published, at the same time as those of Joseph Warton, whilst the -work of Thomas Gray had already begun. - -There are some two score of compound formations in the poems of -Collins, but many of these—as “_love-darting_” (“Poetic Character,” 8), -“_soul-subduing_” (“Liberty,” 92)—date from the seventeenth century. One -felicitous compound Collins has borrowed from James Thomson, but in doing -so he has invested it with a new and beautiful suggestiveness. Thomson -had written of - - Ships _dim-discovered_ dropping from the clouds. - - (“Summer,” 946) - -The compound is taken by Collins and given a new beauty in his -description of the landscape as the evening shadows gently settle upon it: - - Hamlets brown and _dim-discovered_ spires - - (“Evening,” 37) - -where the poetic and pictorial force of the epithet is perhaps at its -maximum.[174] - -Collins, however, has not contented himself with compounds already in the -language; he has formed himself, apparently, almost half of the examples -to be found in his poems. His instances of Types I, as of Types V and -VI, are commonplace, and he has but few examples of Type II, the most -noteworthy being “_scene-full_ world” (“Manners,” 78), where the epithet, -irregularly formed, seems to have the meaning of “abounding in scenery.” -Most of his instances of Type III are either to be found in previous -writers, or are obvious formations like “_war-denouncing_ trumpets” -(“Passions,” 43). - -Much more originality is evident in his examples of Type IV, which -is apparently a favourite method with him. He has “_moss-crowned_ -fountain” (“Oriental Ecl.,” II, 24), “_sky-worn_ robes” (“Pity,” -II), “_sedge-crowned_ sisters” (“Ode on Thomson,” 30), “_elf-shot_ -arrows” (“Popular Superstitions,” 27), etc. Some instances here are, -strictly speaking, irregular formations, for the participles, as in -“_sphere-descended_,” are from intransitive verbs; in other instances the -logical relation must be expressed by a preposition such, as “_with_” -in “_moss-crowned_,” “_sedge-crowned_”; or “_by_” in “_fancy-blest_,” -“_elf-shot_”; or “_in_” in “_sphere-found_,” “_sky-worn_.” He has some -half-dozen examples of Type VII, three at least of which—“_gay-motleyed_ -pinks” (“Oriental Eclogues,” III, 17), “_chaste-eyed_ Queen” (“Passions,” -75), and “_fiery-tressed_ Dane” (“Liberty,” 97)—are apparently his own -coinage, whilst others, such as “_rosy-lipp’d_ health” (“Evening,” 50) -and “_young-eyed_ wit,” have been happily used in the service of the -personifications that play so great a part in his Odes. - -There is some evidence that the use of compounds by certain writers -was already being noticed in the eighteenth century as something of an -innovation in poetical language. Thus Goldsmith, it would seem, was -under the impression that their increasing employment, even by Gray, -was connected in some way with the revived study of the older poets, -especially Spenser.[175] This supposition is unfounded. Gray, it is -true, uses a large number of compounds, found in previous writers, but -it is chiefly from Milton—e.g. “_solemn-breathing_ airs” (“Progress -of Poesy,” 14; cp. “Comus,” 555), “rosy-bosomed hours” (“Spring,” I), -or from Pope—e.g. “_cloud-topped_ head” (“Bard,” 34) that he borrows. -Moreover, he has many compounds which presumably he made for himself. -Of Type I he has such instances as “the _seraph-wings_ of Ecstasy” -(“Progress,” 96), “the _sapphire-blaze_” (_ibid._, 99), etc.; he has one -original example of Type II in his “_silver-bright_ Cynthia” (“Music,” -32), and two of Type III, when he speaks of the valley of Thames as a -“_silver-winding_ way” (“Eton Ode,” 10), and he finds a new epithet -for the dawn in his beautiful phrase “the _incense-breathing_ Morn” -(Elegy XVII). Of Type IV, he has some half-dozen examples, only two of -which, however, owe their first appearance to him—the irregularly formed -“_feather-cinctured_ chiefs” (“Progress,” 62) and “the _dew-bespangled_ -wing” (“Vicissitude,” 2). The largest number of Gray’s compound -epithets belong to Type V, where an adjective is used adverbially with -a participle: “_rosy-crowned_ loves” (“Progress,” 28) and “_deep-toned_ -shell” (“Music,” 23). One of Gray’s examples of this class of compound, -evidently formed on a model furnished by Thomson, came in for a good -deal of censure. He speaks of “_many-twinkling_ feet” (“Progress,” 35), -and the compound, which indeed is somewhat difficult to defend, aroused -disapproval in certain quarters. Lyttleton was one of the first to object -to its use, and he communicated his disapproval to Walpole, who, however, -at once took sides for the defence. “In answer to your objection,” he -wrote,[176] “I will quote authority to which you will yield. As Greek as -the expression is, it struck Mrs. Garrick; and she says that Mr. Gray -is the only poet who ever understood dancing.” Later, the objection was -revived in a general form by Dr. Johnson. “Gray,” he says,[177] “is too -fond of words arbitrarily compounded. ‘Many-twinkling’ was formerly -censured as not analogical: we may say ‘_many-spotted_’ but scarcely -‘_many_-spotting.’” The incident is not without its significance; -from the strictly grammatical point of view the epithet is altogether -irregular, unless the first element is admitted to be an adverb meaning -“very much” or “many times.” But Gray’s fastidiousness of expression is -a commonplace of criticism, and we may be sure that even when he uses -compounds of this kind he has not forgotten his own clearly expressed -views on the language fit and proper for poetry. - -Johnson also objected to another device by which Gray had sought -to enrich the vocabulary of poetry, as reflected in his use of the -“participal” epithet in -_ed_.[178] If this device for forming new -epithets cannot be grammatically justified, the practice of the best -English poets at least has always been against Johnson’s dictum, and, -as we have seen, it has been a prolific source of original and valuable -compound epithets. Of this type Gray has some six or seven examples, the -majority of which, however, had long been in the language, though in the -new epithet of “the _ivy-mantled_ tower” (Elegy IX) we may perhaps see -an indication of the increasing Romantic sensibility towards old ruins. - -Though not admitted to the same high rank of poets as Collins and Gray, -two of their contemporaries, the brothers Warton, are at least of as -great importance in the history of the Romantic revival.[179] From our -present point of view it is not too fanciful to see a reflection of -this fact in the compound epithets freely used by both of the Wartons. -Thomas Warton is especially noteworthy; probably no other eighteenth -century poet, with the exception of James Thomson, has so many instances -of new compound formations, and these are all the more striking in that -few of them are of the mechanical type, readily formed by means of a -commonplace adjective or adverb. Instances of compound substantives -(Type I) are almost entirely lacking, and the same may be said of the -noun _plus_ adjective epithets (Type II). There are, however, a few -examples of Type III (noun _plus_ present participle), some of which, as -“_beauty-blooming_ isle” (“Pleasures of Melancholy”), “_twilight-loving_ -bat” (_ibid._), and “the woodbines _elm-encircling_ spray” (“On a New -Plantation”), no doubt owe something to the influence of Thomson. -Instances of Type IV are plentiful, and here again there is a welcome -freshness in Warton’s epithets: “Fancy’s _fairy-circled_ shrine” (“Monody -Written near Stratford-on-Avon”), “morning’s _twilight-tinctured_ -beam” (“The Hamlet”), “_daisy-dappled_ dale” (“Sonnet on Bathing”). -One instance of this class of compound epithet, “the _furze-clad_ -dale,” is certainly significant as indicative of the changes that were -going on from the “classical” to the Romantic outlook towards natural -scenery.[180] - -Of the other class of compound epithets, Warton has only a few instances, -but his odes gave plenty of scope for the use of the “participial -epithet” (Type VII), and he has formed them freely: “Pale Cynthia’s -_silver-axled_ car” (“Pleasures of Melancholy”), “the _coral-cinctured_ -stole” (“Complaint of Cherwell”), “Sport, the _yellow-tressed_ boy” -(_ibid._). No doubt many of Thomas Warton’s compound formations were the -result of a conscious effort to find “high-sounding” terms, and they -have sometimes an air of being merely rhetorical, as in such instances -as “_beauty-blooming_,” “_gladsome-glistering_ green,” “_azure-arched_,” -“_twilight-tinctured_,” “_coral-cinctured_,” “_cliff-encircled_,” -“_daisy-dappled_,” where alliterative effects have obviously been sought. -Yet he deserves great credit for his attempts to find new words at a time -when the stock epithets and phrases were still the common treasury of the -majority of his contemporaries. - -His brother, Joseph Warton, is less of a pioneer, but there is evident -in his work also an effort to search out new epithets. His compounds -include (Type II) “_marble-mimic_ gods” (“The Enthusiast”); (Type III) -“_courage-breathing_ songs” (“Verses, 1750”), with many instances of Type -IV, some commonplace, as “_merchant-crowded_ towns” (“Ode to Health”), -others more original, as “mirth and youth nodding _lily-crowned_ heads” -(“Ode to Fancy”), joy, “the _rose-crowned, ever-smiling_ boy” (“Ode -Against Despair”), “the _beech-embowered_ cottage” (“On The Spring”). -Moreover, there are a number in “The Enthusiast,” which reflect a genuine -love of Nature (“_thousand-coloured_ tulips,” “_pine-topp’d_ precipice”) -and a keen observation of its sights and sounds. - -It is not forcing the evidence of language too much to say that a similar -increasing interest in external nature finds expression in some of the -compound epithets to be found in much of the minor poetry of the period. -Thus Moses Mendez (_d._ 1758)[181] has in his poem on the various seasons -(1751) such conventional epithets as - - On every hill the _purple-blushing_ vine, - -but others testify to first hand observation as - - The _pool-sprung_ gnat on sounding wings doth pass. - -Richard Jago (1715-1781)[182], in his “Edgehill” (1767), has such -instances as “the _woodland-shade_,” “the _wave-worn_ face,” and “the -tillag’d plain _wide-waving_.” The Rev. R. Potter,[183] who imitated -Spenser in his “Farewell Hymn to the Country” (1749), has happy examples -like “_mavis-haunted_ grove” and “this _flowre-perfumed_ aire.” In -William Whitehead’s poems[184] there are numerous formations like -“_cloud-enveloped_ towers” (“A Hymn”) and “_rock-invested_ shades” -(“Elegy,” IV). A few new descriptive terms appear in the work of John -Langhorne (1735-1779),[185] “_flower-feeding_ rills” (“Visions of -Fancy,” I), “_long-winding_ vales” (“Genius and Valour”), etc. Michael -Bruce (1746-1767) in his “Lochleven”[186] has, e.g., “_cowslip-covered_ -banks,” and fresh observation of bird life is seen in such phrases -as “_wild-shrieking_ gull” and “_slow-wing’d_ crane.” James Graeme -(1749-1772)[187] has at least one new and happy compound in his line - - The _blue-gray_ mist that hovers o’er the hill. - - (“Elegy written in Spring”) - -John Scott (1730-1783)[188] makes more use of compound formations than -most of his minor contemporaries. He has many instances of Type IV (noun -_plus_ participle), including “_rivulet-water’d_ glade” (Eclogue I), -“_corn-clad_ plain,” “_elder-shaded_ cot” (“Amwell”). His few instances -of Type VI (e.g. “_wildly-warbled_ strain,” (“Ode” IV)), and of Type VII -(e.g. “_trefoil-purpled_ field” (“Elegy,” III)); “_may-flower’d_ hedges” -(“Elegy,” IV); and “_golden-clouded_ sky,” (“Ode,” II), are also worthy of -notice. - -Meanwhile another aspect of the rising Romantic movement was revealing -itself in the work of Chatterton. With the “antiquarianism” of the -Rowley poems we are not here concerned, but the language of both the -“original” work and of the “discovered” poems contains plenty of material -relevant to our special topic. Chatterton, indeed, seems to have had a -predilection for compound formations, though he has but few instances of -compound substantives (e.g. “_coppice-valley_” (“Elegy”), and instances -of Type II (noun _plus_ adjective) are also rare. The other types of -epithets are, however, well represented: “_echo-giving_ bells” (“To Miss -Hoyland”), “_rapture-speaking_ lyre” (“Song”), etc. (Type III), though it -is perhaps in Type IV that Chatterton’s word-forming power is best shown: -“_flower-bespangled_ hills” (“Complaint”), “_rose-hedged_ vale” (“Elegy -at Stanton-Drew”), etc., where the first compound epithet is a new and -suggestive descriptive term. His examples of Type V are also worth -noting: “_verdant-vested_ trees” (“Elegy,” V), “_red-blushing_ blossom” -“Song”), whilst one of the best of them is to be found in those lines, -amongst the most beautiful written by Chatterton, which reflect something -of the new charm that men were beginning to find in old historic churches -and buildings: - - To view the cross-aisles and the arches fair - Through the half-hidden _silver-twinkling_ glare - Of yon bright moon in foggy mantle dress’d. - - (“Parliament of Sprites,” Canto XXI) - -The remaining examples of Chatterton’s compound formations do not -call for much attention, though “_gently-plaintive_ rill” (“Elegy on -Phillips”) and “_loudly-dinning_ stream” (“Ælla,” 84) are new and fresh. -Chatterton has much of the conventional poetical language and devices of -his time throughout his work, and his compound epithets do not in the -mass vary much from contemporary usage in this respect. But some of them -at least are significant of the position which he occupies in the history -of the Romantic revival. - -The greatest figure in this revival, as it appears to us now, was William -Blake, but from our present point of view he is almost negligible. It -may safely be said that few poets of such high rank have made less -use of compound formations: in his entire poetical work scarcely half -a dozen instances are to be found. Yet the majority of these, such -as “_angel-guarded bed_” (“A Dream,” 2), “_mind-forg’d_ manacles” -(“London,” 8), “Winter’s _deep-founded_ habitation” (“Winter,” 3), -“_softly-breathing_ song” (“Song,” 2: “Poetical Sketches”) are a -sufficiently striking tribute to his ability to form expressive compounds -had he felt the need. But in the beautiful purity and simplicity of his -diction, for which he has in our own time at least received adequate -praise, there was no place for long compound formations, which, moreover, -are more valuable and more appropriate for descriptive poetry, and likely -to mar the pure singing note of the lyric. - -It is curious to find a similar paucity of compound formations in the -poems of George Crabbe, the whole number being well represented by -such examples as “_dew-press’d_ vale” (“Epistle to a Friend,” 48), -“_violet-wing’d_ Zephyrs” (“The Candidate,” 268), and “_wind-perfuming_ -flowers” (“The Choice”). No doubt the narrative character of much of -Crabbe’s verse is the explanation of this comparative lack of compounds, -but the descriptions of wild nature that form the background for many of -“The Tales” might have been expected to result in new descriptive terms. - -Two lesser poets of the time are more noteworthy as regards our especial -topic. William Mickle (1735-1788), in his “Almada Hill” (1781) and -his “May Day,” as well as in his shorter poems, has new epithets for -hills and heights, as in such phrases as “_thyme-clad_ mountains” and -“_fir-crown’d_ hill” (“Sorcerers,” 4). His Spenserian imitation “Syr -Martyn,” contains a few happy epithets: - - How bright emerging o’er yon _broom-clad_ height - The silver empress of the night appears - - (Canto II, 31) - -and “_daisie-whitened_ plain,” “_crystal-streamed_ Esk” are among his new -formations in “Eskdale Braes.” - -James Beattie has a large number of compounds in his poems, and though -many of these are mechanical formations, he has a few new “nature” -epithets which are real additions to the vocabulary of poetical -description, as “_sky-mixed_ mountain” (“Ode to Peace,” 38), the lake -“_dim-gleaming_” (“Minstrel,” 176), “the _wide-weltering_ waves” -(_ibid._, 481), the wave “_loose-glimmering_” (“Judgment of Paris,” 458). -He has also a few instances of Type VII chiefly utilized, as often with -compounds of this type, as personifying epithets: “the frolic moments -_purple_-pinioned” (“Judgment of Paris,” 465) and “_loose-robed_ Quiet” -(“Triumph of Melancholy,” 64). - -The “Pleasures of Memory” (1792) by Samuel Rogers has one or two -compound formations: “_moonlight-chequered_ shade” (Part II). Hope’s -“_summer-visions_” (_ibid._) and “the _fairy-haunts_ of long-lost hours” -(_ibid.)_, have a trace at least of that suggestive power with which -Keats and Shelley were soon to endow their epithets. Brief reference only -need be made to the works of Erasmus Darwin, which have already been -mentioned as the great example of eighteenth century stock diction used -to the utmost possible extent. He has plenty of instances of compound -epithets of every type, but his favourite formation appears to be that -of a noun _plus_ part-participle, as “_sun-illumined_ fane” (“Botanic -Garden,” I, 157), “_wave-worn_ channels” (_ibid._, I, 362), and as seen -in such lines as - - Her _shell-wrack_ gardens and her _sea-fan_ bowers. - - (“Economy of Vegetation,” VI, 82) - -Many of Darwin’s compounds have a certain charm of their own; in the mass -they contribute towards that dazzling splendour with which eighteenth -century diction here blazed out before it finally disappeared. - -Cowper, like Blake and Crabbe, is not especially distinguished for his -compound epithets. Though he has a large number of such formations, very -few of them are either new or striking, a remark which applies equally to -his original work and his translations. Many instances of all the types -are to be found in the “Homer,” but scarcely one that calls for special -mention, though here and there we come across good epithets well applied: -“accents _ardour-winged_” (IV, 239) or “_silver-eddied_ Peneus” (II, 294). - -Before attempting to sum up the use of compound epithets in eighteenth -century poetry, brief reference may be made to their use in the early -work of the two poets who announced the definite advent of the new age. -Wordsworth in his early poems has many instance of compound words, -most of which are either his own formations, or are rare before his -time. The original and final drafts both of the “Evening Walk” and the -“Descriptive Sketches” show some divergence in this respect, compounds -found in the 1793 version being omitted later, whilst on the other new -formations appear in the revised poems. Besides imitative instances -such as “_cloud-piercing_ pine trees” (D.S., 63), there are more -original and beautiful compounds, such as the “_Lip-dewing_ song and the -_ringlet-tossing_ dance” (_ibid._, 132), which does not appear until the -final draft. - -Examples of Type IV are “_holly-sprinkled_ steeps” (E.W., 10), “The -sylvan cabin’s _lute-enlivened_ gloom” (D.S., 134, final); and of Types -V and VI, “_green-tinged_ margin” (D.S., 122), “_clear-blue_ sky” (D.S., -113), “_dim-lit_ Alps” (D.S., 1793 only, 217), and “the _low-warbled_ -breath of twilight lute” (D.S., 1793, 749). Wordsworth’s early poems, -it has been noted, are almost an epitome of the various eighteenth -century devices for producing what was thought to be a distinctively -poetical style,[189] but he soon shakes off this bondage, and “Guilt and -Sorrow,” perhaps the first poem in which his simplicity and directness -of expression are fully revealed, is practically without instances of -compound epithets. - -The critics, it would appear, had already marked down as a fault a -“profusion of new coined double epithets”[190] in a “small volume of -juvenile poems” published by Coleridge in 1794. In replying to, or rather -commenting on, the charge, Coleridge makes an interesting digression on -the use of such formations, defending them on “the authority of Milton -and Shakespeare,” and suggesting that compound epithets should only be -admitted if they are already “denizens” of the language, or if the new -formation is a genuine compound, and not merely two words made one by -virtue of the hyphen. “A Language,” he adds, “which like the English -is almost without cases, is indeed in its very genius unfitted for -compounds. If a writer, every time a compounded word suggests itself -to him, would seek for some other mode of expressing the same sense, -the chances are always greatly in favour of his finding a better word.” -Though there is a good deal of sound sense in these remarks, we have only -to recall the wealth of beautiful compound epithets with which Keats, to -take only one example, was soon to enrich the language, to realize that -English poetry would be very much the poorer if the rule Coleridge lays -down had been strictly observed. It would perhaps be truer to say that -the imaginative quality of the compound epithets coined by a poet is a -good test of his advance in power of expression.[191] - -As regards his own practice, Coleridge goes on to say[192] that -he “pruned the double epithets with no sparing hand”; but the -pruning was not very severe, judging from a comparison of the two -volumes. Yet these early poems are not without examples of good -compound epithets: “_zephyr-haunted_ brink,” (“Lines to a Beautiful -Spring”), “_distant-tinkling_ stream” (“Song of the Pixies,” 16), -“_sunny-tinctured_ hue” (_ibid._, 43), “_passion-warbled_ strain,” (“To -the Rev. W. J. H.”), etc. - -When we review the use of compound epithets in the poetry of the -eighteenth century we are bound to admit that in this, as in other -aspects of the “purely poetical,” the eighteenth century stands apart -from other periods in our literary history. Most readers could probably -at will call to their mind half a dozen compound epithets of Shakespeare -and the Elizabethan period, of Milton, or of more modern writers, such as -Keats, that are, as it were, little poems in themselves, Shakespeare’s -“_young-eyed cherubim_,” or Milton’s “_grey-hooded even_,” or Keats’s -“_soft-conched shell_.” It is safe to say that few eighteenth century -words or phrases of this nature have captured the imagination to a -similar degree; Collins’s “_dim-discovered spires_” is perhaps the only -instance that comes readily to the mind. - -There are, of course, as our study has shown, plenty of instances of -good compound epithets, but in the typical eighteenth century poetry -these are rarely the product of a genuine creative force that endows the -phrase with imaginative life. Even the great forerunners of the Romantic -revolt are not especially remarkable in this respect; one of the greatest -of them, William Blake, gave scarcely a single new compound epithet to -the language, and whilst this fact, of course, cannot be brought as a -reproach against him, yet it is, in some respects at least, significant -of the poetical atmosphere into which he was born. It has often been -remarked that when Latin influence was in the ascendant the formation of -new and striking compound epithets has been very rare in English poetry, -whilst it has been always stimulated, as we know from the concrete -examples of Chapman and Keats, by the influence of a revived Hellenism. - -Another fact is worthy of attention. Many of the most beautiful compound -epithets in the English language are nature phrases descriptive of -outdoor sights and sounds. The arrested development, or the atrophy of -the sense of the beauty of the external world, which is a characteristic -of the neo-classical school, was an unconscious but effective bar to -the formation of new words and phrases descriptive of outdoor life. The -neo-classical poet, with his eye fixed on the town and on life as lived -there, felt no necessity for adding to the descriptive resources of his -vocabulary, especially when there was to his hand a whole _gradus_ of -accepted and consecrated words and phrases. It is in the apostles of “the -return to Nature” that we find, however inadequately, to begin with, a -new diction that came into being because these poets had recovered the -use of their eyes and could sense the beauty of the world around them. - -And this fact leads to a further consideration of the use of compound -epithets from the formal viewpoint of their technical value. It has -already been suggested that their use may not be unconnected with the -mechanism of verse, and the æsthetic poverty of eighteenth century poetry -in this respect may therefore be not unjustly regarded as an outcome of -the two great prevailing vehicles of expression. In the first place, -there was the heroic couplet as brought to perfection by Pope. “The -uniformity and maximum swiftness that marked his manipulation of the -stopped couplet was achieved,” says Saintsbury, “not only by means of -a large proportion of monosyllabic final words, but also by an evident -avoidance of long and heavy vocables in the interior of the lines -themselves.”[193] Moreover, perhaps the commonest device to secure the -uniform smoothness of the line was that use of the “_gradus_ epithet” -which has earlier been treated; these epithets were for the most part -stock descriptive adjectives—_verdant_, _purling_, _fleecy_, _painted_, -and the like—which were generally regarded by the versifiers as the only -attendant diction of the couplet. If we compare a typical Pope verse such -as - - Let _vernal_ airs through trembling osiers play - -with the line already quoted, - - Love-whisp’ring woods and lute-resounding waves - -we may perhaps see that the free use of compound epithets was not -compatible with the mechanism of the couplet as illustrated in the -greater part of Pope’s practice; they would tend to weaken the balanced -antithesis, and thus spoil the swing of the line. - -The most formidable rival of the heroic couplet in the eighteenth -century was blank verse, the advent of which marked the beginning of the -Romantic reaction in form. Here Thomson may be regarded as the chief -representative, and it is significant that the large number of compound -epithets in his work are terms of natural description, which, in addition -to their being a reflex of the revived attitude to natural scenery, were -probably more or less consciously used to compensate readers for the -absence of “the rhyme-stroke and flash” they were accustomed to look -for in the contemporary couplet. “He utilizes periodically,” to quote -Saintsbury again,[194] “the exacter nature-painting, which in general -poetic history is his glory, by putting the distinctive words for colour -and shape in notable places of the verse, so as to give it character -and quality.” These “distinctive words for colour and shape” were, with -Thomson, for the most part, compound epithets; almost by the time of -“Yardley Oak,” and certainly by the time of “Tintern Abbey,” blank verse -had been fully restored to its kingdom, and no longer needed such aid. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -PERSONIFICATION AND ABSTRACTION IN EIGHTEENTH CENTURY POETRY - - -In the Preface of 1798, when Wordsworth formulated his theories with -regard to poetical language, the first “mechanical device of style” -against which he directed his preliminary attack was the use of -“personifications of abstract ideas.”[195] Such personifications, he -urged, do not make any natural or regular part of “the very language -of men,” and as he wished “to keep the reader in the company of flesh -and blood,” he had endeavoured “utterly to reject them.” He was ready -to admit that they were occasionally “prompted by passion,” but his -predecessors had come to regard them as a sort of family language, upon -which they had every right to draw. In short, in Wordsworth’s opinion, -abstractions and personifications had become a conventional method of -ornamenting verse, akin to the “vicious diction,” from the tyranny of -which he wished to emancipate poetry. The specific point on which he thus -challenged the practice of his predecessors could hardly be gainsaid, for -he had indicted a literary device, or artifice, which was not only worked -to death by the mere poetasters of the period, but which disfigures not a -little the work of even the great poets of the century. - -The literary use of abstraction and personification was not, it is -needless to say, the invention of the eighteenth century. It is as old -as literature itself, which has always reflected a tendency to interpret -or explain natural phenomena or man’s relations with the invisible -powers that direct or influence human conduct, by means of allegory, -English poetry in the Middle Ages, especially that of Chaucer, Langland, -and their immediate successors, fitly illustrates the great world -of abstraction which had slowly come into being, a world peopled by -personified states or qualities—the Seven Deadly Sins, the Virtues, Love, -etc.—typifying or symbolizing the forces which help man, or beset and -ensnare him as he makes his pilgrim’s progress through this world. - -Already the original motive power of allegory was considerably -diminished, even if it had not altogether disappeared, and, by the time -of the “Faerie Queene,” the literary form which it had moulded for itself -had become merely imitative and conventional, so that even the music -and melody of Spenser’s verse could not altogether vitalize the shadowy -abstractions of his didactic allegory. With “Paradise Lost” we come to -the last great work in which personified abstractions reflect to any real -extent the original allegorical motive in which they had their origin. -Milton achieves his supreme effects in personification in that his -figures are merely suggestive, strongly imagined impressions rather than -clean-cut figures. For nothing can be more dangerous, from the poetic -point of view, than the precise figures which attempt to depict every -possible point of similarity between the abstract notion and the material -representation imagined.[196] - -It is sometimes considered that the mania for abstraction was due -largely to the influence of the two poets who are claimed, or regarded, -as the founders or leaders of the new classical school—Dryden and Pope. -As a matter of fact, neither makes any great use of personification. -Dryden has a few abstractions in his original works, such as, - - Far from her sight flew Faction, Strife and Pride - And Envy did but look on - - (“First Epistle”) - -but his examples are mainly to be found in his modernizations or -translations, where of necessity he takes them from his originals.[197] - -Pope makes a greater use of the figure, but even here there is no excess. -There is not a single personification in the four pastorals of “The -Seasons,” a subject peculiarly adapted to such treatment. In “Eloisa to -Abelard” there are two instances where some attempt at characterization -is made.[198] More instances, though none very striking, are to be found -in “Windsor Forest,” but the poem ends with a massed group, forming a -veritable catalogue of the personified vices which had done so much -service in poetry since the days of the Seven Deadly Sins. - -In other poems Pope uses the device for humorous or satiric effect, as in -the “Pain,” “Megrim,” and “Ill nature like an ancient maid” (l. 24) of -“The Rape of the Lock;” or the “Science,” “Will,” “Logic,” etc., of “The -Dunciad,” where all are invested with capital letters, but with little -attempt to work up a definite picture, except, as was perhaps to be -expected, in the case of “Dullness,” which is provided with a bodyguard -(Bk. I, 45-52). - -Though, as we have already said, there is no great use of such figures in -the works of Pope, they are present in such numbers in his satiric and -didactic works as to indicate one great reason for their prevalence in -his contemporaries and successors. After the Restoration, when English -literature entered on a new era, the changed and changing conditions -of English life and thought soon impressed themselves on poetry. The -keynote to the understanding of much that is characteristic of this new -“classical” literature has been well summed up in the formula that “the -saving process of human thought was forced for generations to beggar the -sense of beauty.”[199] The result was an invasion of poetry by ideas, -arguments, and abstractions which were regarded both as expressing -admirably the new spirit of rationalism, as well as constituting in -themselves dignified subjects and ornaments of poetry. - -This is well illustrated in the case of several of Pope’s contemporaries. -In the works of Thomas Parnell (1679-1718) abstractions of the -conventional type are plentiful, usually accompanied by a qualifying -epithet: “Fortune fair-array’d” (“An Imitation”), “Impetuous Discord,” -“Blind Mischief,” (“On Queen Anne’s Peace”), “the soft Pathetic” (“On -the Different Styles of Poetry”). These are only a few of the examples -of the types favoured by Parnell, where only here and there are human -traits added by means of qualifying epithets or phrases. In one or two -instances, however, there are more detailed personifications. Thus, -in the “Epistle to Dr. Swift,” which abounds in shadowy abstractions, -Eloquence is fully described for us: - - Upon her cheek sits Beauty ever young - The soul of music warbles on her tongue. - -Moreover, already in Parnell it is evident that the influence of Milton -is responsible for some of his personifications. In the same poem we get -the invocation: - - Come! country Goddess come, nor thou suffice - But bring thy mountain-sister Exercise, - -figures which derive obviously from “L’Allegro.” - -In the case of Richard Savage (1696-1743) there is still greater freedom -in the use of personified abstractions, which, as here the creative -instinct is everywhere subjected to the didactic purpose, become very -wearisome. The “Wanderer” contains long catalogues of them, in some -instances pursued for over fifty lines.[200] - -The device continued to be very popular throughout the eighteenth -century, especially by those who continue or represent the “Ethical” -school of Pope. First amongst these may be mentioned Edward Young -(1681-1765), whose “Night Thoughts” was first published between -1742-1744. Young, like his contemporaries, has recourse to -personifications, both for didactic purposes and apparently to add -dignity to his style. It is probable, too, that in this respect he owes -something to “Paradise Lost”; from Milton no doubt he borrowed his -figure of Death, which, though poetically not very impressive, seems to -have captured the imagination of Blake and other artists who have tried -to depict it. The figure is at first only casually referred to in the -Fourth Book (l. 96), where there is a brief and commonplace reference to -“Death, that mighty hunter”; but it is not until the fifth book that the -figure is developed. Yet, though the characterization is carried to great -length, there is no very striking personification: we are given, instead, -a long-drawn-out series of abstractions, with an attempt now and then to -portray a definite human figure. Thus - - Like princes unconfessed in foreign courts - Who travel under cover, Death assumes - The name and look of life, and dwells among us. - -And then the poet describes Death as being present always and everywhere, -and especially - - Gaily carousing, to his gay compeers - Inly he laughs to see them laugh at him - As absent far. - -But Young has not, like Milton, been able to conjure up a definite and -convincing vision, and thus he never achieves anything approaching the -overwhelming effect produced by the phantom of Death in “Paradise Lost,” -called before us in a single verse: - - So spake the grisly Terror. - - (P.L., II. 704) - -For the rest, Young’s personifications, considering the nature of his -subject, are fewer than might be expected. Where they occur they often -seem to owe their presence to a desire to vary the monotony of his moral -reflections; as a result we get a number of abstractions, which may be -called personifications only because they are sometimes accompanied by -human attributes. - -Young has also certain other evocations which can scarcely be called -abstractions, but which are really indistinct, shadowy beings, like the -figures of a dream, as when he describes the phantom of the past: - - The spirit walks of every day deceased - And smiles an angel, or a fury frowns - - (ll. 180-181) - -or the grief of the poet as he ever meets the shades of joys gone for -ever: - - The ghosts - Of my departed joys: a numerous train. - -Here the poet has come near to achieving that effect which in the hands -of the greatest poets justifies the use of personification as a poetic -figure. The more delicate process just illustrated is distinct both from -the lifeless abstraction and the detailed personification, for in these -cases there is a tinge of personal emotion which invests these shadowy -figures with something of a true lyrical effect. - -The tendency, illustrated in the “Night Thoughts,” to make a purely -didactic use of personification and abstraction is found to a much -greater extent in Akenside’s “Pleasures of the Imagination,” first -published in 1744, to be considerably enlarged in 1767. The nature of -Akenside’s subject freely admitted of the use of these devices, and he -has not been slow to avail himself of them. - -Large portions of the “Pleasures of the Imagination” resolve themselves -into one long procession of abstract figures. Very often Akenside -contents himself with the usual type of abstraction, accompanied by a -conventional epithet: “Wisdom’s form celestial” (I, 69), “sullen Pomp” -(III, 216), etc., though sometimes by means of human attributes or -characteristics we are given partial personifications such as: - - Power’s purple robes nor Pleasure’s flowery lap. - - (l. 216) - -And occasionally there are traces of a little more imagination: - - thy lonely whispering voice - O faithful Nature![201] - -But on the whole it is clear that with Akenside abstraction and -personification are used simply and solely for moral and didactic -purposes, and not because of any perception of their potential artistic -value. Incidentally, an interesting side-light on this point is revealed -by one of the changes introduced by the poet into his revision of his -chief work. In the original edition of 1740 there is an invocation to -Harmony (Bk. I, ll. 20 foll.), with her companion, - - Majestic Truth; and where Truth deigns to come - Her sister Liberty will not be far. - -Before the publication of the revised edition, Akenside, who at one time -had espoused the cause of liberty with such ardour as to lead to his -being suspected of republicanism, received a Court appointment. In the -revised edition the concluding lines of the invocation became - - for with thee comes - The guide, the guardian of their majestic rites - Wise Order and where Order deigns to come - Her sister Liberty will not be far. - - (138 foll.) - -The same lavish use of abstractions is seen, not only in the philosophic -poetry proper, but also in other works, which might perhaps have been -expected to escape the contagion. Charles Churchill (1731-1764), if we -set aside Johnson and Canning, may be regarded as representing eighteenth -century satire in its decline, after the great figures of Pope and Swift -have disappeared from the scene, and among the causes which prevent his -verse from having but little of the fiery force and sting of the great -masters of satire is that, instead of the strongly depicted, individual -types of Pope, for example, we are given a heterogeneous collection -of human virtues, vices, and characteristics, most often in the form -of mere abstractions, sometimes personified into stiff, mechanical -figures.[202] Only once has Churchill attempted anything novel in the -way of personification, and this in humorous vein, when he describes the -social virtues: - - With belly round and full fat face, - Which on the house reflected grace, - Full of good fare and honest glee, - The steward Hospitality. - -Churchill had no doubt a genuine passion for poetry and independence, -but the _saeva indignatio_ of the professed censor of public morals and -manners cannot be conveyed to the reader through the medium of mechanical -abstractions which, compared with the flesh-and-blood creations of Dryden -and Pope, show clearly that for the time being the great line of English -satire has all but come to an end. - -Eighteenth century ethical poetry was represented at this stage by -Johnson and Goldsmith, at whose work it will now be convenient to -glance. The universal truths which Johnson as a stern, unbending -moralist wished to illustrate in “London” (1738) and “The Vanity of -Human Wishes” (1749), might easily have resulted in a swarm of the -abstractions and personifications fashionable at the time.[203] From this -danger Johnson was saved by the depth of feeling with which he unfolds -the individual examples chosen to enforce his moral lessons. Not that -he escapes entirely; “London” has a few faint abstractions (“Malice,” -“Rapine,” “Oppression”); but though occasionally they are accompanied -by epithets suggesting human attributes (“surly Virtue,” “persecuting -Fate,” etc.), as a rule there is no attempt at definite personification, -a remark which also applies to the “Vanity of Human Wishes.” In his -odes to the different seasons he has not given, however, any elaborate -personifications, but has contented himself with slight human touches, -such as - - Now Autumn bends a cloudy brow. - -Of Johnson’s poetical style, regarded from our present point of view, it -may be said to be well represented in the famous line from “London”: - - Slow rises Worth by Poverty depressed, - -where there is probably no intention or desire to personify at all, but -which is a result of that tendency towards Latin condensation which the -great Doctor and his contemporaries had introduced into English prose. - -Goldsmith’s poetry has much in common with that of Johnson, in that both -deal to some extent with what would now be called social problems. But it -is significant of Goldsmith’s historical position in eighteenth century -poetry as representing a sort of “half-way attitude,” in the matter of -poetical style, between the classical conventional language and the -free and unfettered diction advocated by Wordsworth, that there are few -examples of personified abstractions in his works, and these confined -mainly to one passage in “The Traveller”: - - Hence Ostentation here with tawdry Art - Pants for the vulgar praise which fools impart, etc. - -At this point it is necessary to hark back for the purpose of considering -other works which had been appearing alongside of the works just -discussed. It has already been remarked that in this matter of the use of -abstraction and personification the influence of Milton early asserted -itself, and there can be no doubt that a good deal of it may be traced -to the influence more especially of the early poems. Indeed, the blank -verse poems, which attempted to imitate or parody the “grand style” of -the great epics, furnish few examples of the personified abstraction. -The first of these, the “Splendid Shilling” and “Cyder” of John Philips -(1705-1706) contains but few instances. In Somerville’s “Chase” there is -occasionally a commonplace example, such as “brazen-fisted Time,” though -in his ode “To Marlborough” he falls into the conventional style quickly -enough. In the rest of the blank verse poems Mallet’s “Excursion” (1738), -and his “Amyntor and Theodora” (1744), comparatively little use is made -of the device, a remark also applicable to Dyer’s “Ruins of Rome” (1740), -and to Grainger’s “Sugar Cane” (1764). - -The fashion for all these blank verse poems had been started largely by -the success of “The Seasons,” which appeared in its original form from -1726 to 1730, to undergo more than one revision and augmentation until -the final edition of 1744. Though Thomson’s work shows very many traces -of the influence of Milton, there is no direct external evidence that -his adoption of blank verse was a result of that influence. Perhaps, as -has been suggested,[204] he was weary of the monotony of the couplet, -or at least considered its correct and polished form incapable of any -further development. At the same time it is clear that having adopted -“rhyme-unfettered verse,” he chose to regard Milton as a model of -diction and style, though he was by no means a slavish imitator. - -With regard to the special problems with which we are here concerned, -it must be noted that when Thomson was first writing “The Seasons,” the -device of personified abstraction had not become quite so conventional -and forced in its use as at a later date. Nevertheless examples of the -typical abstraction are not infrequent; thus, in an enumeration of the -passions which, since the end of the “first fresh dawn,” have invaded -the hearts and minds of men, we are given “Base Envy,” withering at -another’s joy; “Convulsive Anger,” storming at large; and “Desponding -Fear,” full of feeble fancies, etc. (“Spring,” 280-306). Other examples -are somewhat redeemed by the use of a felicitous compound epithet, “Art -imagination-flushed” (“Autumn,” 140), “the lonesome Muse, low-whispering” -(_ibid._, 955), etc. In “Summer” (ll. 1605 foll.) the poet presents one -of the usual lists of abstract qualities (“White Peace, Social Love,” -etc.), but there are imaginative touches present that help to vitalize -some at least of the company into living beings: - - The tender-looking Charity intent - On gentle deeds, and shedding tears through smiles— - -and the passage is thus a curious mixture of mechanical abstractions with -more vivid and inspired conceptions. - -Occasionally Thomson employs the figure with ironical or humorous -intention, and sometimes not ineffectively, as in the couplet, - - Then sated Hunger bids his brother Thirst - Produce the mighty bowl. - - (“Autumn,” 512) - -He is also fond of the apostrophic personification, often feebly, as -when, acting upon a suggestion from Mallet,[205] he writes: - - Comes, Inspiration, from thy hermit seat, - By mortal seldom found, etc. - - (“Summer,” l. 15) - -As for the seasons themselves, we do not find any very successful -attempts at personification. Thomson gives descriptive impressions rather -than abstractions: “gentle Spring, ethereal mildness” (“Spring,” 1), -“various-blossomed Spring” (“Autumn,” 5); or borrowing, as often, an -epithet from Milton, “refulgent Summer” (“Summer,” 2); or “surly Winter” -(“Spring,” 11). - -But in these, and similar passages, the seasons can hardly be said -to be distinctly pictured or personified. In “Winter,” however, -there is perhaps a more successful attempt at vague but suggestive -personification:[206] - - See Winter comes, to rule the varied year, - Sullen and sad, with all his rising train - Vapours, and clouds and storms. - -But on the whole Thomson’s personifications of the seasons are not, -poetically, very impressive. There is little or no approach to the -triumphant evocation with which Keats conjures up Autumn for us, with -all its varied sights and sounds, and its human activities vividly -personified in the gleaner and the winnower - - sitting careless on a granary floor - Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind, - -or the couplet in which Coleridge brings before us a subtle suggestion -of the spring beauty, to which the storms and snows are but a prelude: - - And winter, slumbering in the open air - Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring. - - (“Work without Hope”) - -Yet Thomson, as might be expected in a forerunner of the Romantic school, -is not altogether without a gift for these embryonic personifications, -as they have been called, when by means of a felicitous term or epithet -the whole conception which the poet has in mind is suddenly galvanized -into life and endowed with human feelings and emotions. Such evocations -are of the very stuff of which poetry is made, and at their highest -they possess the supreme power of stirring or awakening in the mind of -the reader other pictures or visions than those suggested by the mere -personification.[207] - -Though some of Thomson’s instances are conventional or commonplace, as in -the description of - - the grey grown oaks - That the calm village in their verdant arms - Sheltering, embrace, - - (“Summer,” 225-227) - -and others merely imitative, as, - - the rosy-footed May - Steals blushing on, - - (“Spring,” 489-490) - -yet there are many which call up by a single word a vivid and picturesque -expression, such as the “hollow-whispering breeze” (“Summer,” 919) or the -poet’s description of the dismal solitude of a winter landscape - - It freezes on - Till Morn, late rising o’er the drooping world - Lifts her pale eyes unjoyous - - (“Winter,” 744) - -or the beautiful description of a spring dawn: - - The meek-eyed Morn appears, mother of dews - At first faint-gleaming in the dappled east. - - (“Summer,” 48-49) - -Adverting to the question of Milton’s influence on the prevalent mania -for personification, it is undoubted that the early poems may be held -largely responsible. Their influence first began noticeably to make -itself felt in the fifth decade of the century, when their inspiration -is to be traced in a great deal of the poetic output of the period, -including that of Joseph and Thomas Warton, as well as of Collins and -Gray. Neglecting for the moment the greater poets who drew inspiration -from this source, it will be as well briefly to consider first the -influence of Milton’s minor poems on the obscure versifiers, for it -is very often the case that the minor poetry of an age reflects most -distinctly the peculiarities of a passing literary fashion. As early as -1739 William Hamilton of Bangour[208] imitated Milton in his octosyllabic -poem “Contemplation,” and by his predilection for abstraction -foreshadowed one of the main characteristics of the Miltonic revival -among the lesser lights. A single passage shows this clearly enough: - - Anger with wild disordered pace - And malice pale of famish’d face: - Loud-tongued Clamour get thee far - Hence, to wrangle at the bar: - -and so on. - -Five or six years later Mason’s Miltonic imitations appeared—“Il -Bellicoso” and “Il Pacifico”—which follow even more slavishly the style -of “L’Allegro” and “Il Penseroso,” so that there is no need for Mason’s -footnote to “Il Bellicoso” describing the poem with its companion piece -as this “very, very juvenile imitation.”[209] “Il Bellicoso” begins with -the usual dismissal: - - Hence, dull lethargic Peace - Born in some hoary beadsman’s cell obscure, - -and subsequently we are introduced to Pleasure, Courage, Victory, Fancy, -etc. There is a similar exorcism in “Il Pacifico,” followed by a faint -personification of the subject of the ode, attended by a “social smiling -train” of lifeless abstractions. - -The pages of Dodsley[210] furnish abundant testimony to the prevalence -of this kind of thing. Thus “Penshurst”[211] by F. Coventry is -another close imitation of Milton’s companion poems, with the usual -crowd of abstractions. The same thing is met with in the anonymous -“Vacation,”[212] and in the “Valetudinarian,” said to be written by Dr. -Marriott.[213] - -It is unnecessary to illustrate further the Milton vogue, which thus -produced so large a crop of imitations,[214] except to say that there is -significant testimony to the widespread prevalence of the fashion in the -fact that a parody written “in the Allegoric, Descriptive, Alliterative, -Epithetical, Fantastic, Hyperbolical, and Diabolical Style of our -modern Ode writers and monody-mongers”[215] soon appeared. This was -the anonymous “Ode to Horror,” a humorous burlesque, especially of the -“Pleasures of Melancholy.” The Wartons stand high above the versifiers at -whose productions we have just looked, but nevertheless there was some -justification for the good-humoured parody called forth by their works. - -In 1746 there appeared a small volume entitled “Odes on Various -Subjects,” a collection of fourteen odes by Joseph Warton.[216] The -influence of Milton is especially seen in the odes “To Fancy,” “To -Health,” and to “The Nightingale,” but all betray definitely the source -of their inspiration. Thus in the first named: - - Me, Goddess, by the right hand lead - Sometimes thro’ the yellow mead - Where Joy and White-robed Peace resort - And Venus keeps her festive court. - -All the odes of Warton betray an abundant use of abstractions, in the -midst of which he rarely displays anything suggestive of spontaneous -inspiration. His few personifications of natural powers are clearly -imitative. “Evening” is “the meek-eyed Maiden clad in sober gray” and -Spring comes - - array’d in primrose colour’d robe. - -We feel all the time that the poet drags in his stock of personified -abstractions only because he is writing odes, and considers that such -devices add dignity to his subject. - -At the same time it is worth noting that almost the same lavish use of -these lay figures occurs in his blank verse poem, “The Enthusiast,” or -“The Lover of Nature” (1740), likewise written in imitation of Milton, -and yet in its prophetic insight so important a poem in the history of -the Romantic revival.[217] Lines such as - - Famine, Want and Pain - Sunk to their graves their fainting limbs - -are frequent, while there is a regular procession of qualities, more -or less sharply defined, but not poetically suggestive enough to be -effective. - -The younger of the two brothers, Thomas Warton, who by his critical -appreciation of Spenser did much in that manner to help forward the -Romantic movement, was perhaps still more influenced by Milton. His ode -on “The Approach of Summer” shows to what extent he had taken possession -of the verse, language, and imagery of Milton: - - Haste thee, nymph, and hand in hand - With thee lead a buxom band - Bring fantastic-footed Joy - With Sport, that yellow-tressed boy; - Leisure, that through the balmy sky, - Chases a crimson butterfly. - -But nearly all his poems provide numerous instances of personified -abstraction, especially the lines “Written at Vale Abbey,” which seems -to exhaust, and present as thin abstractions, the whole gamut of human -virtues and vices, emotions and desires.[218] - -There is a certain irony in the fact that the two men who, crudely, -perhaps, but nevertheless unmistakably, adumbrated the Romantic doctrine, -should have been among the foremost to indulge in an excess against -which later the avowed champion of Romanticism was to inveigh with all -his power. This defect was perhaps the inevitable result of the fact -that the Wartons had apparently been content in this respect to follow -a contemporary fashion as revealed in the swarm of merely mechanical -imitations of Milton’s early poems. But their subjects were on the whole -distinctly romantic, and this fact, added to their critical utterances, -gives them real historical importance. Above all, it is to be remembered -that they have for contemporaries the two great poets in whom the -Romantic movement was for the first time adequately exemplified—William -Collins and Thomas Gray. - -The first published collection of Collins’s work, “Odes on Several -Descriptive and Allegorical Subjects” (1746), was, as we have seen, if -not neglected or ignored by the public, at least received with marked -indifference, owing largely no doubt to the abstract nature of his -subjects, and the chiselled severity of his treatment.[219] In other -words, Collins was pure classical and not neo-classical; he had gone -direct back to the “gods of Hellas” for his inspiration, and his verse -had a Hellenic austerity and beauty which could make little or no appeal -to his own age. At the same time it was permeated through and through -with new and striking qualities of feeling and emotion that at once -aroused the suspicions of the neo-classicists, with Johnson as their -mentor and spokesman. The “Odes” were then, we may say, classical in form -and romantic in essence, and it is scarcely a matter for surprise that a -lukewarm reception should have been their lot.[220] - -Collins has received merited praise for the charm and precision of his -diction generally, and the fondness for inverting the common order of -his words—Johnson’s chief criticism of his poetical style[221]—is to -the modern mind a venial offence compared with his use of personified -abstractions. On this point Johnson has nothing to say, an omission which -may be regarded as significant of the extent to which personification had -invaded poetry, for the critic, if we may judge from his silence, seems -to have considered it natural and legitimate for Collins also to have -made abundant use of this stock and conventional device. - -It is probable, however, that the extensive use which Collins makes of -the figure is the result in a large measure of his predilection for the -ode—a form of verse very fashionable towards the middle of the century. -As has already been noted, odes were being turned out in large numbers -by the poetasters of the time, in which virtues and vices, emotions and -passions were invoked, apostrophized, and dismissed with appropriate -gestures, and it is probable that the majority of these turgid and -ineffective compositions owed their appearance to the prevalent mania for -personification. Young remarked with truth[222] that an ode is, or ought -to be, “more spontaneous and more remote from prose” than any other kind -of poetry; and doubtless it was some vague recognition of this fact, and -in the hope of “elevating” their style, that led the mere versifiers to -adopt the trick. But as they worked the mechanical personification to -death, they quickly robbed it of any impressiveness it may ever have had. - -This might quite fairly be described as the state of affairs with regard -to the use of personified abstraction when Collins was writing his -“odes,” but while it is true that he indulges freely in personification, -it is scarcely necessary to add that he does so with a difference; his -Hellenic training and temperament naturally saved him from the inanities -and otiosities of so much contemporary verse. To begin with, there are -but few examples of the lifeless abstraction, and even in such cases -there is usually present a happy epithet, or brief description that sets -them on a higher level than those that swarm even in the odes of the -Wartons. Thus in the “Ode on the Poetical Character,” “the shadowy tribes -of mind,” which had been sadly overworked by Collins’s predecessors and -contemporaries, are brought before us with a new and fresh beauty that -wins instant acceptance for them: - - But near it sat ecstatic Wonder - Listening the deep applauding thunder - And truth in sunny vest arrayed - By whom the tassel’s eyes were made - All the shadowy tribes of mind - In braided dance their murmurs joined. - -Instances of the mechanical type so much in favour are, however, not -lacking, as in this stanza from the “Verses” written about bride-cake: - - Ambiguous looks that scorn and yet relent, - Denial mild and firm unaltered truth, - Reluctant pride and amorous faint consent - And melting ardours and exulting youth.[223] - -The majority of Collins’s personified abstractions are, however, vague -in outline, that is to say, they suggest, but do not define, and are -therefore the more effective in that the resulting images are almost -evanescent in their delicacy. Thus in the “Ode to Pity” the subject is -presented to us in magic words: - - Long pity, let the nations view - Thy sky-worn robes of tender blue - And eyes of dewy light, - -whilst still another imaginative conception is that of “Mercy”: - - who sitt’st a smiling bride - By Valour’s armed and awful side - Gentlest of sky-born forms and best adorned. - -The “Ode to the Passions” is in itself almost an epitome of the various -ways in which Collins makes use of personification. It is first to be -noted that he rarely attempts to clothe his personifications in long and -elaborate descriptions; most often they are given life and reality by -being depicted, so to speak, moving and acting: - - Revenge impatient rose, - He threw his blood-stained sword in thunder down, - And with a withering look - The war-denouncing trumpet took; - Yet still he kept his wild unaltered mien - Whilst his strained ball of sight seemed bursting from his head. - -Even the figures, seen as it were but for a moment, are flashed before us -in this manner: - - With woful measures wan Despair - Low sullen sounds his grief beguiled - -and - - Dejected Pity at his side - Her soul-subduing voice applied - -and the vision of hope with “eyes so fair” who - - smiled and waved her golden hair. - -In this ode Collins gives us also imaginative cameos, we might call them, -vividly delineated and presented like the figures on the Grecian urn that -inspired Keats. Thus: - - While as his flying fingers kissed the strings, - Love framed with mirth a gay fantastic round. - -and, with its tinge of probably unconscious humour— - - Brown exercise rejoiced to hear, - And Sport leapt up and seized his beechen spear. - -From these and similar instances, we receive a definite impression of -that motion, which is at the same time repose, so characteristic of -classical sculptuary. - -Most of the odes considered above are addressed to abstractions. In the -few instances where Collins invokes the orders or powers of nature even -greater felicity is shown in the art with which he calls up and clothes -in perfect expression his abstract images. The first of the seasons is -vaguely but subtly suggested to us in the beautiful ode beginning “How -sleep the brave”: - - When Spring with dewy fingers cold - Returns to deck their hallowed mould, - She there shall dress a sweeter sod - Than fancy’s feet have ever trod. - -This is rather a simile than a personification, but yet there is conveyed -to us a definite impression of a shadowy figure that comes to deck the -earth with beauty, like a young girl scattering flowers as she walks -along. - -But the workmanship of Collins in this respect is seen in its perfection -in the “Ode to Evening.” There is no attempt to draw a portrait or chisel -a statue; the calm, restful influence of evening, its sights and sounds -that radiate peace and contentment, even the very soul of the landscape -as the shades of night gather around, are suggested by master touches, -whilst the slow infiltration of the twilight is beautifully suggested: - - Thy dewy fingers draw - The gradual dusky veil. - -The central figure is still the same evanescent being, the vision of a -maiden, endowed with all the grace of beauty and dignity, into whose lap -“sallow Autumn” is pouring his falling leaves, or who now goes her way -slowly through the tempest, while - - Winter, yelling through the troublous air - Affrights thy shrinking train, - And rudely rends thy robe. - -If we had no other evidence before us, Collins’s use of personified -abstraction would be sufficient in itself to announce that the new poetry -had begun. He makes use of the device as freely, and even now and then -as mechanically, as the inferior versifiers of his period, but instead -of the bloodless abstractions, his genius enabled him to present human -qualities and states in almost ethereal form. Into them he has breathed -such poetic life and inspiration that in their suggestive beauty and -felicity of expression they stand as supreme examples of personification -used as a legitimate poetical device, as distinct from a mere rhetorical -figure or embellishment. - -This cannot be said of Gray, in whose verse mechanical personifications -crowd so thickly that, as Coleridge observed in his remarks on the lines -from “The Bard,” - - In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes - Youth at the prow and Pleasure at the helm - -it depends “wholly on the compositors putting or not putting a small -Capital, both in this and in many other passages of the same poet, -whether the words should be personifications or mere abstractions.”[224] - -It is difficult to account for this devotion of Gray to the “new -Olympus,” thickly crowded with “moral deities” that his age had brought -into being, except on the assumption that contemporary usage in this -respect was too strong for him to resist. For it cannot be denied that -very many of the beings that swarm in his odes do not differ in their -essential character from the mechanical figures worked to death by the -ode-makers of his days; even his genius was not able to clothe them -all in flesh and blood. In the “Eton College” ode there is a whole -stanza given over to a conventional catalogue of the “fury passions,” -the “vultures of the mind”; and similar thin abstractions people all -the other odes. Nothing is visualized: we see no real image before -us.[225] Even the famous “Elegy” is not without its examples of stiff -personification, though they are not present in anything like the excess -found elsewhere. The best that can be said for abstractions of this kind -is that in their condensation they represent an economy of expression -that is not without dignity and effectiveness, and they thus sometimes -give an added emphasis to the sentiment, as in the oft-quoted - - Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, - Their homely joys and destiny secure, - Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile - The short and simple annals of the poor. - -Gray rarely attempts to characterize his figures other than by the -occasional use of a conventional epithet, and only here and there has the -personification been to any extent filled in so as to form at least an -outline picture. In the “Hymn to Adversity,” Wisdom is depicted - - in sable garb arrayed - Immersed in rapturous thought profound, - -whilst other slight human touches are to be found here and there: as -in “Moody Madness, laughing wild” (“Ode on a Distant Prospect”). His -personifications, however, have seldom the clear-cut outlines we find -in Collins, nor do they possess more than a tinge of the vividness and -vitality the latter could breathe into his abstractions. Yet now and then -we come across instances of the friezes in which Collins excels, moving -figures depicted as in Greek plastic art - - Antic sports and blue-eyed Pleasures, - Frisking light in frolic measures - - (“Progress of Poesy”) - -or the beautiful vision in the “Bard,” - - Bright Rapture calls and soaring as she sings, - Waves in the eyes of heaven her many-coloured wings. - -And in the “Ode on Vicissitude” Gray has one supreme example of the -embryonic personification, when the powers or orders of nature are -invested with human attributes, and thus brought before us as living -beings, in the form of vague but suggestive impressions that leave to the -imagination the task of filling in the details: - - Now the golden Morn aloft - Waves her dew-bespangled wing - With vernal cheek and whisper soft - She woos the tardy spring. - -But in the main, and much more than the poet with whom his name is -generally coupled, it is perhaps not too much to say that Gray was -content to handle the device in the same manner as the uninspired -imitators of the “L’Allegro” and “Il Penseroso.” Not that he was -unaware of the danger of such a tendency in himself and others. “I -had rather,” he wrote to Mason[226] when criticizing the latter’s -“Caractacus,” “some of the personages—‘Resignation,’ ‘Peace,’ ‘Revenge,’ -‘Slaughter,’ ‘Ambition’—were stripped of their allegorical garb. A -little simplicity here and there in the expression would better prepare -the high and fantastic harpings that follow.” In the light of this most -salutary remark, Gray’s own procedure is only the more astonishing. His -innumerable personifications may not have been regarded by Johnson as -contributory to “the kind of cumbrous splendour” he wished away from the -odes, but the fact that they are scarce in the “Elegy” is not without -significance. The romantic feeling which asserts itself clearly in the -odes, the new imaginative conceptions which these stock figures were -called upon to convey, the perfection of the workmanship—these qualities -were more than sufficient to counterweigh Gray’s licence of indulgence in -a mere rhetorical device. Yet Coleridge was right in calling attention -to this defect of Gray’s style, especially as his censure is no mere -diatribe against the use of personified abstraction: it is firmly and -justly based on the undeniable fact that Gray’s personifications are for -the most part cold and lifeless, that they are mere verbal abstractions, -utterly devoid of the redeeming vitality, which Collins gives to his -figures.[227] It is for this reason perhaps that his poetry in the -mass has never been really popular, and that the average reader, with -his impatience of abstractions, has been content, with Dr. Johnson, to -pronounce boldly for “The Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard.” - -Before proceeding to examine the works of the other great poets who -announce or exemplify the Romantic revival, it will be convenient at -this point to look at some of the Spenserian imitations, which helped to -inspire and vitalize the revival. - -Spenser was the poet of mediaeval allegory. In the “Faerie Queene,” -for the first time a real poet, endowed with the highest powers of -imagination and expression, was able to present the old traditional -abstractions wonderfully decked up in a new and captivating guise. The -personages that move like dream figures through the cantos of the poem -are thus no mere personified abstractions: they are rather pictorial -emblems, many of which are limned for us with such grandeur of conception -and beauty of execution as to secure for the allegorical picture a -“willing suspension of disbelief,” whilst the essentially romantic -atmosphere more than atones for the cumbrous and obsolete machinery -adopted by Spenser to inculcate the lessons of “virtuous and gentle -discipline.” - -Though the eighteenth century Spenserians make a plentiful use of -personified abstraction, on the whole their employment of this device -differs widely from its mechanical use by most of their contemporaries: -in the best of the imitations there are few examples of the lifeless -abstraction. Faint traces at least of the music and melody of the “Faerie -Queene” have been caught and utilized to give a poetic charm even to -the personified virtues and vices that naturally appear in the work of -Spenser’s imitators. Thus in William Thompson’s “Epithalamium” (1736), -while many of the old figures appear before us, they have something of -the new charm with which Collins was soon to invest them. Thus, - - Liberty, the fairest nymph on ground - The flowing plenty of her growing hair - Diffusing lavishly ambrosia round - Earth smil’d, and Gladness danc’d along the sky. - -The epithets which accompany the abstractions are no longer conventional -(“Chastity meek-ey’d,” “Modesty sweet-blushing”) and help to give touches -of animation to otherwise inanimate figures. In the “Nativity” (1757) -there is a freer use of the mere abstraction that calls up no distinct -picture, but even here there are happy touches that give relief: - - Faith led the van, her mantle dipt in blue, - Steady her ken, and gaining on the skies. - -In the “Hymn to May” (1787) Thompson personified the month whose charms -he is singing, the result being a radiant figure, having much in common -with the classical personifications of the orders or powers of nature: - - A silken camus, em’rald green - Gracefully loose, adown her shoulder flow. - -In Shenstone’s “Schoolmistress” (1737-1742) instances of personification -are rare, and, where they do occur, are merely faint abstractions like -“Learning near her little dome.” It is noteworthy that one of the most -successful of the Spenserian imitations should have dispensed with the -cumbrous machinery of abstract beings that, on the model of the “Faerie -Queene,” might naturally have been drawn upon. The homely atmosphere of -the “Schoolmistress,” with its idyllic pictures and its gentle pathos, -would, indeed, have been fatally marred by their introduction. - -The same sparing use of personification is evident in the greatest of -the imitations, James Thomson’s “Castle of Indolence” (1748). A theme -of this nature afforded plenty of opportunity to indulge in the device, -and Thomson, judging from its use of the figure in some of his blank -verse poems, might have been expected to take full advantage. But there -are less than a score of examples in the whole of the poem. Only vague -references are made to the eponymous hero: he is simply “Indolence” or -“tender Indolence” or “the demon Indolence.” For the rest Thomson’s few -abstractions are of the stock type, though occasionally more realistic -touches result, we may suppose, from the poet’s sense of humour as - - The sleepless Gout here counts the crowing cock. - -Only here and there has Thomson attempted full-length portraits in the -Spenserian manner, as when Lethargy, Hydropsy, and Hypochondria are -described with drastic realism.[228] - -The works of the minor Spenserians show a greater use of personified -abstraction, but even with them there is no great excess. Moreover, -where instances do occur, they show imaginative touches foreign to the -prevalent types. Thus in the “Vision of Patience” by Samuel Boyce (d. -1778), - - Silence sits on her untroubled throne - As if she left the world to live and reign alone, - -while Patience stands - - In robes of morning grey. - -Occasionally the personified abstractions, though occurring in -avowedly Spenserian imitations, obviously owe more to the influence of -“L’Allegro”; as in William Whitehead’s “Vision of Solomon” (1730), where -the embroidered personifications are much more frequent than the detailed -images given by Spenser.[229] - -The work of Chatterton represents another aspect of this revival of the -past, but it is curious to find that, in his acknowledged “original” -verse there are not many instances of the personified abstraction, -whilst they are freely used in the Rowley poems. Where they do occur -in his avowedly original work they are of the usual type, though more -imaginative power is revealed in his personification of Winter: - - Pale rugged Winter bending o’er his tread, - His grizzled hair bedropt with icy dew: - His eyes a dusky light congealed and dead, - His robe a tinge of bright ethereal blue. - -From our special point of view the “antiquarianism” of the Rowley -poems might almost be disproved by the prevalence of abstractions and -personifications, which in most instances are either unmistakably of -the eighteenth century or which testify to the new Romantic atmosphere -now manifesting itself. The stock types of frigid abstraction are all -brought on the stage in the manner of the old Moralities, and each is -given an ample speaking part in order to describe his own characteristics. - -But in addition to these lifeless abstractions, there are to be -found in the Rowley poems a large number of detailed and elaborate -personifications. Some of these are full length portraits in the -Spenserian manner, and now and then the resulting personification is -striking and beautiful, as when, in “Ælla” (59), Celmond apostrophizes -Hope, or the evocation of Truth in “The Storie of William Canynge.” - -Chatterton has also in these poems a few personifications of natural -powers, but these are mainly imitative as in the lines (“Ælla,” 94) -reminiscent of Milton and Pope[230]: - - Bright sun had in his ruddy robes been dight - From the red east he flitted with his train, - The hours drew away the robe of night, - Her subtle tapestry was rent in twain. - -But the evocation of the seasons themselves, as in “Ælla” (32), - - When Autumn sere and sunburnt doth appear - With his gold hand gilding the falling leaf - Bringing up Winter to fulfil the year - Bearing upon his back the ripened sheaf, - -conveys a fresh and distinct picture that belongs to the new poetry, and -has in it a faint forecast of Keats. - -It remains to look at the work of the later eighteenth century poets, -who announce that if the Romantic outburst is not yet, it is close at -hand. The first and greatest of these is William Blake. His use of -personification in the narrower sense which is our topic, is, of course, -formally connected with the large and vital question of his symbolism, to -treat of which here in any detail is not part of our scheme. - -In its widest sense, however, Blake’s mysticism may be connected with -the great mediaeval world of allegory: it is “an eddy of that flood-tide -of symbolism which attained its tide-mark in the magic of the Middle -Ages.”[231] But the poet himself unconsciously indicates the vital -distinction between the new symbolism, which he inaugurates, and the -old, of which the personified abstractions of his eighteenth century -predecessors may be regarded as faint and faded relics. “Allegory -addressed to the intellectual powers,” he wrote to Thomas Butts,[232] -“while it is altogether hidden from the corporeal understanding, is my -definition of the most surprising poetry.” - -On its formal side, and reduced to its simplest expression, we may narrow -down for our present purpose the whole system to the further distinction -drawn by Blake between Allegory and Vision. Allegory is “formed by the -daughters of Memory” or the deliberate reason; Vision “is surrounded by -the daughters of Inspiration.” Here we have a key to the classification -of personified abstractions in the eighteenth century, and, for that -matter, at any and every period. Abstractions formed by the deliberate -reason are usually more or less rhetorical embellishments of poetry, and -to this category belong the great majority of the personifications of -eighteenth century verse. They are “things that relate to moral virtues” -or vices, but they cannot truly be called allegorical, for allegory is a -living thing only so long as the ideas it embodies are real forces that -control our conduct. The inspired personification, which embodies or -brings with it a real vision, is the truly poetical figure. - -In Blake’s own practice we find only a few instances of the typical -eighteenth century abstraction. In the early “Imitation of Spenser” there -are one or two examples: - - Such is sweet Eloquence that does dispel - Envy and Hate that thirst for human gore, - -whilst others are clearly Elizabethan reminiscences, like - - Mournful lean Despair - Brings me yew to deck my grave, - -or - - Memory, hither come - And tune your merry notes. - -“The Island in the Moon” furnishes grotesque instances, such as that -of old Corruption dressed in yellow vest. In “The Divine Image,” from -the “Songs of Innocence,” while commonplace virtues are personified, -the simple direct manner of the process distinguishes them from their -prototypes in the earlier moral and didactic poetry of the century: - - For Mercy has a human heart - Pity a human face - And Love, the human form divine - And Peace the human dress.[233] - -An instance of personification raised to a higher power is found in -Blake’s letter to Butts[234] beginning - - With Happiness stretch’d across the hills, - In a cloud that dewy sweetness distils, - -whilst elsewhere personified abstractions appear with new epithets, the -most striking example being in “Earth’s Answer,” from the “Songs of -Experience”: - - Prison’d on watry shore - _Starry_ Jealousy does keep my den. - -Moreover, Blake’s figures are often presented in an imaginative guise -that helps to emphasize the gulf fixed between him and the majority of -his contemporaries and predecessors. Thus “Joy” is twice depicted as a -bird: - - Joys upon our branches sit - Chirping loud and singing sweet - - (“Song”—“Poetical Sketches”) - -and - - Welcome, stranger, to this place - Where Joy doth sit on every bough. - - (“Song by a Shepherd”) - -In Blake’s youthful work the personifications of natural powers, though -in most cases clearly imitative are yet striking in their beauty and -power of suggestion. The influence of “Ossian” is seen in such “prose” -personifications as “The Veiled Evening walked solitary down the Western -hills and Silence reposed in the valley” (“The Couch of Death”), and -“Who is this that with unerring step dares to tempt the wild where only -Nature’s foot has trod, ’Tis Contemplation, daughter of the Grey Morning” -(“Contemplation”). Here also are evocations of the seasons which, -whatever they may owe to Thomson or Collins, are new in that we actually -get a picture of Spring with “dewy locks” as she looks down - - Thro’ the clear windows of the morning - -of summer with - - ruddy limbs and flourishing hair, - -of the “jolly autumn,” - - laden with fruits and stained - With the blood of the grape; - -and of winter, - - a dreadful monster whose skin clings - To her strong bones. - -Thomson, we have seen, had not been altogether successful in his -personification of the seasons: here they are brought vividly and -fittingly before us. When we think of the hosts of puppets that in the -guise of personified abstractions move mechanically through so much of -eighteenth century verse, and compare them with the beautiful visions -evoked by Blake, we know from this evidence alone that the reign of -one of the chief excesses of the poetical language of the time is near -its end. It is not that Blake’s conceptions are all flesh and blood -creations: often they are rather ethereal beings, having something in -common with the evanescent images of Collins. But the rich and lofty -imagination that has given them birth is more than sufficient to secure -their acceptance as realities capable of living and moving before us; the -classical abstraction, cold and lifeless, has now become the Romantic -personification clothed in beauty and animated with life and inner -meaning. - -In the year of the “Poetical Sketches” (1783) George Crabbe published -“The Village,” his first work to meet with any success. But whilst Blake -gloriously announces the emancipation of English poetry, Crabbe for the -most part is still writing on in the old dead style. The heroic couplets -of his earliest works have all the rhetorical devices of his predecessors -in that measure, and amongst these the prevalence of personified -abstractions is not the least noteworthy. The subject of his first poem -of any length, “Inebriety” (1775), afforded him plenty of scope in this -direction, and he availed himself fully of the opportunity.[235] The -absence of capital letters from some of the instances in this poem may -perhaps be taken to reflect a confusion in the poet’s mind as to whether -he was indulging in personification or in mere abstraction, to adopt -Coleridge’s remark anent Gray’s use of this figure.[236] - -In “The Village,” Crabbe’s first poem of any real merit, there is a -more sparing use, yet instances are even here plentiful, whilst his -employment of the device had not died out when in the early years of the -nineteenth century he resumed his literary activities. Among the poems -published in the 1807 volume there is a stiff and cumbrous allegory -entitled “The Birth of Flattery,” which, introduced by three Spenserian -stanzas, depicts Flattery as the child of Poverty and Cunning, attended -by guardian satellites, “Care,” “Torture,” “Misery,” _et hoc omne genus_. -They linger on to the time of the “Posthumous Tales,” where there is a -sad, slow procession of them, almost, we might imagine, as if they were -conscious of the doom pronounced years before, and of the fact that they -were strangers in a strange land: - - Yet Resignation in the house is seen - Subdued Affliction, Piety serene, - And Hope, for ever striving to instil - The balm for grief, “It is the heavenly will.” - - (XVIII, 299 foll.) - -It is not perhaps too fanciful to see in this lament a palinode of the -personifications themselves, sadly resigning themselves to an inevitable -fate. - -Towards the ultimate triumph of the new poetry the work of William Cowper -represents perhaps the most important contribution, judging at least from -the viewpoint both of its significance as indicating new tendencies in -literature, and of its immediate influence on readers and writers. In -the narrow sense of style the “simplicity” which was Cowper’s ideal was -only occasionally marred by the conventional phraseology and bombastic -diction which he himself laid to the charge of the “classical” school, -and his gradual emancipation from the tenets and practices of that school -is reflected in his steady advance towards the purity of expression for -which he craved. And in this advance it is to be noted that the gradual -disappearance of personified abstractions is one of the minor landmarks. - -The earlier work furnishes instances of the common type of mere -abstraction where there is no attempt to give any real personification. -Even in the “Olney Hymns” (1779) such verses as - - But unbelief, self-will - Self-righteousness and pride, - How often do they steal - My weapon from my side - -only seem to present the old mechanical figures in a new setting.[237] -The long series of satiric poems that followed draw freely upon the same -“mythology,” and indeed the satires that appear in this 1782 volume -recall to some extent the style of Churchill.[238] There is a somewhat -similar, though more restricted, use of personified abstraction, and, as -in Churchill’s satires, virtues and vices are invested with slight human -qualities and utilized to enforce moral and didactic truths. Thus, - - Peace follows Virtue as its sure reward - And Pleasure brings as surely in her train - Remorse and Sorrow and Vindictive Pain. - - (“Progress of Error”) - -Among the short pieces in this volume are the famous lines put into -the mouth of Alexander Selkirk, which contain a fine example of the -apostrophic personification, the oft-quoted - - O Solitude! where are thy charms - That sages have seen in thy face, - -where the passion and sincerity of the appeal give dignity and animation -to an otherwise lifeless abstraction, and, despite the absence of detail, -really call up a definite picture. - -From the blank verse of his most famous work nearly every trace of the -mechanical abstraction has disappeared—a great advance when we remember -that “The Task” is in the direct line of the moral and didactic verse -that had occupied so many of Cowper’s predecessors. - -The first Books (“The Sofa”) contain but one instance and that in a -playful manner: - - Ingenious Fancy, never better pleased - Than when employed to accommodate the fair. - - (ll. 72 foll.) - -The Fourth Book (“The Winter Evening”) is entirely free from instances of -the mechanical abstraction, but the vision of Oriental Empire, and the -fascination of the East, is effectively evoked in the personification of -the land of the Moguls: - - Is India free? and does she wear her plumed - And jewelled turban with a smile of peace. - - (ll. 28-9) - -“The Task,” however, has two examples of the detailed personification. -The first is an attempt, in the manner of Spenser, to give a full length -portrait of “a sage called Discipline”: - - His eye was meek and gentle and a smile - Played on his lips, and in his speech was heard - Paternal sweetness - - (Bk. II, l. 702 foll.) - -where there is a depth of feeling, as well as a gentle satiric touch in -the delineation, that animate it into something more than a mere stock -image; it embodies perhaps a reminiscence of one who at some time or -other had guided the destinies of the youthful Cowper. - -The second instance is of a more imaginative kind. It is the -presentation, in the Fourth Book, of Winter, with - - forehead wrapt in cloud - A leafless branch thy sceptre, - -almost the only occasion on which Cowper, despite the nature of his -subject, has personified the powers and orders of nature.[239] Cowper -has also invested the Evening with human attributes, and despite the -imitative ring of the lines,[240] and the “quaintness” of the images -employed, there is a new beauty in the evocation: - - Come, Evening, once again, season of peace; - Return, sweet Evening, and continue long! - Methinks I see thee in the streaky west - With matron step slow-moving, while the night - Treads on thy sweeping train. - -The darkness soon to fall over the landscape is suggested in the added -appeal to Evening to come - - Not sumptuously adorned, nor needing aid - Like homely-featured Night, of clustering gems, - -where the compound epithet emphasizes the contrast between the quiet -beauty of the twilight skyscape and the star-sprinkled gloom of the night. - -Finally, one of the last instances of the personified abstraction to be -found in the work of Cowper may perhaps be taken to reflect something of -the changes that have been silently working underneath. This is in the -lines that suddenly bring “Yardley Oak” to an end: - - History not wanted yet - Leaned on her elbow watching Time whose course - Eventful should supply her with a theme. - -At first glance we seem to have here but the old conventional figures, -but there is an imaginative touch that helps to suggest a new world of -romance. “History leaning on her elbow” has something at least of that -mysterious power of suggestion that Wordsworth himself was to convey by -means of the romantic personification, such as those shadowy figures—Fear -and Trembling Hope, and Death the Skeleton, and Time the Shadow—which -gathered round and hallowed the shade of the yew trees in Borrowdale. - -But even while the old poetry was in its death agony a champion was at -hand, daring to maintain a lost cause both by precept and example. This -was Erasmus Darwin, whose once-famous work “The Botanic Garden,” with -its two parts, “The Loves of the Plants” (1789), and “The Economy of -Vegetation” (1791), has earlier been mentioned. - -It met with immediate success. Darwin seems to have fascinated his -contemporaries, so that even Coleridge was constrained in 1802 to call -him “the first literary character in Europe.”[241] He had, however, -little real admiration for “The Botanic Garden,” and later expressed -his opinion unmistakably.[242] “The Botanic Garden” soon died a natural -death, hastened no doubt by the ridicule it excited, but inevitably -because of the fact that the poem is an unconscious _reductio ad -absurdum_ of a style already doomed.[243] The special matter with which -we are concerned in this chapter had for Darwin a marked significance, -since it fitted in admirably with his general doctrine or dogma that -nothing is strictly poetic except what is presented in visual image. His -“theory” was that, just as the old mythologies had created a whole world -of personified abstractions to explain or interpret natural phenomena -of every description, exactly by the same method the scientific thought -and developments of his own age could be poetically expounded so as -to captivate both the hearts and minds of his readers. It was his -ambition, he said, “to enlist imagination under the banner of science.” -This “theory” is expounded in one of the interludes placed between the -different cantos. “The poet writes principally to the eye,” and allegory -and personifications are to be commended because they give visible -form to abstract conceptions.[244] Putting his theory into practice, -Darwin then proceeds with great zeal to personify the varied and various -scientific facts or hypotheses of physics, botany, etc., metamorphosing -the forces of the air and other elements into sylphs and gnomes and so -on. Thus, - - Soon shall thy arm, Unconquered - Steam afar - Drag the slow barge or drive the - Rapid car. - - (E.V., Canto I, 289, 290) - -In the same way all the plants, as classified by Linnæus, are personified -as “swains” or “belles” who “love” and quarrel, and finally make it up -just as ordinary mortals do: - - All wan and shivering in the leafless glade - The sad Anemone reclin’d her head - - (L.P., Canto I, 315-6) - -or - - Retiring Lichen climbs the topmost stone - And drinks the aerial solitude alone. - - (_Ibid._, 347-8) - -The whole poem is thus one long series of mechanical personifications -which baffle and bewilder and finally wear out the reader. It is strange -now to think that “The Botanic Garden” was at the height of its vogue -when the “Lyrical Ballads” were being planned and written, but the -easy-flowing couplets of Darwin, and the “tinsel and glitter” of his -diction, together with most of the “science” he was at such pains to -expound (though he was a shrewd and even prophetic inquirer in certain -branches, such as medicine and biology), have now little more than a -faint historical interest. Yet his theory and practice of poetry—the -“painted mists that occasionally rise from the marshes at the foot of -Parnassus,” Coleridge called them—so dominated the literature of the last -decade of the eighteenth century as to be capable of captivating the mind -of the poet who was about to sound their death-knell. - -While Wordsworth inveighed against “personification” in the great -manifesto, his earliest poetry shows clearly, as has been noted, that in -this as in other respects he had fallen under the spell and influence of -“The Botanic Garden.” The “Evening Walk” and the “Descriptive Sketches” -swarm with instances of personifications of the type that had flourished -apace for a hundred years, “Impatience,” “Pain,” “Independence,” “Hope,” -“Oppression,” and dozens similar.[245] There is thus a certain comic -irony in the fact that the poet, who was the first to sound the revolt -against “personifications” and similar “heightenings” of style, should -have embarked on his literary career with the theft of a good deal of -the thunder of the enemy. Later, when Wordsworth’s true ideal of style -had evolved itself, this feature of the two poems was in great measure -discarded. The first (1793) draft of the “Descriptive Sketches” contains -over seventy examples of more or less frigid abstractions; in the final -draft of the poem these have dwindled down to about a score.[246] - -In our detailed examination of personification in eighteenth century -poetry we have seen that in general it includes three main types. There -is first the mere abstraction, whose distinctive sign is the presence -of a capital letter; it may be, and often is, qualified by epithets -suggestive of human attributes, but there is little or no attempt to give -a definite picture or evoke a distinctive image. This is the prevalent -type, and it is against these invertebrates that the criticism of -Wordsworth and Coleridge was really directed. - -Their widespread use in the eighteenth century is due to various causes. -In the first place they represent a survival, however artificial and -lifeless, of the great mediaeval world of allegory, with its symbolic -representation derived from the pagan and classical mythologies, of -the attributes of the divine nature, and of the qualities of the human -mind, as living entities. But by now the life had departed from them; -they were hopelessly effete and had become consciously conventional and -fictitious.[247] - -They also owed their appearance, as indicated above, to more definite -literary causes and “fashions”; they swarm especially, for instance, in -the odes of the mid-century, the appearance of which was mainly due to -the influence of “L’Allegro” and “Il Penseroso.” The virtues and vices, -the “shadowy tribes of the mind,” which are there unceasingly invoked -and dismissed are mechanical imitations of the figures that the genius -of Milton had been able to inspire with real poetic value and life. They -play their part similarly and just as mechanically in the didactic and -satirical verse characteristic of the period. - -But whether regarded as a sort of literary flotsam and jetsam, or as one -of the symptoms of “Milton-mad” verse, these personifications are nearly -all enfeebled by weaknesses inherent in their very genesis. Only a deep -and intense conception of a mental abstraction can justify any attempt -to personify it poetically; otherwise the inevitable result is a mere -rhetorical ornament, which fails because it conveys neither the “vast -vagueness” of the abstract, nor any clear-cut pictorial conception of the -person. Even with Gray, as with the mere poetasters who used this figure -to excess, it has the effect of a dull and wearisome mannerism; only -here and there, as in the sonorous lines in which Johnson personified -Worth held down by Poverty, does the display of personal emotion give any -dignity and depth to the image. - -Again, the very freedom with which the conventional abstractions are -employed, allowing them to be introduced on every possible occasion, -tends to render the device absurd, if not ludicrous. For the versifiers -seemed to have at their beck and call a whole phantom army upon which -they could draw whenever they chose; for them they are veritable gods -from the machines. But so mechanical are their entrances and exits -that the reader rarely suspects them to be intended for “flesh and -blood creations,” though, it may be added, the poetaster himself -would be slow to make any such claim. To him they are merely part of -his stock-in-trade, like the old extravagances, the “conceits,” and -far-fetched similes of the Metaphysical school. - -The second type of personification found in eighteenth century verse -needs but brief mention here. It is the detailed personification where -a full-length portrait is attempted. Like the mere abstraction it, too, -is a survival of mediaeval allegory, and it is also most often a merely -mechanical literary process, reflecting no real image in the poet’s mind. -It is not found to any large extent, and in a certain measure owes its -presence to the renewed interest in Spenser. The Spenserian imitations -themselves are comparatively free from this type, a sort of negative -indication of the part played by the revival in the new Romantic movement. - -The third type is perhaps best described as the embryonic -personification. It consists in the attributing of an individual and -living existence to the visible forms and invisible powers of nature, a -disposition, deeply implanted in the human mind from the very dawn of -existence, which has left in the mythologies and creeds of the world a -permanent impress of its power. In eighteenth century literature this -type received its first true expression in the work of Thompson and -Collins, whilst its progress, until it becomes merged and fused in the -pantheism of Wordsworth and Shelley, may be taken as a measure of the -advance of the Romantic movement in one of its most vital aspects. - -Regarded on its purely formal side, that is, as part and parcel of the -_language_ of poetry, the use of personification may then be naturally -linked up with the generally literary development of the period. In the -“classical” verse proper the figure employed is, as it were, a mere word -and no more; it is the reflex of precisely as much individual imagination -as the stock phrases of descriptive verse, _the flowery meads_, _painted -birds_, and so on. There was no writing with the inner eye on the -object, and the abstraction as a result was a mere rhetorical label, -corresponding to no real vision of things. - -The broad line of advance in this, as in other aspects of eighteenth -century literature, passes through the work of those who are now looked -upon as the forerunners of the Romantic revolt. The frigid abstraction, -a mere word distinguished by a capital letter, is to be found in “The -Seasons,” but alongside there is also an approach to definite pictorial -representation of the object personified. In the odes of Collins the -advent of the pictorial image is definitely and triumphantly announced, -and though the mechanical abstractions linger on even until the new -poetry has well established itself, they are only to be found in the -work of those who either, like Johnson and Crabbe, belong definitely as -regards style to the old order, or like Goldsmith and, to a less extent, -Cowper, reflect as it were sort of half-way attitude towards the old and -the new. - -With Blake the supremacy of the artistic personification is assured. His -mystical philosophy in its widest aspect leads him to an identification -of the divine nature with the human, but sometimes this signification -is to be seen merging into a more conscious symbolism, or even sinking -into that “totally distinct and inferior kind of poetry” known as -allegory. Yet with Blake the poet, as well as Blake the artist, the -use of personified abstraction is an integral part of the symbolism he -desired to perpetuate. His imagination ran strongly in that direction, -and it has been aptly pointed out that his most intense mental and -emotional experiences became for him spiritual persons. But even where -the presence of a capital letter is still the only distinguishing mark -of the personification, he is able, either by the mere context or by -the addition of a suggestive epithet, to transform and transfigure the -abstraction into a poetical emblem of the doctrine whose apostle he -believed himself to be. - -It is hardly necessary to say that the use of personification and -abstraction, even in their narrower applications as rhetorical ornaments -or artifices of verse, were not banished from English poetry as a result -of Wordsworth’s criticism. Ruskin has drawn a penetrating distinction -between personification and symbolism,[248] and it was in this direction -perhaps that Wordsworth’s protest may be said to have been of the -highest value. His successors, for the most part, distrustful of mere -abstractions, and impatient of allegory, with its attendant dangers of -lifeless and mechanical personification, were not slow to recognize -the inherent possibilities of symbolism as an artistic medium for the -expression of individual moods and emotions, and it is not too much to -say that in its successful employment English poetry has since won some -of its greatest triumphs. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE DICTION OF POETRY - - -After years of comparative neglect, and, it must be admitted, a good -deal of uncritical disparagement, the “age of prose and reason” would -seem at last to have come into its own. Or at any rate during recent -years there has become evident a disposition to look more kindly on a -period which has but seldom had justice done to it. The label which -Matthew Arnold’s dictum attached to a good portion, if not the whole, -of the eighteenth century seems to imply a period of arid and prosaic -rationalism in which “the shaping spirit of imagination” had no abiding -place, and this has no doubt been partly responsible for the persistency -of an unjust conception. But it is now more generally recognized that, -in prose and even in poetry, the seventy or eighty years, which begin -when Dryden died, and end when William Blake was probably writing down -the first drafts of his “Poetical Sketches,” had some definite and far -from despicable legacies to pass on to its successors, to the writers in -whom the Romantic revival was soon to be triumphantly manifested. The -standards in all branches of literature were to be different, but between -“classical” and “romantic” there was not to be, and indeed could not be, -any great gulf fixed. There was continuity and much was handed on. What -had to be transformed (and of course the process is to be seen at work in -the very height of the Augustan supremacy) were the aims and methods of -literature, both its matter in large measure, and its style.[249] - -It is the poetry of the period with which we are specially concerned, -and it is in poetry that the distinction between the old order and the -new was to be sharpest; for the leaders of the revolt had been gradually -winning new fields, or re-discovering old ones, for poetry, and thus in -more than one sense the way had been prepared for both the theory and -practice of Wordsworth. Then came the great manifestoes, beginning with -the Preface of 1798, followed by an expansion in 1800 and again in 1802; -fifteen years later, Coleridge, with his penetrating analysis of the -theories advanced by his friend and fellow-worker, began a controversy, -which still to-day forms a fruitful theme of discussion. - -Wordsworth, in launching his famous declaration of principle on the -language fit and proper for metrical composition, had no doubt especially -in mind the practice of his eighteenth century predecessors. But it has -to be remembered that the _Prefaces_ deal in reality with the whole -genesis of “what is usually called poetic diction,” and that the avowed -aim and object was to sweep away “a large portion of phrases and figures -of speech, which from father to son have long been regarded as the common -inheritance of poets.” The circumstances of the time, and perhaps the -examples chosen by Wordsworth to illustrate his thesis, have too often -led to his attack being considered as concerned almost entirely with the -poetical language of the eighteenth century. Hence, whenever the phrase -“poetic diction” is mentioned as a term of English literary history, -more often than not it is to the eighteenth century that the attention -is directed, and the phrase itself has taken on a derogatory tinge, -expressive of a stereotyped language, imitative, mechanical, lifeless. -For in the reaction against eighteenth century styles, and especially -against the polished heroic couplet, there arose a tendency to make the -diction of the period an object of undistinguishing depreciation, to -class it all in one category, as a collection of conventional words and -phrases of which all poets and versifiers felt themselves at liberty to -make use. - -An actual analysis of eighteenth century poetry shows us that this -criticism is both deficient and misleading; it is misleading because it -neglects to take any account of that eighteenth century poetical language -which Pope, inheriting it from Dryden, brought to perfection, and which -was so admirable a vehicle for the satiric or didactic thought it had to -convey; it is deficient in that it concentrates attention mainly on one -type or variety of the language, used both by poets and poetasters, and -persists in labelling this type either as the “eighteenth century style -proper,” or, as if the phrases were synonymous, “the Pope style.” - -One formula could no more suffice in itself for the poetic styles of the -eighteenth century than for those of the nineteenth century; we may say, -rather, that there are then to be distinguished at least four distinct -varieties or elements of poetical diction, in the narrow sense of the -term, though of course it is scarcely necessary to add that none of them -is found in complete isolation from the others. There is first the stock -descriptive language, the usual vehicle of expression for that large -amount of eighteenth century verse where, in the words of Taine, we can -usually find “the same diction, the same apostrophes, the same manner of -placing the epithet and rounding the period,” and “regarding which we -know beforehand with what poetic ornaments it will be adorned.”[250] In -reading this verse, with its lifeless, abstract diction, we seldom or -never feel that we have been brought into contact with the real thoughts -or feelings of living men. Its epithets are artificial, imitative, -conventional; though their glare and glitter may occasionally give -us a certain pleasure, they rarely or never make any appeal to our -sensibility. As someone has said, it is like wandering about in a land of -empty phrases. Only here and there, as, for instance, in Dyer’s “Grongar -Hill,” have the _gradus_ epithets taken on a real charm and beauty in -virtue of the spontaneity and sincerity with which the poet has been -inspired. - -The received doctrine that it was due in the main to Pope’s “Homer” -is unjust; many of the characteristics of this conventional poetical -language were established long before Pope produced his translation. -They are found to an equal, if not greater, extent in Dryden, and if -it is necessary to establish a fountain-head, “Paradise Lost” will be -found to contain most of the words and phrases which the eighteenth -century versifiers worked to death. If Pope is guilty in any degree it -is only because in his work the heroic couplet was brought to a high -pitch of perfection; no doubt too the immense popularity of the “Homer” -translation led to servile imitation of many of its words, phrases, and -similes. Yet it is unjust to saddle Pope with the lack of original genius -of so many of his successors and imitators. - -But the underlying cause of this conventional language must be sought -elsewhere than in the mere imitation of any poet or poets. A passage -from the “Prelude” supplies perhaps a clue to one of the fundamental -conditions that had enslaved poetry in the shackles of a stereotyped -language. It takes the form of a sort of literary confession by -Wordsworth as to the method of composing his first poems, which, we have -seen, are almost an epitome of the poetical vices against which his -manifestoes rebelled. He speaks of - - the trade in classic niceties - The dangerous craft of culling term and phrase - From languages that want the living voice - To carry meaning to the natural heart. - - (“Prelude,” Bk. VI, ll. 109-112) - -In these lines we have summed up one of the main Romantic indictments -against the practice of the “classical” poets, who were too wont to -regard the language of poetry as a mere collection or accepted aggregate -of words, phrases, and similes, empty of all personal feeling and -emotion.[251] - -Wordsworth, too, in this passage not unfairly describes the sort of -atmosphere in which diction of the stock eighteenth century type -flourished. The neo-classical interpretation of the Aristotelian doctrine -of poetry as an imitation had by the time of Pope and his school resulted -in a real critical confusion, which saw the essence of poetry in a -slavish adherence to accepted models, and regarded its ideal language as -choice flowers and figures of speech consecrated to poetry by traditional -use, and used by the poet very much as the painter uses his colours, that -is, as pigments laid on from the outside. That this doctrine of imitation -and parallelism directly encourages the growth of a set poetic diction -is obvious; the poet’s language need not be the reflection of a genuine -emotion felt in the mind: he could always find his words, phrases, and -figures of speech in accepted and consecrated models. - -The reaction against this artificial diction is fundamental in the -Romantic revolt from another cause than that of poetic form. The stock -poetic language, we have seen, occurs mainly in what may be called the -“nature” poetry of the period, and its set words and phrases are for -the most part descriptive terms of outdoor sights and sounds. Among the -many descriptions or explanations of the Romantic movement is that it -was in its essence a “return to Nature,” which is sometimes taken to -imply that “Nature,” as we in the twentieth century think of it, was a -sudden new vision, of which glimpses were first caught by James Thomson, -and which finally culminated in Wordsworth’s “confession of faith.” Yet -there was, of course, plenty of “nature poetry” in the neo-classical -period; but it was for the most part nature from the point of view of the -Town, or as seen from the study window with a poetical “Thesaurus” at -the writer’s side, or stored in his memory as a result of his reading. -It was not written with “the eye on the object.” More fatal still, if -the neo-classical poets did look, they could see little beauty in the -external world; they “had lost the best of the senses; they had ceased to -perceive with joy and interpret with insight the colour and outline of -things, the cadence of sound and motion, the life of creatures.”[252] - -This sterility or atrophy of the senses had thus a real connexion with -the question of a conventional poetical language, for the descriptive -diction with its stock words for the sea, the rivers, the mountains, the -sky, the stars, the birds of the air and their music, for all the varied -sights and sounds of outdoor life—all this is simply a reflex of the lack -of genuine feeling towards external nature. Keats, with his ecstatic -delight in Nature, quickly and aptly pilloried this fatal weakness in -the eighteenth century versifiers: - - The winds of heaven blew, the ocean roll’d - Its gathering waves—ye felt it not. The blue - Bared its eternal bosom, and the dew - Of summer nights collected still to make - The morning precious: beauty was awake! - Why were ye not awake! But ye were dead - To things ye knew not of—were closely wed - To musty laws lined out with wretched rule - And compass vile: so that ye taught a school - Of dolts to smooth, inlay, and clip and fit - Till, like the certain wands of Jacob’s wit, - Their verses tallied; Easy was the task - A thousand handicraftsmen wore the mask - Of Poesy.[253] - -It is obvious that two great changes or advances were necessary, if -poetry was to be freed from the bondage of this conventional diction. In -the first place, the poet must reject root and branch the traditional -stock of words and phrases that may once have been inspiring, but had -become lifeless and mechanical long before they fell into disuse; he -must write with his eye on the object, and translate his impressions -into fresh terms endowed with real, imaginative power. And this first -condition would naturally lead to a second, requiring every word and -phrase to be a spontaneous reflection of genuine feeling felt in the -presence of Nature and her vast powers. - -The neo-classical poetry proper was not without verse which partly -satisfied these conditions; direct contact with nature was never entirely -lost. Wordsworth, as we know, gave honourable mention[254] to “The -Nocturnal Reverie” of Anne, Countess Winchilsea, written at the very -height of the neo-classical supremacy, in which external nature is -described with simplicity and fidelity, though there is little trace -of any emotion roused in the writer’s mind by the sights and sounds -of outdoor life. And every now and then, amid the arid and monotonous -stretches of so much eighteenth century verse, we are startled into -lively interest by stumbling across, often in the most obscure and -unexpected corners, a phrase or a verse to remind us that Nature, and -all that the term implies, was still making its powerful appeal to the -hearts and minds of men, that its beauty and mystery was still being -expressed in simple and heartfelt language. Thomas Dyer’s “Grongar Hill” -has already been mentioned; it was written in 1726, the year of the -publication of Thompson’s “Winter.” Dyer, for all we know, may have the -priority, but in any case we see him here leading back poetry to the -sights and sounds and scents of external nature, which he describes, not -merely as a painter with a good eye for landscape, but as a lover who -feels the thrill and call of the countryside, and can give exquisite -expression to his thoughts and emotions. We have only to recall such -passages as - - Who, the purple evening lie, - On the mountain’s lonely van; - -or even his tree catalogue, - - The gloomy pine, the poplar blue, - The yellow beech, the sable yew, - The slender fir, that taper grows, - The sturdy oak with broad-spread boughs; - -or - - How close and small the hedges lie; - What streaks of meadow cross the eye! - -or - - A little rule, a little sway, - A sun-beam on a winter’s day, - Is all the proud and mighty have - Between the cradle and the grave— - -to recognize that already the supremacy of Pope and his school of town -poets is seriously threatened. - -Here too is a short passage which might not unfairly be assigned to -Wordsworth himself. - - Would I again were with you, O ye dales - Of Tyne, and ye most ancient woodlands, where, - Oft as the giant flood obliquely strides - And his banks open, and his lawns extend, - Stops short the pleased traveller to view, - Presiding o’er the scene, some rustic tower - Founded by Norman or by Saxon hands: - O ye Northumbrian shades, which overlook - The rocky pavement and the mossy falls - Of solitary Wensbeck’s limpid stream, - How gladly I recall your well-known seats - Beloved of old, and that delightful time - When all alone, for many a summer’s day, - I wandered through your calm recesses, led - In silence by some powerful hand unseen. - -It is from Mark Akenside’s “Pleasures of the Imagination” (Bk IV, ll. 31 -foll.). And so, too, is this: - - the meadow’s fragrant hedge, - In spring time when the woodlands first are green - - (Book II, 175-6) - -which takes us far away from the formal conventional landscapes of the -Augustans. - -These two are among the more famous of their time, but a close search -amongst the minor poetry of the mid-eighteenth century will bring to -light many a surprising instance of poetry written with an eye on the -object, as in John Cunningham’s (1729-1773) “Day,”[255] where the sights -and sounds of the countryside are simply and freshly brought before us: - - Swiftly from the mountain’s brow, - Shadows, nurs’d by night, retire: - And the peeping sun-beam, now, - Paints with gold the village spire. - - Philomel forsakes the thorn, - Plaintive where she prates at night; - And the Lark, to meet the morn, - Soars beyond the shepherd’s sight. - - From the low-roof’d cottage ridge, - See the chatt’ring Swallow spring; - Darting through the one-arch’d bridge, - Quick she dips her dappled wing. - -But the great bulk of neo-classical verse is unaffected by the regained -and quickened outlook on the external world. It is in the forerunners of -the Romantic revolt that this latter development is to be most plainly -noted: when, as the result of many and varied causes English poets -were inspired to use their eyes again, they were able, slowly and in a -somewhat shallow manner at first, afterwards quickly and profoundly, -to “sense” the beauty of the external world, its mysterious emanations -of power and beauty. This quickening and final triumph of the artistic -sense naturally revealed itself in expression; the conventional words -and epithets were really doomed from the time of “Grongar Hill” and -“The Seasons,” and a new language was gradually forged to express the -fresh, vivid perceptions peculiar to each poet, according as his senses -interpreted for him the face of the world. - -A second variety of eighteenth century diction, or, more strictly -speaking, another conventional embellishment of the poetry of the period, -is found in that widespread use of personified abstraction which is -undoubtedly one of the greatest, perhaps _the_ greatest, of its faults. -Not only the mere versifiers, but also many of its greatest poets, make -abundant use of cut and dried personifications, whose sole claim to -vitality rests most often on the presence of a capital letter. It is a -favourite indulgence of the writers, not only of the old order, but -also of those who, like Collins and Gray, announce the advent of the -new, and not even the presence of genius could prevent its becoming a -poetical abuse of the worst kind. Whether it be regarded as a survival -of a symbolic system from which the life had long since departed, or -as a conventional device arising from the theory of poetical ornament -handed down by the neo-classicists, its main effect was to turn a large -proportion of eighteenth century poetry into mere rhetorical verse. It is -this variety of poetical language that might with justice be labelled as -the eighteenth century style in the derogatory sense of the term. In its -cumulative effect on the poetry of the period it is perhaps more vicious -than the stock diction which is the usual target of criticism. - -Two other varieties of eighteenth century diction represent an endeavour -to replace, or rather reinforce the stereotyped words, phrases, and -similes by new forms. The first of these is the widespread use of -latinized words and constructions, chiefly in the blank verse poems -written in imitation of Milton, but not only there. The second is the use -of archaic and pseudo-archaic words by the writers whose ambition it was -to catch something of the music and melody of the Spenserian stanza. Both -these movements thus reflected the desire for a change, and though the -tendencies, which they reflect, are in a certain sense conventional and -imitative in that they simply seek to replace the accepted diction by new -forms derived respectively from Milton and Spenser, one of them at least -had in the sequel a real and revivifying influence on the language of -poetry. - -The pedantic and cumbrous terms, which swarm in the majority of the -Miltonic imitations, were artificial creations, rarely imbued with any -trace of poetic power. Where they do not actually arise from deliberate -attempts to imitate the high Miltonic manner, they probably owe their -appearance to more or less conscious efforts to make the new blank verse -as attractive as possible to a generation of readers accustomed to the -polished smoothness of the couplet. Though such terms linger on until -the time of Cowper, and even invade the works of Wordsworth himself, -romanticism utterly rejected them, not only because of a prejudice in -favour of “Saxon simplicity,” but also because such artificial formations -lacked almost completely that mysterious power of suggestion and -association in which lies the poetical appeal of words. Wordsworth, it is -true, could win from them real poetic effects, and so occasionally could -Thomson, but in the main they are even more dead and dreary than the old -abstract diction of the neo-classicals. - -The tendency towards archaism was much more successful in this respect, -because it was based on a firmer foundation. In harking back to “the -poet’s poet,” the eighteenth century versifiers were at least on a right -track, and though it was hardly possible, even with the best of them, -that more than a faint simulacrum of the music and melody of the “Faerie -Queene” could be captured merely by drawing drafts on Spenser’s diction, -yet they at least helped to blaze a way for the great men who were to -come later. The old unknown writers of the ballads and Spenser and the -Elizabethans generally were to be looked upon as treasure trove to which -Keats and Scott and Beddoes and many another were constantly to turn in -their efforts to revivify the language of poetry, to restore to it what -it had lost of freshness and vigour and colour. - -The varieties or embellishments of poetical diction, which have just -been characterized, represent the special language of eighteenth -century poetry, as distinct from that large portion of language which -is common alike to prose and poetry. For it is scarcely necessary -to remind ourselves that by far the largest portion of the poetry of -the eighteenth century (as indeed of any century) is written in the -latter sort of language, which depends for its effects mainly upon the -arrangement of the words, rather than for any unique power in the words -themselves. In this kind of poetical diction, it is not too much to say -that the eighteenth century is pre-eminent, though the effect of the -Wordsworthian criticism has led to a certain failure or indisposition to -recognize the fact. Just as Johnson and his contemporaries do not give -direct expression to any approval of the admirable language, of which -Pope and some of his predecessors had such perfect command, so modern -criticism has not always been willing to grant it even bare justice, -though Coleridge’s penetrating insight had enabled him, as we have seen, -to pay his tribute to “the almost faultless position and choice of words, -in Mr. Pope’s _original_ compositions, particularly in his Satires and -Moral Essays.” It was, we may imagine, the ordinary everyday language, -heightened by brilliance and point, in which Pope and his coterie carried -on their dallyings and bickerings at Twickenham and elsewhere, and it was -an ideal vehicle, lucid and precise for the argument and declamation it -had to sustain. But it was more than that, as will be readily recognized -if we care to recall some of the oft-quoted lines which amply prove -with what consummate skill Pope, despite the economy and condensation -imposed by the requirements of the closed couplet, could evoke from this -plain and unadorned diction effects of imagination and sometimes even of -passion. Such lines as - - He stooped to Truth and moralised his song, - -or - - In lazy apathy let stoics boast - Their virtue fixed: ’tis fixed as in a frost, - -or - - In Folly’s cup still laughs the bubble joy, - -and dozens similar, show the lucidity, energy, and imaginative -picturesqueness with which Pope could endow his diction when the occasion -required it.[256] Such language is the “real language of men”; nearly -every word would satisfy the Wordsworthian canon. - -And the same thing is true to a large extent of the poets, who are -usually considered as having taken Pope for their model. Whenever there -is a real concentration of interest, whenever they are dealing with the -didactic and moral questions characteristic of the “age of prose and -reason,” whenever they are writing of man and of his doings, his thoughts -and moods as a social member of civilized society, their language is, -as a rule, adequate, vivid, fresh, because the aim then is to present a -general thought in the language best adapted to bring it forcibly before -the mind of the reader. Here, as has been justly said,[257] rhetoric -has passed under the influence and received the transforming force of -poetry. “The best rhetorical poetry of the eighteenth century is not the -best poetry, but it is poetry in its own way, exhibiting the glow, the -rush, the passion which strict prose cannot, and which poetry can, give.” -Judged on the basis of this kind of poetical diction, the distinctions -usually drawn between the neo-classical “kind” of language in the -eighteenth century and the romantic “kind” all tend to disappear; at the -head (though perhaps we should go back to the Dryden of the “Religio -Laici” and “The Hind and the Panther”) is the “Essay on Criticism”; -in the direct line of descent are Akenside’s “Epistle to Curio,” large -portions of “The Seasons,” “The Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard,” -“The Vanity of Human Wishes,” the “Deserted Village,” and at the end of -the century, the “Village” of Crabbe. And in another _genre_, but just -as good in its own way, is that light verse, as it may perhaps best be -called, successfully ushered in, at the very beginning of the century, by -John Pomfret’s “The Choice,” and brought to perfection by Matthew Prior -in his lines “To a Child of Quality,” and many another piece. - -Nor must it be forgotten that there is a large amount of eighteenth -century minor poetry which, whilst reflecting in the main the literary -tendency of the age in its fondness for didactic verse, presented in -the guise of interminably long and dull epics and epistles, yet reveals -to us, if we care to make the pilgrimage through the arid stretches of -Anderson’s “British Poets,” or Dodsley’s “Collection of Poets by Several -Hands,” or Bell’s “Fugitive Poetry,” or similar collections, the simple, -unambitious works of poets more or less unknown when they wrote and -now for the most part forgotten, who, unconscious or ignorant of the -accepted rules and regulations of their time, wrote because they felt -they must, and thus had no care to fetter themselves with the bondage of -the “classical” diction.[258] Their range was limited, but they were able -to express their thoughts and fancies, their little idylls and landscapes -in plain English without any trimmings, akin in its unaffected diction -and simplicity of syntax to the language of the genuine old ballads, -which were so largely and, for the most part, ineffectively, if not -ludicrously, imitated throughout the eighteenth century. - -The Augustan age, then, was not without honour, even in poetry, where, -looking back after Romanticism had won and consolidated its greatest -triumphs, it would seem everything had gone wrong, there was not a little -from which the rebels themselves might well have profited. Nowadays we -are accustomed, perhaps too often, to think of the Romantic forerunners, -the poet of “The Seasons,” and Gray, and Collins, and Goldsmith, and the -rest, as lonely isolated outposts in hostile territory. So they were to -a large extent, but they could not, of course, altogether escape the -form and pressure of their age; and what we now admire in them, and -for which we salute them as the heralds of the Romantic dawn, is that -which shows them struggling to set themselves free from the “classical” -toils, and striving to give expression to the new ideas and ideals that -were ultimately to surge and sing themselves to victory. It is scarcely -necessary to recall many a well-known passage, in which, within a decade -of the death of Pope, or even before the mid-century, these new ideas -and ideals had found expression in language which really sounded the -death-knell of the old diction. Fine sounds, Keats within a few decades -was to proclaim exultantly, were then to be heard “floating wild about -the earth,” but already as early as Collins and Gray, and even now and -then in “The Seasons,” words of infinite appeal and suggestiveness were -stealing back into English poetry. - -And this leads us to a consideration of the poetic diction of the -eighteenth century from a more general standpoint. For no discussion of -poetical language can be complete unless an attempt is made to consider -the question in its entirety with a view to the question of what really -constitutes poetic diction, what it is that gives to words and phrases, -used by certain poets in certain contexts, a magic force and meaning. The -history of poetic diction from the very beginning of English literature -down to present times has yet to be written, and it would be a formidable -task. Perhaps a syndicate of acknowledged poets would be the only fit -tribunal to pass judgment on so vital an aspect of the craft, but even -then we suspect there would be a good deal of dissension, and probably -more than one minority report. But the general aspects of the question -have formed a fruitful field of discussion since Wordsworth launched his -theories[259] and thus began a controversy as to the exact nature of -poetic language, the echoes of which, it would seem, have not yet died -away. For the Prefaces were, it may be truly said, the first great and -definite declaration of principle concerning a question which has been -well described as “the central one in the philosophy of literature, What -is, or rather what is not, poetic diction?”[260] - -Judged from this wider standpoint, the diction of the “classical” poetry -of the eighteenth century, and even of a large portion of the verse -that announces the ultimate Romantic triumph, seems to have marked -limitations. The widespread poverty and sterility of this diction was -not, of course, merely the result of an inability to draw inspiration -from Nature, or of a failure to realize the imaginative possibilities of -words and phrases: it was, it would almost seem, the inevitable outcome -and reflex of an age that, despite great and varied achievements, now -appears to us narrow and restricted in many vital aspects. If poetry -is a criticism of life, in the sense in which Matthew Arnold doubtless -meant his dictum to be taken, the age of Pope and his successors is not -“poetic”; in many respects it is a petty and tawdry age—the age of the -coffee-house and the new press, of the club and the coterie. There are -great thinkers like Hume, great historians like Gibbon, great teachers -and reformers like John Wesley; but these names and a few others seem -only to throw into stronger light the fact that it was on its average -level an age of talk rather than of thought, of “fickle fancy” rather -than of imaginative flights, of society as a unit highly organized for -the pursuit of its own pastimes, pleasures, and preoccupations, in which -poetry, and literature generally, played a social part. Poetry seems to -skim gracefully over the surface of life, lightly touching many things -in its flight, but never soaring; philosophy and science and satire all -come within its purview, but when the eternally recurring themes of -poetry[261]—love and nature and the like—are handled, there is rarely or -never poignancy or depth. - -The great elemental facts and thoughts and feelings of life seldom -confront us in the literature of the century as we make our way down the -decades; even in the forerunners of the Romantic revolt we are never -really stirred. “The Seasons,” and “The Elegy Written in a Country -Churchyard,” touch responsive chords, but are far from moving us to -thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls. Not until Blake and Burns is -the veneer of convention and artificiality, in both matter and manner, -definitely cast aside, and there is to be caught in English verse again, -not only the authentic singing note, but, what is more, the recognition -and exemplification of the great truth that the finest poetry most often -has its “roots deep in the common stuff,” and it is not to be looked for -in an age and environment when, with rationality apparently triumphant, -men seemed careless of the eternal verities, of the thoughts and feelings -that lie too deep for tears, or sadly recognized their impotence, or -their frustrated desires, to image them forth in poetry. - -“What is it,” asks Gilbert Murray,[262] “that gives words their character -and makes a style high or low? Obviously, their associations: the -company they habitually keep in the minds of those who use them. A word -which belongs to the language of bars and billiard-saloons will become -permeated by the normal standard of mind prevalent in such places; a -word which suggests Milton or Carlyle will have the flavour of those -men’s minds about it. I therefore cannot resist the conclusion that if -the language of Greek poetry has, to those who know it intimately, this -special quality of keen austere beauty, it is because the minds of the -poets who used that language were habitually toned to a higher level both -of intensity and of nobility than ours. It is a finer language because -it expresses the mind of finer men. By ‘finer men’ I do not necessarily -mean men who behaved better, either by our standards or by their own: -I mean the men to whom the fine things of the world, sunrise and sea -and stars, and the love of man for man, and strife and the facing of -evil for the sake of good, and even common things like meat and drink, -and evil things like hate and terror had, as it were, a keener edge -than they have for us, and roused a swifter and nobler reaction.” This -passage has been quoted in full because it may be said to have a direct -and definite bearing on the question of the average level of poetic -language during the greater part of the eighteenth century: there were -few or no _trouvailles_, no great discoveries, no sudden releasings of -the magic power often lurking unsuspectedly in the most ordinary words, -because the poets and versifiers for the most part had all gone wrong -in their conception of the medium they essayed to mould. “The substance -of poetry,” writes Professor Lowes,[263] “is also the very stuff of -words. And in its larger sense as well the language of poetry is made up -inevitably of symbols—of symbols for things in terms of other things, -for things in terms of feelings, for feelings in terms of things. It is -the language not of objects, but of the complex relations of objects. -And the agency that moulds it is the ceaselessly active power that is -special to poetry only in degree—_imagination_—that fuses the familiar -and the strange, the thing I feel and the thing I see, the world within -and the world without, into a _tertium quid_, that interprets both.” The -eighteenth century was not perhaps so emphatically and entirely the “age -of prose and reason” as is sometimes thought, but it could scarcely be -called the “age of imagination,” and poetry, in its highest sense (“high -poetry,” as Maeterlinck would call it), being of imagination all compact, -found no abiding place there. - -Most words, we may say, potentially possess at least two or more -significations, their connotative scope varying according to the -knowledge or culture of the speaker or reader. First of all, there is -the logical, their plain workaday use, we might call it; and next, and -above and beyond all this, they have, so to speak, an exciting force, -a power of stimulating and reviving in the mind and memory all the -associations that cluster around them. Nearly all words carry with them, -in vastly varying degrees, of course, this power of evocation, so that -even commonplace terms, words, and phrases hackneyed and worn thin by -unceasing usage, may suddenly be invested with a strange and beautiful -suggestiveness when they are pressed into the service of the highest -poetic imagination. And in the same way the æsthetic appeal of words of -great potential value is reinforced and strengthened, when in virtue of -their context, or even merely of the word or words to which they are -attached, they are afforded a unique opportunity of flashing forth and -bringing into play all the mysterious powers and associations gathered to -themselves during a long employment in prose and verse, or on the lips of -the people: - - All the charm of all the muses - often flowering in a lonely word. - -Poetry of the highest value and appeal may be, and often is, as we know -from concrete examples that flash into the mind, written in commonplace, -everyday terms, and we ask ourselves how it is done.[264] There are the -mysterious words of the dying Hamlet: - - The rest is silence, - -or the line quoted by Matthew Arnold[265] as an instance when -Wordsworth’s practice is to be found illustrating his theories: - - And never lifted up a single stone, - -or the wonderful lines which seem to bring with them a waking vision of -the beauty of the English countryside, radiant with the promise of Spring: - - daffodils, - That come before the swallow dares, and take - The winds of March with beauty. - -In these and many similar passages, which the reader will recall for -himself, it would seem that the mere juxtaposition of more or less plain -and ordinary words has led to such action and reaction between them as -to charge each with vastly increased powers of evocation and suggestion, -to which the mind of the reader, roused and stimulated, instinctively -responds. - -Similarly, the satisfaction thus afforded to our æsthetic sense, or -our emotional appreciation, is often evoked by a happy conjunction of -epithet and noun placed together in a new relation, instantly recognized -as adding an unsuspected beauty to an otherwise colourless word. The -poets and versifiers of the eighteenth century were not particularly -noteworthy for their skill or inspiration in the matter of the choice of -epithet, but the genius of Blake, in this as in other respects of poetic -achievement, raised him “above the age” and led him to such felicities of -expression as in the last stanza of “The Piper”: - - And I made a _rural pen_ - And I stained the water clear, - -where, as has been aptly remarked,[266] a commonplace epithet is -strangely and, apparently discordantly, joined to an equally commonplace -noun, and yet the discord, in virtue of the fact that it sets the mind -and memory working to recover or recall the faint ultimate associations -of the two terms, endows the phrase with infinite suggestiveness. In the -same way a subtle and magic effect is often produced by inversion of -epithet, when the adjective is placed after instead of before the noun, -and this again is a practice or device little favoured in the eighteenth -century; the supremacy of the stopped couplet and its mechanical -requirements were all against it. - -But the eighteenth century had little of this magic power of evocation; -the secret had departed with the blind Milton, and it was not till the -Romantic ascendancy had firmly established itself, not until Keats and -Shelley and their great successors, that English poetry was once more -able so to handle and fashion and rearrange words as to win from them -their total and most intense associations. Yet contemporary criticism, -especially in France, had not failed altogether to appreciate this -potential magic of words. Diderot, for instance, speaks of the magic -power that Homer and other great poets have given to many of their -words; such words are, in his phrase, “hieroglyphic paintings,” that is, -paintings not to the eye, but to the imagination.[267] What we feel about -all the so-called classical verse of the eighteenth century, as well as -of a good deal of the earlier Romantic poetry, is that writers have not -been able to devise these subtle hieroglyphics; lack of real poetical -inspiration, or the pressure of the prosaic and unimaginative atmosphere -of their times, has led to a general poverty in the words or phrases that -evoke some object before the inner eye, or charm the ear by an unheard -melody, terms that, like the magic words of Keats, or the evanescent -imagery of Shelley, stir us both emotionally and æsthetically. The -verse of Pope and his followers is not without something of this power, -but here the effect is achieved by the skill and polish with which the -words are selected and grouped within the limits of the heroic couplet. -Crabbe had marked down, accurately enough, this lack of word-power in his -description of Dryden’s verse as “poetry in which the force of expression -and accuracy of description have neither needed nor obtained assistance -from the fancy of the writer,” and again, more briefly, as “poetry -without an atmosphere.”[268] One negative indication of this “nudity” -is the comparative poverty of eighteenth century poetry in new compound -epithets, those felicitous terms which have added to the language some of -its most poetical and pictorial phrases. - -The Prefaces of Wordsworth and the kindred comments and remarks of -Coleridge were not, it is hardly necessary to say, in themselves powerful -enough to effect an instant and complete revolution in poetical theory -and practice. But it was all to the good that inspired craftsmen were at -last beginning to worry themselves about the nature and quality of the -material which they had to mould and fashion and combine into poetry; -still more important was it that they were soon to have the powerful aid -of fellow-workers like Shelley and Keats, whose practice was to reveal -the magic lurking in words and phrases, so arranged and combined as to -set them reverberating in the depths of our sensibility. And, on the -side of form at least, this is the distinctively Romantic achievement; -the æsthetic possibilities and potentialities of the whole of our -language, past and present, were entrancingly revealed and magnificently -exemplified; new and inexhaustible mines of poetical word-power were thus -opened up, and the narrow and conventional limits of the diction within -which the majority of the eighteenth century poets had “tallied” their -verses were transcended and swept away. - - - - -FOOTNOTES - - -[1] A brief summary, which is here utilized, is given by Spingarn, -“Critical Essays of the Seventeenth Century,” I, Intro. xxxvi, foll. -(Oxford, 1908). - -[2] _Vide_ Spingarn, _op. cit._, _Intro._ XXXVI-XLVIII; and also -Robertson, “Studies in the Genesis of Romantic Theory in the XVIIIth -Century” (Cambridge, 1924), an attempt “to show that the Movement which -led to the dethronement of Reason, in favour of the Imagination, chief -arbiter in poetic creation, and which culminated with Goethe and Schiller -in Germany and the Romantic Revival in England, is to be put to the -credit not of ourselves, but of Italy, who thus played again that pioneer -rôle which she had already played in the sixteenth century.” - -[3] Spingarn, _op. cit._, II, p. 118. - -[4] _Ibid._, II, p. 310. - -[5] _Ibid._, II, p. 273. - -[6] “Apology for Heroic Poetry”: “Essays of John Dryden,” ed. W. P. Ker -(1909), Vol. I, p. 190. - -[7] “There appears in every part of his [Horace’s] diction, or (to -speak English) in all his expressions, a kind of noble and bold -purity.”—_Ibid._, p. 266. - -[8] “Lives”: Dryden, ed. G. B. Hill (1905), Vol. I, p. 420; and cp. -Goldsmith, “Poetry Distinguished from other Writing” (Miscellaneous -Works), 1821, Vol. IV, p. 381 foll. - -[9] “Letters” (To R. West), 1742, ed. Tovey (1900); Vol. II, pp. 97-8. - -[10] Ker, _op. cit._, Vol. I, pp. 17-8. - -[11] _Ibid._, pp. 188 foll. - -[12] Ker, _op. cit._, Vol. II, p. 234. - -[13] Edward Young, the author of “Night Thoughts,” was later to express -this tersely enough: “Words tarnished, by passing through the mouths of -the vulgar, are laid aside as inelegant and obsolete”—”Conjectures on -Original Composition,” 1759 (“English Critical Essays,” Oxford, 1922, p. -320). - -[14] Pope’s Works, ed. Courthope and Elwin: “Life,” Vol. V, p. 69. - -[15] That is to say, as Mr. John Drinkwater has recently put it, it -was “the common language, but raised above the common pitch, of the -coffee-houses and boudoirs.”—“Victorian Poetry,” 1923, pp. 30-32. - -[16] _Vide_ Elton, “The Augustan Ages,” 1889, pp. 419 foll. - -[17] Cp. “Essay on Criticism,” I, ll. 130-140. - -[18] John Dennis, of course, at the beginning of the century, is to -be found pleading that “passion is the chief thing in poetry,” (“The -Advancement and Reformation of Modern Poetry,” 1701); but it is to be -feared that he is only, so to speak, ringing the changes on the Rules. - -[19] “A Parallel of Poetry and Painting,” ed. Ker, _op. cit._, Vol. II, -p. 147. - -[20] “A Parallel of Poetry and Painting,” Ker, _op cit._, Vol. II, p. -148. “_Operum Colores_ is the very word which Horace uses to signify -words and elegant expressions.” etc. - -[21] Lessing’s “Laokoon,” which appeared in 1766, may in this, as in -other connexions, be regarded as the first great Romantic manifesto. -The limitations of poetry and the plastic arts were analysed, and the -fundamental conditions to which each art must adhere, if it is to -accomplish its utmost, were definitely and clearly laid down. - -[22] “Polymetis” (1747), p. 311. - -[23] “Biographia Literaria,” Chap. XXII. - -[24] _Ibid._, Chap. IV. - -[25] _Vide_ especially Babbitt, “The New Laocoon, An Essay on the -Confusion of the Arts” (1910), to which these paragraphs are indebted; -and for a valuable survey of the relations of English poetry with -painting and with music, see “English Poetry in Its Relation to Painting -and the other Arts,” by Laurence Binyon (London, 1919), especially pp. -15-19. - -[26] _Vide_ “Elizabethan Critical Essays,” ed. Gregory Smith, Vol. I, -Intro. (Oxford, 1904). - -[27] _Vide_, e.g., Addison, “Spectator” papers on “Paradise Lost” (No. -285, January 26, 1712). - -[28] Essay, “Poetry Distinguished from other Writing” (Miscellaneous -Works, 1820, Vol. IV, pp. 408-14). - -[29] _Ibid._, p. 22. - -[30] “Lives,” Hill, _op. cit._, Vol. I, p. 420. - -[31] “Lives”: Cowley; cp. “The Rambler,” No. 158. - -[32] Cp. Boswell’s “Life” (1851 edition), Vol. I, p. 277: “He enlarged -very convincingly upon the excellence of rhyme over blank verse in -English poetry”; also _ibid._, Vol. II, p. 84. - -[33] “Lives,” ed. Hill, _op. cit._, Vol. III, pp. 416 foll. - -[34] _Ibid._, p. 341. - -[35] This is of course exemplified in his own poetic practice, and it -has been held sufficient to explain the oft-debated scantiness of his -literary production. But for remarkable examples of his minuteness and -scrupulosity in the matter of poetic diction see the letter to West -referred to above; to Mason, January 13, 1758 (Tovey, _op. cit._, II, p. -12), and to Beattie, March 8, 1771 (_ibid._, II, p. 305). - -[36] Cp. Courthope, “History of English Poetry,” Vol. V, pp. 218 foll. - -[37] _Vide_ “Elizabethan Critical Essays,” _op. cit._, Intro., pp. LV-LX. - -[38] Preface to the “Fables,” Ker, _op. cit._, Vol. II, pp. 266-67. - -[39] _Vide_ Works, ed. Elwin and Courthope, Vol. II. - -[40] _Vide_ “Translation of Homer,” ed. Buckley, Intro., p. 47; and cp. -“The Guardian,” No. 78, “A Receipt to make an Epic Poem.” - -[41] Tovey, _op. cit._, March 8, 1771 (Vol. II, pp. 305 foll.); Beattie’s -comments are given by Tovey, _ibid._, footnotes. - -[42] “Rambler,” No. 121, May 14, 1751. - -[43] “Lines written in Imitation of Certain Poems Published in 1777”; -and cp. William Whitehead’s “Charge to the Poets” (1762), which may be -taken to reflect the various attitudes of the reading public towards the -“revivals.”—(“Poets of Great Britain,” 1794, Vol. XI, pp. 935-7.) - -[44] Works (1820), _op. cit._, Vol. IV, p. 124. - -[45] September 27, 1788 (“Letters,” 4 vols, 1806, Vol. II, p. 106). - -[46] Letter to Lady Hesketh, March 22, 1790 (“Correspondence of -William Cowper—Arranged in Chronological Order by T. Wright,” 4 vols., -1904).—Vol. III, pp. 446, foll. - -[47] 1807 ed., Vol. I, pp. 21 and 24; cp. also Campbell, “The Philosophy -of Rhetoric” (London, 1776), Vol. I, pp. 410-411. - -[48] “Spectator,” 285, January 26, 1712. - -[49] “Homer”; ed. Buckley, Intro., 49. - -[50] Spingarn, _op. cit._, II, pp. 1-51; for Hobbes “Answer,” and -Cowley’s “Preface to Poems,” see _ibid._, pp. 54-90. - -[51] “Dedication of the Æneis,” Ker, _op. cit._, Vol. II, pp. 154, foll.; -cp. Addison, “Spectator,” 297, January 9, 1712. - -[52] _Vide_, e.g., E. Barat, “Le Style poétique et la Révolution -Romantique” (Paris, 1904), pp. 5-35. - -[53] “Lives of the Poets. Pope,” ed. Birbeck Hill, Vol. III, p. 251. - -[54] _Ibid._, p. 244. - -[55] January 17, 1782 (Wright, _op. cit._, Vol. II, pp. 429-30). - -[56] Prose Works, ed. Grosart, Vol. II, pp. 101 foll. - -[57] “Biographia Literaria,” ed. Shawcross (1907), p. 26, Note; cp. also -Southey, “Works of Cowper” (1884 edition), Vol. I, p. 313. - -[58] “The Progress of Taste,” III, ll. 7-10. - -[59] Wordsworth himself of course stigmatized the “hubbub of words” -which was often the only result of these eighteenth century attempts to -paraphrase passages from the Old and the New Testament “as they exist in -our common translation.”—_Vide_ Prefaces, etc., “Poetical Works,” ed. -Hutchinson (Oxford, 1916). p. 943. - -[60] For a detailed description of the stock diction of English -“Classical” poetry, see especially Myra Reynolds, “Nature in English -Poetry from Pope to Wordsworth” (Chicago, 1912), to which the foregoing -remarks are indebted. - -[61] “Essay on Criticism,” I, l. 350 foll. - -[62] “Essay on Men and Manners” (Works, 1764), Vol. II. - -[63] “History of English Prosody” (1908), Vol. II, p. 449. - -[64] Bysshe, “Art of Poetry,” Third Edition (1708), Chap. I, par. 1 -(quoted by Saintsbury, “Loci Critici,” 1903, p. 174). - -[65] To the Rev. John Newton, December 10, 1785 (Wright, _op. cit._, Vol. -II, pp. 404-406). - -[66] _Vide_ Pope’s Works, ed. Courthope and Elwin (1889), Vol. V., p. 166. - -[67] Philips has large supplies of the poetical stock-in-trade. He speaks -of “honeysuckles of a _purple_ dye,” and anticipates Gray in his couplet, - - Like woodland Flowers which paint the desert glades - And waste their sweets in unfrequented shades. - - (“The Fable of Thule”) - -(_Vide_ “Poets of Great Britain,” 1794, Vol. IX, 384-407.) - -[68] But, as de Selincourt points out in “Poems of John Keats” (1905, -Appendix C, p. 580), it is only the excessive and unnatural use of these -adjectives that calls for censure. - -[69] Especially in the case of compound epithets. Cf. Earle, “Philology -of the English Tongue,” p. 601, for examples from the works of the poets -from Shakespeare to Tennyson. For Shakespeare’s use of this form, see -Schmidt, “Shakespeare Lexicon,” Vol. II, pp. 147 foll. (2nd Ed., London -and Berlin, 1886). - -[70] But compare “Milton,” by Walter Raleigh (p. 249), where it is justly -pointed out that not a few of these circuitous phrases are justified by -“considerations of dramatic propriety.” - -[71] Cf. Raleigh, “Milton,” _op. cit._, pp. 252-3. - -[72] “Spring,” ll. 478 foll. - -[73] In “Summer,” Thomson had first used _feathery race_ which was later -amended into _tuneful race_—apparently the best improvement he could -think of! - -[74] For a detailed study of Thomson’s diction, see especially Leon -Morel, “James Thomson. Sa Vie et Ses Œuvres” (Paris, 1895), Chap. IV, pp. -412 foll. - -[75] To Mason, January 13, 1758 (“Letters of Gray,” ed. Tovey, Vol. II, -pp. 13-14). - -[76] _Vide_ “The Poems of Chatterton, with an Essay on the Rowley Poems,” -by W. W. Skeat (1871). - -[77] Canto III, 652 foll. - -[78] “A Paladin of Philanthropy” (1899), p. 59 (quoted by Courthope, -“History English Poetry,” V, 216). - -[79] But cf. Courthope, “History English Poetry” (1910), Vol. V, p. 218. - -[80] Arthur Symons, “William Blake” (1907), p. 39. - -[81] To Mrs. Butts: “Poetical Works,” ed. Sampson (Oxford, 1914), p. 187. - -[82] “Biographia Literaria,” ed. Shawcross, p. 16. (Oxford, 1907.) - -[83] Cf. “Letters,” to Samuel Rose, December 13, 1787: “Correspondence” -arranged by W. Wright (1904), Vol. III, p. 190. To C. Rowley, February -21, 1788, _ibid._, pp. 231 foll. - -[84] E.g. Charles Wesley’s “Wrestling Jacob,” or Watts’s “When I Survey -the Wondrous Cross.” - -[85] _Vide_ Courthope, _op. cit._, Book V, Ch. XI; and cp. the confident -and just claims put forward by John Wesley himself on behalf of the -language of the hymns, in his “Preface to the Collection of Hymns for the -Use of the People called Methodists,” 1780. - -[86] Cf. Coleridge “Biographia Literaria,” ed. Shawcross, _op. cit._, p. -11. - -[87] _Vide_ especially the dialogue with a Bookseller on the language of -poetry. - -[88] In both the first and the final forms “Poetical Works,” ed. -Hutchinson (Oxford, 1916) Appendix, pp. 592 foll. - -[89] For a detailed account see E. Legouis, “La Jeunesse de Wordsworth” -(English translation, 1897; Revised edition, 1921). - -[90] _Vide_ “Elizabethan Critical Essays,” ed. Smith, Vol. I, Intro., pp. -lv foll. - -[91] Both the Fletchers also used many other latinized forms found before -their time, and which in some cases they probably took direct from -Spenser. - -[92] E.g. by Courthope, “History of English Poetry” (1910), Vol. III, p. -339, where a list is given (“only a few of the examples”) of Milton’s -“coinages” and “creations.” Of this list only some half dozen (according -to the N.E.D.) owe their first literary appearance to Milton. - -[93] E.g. _debel_, _disglorified_, _conglobe_, _illaudable_, etc., date -from the sixteenth century; _Battailous_ goes back to Wycliff (N.E.D.). - -[94] Cf.“Milton,” by Walter Raleigh (1915), pp. 247 foll. - -[95] _Vide_ Masson, “Milton’s Poetical Works,” Vol. III, pp. 77-78 -(1890-). - -[96] Similarly the “Virgil” translation has, e.g., _in a round error_ for -“wandering round and round,” etc. - -[97] That it could easily become absurd was not unperceived in the -eighteenth century. Vide Leonard Welsted: “Epistle to Mr. Pope,” May, -1730 (“Works in Verse and Prose,” London, 1787, p. 141). - -[98] _Vide_ “Poems of Anne, Countess of Winchilsea,” ed. Myra Reynolds, -pp. 210-213 (Chicago, 1903). - -[99] _Vide_ “Complete Poetical Works,” edited J. L. Robertson (Oxford, -1908), which includes a variorum edition of “The Seasons.” - -[100] “Poetical Epistle to Mr. Thomson on the First Edition of his -‘Seasons’” (P.G.B., Vol. VIII, p. 504). - -[101] “Letter to Mallett,” August 11, 1726. - -[102] Cp. Morel, _op. cit._, pp. 419-424. - -[103] E.g. ll. 766 foll., 828 foll., 881 foll. - -[104] Cp. also ll. 126 foll.; 711 foll. - -[105] Cp. also the respective versions of “Autumn,” ll. 748 and 962. - -[106] Cp. also “Summer,” ll. 353, 376, 648; “Autumn,” ll. 349, 894-895. - -[107] Cp. “Milton,” Raleigh, _op. cit._, pp. 252-3. - -[108] One of the most noteworthy is the constant employment of adjectives -as adverbs in opposition (e.g., “the grand etherial bow, Shoots up -_immense_”) a device used both by Milton and Pope, but by neither with -anything like the freedom seen in “The Seasons.” - -[109] Cf. Chapter VI, _infra._ - -[110] In the “Essay Supplementary to the Preface,” Hutchinson, _op. -cit._, p. 949. - -[111] That Young’s readers and even his editors were occasionally puzzled -is seen by the history of the term “concertion.” This was the spelling -of the first and most of the subsequent editions, including that of -1787, where the Glossary explains it as meaning “contrivance.” But some -editions (e.g. 1751) have “consertion,” and some, according to Richardson -(“New Dictionary,” 1836), have “conception.” - -[112] Armstrong’s “gelid cistern” for “cold bath” has perhaps gained the -honour of an unidentified quotation. - -[113] _Vacant_ in the oft-quoted line from “The Deserted Village” (“The -loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind”), where the word is used in its -Latin sense of “free from care.” - -[114] As in the case of Milton, Cowper’s latinized words appear to have -been floating about for a considerable period, though in most cases their -first poetic use is apparently due to him. - -[115] Cp. also III, 229, 414; IV, 494. - -[116] Apparently after he had done some pruning amongst them (_vide_ -“Letter” to Joseph Hill, March 29, 1793, Wright, _op. cit._, Vol. IV, -p. 390), and compare his footnote to the “Iliad,” VII, 359, where he -apologizes for his coinage _purpureal_. - -[117] For an account of the parallelism between certain of the eighteenth -century stock epithets and various words and phrases from the Latin -poets, especially Virgil (e.g. “hollow” and “_cavus_”: “liquid fountain” -and _liquidi fontes_), see Myra Reynolds, “Nature in English Poetry from -Pope to Wordsworth” (Chicago, 1909), pp. 46-49. - -[118] Cf. Some apt remarks by Raleigh, “Milton,” _op. cit._, pp. 247 and -255. - -[119] Cp. Saintsbury, “History of Literary Criticism” (1900-1904), Vol. -II, p. 479, note 1. - -[120] Cp. Elton, “Survey of English Literature,” 1830-1880 (1920), Vol. -II, p. 17, remarks on Rossetti’s diction. - -[121] Cp. also Morel, _op. cit._, pp. 423-424. - -[122] _Vide_ Lounsbury, “Studies in Chaucer” (1892), Vol. III. - -[123] “Scrannel” is either Milton’s coinage or a borrowing from some -dialect (N.E.D.). - -[124] This of course is used by many later writers, and was perhaps not -regarded in Dryden’s time as an archaism. - -[125] “New English Dictionary.” - -[126] “Works,” ed. Courthope and Elwin, Vol. X, p. 120. - -[127] The prevailing ignorance of earlier English is illustrated in that -stanza by Pope’s explanation of the expression “mister wight,” which he -had taken from Spenser, as “uncouth mortal.” - -[128] “The Works of Mr. Edmund Spenser, in 6 Vols. with a glossary -explaining the old and obscure words. Published by Mr. Hughes, London.” - -[129] _Ibid._, Vol. I, pp. 115-140. - -[130] As in Prior’s “Susanna and the Two Elders” and “Erle Robert’s Mice” -(1712). - -[131] “Observations on the Faerie Queene of Spenser,” 1754. - -[132] “An Answer to the Sompner’s Prologue in Chaucer,” printed anon, in -“Lintott’s Miscellany,” entitled “Poems on Several Occasions” (1717), p. -147. - -[133] “A Tale Devised in the Plesaunt manere of Gentil Maister Jeoffrey -Chaucer” (“Poets of Great Britain,” 1794, Vol. VII, p. 674). - -[134] “Poems on Several Occasions,” by the Rev. Thomas Warton, 1748, p. -30. - -[135] “Poems on Several Occasions,” London, 1711, pp. 203-223. - -[136] _Vide_ List given by Phelps, “The Beginnings of the English -Romantic Movement” (1899), Appendix I, p. 175; and cf. an exhaustive -list, including complete glossaries, given in “Das Altertümliche im -Wortschatz der Spenser-Nachahmungen des 18 Jahrhunderts,” by Karl Reining -(Strassburg, 1912). - -[137] E.g. Robert Lloyd, 1733-1764, in his “Progress of Envy” (Anderson, -Vol. V), defines _wimpled_ as “hung down”; “The Squire of Dames,” by -Moses Mendez (1700-1738) has many old words (“benty,” etc.), which are -often open to the suspicion of being manufactured archaisms. - -[138] _Vide_ his letter to Graves, June, 1742.—“Works,” Vol. III, p. 63 -(1769). - -[139] “Poems on Several Occasions,” by William Thompson, M.A., etc., -Oxford, 1757, pp. 1-13. - -[140] _Ibid._, pp. 58-68. - -[141] “The Works of the English Poets, from Chaucer to Cowper,” by Dr. -Samuel Johnson, 21 Vols. (London, 1810), Vol. XV, p. 32. - -[142] Thompson has taken this wrong meaning direct with the word itself -from Spenser, “Shepherds Kalendar,” April, l. 26, where _glen_ is glossed -by E.K. as “a country hamlet or borough.” - -[143] Cp. Joseph Warton’s “Essay on Pope,” Vol. I, p. 366 (4th edition, -1782). Wordsworth, too, as we know, called it a “fine poem” and praised -it for its harmonious verse and pure diction, but we may imagine that -he was praising it for its own sake without regard to its merits as a -Spenserian imitation (_vide_ Hutchinson, _op. cit._, p. 949). - -[144] There are at least forty stanzas in the First Canto, without a -single archaic form, and an equal proportion in Canto Two: Cf. Morel, -_op. cit._, pp. 629-630. - -[145] “The letter _y_,” he naïvely says in his “Glossary,” “is frequently -placed at the beginning of a word by Spenser, to lengthen it a syllable, -and _en_ at the end of a word, for the same reason.” - -[146] Thompson seems to have been the first to use the word _bicker_ as -applied to running water, an application which was later to receive the -sanction of Scott and Tennyson (N.E.D.). - -[147] Among the last examples was Beattie’s “Minstrel” (1771-74), which -occasioned some of Gray’s dicta on the use of archaic and obsolete words. - -[148] Spenserian “forgeries” had also made their appearance as early as -in 1713, when Samuel Croxall had attempted to pass off two Cantos as the -original work of “England’s Arch-Poet, Spenser” (2nd edition, London, -1714). In 1747, John Upton made a similar attempt, though probably in -neither case were the discoveries intended to be taken seriously. - -[149] See Phelps, _op. cit._, Chap. VIII, and Grace R. Trenery, “Ballad -Collections of the Eighteenth Century,” “Modern Language Review,” July, -1915, pp. 283 foll. - -[150] _Vide_ “Preface to A Collection of Old Ballads,” 3 vols. (1723-52), -and cf. Benjamin Wakefield’s “Warbling Muses” (1749), Preface. - -[151] Yet thirty years later the collections of Joseph Ritson, the last -and best of the eighteenth century editors, failed to win acceptance. -His strictly accurate versions of the old songs and ballads were -contemptuously dismissed by the “Gentleman’s Magazine” (August, 1790) as -“the compilation of a peevish antiquary.” - -[152] “Bishop Percy’s Folio Manuscript,” edited Furnivall and Hales, 4 -vols. (1867-68). - -[153] _Vide_ Henry A. Beers, “A History of English Romanticism in the -Eighteenth Century,” 1899, Chap. VIII, pp. 298-302. - -[154] Hutchinson, _op. cit._, p. 950. - -[155] “Chatterton—Poetical Works,” with an Essay on the Rowley Poems, -by W. W. Skeat, and a memoir by Bell (2 vols., 1871-1875); and _vide_ -Tyrwhitt, “Poems supposed to have been written at Bristol by Thomas -Rowley and others in the fifteenth century” (London, 1777). - -[156] _Vide_ Oswald Doughty, “English Lyric in the Age of Reason” (1922), -p. 251. - -[157] _Vide_ John Sampson, “The Poetical Works of William Blake” (Oxford, -1905), Preface, viii. - -[158] Until the middle of the eighteenth century the form _glen_ occurs -in English writers only as an echo of Spenser (N.E.D.). - -[159] _Vide_ “The Dialect of Robert Burns,” by Sir James Wilson -(Oxford Press, 1923), and for happy instances of beautiful words still -lingering on in the Scots dialects, _vide_ especially “The Roxburghshire -Word-Book,” by George Watson (Cambridge, 1923). - -[160] Sweet, “New English Grammar” (1892), Part II, pp. 208-212, and -Skeat, “Principles of English Etymology” (1887), Part I, pp. 418-420. - -[161] The first literary appearance of each compound has been checked -as far as possible by reference to the “New English Dictionary.” It is -hardly necessary to say that the fact of a compound being assigned, as -regards its first appearance, to any individual writer, is not in itself -evidence that he himself invented the new formation, or even introduced -it into literature. But in many cases, either from the nature of the -compound itself, or from some other internal or external evidence, the -assumption may be made. - -[162] Cp. Sweet, _op. cit._, p. 449. - -[163] In the “Beowulf” there are twenty-three compounds meaning “Ocean,” -twelve meaning “Ship,” and eighteen meaning “Sword” (_vide_ Emerson, -“Outline History of the English Language,” 1906, p. 121). - -[164] Cp. Champney’s “History of English” (1893), p. 192 and Note; and -Lounsbury, “History of the English Language” (1909), p. 109. - -[165] Cp. Sidney’s remarks in the “Defence of Poesie—Elizabethan Critical -Essays,” ed. Smith, Vol. I, p. 204. - -[166] E.g. Spenser’s “_sea-shouldering_ whales” (an epithet that -especially pleased Keats), Nashe’s “_sky-bred_ chirpers,” Marlowe’s -“_gold-fingered_ Ind,” Shakespeare’s “_fancy-free_,” “_forest-born_,” -“_cloud-capt_,” etc. - -[167] Dryden, “English Men of Letters” (1906), p. 76. - -[168] Pope’s “Homer,” ed. Buckley, Preface, p. xli. - -[169] _Ibid._, p. 47; and cp. Coleridge, “Biographia Literaria,” ed. -Shawcross (Oxford, 1907), Vol. I, p. 2, Footnote. - -[170] Here it may be noted that many of Pope’s compounds in his “Homer” -have no warrant in the original; they are in most cases supplied by Pope -himself, to “pad out” his verses, or, more rarely, as paraphrases of -Greek words or phrases. - -[171] Shawcross, _op. cit._, p. 2, Footnote. - -[172] “Lives” ed. Hill, _op. cit._, Vol. III, p. 298. - -[173] _Vide_ Leon Morel, _op. cit._, Ch. IV, pp. 412 foll., for a -detailed examination of Thomson’s compound formations. - -[174] It would appear that this epithet had particularly caught the -fancy of Collins. He uses it also in the “Ode on the Manners,” this time -figuratively, when he writes of “_dim-discovered_ tracts of mind.” - -[175] “Works,” _op. cit._, Vol. IV, p. 203. In point of fact, there is -little or no evidence in favour of it. Even the Spenserian imitations -that flourished exceedingly at this time have little interest in this -respect. Shenstone has very few instances of compounds, but the poems -of William Thompson furnish a few examples: “_honey-trickling_ streams” -(“Sickness,” Bk. I), “_Lily-mantled_ meads” (_ibid._), etc. Gilbert -West’s Spenserian poems have no instances of any special merit; but -a verse of his Pindar shows that he was not without a gift for happy -composition: “The _billow-beaten_ side of the _foam-besilvered_ main.” - -[176] “Letters,” Vol. III, p. 97. - -[177] Hill, _op. cit._, Vol. III, p. 437. - -[178] _Ibid._, p. 434. - -[179] _Vide_ Edmund Gosse, “Two Pioneers of Romanticism” (Warton -Lecture), 1915. - -[180] It is a coincidence to find that the N.E.D. assigns the first use -of the compound _furze-clad_ to Wordsworth. - -[181] Bell’s “Fugitive Poets” (London, 1789), Vol. VI. - -[182] Anderson’s “British Poets,” Vol. XI. - -[183] Bell, _op. cit._ - -[184] Anderson, _op. cit._ - -[185] “British Poets,” Vol. X. - -[186] _Ibid._, Vol. XI, Pt. I. - -[187] _Ibid._, Pt. II. - -[188] “British Poets,” Vol. XI, Pt. II. - -[189] _Vide_ Legouis, _op. cit._ (English translation, 1897), pp. 133 -foll. - -[190] Shawcross, _op. cit._, Vol. I, p. 2, Note. - -[191] See, e.g., de Selincourt’s remarks on Keats’ compound epithets; -“Poems” (1904), Appendix C, p. 581. - -[192] “Biog. Lit.,” _op. cit._, and cp. “Poetical Works,” ed. Dykes -Campbell, Appendix K, p. 540. - -[193] “History of English Prosody” (1908), Vol. II, p. 449. - -[194] “History of English Prosody,” _op. cit._, Vol. II, p. 480; and cp. -_ibid._, p. 496. - -[195] Prefaces, “Poetical Works,” ed. Hutchinson (Oxford, 1916), p. 936. - -[196] _Vide_ Courthope, “History of English Poetry” (1910), Vol. I, Chap. -IX, for an account of mediaeval allegory and personification. - -[197] E.g. “Palamon,” II, 480, 564, 565; Æneas XII, 505-506. - -[198] “Black Melancholy” (ll. 163-168) and “Hope” (l. 278), the former of -which especially pleased Joseph Warton (“Essay on Pope”: Works, Vol. I, -p. 314). - -[199] Elton, “The Augustan Ages” (1895), p. 209. - -[200] Cf. “Suicide” (Canto II, 194-250). - -[201] Cf. also Bk. I, ll. 10, 11; 548, etc. - -[202] Especially in Book III of “The Duellist,” where the reader is -baffled and wearied by the unending array of bloodless abstractions. - -[203] It may be noted incidentally that, according to the “New English -Dictionary,” the term _personification_ owes its first literary -appearance to the famous “Dictionary” of 1755, where it is thus defined, -and (appropriately enough) illustrated: “_Prosopopeia_, the change of -things to persons, as ‘Confusion heard his voice.’” - -[204] Phelps, _op. cit._, pp. 37-38. - -[205] “Letter” to Mallet, August 11, 1726: “I thank you heartily for your -hint about personizing of Inspiration: it strikes me.” - -[206] Cf. also “Winter,” 794 and “Autumn,” 143. - -[207] For some happy instances of its use in English poetry, as well -as for a detailed account of Thomson’s use of personification, see -especially Morel, _op. cit._, pp. 444-455. - -[208] Poets of Great Britain (1793), Vol. IX, p. 414. - -[209] “British Poets,” Vol. XXII (1822), p. 117. - -[210] “A Collection of Poems by several hands,” 3 vols., 1748; 2nd -edition, with Vol. IV, 1749; Vol. V and VI, 1758; Pearch’s continuations, -Vol. VII and VIII, 1768, and Vol. IX and X, 1770. - -[211] “Dodsley” (1770 ed.), Vol. IV, p. 50. - -[212] _Ibid._, VI, 148. - -[213] “Dodsley-Pearch,” X, p. 5. - -[214] _Vide_ also Bell’s “Fugitive Poetry” (1791). Vol. XI, where there -is a section devoted to “Poems in the manner of Milton.” - -[215] “Dodsley-Pearch,” X, p. 269. - -[216] At the same time there appeared a similar volume of the Odes of -William Collins, “Odes on Several Descriptive and Allegoric Subjects,” -the original intention having been to publish in one volume. Collins’s -collection had a lukewarm reception, so that the author soon burned the -unsold copies. But see Articles in “The Times Literary Supplement,” -January 5th (p. 5) and January 12, 1922 (p. 28), by Mr. H. O. White, -on “William Collins and his Contemporary Critics,” from which it would -appear that the Odes were not received with such indifference as is -commonly believed. - -[217] Cf. “Pope’s Works,” ed. Courthope and Elwin, Vol. V, p. 365. - -[218] _Vide_ also “The Triumph of Isis” (1749), and “The Monody written -near Stratford-on-Avon.” (“Poets of Great Britain,” 1794, Vol. XI, pp. -1061-4.) - -[219] Cf. Gosse, “A History of Eighteenth Century Literature” (1889), p. -233. - -[220] Cf. Courthope, “Hist. Engl. Poetry,” Vol. V, pp. 397-8. - -[221] “Lives,” ed. G. Birkbeck Hill, Vol. III, p. 341. - -[222] “On Lyric Poetry—Poetical Works,” ed. Mitford (Aldine, ed. 1896), -Vol. II, p. 147. - -[223] In the Aldine edition, ed. Thomas (1901) these personified -abstractions are not invested with a capital letter. - -[224] “Biographia Literaria” (ed. Shawcross, 1907), p. 12; cf. also -“Table Talk” (October 23, 1833), ed. H. N. Coleridge (1858), p. 340. -“Gray’s personifications,” he said, “were mere printer’s devil’s -personifications,” etc. - -[225] Two of Gray’s mechanical figures were marked down for special -censure by Dr. Johnson (“Lives,” Gray, ed. Birbeck Hill, Vol. III, p. -440), whose criticism was endorsed by Walpole (“Letters,” Vol. III, p. -98), who likened “Fell Thirst and Famine” to the devils in “The Tempest” -who whisk away the banquets from the shipwrecked Dukes. - -[226] “Letters” (December 19, 1786), Tovey, _op. cit._, Vol. I, p. 322. - -[227] In this connexion mention may be made of “William Blake’s Designs -for Gray’s Poems,” recently published for the first time with a valuable -introduction by H. J. C. Grierson (Oxford, 1922). “Blake’s imagination,” -says Professor Grierson, “communicates an intenser life to Gray’s -half-conventional personifications” (Intro., p. 17). - -[228] Canto I: LXXIV-LXXV. - -[229] Cp. also the detailed personification of “Thrift,” given by Mickle -in his “Syr Martyn” (1787).—“Poets of Great Britain” (1794), Vol. XI, p. -645. - -[230] Cf. “Paradise Lost,” VI, 3; and Pope’s “Iliad,” V, 297. - -[231] “Works” ed. Ellis and Yeats, Vol. I, Pref., x. - -[232] July 6, 1803, “Letters,” ed. A. G. B. Russell (1906), p. 121. - -[233] In the parallel verses of “The Songs of Experience” the human -attributes are attributed respectively to _Cruelty_, _Jealousy_, -_Terror_, and _Secrecy_. - -[234] “Poetical Works,” ed. John Sampson (Oxford), 1914, p. 187. - -[235] _Vide_, e.g., ll. 18-26. - -[236] See also, e.g., “Midnight,” l. 272 foll, and l. 410 foll. - -[237] A similar type of abstraction is found here and there in the -stanzas of the “Song to David” (1763), e.g.: - - ’Twas then his thoughts self-conquest pruned - And heavenly melancholy tuned - To bless and bear the rest. - -But on the whole Smart’s famous poem is singularly free from the bane, -though the “Hymn to the Supreme Being” (_vide_ “A Song to David,” edited -Tutin (1904), Appendix, p. 32), has not escaped the contagion. But better -instances are to be found in the Odes (“Works,” 1761-1762), e.g., “Strong -Labour ... with his pipe in his mouth,” “Health from his Cottage of -thatch,” etc. _Vide_ also article on “Christopher Smart,” “Times Literary -Supplement,” April 6, 1922, p. 224. - -[238] Cf. “Poems of William Cowper,” ed. J. C. Bailey (1905), Intro., p. -xl. - -[239] There are faint personifications of the other seasons in Book -III, ll. 427 foll., but none perhaps as effective as William Mickle had -already given in his ode, “Vicissitude,” where he depicts Winter staying: - - his creeping steps to pause - And wishful turns his icy eyes - On April meads. - -[240] _Streaky_, for instance, is due to Thomson who, in the first draft -of “Summer” (ll. 47-48) had written: - - Mildly elucent in the streaky east, - -later changed to - - At first faint-gleaming in the dappled east. - -[241] “Letters,” edited E. Coleridge, 1895, p. 215. - -[242] “Biographia Literaria,” Chap. I. - -[243] The ridicule was crystallized in Canning’s famous parody, “The -Loves of the Triangles,” which appeared in “The Anti-Jacobin,” Nos. 23, -24 and 26, April to May, 1798. (_Vide_ “The Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin,” -edited C. Edmonds, 1854, 3rd edition, 1890.) - -[244] “The Botanic Garden” (4th edition, 1799), Interlude I, Vol. II, p. -64. Cp. also _ibid._, Interlude III, p. 182 foll. - -[245] For details see Legouis, _op. cit._ - -[246] Both the original and the final versions of the “Evening Walk” and -the “Descriptive Sketches” are given by Hutchinson, _op. cit._, Appendix, -pp. 592, 601. - -[247] But the artistic possibilities of Personification were not -unrecognized by writers and critics in the eighteenth century. _Vide_ -Blair’s lecture on “Personification” (“Lectures on Rhetoric”) 9th -edition, 1803; Lec. XVI, p. 375. - -[248] “The Stones of Venice” (1851), Vol. II, Chap. VIII, pp. 312 -foll.—The Ducal Palace, “Personification is, in some sort, the reverse -of symbolism, and is far less noble. Symbolism is the setting forth of -a great truth by an imperfect and inferior sign ... and it is almost -always employed by men in their most serious moods of faith, rarely in -recreation.... But Personification is the bestowing of a human or living -form upon an abstract idea; it is in most cases, a mere recreation of -the fancy, and is apt to disturb the belief in the reality of the thing -personified.” - -[249] For an illuminating analysis, see Elton, “A Survey of English -Literature,” 1780-1830 (1912), pp. 1-29. - -[250] “Histoire de la Littérature Anglaise,” Vol. IV, pp. 175-178. - -[251] Cf. Coleridge’s remarks in “Biographia Literaria,” ed. Shawcross, -Chap. I (Oxford, 1907). - -[252] Elton, “The Augustan Ages” (1895), p. 211. - -[253] “Sleep and Poetry,” ll. 188-201. - -[254] Hutchinson, _op. cit._, p. 948. - -[255] “Poets of Great Britain” (1794), Vol. X, p. 709. - -[256] Cf. “Works” (1889), ed. Courthope and Elwin, Vol. V., p. 360-364. - -[257] George Saintsbury, “Eighteenth Century Poetry” (“The London -Mercury,” December, 1919, pp. 155-163); an article in which a great -authority once again tilts an effective lance on behalf of the despised -Augustans. - -[258] The best of them have been garnered by Mr. Iola A. Williams into -a little volume, “By-ways Round Helicon” (London, 1922), where the -interested reader may browse with much pleasure and profit, and where he -will no doubt find not a little to surprise and delight him. For a still -more complete anthology, _vide_ “The Shorter Poems of the Eighteenth -Century” (1923) by the same editor. But for the devil’s advocacy see -Doughty, “English Lyric in the Age of Reason” (London, 1922) - -[259] The fountain head of all such studies is, of course, the -“Biographia Literaria,” for which see especially Shawcross’s edition, -1907, Vol. II, pp. 287-297. Of recent general treatises, Lascelles -Abercrombie, “Poetry and Contemporary Speech” (1914); Vernon Lee, -“The Handling of Words” (1923); Ogden and Richards, “The Meaning of -Meaning”(1923), may be mentioned. - -[260] Elton, “Survey of English Literature” (1780-1830), Vol. II, pp. 88 -foll. - -[261] Cf. Elton, “The Augustan Ages” (1899), p. 209. - -[262] “The Legacy of Greece” (Oxford, 1921), p. 11. - -[263] “Convention and Revolt in Poetry” (London, 1921), p. 13. - -[264] Just as this book was about to go to press, there appeared “The -Theory of Poetry,” by Professor Lascelles Abercrombie, in which a poet -and critic of great distinction has embodied his thoughts on his own art. -Chaps. III and IV especially should be consulted for a most valuable -account and analysis of how the poetical “magic” of words is achieved. - -[265] “Essays in Criticism,” Second Series (1888): “Wordsworth” (1913 -ed.), p. 157. - -[266] O. Barfield, “Form in Poetry” (“New Statesman” August 7, 1920, pp. -501-2). - -[267] “Œuvres” (ed. Assézat), I, p. 377 (quoted by Babbitt), _op. cit._, -p. 121. - -[268] Preface to “The Tales” (Poems), ed. A. W. Ward, (Cambridge, 1906), -Vol. II, p. 10. - - - - -INDEX - - - Abercrombie, Lascelles, 197 n., 201 n. - - Addison, Joseph, 21 - - “Ælla” (T. Chatterton’s), 163 - - Akenside, Mark, 16, 27, 69-70, 138-9, 189, 195 - Dr. Johnson’s criticism, 16 - “Epistle to Curio,” 195 - Latinism, 69-70 - Personification, 138-9 - “Pleasures of the Imagination,” 69 - - “Alma” (M. Prior’s), 75 - - “Amyntor and Theodora,” 142 - - “Anti-Jacobin, The,” 173 n. - - “Approach of Summer, The,” 179 - - “Archaism,” 17-21, 80-101 - - Aristotle, 10-12, 185 - - Armstrong, John, 69-70, 110 - - Arnold, Matthew, 2, 41, 181, 198, 201 - - “Art of Preserving Health,” 69, 110 - - - Babbitt, I., 13 n., 203 n. - - Bailey, J. C., 169 n. - - Ballads, 95-7, 196 - - Barfield, Owen, 202 n. - - “Bastard, The,” 111 - - Beattie, James, 19, 93 n., 125 - - Beers, H. A., 97 n. - - “Beowulf, The,” 104 n. - - Binyon, Laurence, 13 n. - - “Biographia Literaria,” 13 n., 24 n., 48 n., 51 n., 127 n., 156 n., - 173 n., 185 n. - - “Birth of Flattery, The” (G. Crabbe’s), 168 - - Blair, Robert, 110, 176 n. - - Blake, William, 28, 46-7, 77, 99, 124, 129, 136-59, 163-7, 179-80, - 181, 187 n., 198, 202 - Allegory and Vision, remarks on, 165 - Artist, as, 136, 159 n. - Compounds, 124, 129 - Felicity of diction, 46-7, 202 - “Imitation of Spenser,” 47, 165 - “Letters,” 47 n., 164 n., 187 n. - “Muses, To the,” 47 - Mysticism, 164 - Personifications, 163-7, 179-80 - “Piper, The,” 202 - “Songs of Experience,” 46, 165 n., 166 - “Songs of Innocence,” 46, 165 - Stock diction, 46-7 - - Blount, T., 93 - - Boswell’s “Life of Johnson,” 16 n. - - “Botanic Garden” (E. Darwin’s), 12, 51-2, 126, 173-5 - - Bowles, William Lisle, 48 - - Boyce, S., 162 - - Bruce, Michael, 122 - - Burns, Robert, 28, 100, 198 - - Bysshe, Edward, 30 - - “By-ways Round Helicon”, 195 n. - - - Campbell, Dykes, 128 n. - - Canning, George, 139, 173 n. - - Capell, Edward, 95-6 - - “Castaway, The,” 49, 170 - - “Castle of Indolence,” 90-2, 161 - - Chapman, George, 105 - - “Charge to the Poets” (W. Whitehead’s), 20 n. - - “Chase, The” (W. Somerville’s), 68, 110, 142 - - Chatterton, Thomas, 19, 42-3, 97-8, 123-4, 162-3 - Compounds, 123-4 - Personifications, 162-3 - “Rowley Poems,” 97-8 - Stock diction, 42-3 - - Chaucer, Geoffrey, 26, 84-6, 133 - - Chaucerian imitations, 84-6 - - Chesterfield, Lord, 20 - - “Child of Quality, Lines to” (M. Prior’s), 195 - - “Choice, The” (J. Pomfret’s), 195 - - Churchill, John, 139-40, 169-70 - - Classical literature (connexion with romantic), 181-2 - - Coleridge, H. N., 156 n. - - Coleridge, S. T., 1, 13, 24, 31, 32, 51, 100, 127-8, 156, 173, 182, - 193, 204 - Archaisms, 100 - Compounds, 127-8 - Darwin, E., remarks, on, 13, 173 - Gray’s personifications, on, 156 - Imagination, on, 13 - “Letters,” 173 n. - Pope’s style, on, 24, 32, 193 - - Collins, William, 16, 40-1, 71, 98, 116-7, 129, 149, 150-5, 166, 167, - 191, 196 - Archaisms, 98 - Compounds, 116-7, 129 - Dr. Johnson’s criticisms of, 16, 40, 151 - “Odes,” 149 n., 150-5 - Personifications, 150-5, 166, 167, 178, 179, 191 - Romantic forerunner, a, 196 - Stock diction, 40-1 - - Compound epithets, 4, 102-31, 204 - - “Convention and Revolt in Poetry,” 200 n. - - Courthope, W. J., 9 n., 17 n., 45 n., 50 n., 57 n., 133 n., 149 n., - 194 n. - - Coventry, F., 147 - - Cowper, William, 20, 24, 31, 48-50, 73-4, 76, 126, 168-73 - Archaism, on, 20 - Compounds, 126 - Familiar style, on the, 24 - “Homer” translation, 48, 74, 126 - Latinism, 73-5 - “Letters,” 20 n., 48 n., 74 n. - “Olney Hymns,” 49, 169 - Personifications, 169-73, 179 - Stock diction, 48-9 - “Table Talk,” 49 - “Task, The,” 49, 73-4, 170-1 - - Crabbe, George, 50-1, 124-5, 167-8, 179, 195, 204 - Compounds, 124-5 - Dryden’s style, on, 204 - Personifications, 167-8, 179 - Stock diction, 50-1 - - Croxall, Samuel, 93 n. - - Cunningham, John, 27, 189 - - - Darwin, Erasmus, 12, 37, 51-2, 53, 120, 173-5 - - Davenant, Sir William, 21 - - Denham, Sir John, 15 - - Dennis, John, 11 n. - - De Quincey, Thomas, 52 - - “Descriptive Sketches,” 52, 175, 176 n. - - “Deserted Village, The,” 45-6, 111-2, 195 - - Diderot, Denis, 203 - - Dodsley, Robert, 147, 195 - - Doughty, Oswald, 98 n., 195 n. - - Drayton, Michael, 107 - - Drinkwater, John, 9 n. - - Dryden, John, 5, 7, 8, 9, 11, 14, 15, 18, 21, 22, 26-7, 28, 30, 31, - 32, 33, 36, 58-9, 81-2, 83, 105-6, 109, 134, 181, 194, 204 - “Annus Mirabilis,” 8 - Archaisms, 18, 81-2 - Chaucer “translations,” 26-7 - Compounds, 105-6 - “Essays” and “Prefaces,” 7-11 - “Hind and Panther,” 195 - Language of poetry, on, 8-9 - Latinism, 58-9 - Periphrasis, use of, 28, 33 - Personifications, 134 - “Religio Laici,” 194 - Royal Society, 7 - Satire, 106, 140 - Technical terms, on, 21 - - “Duellist, The” (Charles Churchill’s), 140 n. - - Dyer, John, 39, 70, 109, 142, 188-9 - - - Earle, J., 35 n. - - “Economy of Vegetation,” 12, 126, 173-4 - - Edmonds, C., 173 n. - - “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard,” 42, 72, 157, 159, 195, 198 - - “Eloisa to Abelard,” 134 - - Elton, Oliver, 10 n., 135 n., 182 n., 186 n., 197 n. - - Emerson, O., 104 n. - - “English Lyric in the Age of Reason,” 195 - - “Enthusiast, The,” 71, 121, 149 - - “Epistle to Curio” (M. Akenside’s), 195 n. - - Epithalamium (W. Thompson’s), 160 - - “Essay on Criticism,” 9-10, 29 n., 195 - - “Eton College, Ode on a Distant View of,” 156 - - Evelyn, John, 7 - - “Evening, Ode to,” 41, 116, 155 - - “Evening Walk, The,” 52, 127, 175-6 - - “Excursion, The” (David Mallet’s), 142 - - - “Faerie Queene,” 87, 94, 99, 133, 159-60, 192 - - Falconer, William, 22, 43-4 - - “Fleece, The,” (J. Dyer’s), 39, 70 - - Fletcher, Giles, 57 - - Fletcher, Phineas, 57 - - “Fugitive Poets” (Bell’s), 122, 147 n., 195 - - Furetière, Antoine, 5 - - - Gay, John, 33, 109 - - Gibbon, Edward, 198 - - Glanvill, Joseph, 7 - - Goldsmith, Oliver, 14-15, 20, 44-6, 72, 111-2, 140-1, 195 - Archaism, on, 20 - Compounds, in, 117-8 - Diction of poetry, on, 15 - Latinism, 72-3 - Personifications, 141-2, 179 - Stock diction, 44-6 - - Graeme, James, 122 - - Grainger, James, 70, 110, 142 - - “Grave,” the (Robert Blair’s), 110 - - Gray, Thomas, 8, 16-17, 18-19, 21-2, 31, 41-2, 67, 71-2, 93 n., 98-9, - 117-20, 146, 155-9, 177, 196 - Archaisms, on, 18-19, 98-9 - Coinages, on, 21 - Compounds, 117-20 - Diction of poetry, on, 8, 16-17 - “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard,” 42, 72, 157, 159, 195, 198 - Latinism, 71-2 - Letters, 8 n., 16 n. - Personifications, 155-9, 177, 191 - Plain colloquial style, 17, 195 - Romantic forerunner, A, 150, 196 - Stock diction, 41-2 - Technical terms, on, 22 - - Grierson, H. J. C., 159 n. - - “Grongar Hill,” 39, 109, 184, 188, 190 - - - Hamilton, William (of Bangor), 146 - - Hill, G. B., 8 n., 15 n., 16 n., 23 n., 112 n., 151 n. - - “Hind and Panther, The,” 195 - - “Horror, Ode to,” 148 - - Hughes, John, 83 - - Hume, David, 198 - - Hutchinson, T., 52 n., 68 n., 97 n., 132 n., 176 n. - - “Hymn to May” (W. Thompson’s), 160 - - - “Il Bellicoso,” 147 - - “Il Pacifico,” 147 - - “Il Penseroso,” 71, 176 - - “Inebriety,” 167 - - - Jago, R., 122 - - Johnson, Dr., 15-16, 17, 19-20, 23, 31, 40-2, 44, 72-3, 111, 119, - 140-1, 151, 159, 177, 179 - Archaism, 19-20 - Collins, on, 150, 151 - Compounds, 111, 119-20 - Diction, on, 15-16 - “Dictionary,” 140 n. - Dryden, on, 8 - Gray’s personifications, on, 156 n. - Latinism, 73 - Personifications, 140-1, 177, 179 - Pope’s style, on, 23, 31, 193 - Satire, 139 - Stock diction, 45 - - Jonson, Ben, 17-18 - - - Keats, John, 126, 128, 129, 144, 187, 188, 192, 196, 203, 204 - - Ker, W. P., 7 n., 8 n., 9 n., 11 n., 18 n., 21 n. - - Kersey, John, 97 - - - “L’Allegro,” 162, 176 - - Langhorne, J., 122 - - Langland, William, 133 - - Latinism, 56-79, 191-2 - - Lee, Vernon, 197 n. - - “Legacy of Greece, The,” 199 - - Legouis, E., 53 n., 127 n., 175 n. - - Lessing’s “Laokoon,” 12 n. - - Lloyd, Robert, 88 n. - - “London” (Dr. Johnson’s), 111, 140-1 - - “Loves of the Plants” (E. Darwin’s), 12, 173 - - “Loves of the Triangles” (G. Canning’s), 173 n. - - Lowes, Professor J. L., 200 - - “Lyrical Ballads,” 1, 2, 175 - - Lyttleton, G., 119 - - - Maeterlinck, M., 200 - - Mallet, D., 110, 144 n., 142 - - Marlowe, Christopher, 105 n. - - Marriott, Dr., 147 - - Mason, William, 86, 146-7 - - Masson, David, 58 n. - - Mendez, Moses, 88, 122 - - Mickle, William, 93, 125, 162 n., 171 n. - - Milton, John, 8, 33-6, 41, 57-8, 60, 61, 62, 66, 70, 71, 72, 76, 77, - 81, 94, 107, 133, 136, 142, 146-7, 148, 149, 150, 176-7, 191-2 - Archaism, 81, 94 - Compound epithets, 105 - Diction, 34-6, 57-8 - Imitated in eighteenth century, 60-70, 76-7, 146-50, 191-2 - Latinism, 57-8, 177 - Personification, 133, 137, 142, 146-7, 176-7 - - “Monody written near Stratford-on-Avon,” 149 n. - - Morel, Leon, 39 n., 63 n., 78 n., 91 n., 114 n., 145 n. - - Murray, Gilbert, 199 - - - Nashe, Thomas, 105 n. - - Neo-classicism, 9-13, 53-4 - - “Night Thoughts” (E. Young’s), 28, 68-9, 136-8 - - “Nocturnal Reverie” (Countess of Winchilsea’s), 187 - - - Old English Compounds, 104 - - “Ossian” poems, 19, 166 - - - “Paradise Lost,” 34-6, 57-8, 76, 133, 136, 184 - - Parnell, Thomas, 135-6 - - “Passions, Ode to the,” 153 - - “Penshurst” (F. Coventry’s), 147 - - Percy, Bishop, 96-7 - - Personification and abstraction, 133-80, 190-1 - - Phelps, W. L., 142 n. - - Philips, John, 37, 60-1, 86, 109, 142 - - “Pity, Ode to” (W. Collins’), 153 - - “Pleasures of the Imagination” (M. Akenside’s), 69, 138-9, 189 - - “Pleasures of Melancholy, The” (T. Warton’s), 71, 121 - - “Poetical Character, Ode on the” (W. Collins’s), 152 - - “Poetical Sketches” (W. Blake’s), 99, 167, 181 - - Pomfret, John, 195 - - Pope, Alexander, 2, 3, 8, 9, 10, 14, 15, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21-2, 23-4, - 25, 29, 31-4, 36-7, 40, 42, 45, 46, 48, 50, 54, 59-60, 67, 73, - 81, 82-3, 85, 106-9, 111, 115, 130, 134, 135, 136, 139, 140, - 183, 184, 185, 189, 193-4, 204 - Archaism, 18, 82-3 - Compounds, 21, 106-9 - Diction, 33, 36-7 - “Dunciad,” 18, 134 - “Essay on Criticism,” 14, 29 n., 195 - Heroic couplet, 29-30, 31-2 - “Homer,” 2, 14, 17, 31-2, 40, 48, 184 - Language of poetry, 9-10 - Latinism, 59-60 - Personifications, 134 - Satire, 139, 140 - - Potter, R., 122 - - Prior, Matthew, 75, 87, 95, 195 - - “Progress of Error” (W. Cowper’s), 170 - - “Progress of Poetry” (Thomas Gray’s), 72 - - “Prolusions” (E. Capell’s), 95-6 - - - Raleigh, Sir Walter, 35 n., 58 n., 66 n. - - “Rape of the Lock,” 134 - - “Religio Laici,” 194 - - “Reliques of Ancient English Poetry,” 19, 96-7 - - Reynolds, Myra, 28 n., 61 n., 75 n. - - Ritson, Joseph, 96 n. - - Robertson, J. L., 6 n., 62 - - Rogers, Samuel, 125-6 - - Romanticism, connexion with classicism, 181-2 - - Rowley poems, 42-4, 97-8, 162-3 - - “Ruins of Rome” (J. Dyer’s), 109, 142 - - Ruskin, John, 180 - - Russell, A. J. B., 164 n. - - - Saintsbury, George, 29-30, 76 n., 106, 130, 131, 194 n. - - Sampson, John, 47 n., 99 n., 165 n. - - Savage, Richard, 75, 111, 136 - - Schmidt’s “Shakespeare Lexicon,” 35 - - “Schoolmistress, The,” 88-9, 161 - - Scott, John, 123 - - Scott, Sir Walter, 100, 192 - - “Seasons, The” (J. Thomson’s), 37-9, 62-8, 112-6, 142-6, 190, 196, 198 - - Selincourt, B. de, 35 n., 128 n. - - Shakespeare, William, 35, 105 n., 129 - - Shawcross, T. (_see_ “Biographia Literaria”). - - Shelley, P. B., 126, 178, 203, 204 - - Shenstone, W., 26, 29, 75, 88-9, 118 n., 161 - - “Shorter Poems of the Eighteenth Century,” 195 n. - - Sidney, Sir Philip, 105 n. - - Skeat, W. W., 43 n., 97, 98 n., 102 n. - - Smart, Christopher, 169 n. - - Smith, Gregory, 14 n., 18 n., 56 n. - - Somerville, William, 110, 142 - - “Song to David,” 169 n. - - Spence, Joseph, 12 - - Spenser, Edmund, 80-1, 105 n., 133, 159-60, 191, 192 - - Spenserian imitations, 18, 84, 86-94, 160-2, 178, 191, 192 - - Spingarn, J. E., 5 n., 6 n., 7 n. - - Sprat, Thomas, 6, 7 - - Stock diction, The, 25-55, 183-7 - - “Stones of Venice, The” (J. Ruskin’s), 180 n. - - “Storie of William Canynge,” 163 - - “Sugar Cane, The,” 70, 110, 142 - - Sweet, Henry, 102 n., 103 n. - - Swift, Jonathan, 139 - - Symbolism, 13, 164, 179, 180 - - Symons, Arthur, 47 n. - - “Syr Martin,” 93, 125, 162 n. - - - “Table Talk” (S. T. Coleridge’s), 156 n. - - “Table Talk” (W. Cowper’s), 49, 170 - - Taine, H., 183 - - “Task, The” (W. Cowper’s), 49, 73-4, 170-1 - - Theory of diction, 5-24 - - Thomson, James, 37-9, 62-8, 76, 77, 78, 90-2, 94, 112-6, 131, 142-6, - 161, 167, 179, 186, 188 - “Castle of Indolence,” 90-2, 161 - Compounds, 112-6, 131 - Diction generally, 37, 67 - Latinism, 62-8, 78, 192 - Miltonic borrowings, 37, 66 - Nature poet, a, 37, 78, 186 - Personifications, 142-6, 161, 166, 178-9 - Romantic forerunner, a, 196 - “Seasons, The,” 37-9, 62-8, 112-6, 142-6, 190, 195, 196, 198 - Stock diction, 37-8 - - Thompson, W., 61-2, 85, 89-90, 118 n. - - “Tintern Abbey, Lines written above,” 131 - - “Traveller, The” (O. Goldsmith’s), 45, 72, 112, 141 - - Trenery, Grace R., 95 n. - - “Triumph of Isis,” 149 n. - - Tyrwhitt, Thomas, 86, 98 n. - - - Upton, John, 93 n. - - - “Vacation, The,” 147 - - “Vale Abbey, Lines written at” (T. Warton’s), 149 - - “Valetudinarian, The,” 147 - - “Vanity of Human Wishes,” 73, 111, 140-1, 195 - - “Village, The” (G. Crabbe’s), 167, 168, 195 - - “Vision of Patience” (S. Boyce’s), 162 - - “Vision of Solomon” (W. Whitehead’s), 162 - - - Wakefield, Benjamin, 95 n. - - Waller, Edmund, 15 - - Walpole, Horace, 119, 156 n. - - “Wanderer, The” (R. Savage’s), 111, 136 - - Ward, A. W., 204 n. - - Warton, Joseph, 21, 70-1, 121, 134, 148-9 - - Warton, Thomas, 71, 83, 84, 85, 86, 120-1, 149 - - Watson, George, 100 n. - - Watts, Isaac, 49 - - Welsted, Leonard, 59 n. - - Wesley, John, 49, 50, 198 - - Wesley, Charles, 49 - - West, Gilbert, 118 n. - - White, Gilbert (of Selborne), 28 - - White, H. O., 148 n. - - Whitehead, W., 20 n., 122, 162 - - Williams, I. O., 195 n. - - Wilson, Sir James, 100 n. - - Winchilsea, Anne, Countess of, 61, 109, 187-8 - - “Windsor Forest,” 134 - - Wordsworth, William, 1, 3, 13, 15, 24, 25, 27 n., 28, 31, 32, 33, 35, - 36, 48, 51-3, 67, 68, 77, 79, 97, 115, 132, 175, 182, 185, 187, - 189, 192, 193, 197, 201, 204 - Archaism, 100 - Compounds, 127 - Darwin’s (Erasmus) influence, 52-4, 175 - Latinism, 79, 192 - Percy’s “Reliques,” on, 97 - Personifications, 133, 175-6, 178, 180 - Pope’s style, on, 24 - “Prefaces,” 1, 53, 132, 182, 197, 204 - “Prelude, The,” 184-5 - - Wyche, Sir Peter, 7 - - - “Yardley Oak” (W. Cowper’s), 131, 172 - - Yeats, W. B., 164 n. - - Young, Edward, 9 n., 28, 68-9, 136-8, 151 - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETIC DICTION *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. 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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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Poetic diction</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>A study of eighteenth century verse</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Thomas Quayle</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 28, 2022 [eBook #68420]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Tim Lindell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETIC DICTION ***</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_i"></a>[i]</span></p> - -<p class="center larger">POETIC DICTION</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_ii"></a>[ii]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_iii"></a>[iii]</span></p> - -<p class="titlepage larger">POETIC DICTION</p> - -<p class="center">A STUDY OF EIGHTEENTH CENTURY VERSE</p> - -<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">BY</span><br /> -THOMAS QUAYLE</p> - -<p class="titlepage">METHUEN & CO. LTD.<br /> -36 ESSEX STREET W.C.<br /> -LONDON</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_iv"></a>[iv]</span></p> - -<p class="titlepage smaller"><i>First Published in 1924</i></p> - -<p class="titlepage smaller">PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_v"></a>[v]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2> - -</div> - -<table> - <tr> - <td class="tdr smaller">CHAPTER</td> - <td></td> - <td class="tdpg smaller">PAGE</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">I.</td> - <td>THE AGE OF PROSE AND REASON</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">II.</td> - <td>THE THEORY OF DICTION</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">5</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">III.</td> - <td>THE “STOCK” DICTION</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">25</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">IV.</td> - <td>LATINISM</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">56</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">V.</td> - <td>ARCHAISM</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">80</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VI.</td> - <td>COMPOUND EPITHETS</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">102</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VII.</td> - <td>PERSONIFICATION AND ABSTRACTION</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">132</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VIII.</td> - <td>THE DICTION OF POETRY</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">181</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"></td> - <td><span class="smcap">Index</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#INDEX">207</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_vi"></a>[vi]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_vii"></a>[vii]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">PREFACE</h2> - -</div> - -<p>The studies on which this book is based were -begun during my tenure of the “William -Noble” Fellowship in English Literature at the -University of Liverpool, and I wish to thank the -members of the Fellowship Committee, and especially -Professor Elton, under whom I had for two years the -great privilege of working, for much valuable advice -and criticism. I must also express my sincere obligation -to the University for a generous grant towards -the cost of publication.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1"></a>[1]</span></p> - -<h1>POETIC DICTION</h1> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE AGE OF PROSE AND REASON</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>From the time of the publication of the first -Preface to the “Lyrical Ballads” (1798) the -poetical language of the eighteenth century, or -rather of the so-called “classical” writers of the -period, has been more or less under a cloud of suspicion. -The condemnation which Wordsworth then -passed upon it, and even the more rational and -penetrating criticism which Coleridge later brought to -his own analysis of the whole question of the language -fit and proper for poetry, undoubtedly led in the -course of the nineteenth century to a definite but -uncritical tendency to disparage and underrate the -entire poetic output of the period, not only of the -Popian supremacy, but even of the interregnum, -when the old order was slowly making way for the -new. The Romantic rebels of course have nearly -always received their meed of praise, but even in -their case there is not seldom a suspicion of critical -reservation, a sort of implied reproach that they -ought to have done better than they did, and that -they could and might have done so if they had reacted -more violently against the poetic atmosphere of -their age. In brief, what with the Preface to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a>[2]</span> -“Lyrical Ballads” and its successive expansions at -the beginning of the century, and what, some eighty -years later, with Matthew Arnold’s calm description -of the eighteenth century as an “age of prose and -reason,” the poetry of that period, and not only the -neo-classical portion of it, fared somewhat badly. -There could be no better illustration of the influence -and danger of labels and tags; “poetic diction,” and -“age of prose and reason” tended to become a sort -of critical legend or tradition, by means of which -eighteenth century verse, alike at its highest and its -lowest levels, could be safely and adequately understood -and explained.</p> - -<p>Nowadays we are little likely to fall into the error -of assuming that any one cut and dried formula, -however pregnant and apt, could adequately sum up -the literary aspects and characteristics of an entire -age; the contributory and essential factors are too -many, and often too elusive, for the tabloid method. -And now that the poetry of the first half or so of the -eighteenth century is in process of rehabilitation, and -more than a few of its practitioners have even been -allowed access to the slopes, at least, of Parnassus, it -may perhaps be useful to examine, a little more -closely than has hitherto been customary, one of the -critical labels which, it would almost seem, has sometimes -been taken as a sort of generic description of -eighteenth century verse, as if “poetic diction” was -something which suddenly sprang into being when -Pope translated Homer, and had never been heard of -before or since.</p> - -<p>This, of course, is to overstate the case, the more so -as it can hardly be denied that there is much to be -said for the other side. It may perhaps be put this -way, by saying, at the risk of a laborious assertion of -the obvious, that if poetry is to be written there must -be a diction in which to write it—a diction which,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>[3]</span> -whatever its relation to the language of contemporary -speech or prose may be, is yet in many essential -respects distinct and different from it, in that, even -when it does not draw upon a special and peculiar -word-power of its own, yet so uses or combines common -speech as to heighten and intensify its possibilities -of suggestion and evocation. If, therefore, -we speak of the “poetic diction” of the eighteenth -century, or of any portion of it, the reference ought to -be, of course, to the whole body of language in which -the poetry of that period is written, viewed as a -medium, good, bad, or indifferent, for poetical expression. -But this has rarely or never been the case; it -is not too much to say that, thanks to Wordsworth’s -attack and its subsequent reverberations, “poetic -diction,” so far as the eighteenth century is concerned, -has too often been taken to mean, “bad poetic diction,” -and it has been in this sense indiscriminately applied -to the whole poetic output of Pope and his school.</p> - -<p>In the present study it is hoped, by a careful -examination of the poetry of the eighteenth century, -by an analysis of the conditions and species of its -diction, to arrive at some estimate of its value, of what -was good and what was bad in it, of how far it was the -outcome of the age which produced it, and how far a -continuation of inherited tradition in poetic language, -to what extent writers went back to their great predecessors -in their search for a fresh vocabulary, and -finally, to what extent the poets of the triumphant -Romantic reaction, who had to fashion for themselves -a new vehicle of expression, were indebted to their -forerunners in the revolt, to those who had helped to -prepare the way.</p> - -<p>It is proposed to make the study both a literary and -a linguistic one. In the first place, the aim will be -to show how the poetic language, which is usually -labelled “the eighteenth century style,” was, in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a>[4]</span> -certain of its most pronounced aspects, a reflex of the -literary conditions of its period; in the second place, -the study will be a linguistic one, in that it will deal -also with the words themselves. Here the attention -will be directed to certain features characteristic of, -though not peculiar to, the diction of the eighteenth -century poetry—the use of Latinisms, of archaic and -obsolete words, and of those compound words by -means of which English poets from the time of the -Elizabethans have added some of the happiest and -most expressive epithets to the language; finally, the -employment of abstractions and personifications will -be discussed.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>[5]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE THEORY OF POETICAL DICTION IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>About the time when Dryden was beginning -his literary career the preoccupation of men of -letters with the language as a literary instrument -was obvious enough. There was a decided -movement toward simplicity in both prose and poetry, -and, so far as the latter was concerned, it was in large -measure an expression of the critical reaction against -the “metaphysical” verse commonly associated with -the names of Donne and his disciples. Furetière in -his “Nouvelle Allegorique ou Histoire des dernier -troubles arrivez au Royaume d’Eloquence,” published -at Paris in 1658,<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> expresses the parallel struggle which -had been raging amongst French poets and critics, and -the allegory he presents may be taken to symbolize -the general critical attitude in both countries.</p> - -<p>Rhetoric, Queen of the Realm of Eloquence, and -her Prime Minister, Good Sense, are represented as -threatened by innumerable foes. The troops of the -Queen, marshalled in defence of the Academy, her -citadel, are the accepted literary forms, Histories, -Epics, Lyrics, Dramas, Romances, Letters, Sermons, -Philosophical Treatises, Translations, Orations, and -the like. Her enemies are the rhetorical figures and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>[6]</span> -the perversions of style, Metaphors, Hyperboles, -Similes, Descriptions, Comparisons, Allegories, Pedantries, -Antitheses, Puns, Exaggerations, and a host of -others. Ultimately the latter are defeated, and are -in some cases banished, or else agree to serve as -dependents in the realm of Eloquence.</p> - -<p>We may interpret the struggle thus allegorically -expressed by saying that a new age, increasingly -scientific and rational in its outlook, felt it was high -time to analyze critically and accurately the traditional -canons and ideals of form and matter that classical -learning, since the Renaissance, had been able to -impose upon literature. This is not to say that -seventeenth century writers and critics suddenly -decided that all the accepted standards were radically -wrong, and should be thrown overboard; but some of -them at least showed and expressed themselves dissatisfied, -and, alongside of the unconscious and, as it -were, instinctive changes that reflected the spirit of -the age, there were deliberate efforts to re-fashion both -the matter and the manner of literary expression, to -give creative literature new laws and new ideals.<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>The movement towards purity and simplicity of -expression received its first definite statement in -Thomas Sprat’s “History of the Royal Society, 1667.” -One section of the History contains an account of the -French Academy, and Sprat’s efforts were directed -towards the formation of a similar body in England -as an arbiter in matters of language and style. The -ideal was to be the expression of “so many <i>things</i><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span> -almost in an equal number of <i>words</i>.”<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> A Committee -of the Royal Society, which included Dryden, Evelyn, -and Sprat amongst its members, had already met in -1664, to discuss ways and means of “improving the -English tongue,” and it was the discussions of this -committee which had doubtless led up to Evelyn’s -letter to Sir Peter Wyche, its chairman, in June 1665.<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> -Evelyn there gives in detail his ideas of what an -English academy, acting as arbiter in matters of -vocabulary and style, might do towards purifying the -language. Twenty-three years later Joseph Glanvill -defined the new ideal briefly in a passage of his “Essay -Concerning Preaching”: “Plainness is a character of -great latitude and stands in opposition, First to <i>hard -words</i>: Secondly, to <i>deep and mysterious notions</i>: -Thirdly, to <i>affected Rhetorications</i>: and Fourthly, to -<i>Phantastical Phrases</i>.”<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> In short, the ideal to be -aimed at was the precise and definite language of -experimental science, but the trend of the times -tended to make it more and more that ideal of poetry -also which was later to be summed up in Dryden’s -definition of “wit” as a “propriety of thoughts and -words.”<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> - -<p>It is of some little interest perhaps to note that it is -not until the end of the seventeenth century that the -word <i>diction</i> definitely takes on the sense which it now -usually bears as a term of literary criticism. In the -preface to “Sylvae, or The Second Part of Poetical -Miscellanies” (1685), Dryden even seems to regard the -term as not completely naturalized.<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> Moreover, the -critics and poets of the eighteenth century were for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span> -the most part quite convinced that the special language -of poetry had begun with Dryden. Johnson asserted -this in his usual dogmatic fashion, and thus emphasized -the doctrine, afterwards vigorously opposed by Wordsworth, -that between the language of prose, and that -proper to poetry, there is a sharp distinction. “There -was therefore before the time of Dryden no poetical -diction.... Those happy combinations of words -which distinguished poetry from prose had been rarely -attempted; we had few elegancies or flowers of -speech.”<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> Gray moreover, while agreeing that English -poetry had now a language of its own, declared in a -letter to West that this special language was the -creation of a long succession of English writers themselves, -and especially of Shakespeare and Milton, to -whom (he asserts) Pope and Dryden were greatly -indebted.<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></p> - -<p>It is not very difficult to understand Dryden’s own -attitude, as laid down in the various Prefaces. He is -quite ready to subscribe to the accepted neo-classical -views on the language of poetry, but characteristically -reserves for himself the right to reject them, or to take -up a new line, if he thinks his own work, or that of his -contemporaries, is likely to benefit thereby. Thus in -the preface to “Annus Mirabilis” (1666) he boldly -claims the liberty to coin words on Latin models, and -to make use of technical details.<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> In his apology for -“Heroic Poetry and Poetic License” (1677) prefixed -to “The State of Innocence and Fall of Man,” his -operatic “tagging” of “Paradise Lost,” he seems to -lay down distinctly the principle that poetry demands -a medium of its own, distinct from that of prose,<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span> -whilst towards the end of his literary career he reiterates -his readiness to enrich his poetic language from -any and every source, for “poetry requires ornament,” -and he is therefore willing to “trade both with the -living and the dead for the enrichment of our native -language.”<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> But it is significant that at the same -time he rejects the technical terms he had formerly -advocated, apparently on the grounds that such terms -would be unfamiliar to “men and ladies of the first -quality.” Dryden has thus become more “classical,” -in the sense that he has gone over or reverted to the -school of “general” terms, which appeared to base -its ideal of expression on the accepted language of -cultured speakers and writers.<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a></p> - -<p>Toward the establishment of this principle of the -pseudo-classical creed the theory and practice of Pope -naturally contributed; indeed, it has been claimed -that it was in large measure the result of the profound -effect of the “Essay on Criticism,” or at least of the -current of thought which it represents, on the taste of -the age.<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> In the Essay, Pope, after duly enumerating -the various “idols” of taste in poetical thought and -diction, clearly states his own doctrine; as the poets’ -aim was the teaching of “True Wit” or “Nature,” -the language used must be universal and general, and -neologisms must be regarded as heresies. For Pope, -as for Dryden, universal and general language meant -such as would appeal to the cultured society for whom -he wrote,<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> and in his practice he thus reflected the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span> -traditional attitude towards the question of language -as a vehicle of literary expression. A common -“poetics” drawn and formulated by the classical -scholars mainly (and often incorrectly) from Aristotle -had established itself throughout Western Europe, and -it professed to prescribe the true relation which should -exist between form and matter, between the creative -mind and the work of art.<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a></p> - -<p>The critical reaction against these traditional canons -had, as we have noted, already begun, but Pope and -his contemporaries are in the main supporters of the -established order, in full agreement with its guiding -principle that the imitation of “Nature” should be -the chief aim and end of art. It is scarcely necessary -to add that it was not “Nature” in the Wordsworthian -sense that was thus to be “imitated”; sometimes, -indeed, it is difficult to discover what was meant by -the term. But for Pope and his followers we usually -find it to mean man as he lives his life in this world, -and the phrase to “imitate Nature” might thus have -an ethical purpose, signifying the moral “improvement” -of man.</p> - -<p>But to appreciate the full significance of this -“doctrine,” and its eighteenth century interpretation, -it is necessary to glance at the Aristotelian canon in -which it had its origin. For Aristotle poetry was an -objective “imitation” with a definite plan or purpose, -of human actions, not as they are, but as they ought -to be. The ultimate aim, then, according to the -<i>Poetics</i>, is ideal truth, stripped of the local and the -accidental; Nature is to be improved upon with means -drawn from Nature herself. This theory, as extracted -and interpreted by the Italian and French critics of -the Renaissance, was early twisted into a notion of -poetry as an agreeable falsity, and by the end of the -seventeenth century it had come to mean, especially<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span> -with the French, the imitation of a selected and -embellished Nature, not directly, but rather through -the medium of those great writers of antiquity, such -as Homer and Virgil, whose works provided the -received and recognized models of idealized nature.<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a></p> - -<p>As a corollary to this interpretation of the Aristotelian -doctrine of ideal imitation, there appeared a -tendency to ignore more and more the element of -personal feeling in poetry,<a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> and to concentrate attention -on the formal elements of the art. This tendency, -reinforced by the authority of the Horatian tag, <i>ut -pictura poesis</i> (“as is painting, so is poetry”), led -naturally, and in an ever-increasing degree, to the -formal identification of poetry with painting. Critics -became accustomed to discussing the elements in the -art of writing that correspond to the other elements in -pictorial art, such as light, colour, expression, etc. -And as the poet was to be an imitator of accepted -models, so also he was to be imitative and traditional -in using poetical colouring, in which phrase were -included, as Dryden wrote, “the words, the expressions, -the tropes and figures, the versification, and all -the other elegancies of sound.”<a id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> That this parallelism -directly encourages the growth of a set “poetic -diction” is obvious; the poet’s language was not to -be a reflection of a genuine emotion felt in the mind -for his words, phrases, and figures of speech, his -<i>operum colores</i>,<a id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> he must not look to Nature but to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span> -models. In brief, a poetical <i>gradus</i>, compiled from -accepted models, was to be the ideal source on which -the poet was to draw for his medium of expression.</p> - -<p>It is not necessary to dwell long on this pseudo-classical -confusion of the two arts, as revealed in the -critical writings of Western Europe down to the very -outbreak of the Romantic revolt.<a id="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> In English -criticism, Dryden’s “Parallel” was only one of many. -Of the eighteenth century English critics who developed -a detailed parallelism between pictorial and plastic art -on the one hand and poetry on the other, maintaining -that their standards were interchangeable, the most -important perhaps is Spence, whose “Polymetis” -appeared in 1747, and who sums the general position -of his fellow-critics on this point in the remark, “Scarce -anything can be good in a poetical description which -would appear absurd if represented in a statue or -picture.”<a id="FNanchor_22" href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> The ultimate outcome of this confusion of -poetry and painting found its expression in the last -decade of the eighteenth century in the theory and -practice of Erasmus Darwin, whose work, “The -Botanic Garden,” consisted of a “second part,” “The -Loves of the Plants,” published in 1789, two years -before its inclusion with the “first part” the -“Economy of Vegetation,” in one volume. Darwin’s -theory of poetry is contained in the “Interludes” -between the cantos of his poems, which take the form -of dialogues between the “Poet” and a “Bookseller.” -In the Interlude to Canto 1 of Part II (“The Loves of -the Plants”) he maintains the thesis that poetry is a -process of painting to the eye, and in the cantos themselves -he proceeds with great zeal to show in practice<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span> -how words and images should be laid on like pigments -from the outside. The young Wordsworth himself, as -his early poems show, was influenced by the theory -and practice of Darwin, but Coleridge was not slow to -detect the danger of the elaborate word-painting that -might arise from the confusion of the two arts. “The -poet,” he wrote,<a id="FNanchor_23" href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> “should paint to the Imagination -and not to the Fancy.” For Coleridge Fancy was the -“Drapery” of poetic genius, Imagination was its -“Soul” or its “synthetic and magical power,”<a id="FNanchor_24" href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> and -he thus emphasized what may be regarded as one of -the chief distinctions between the pseudo-classical, and -the romantic, interpretations of the language of poetry. -In its groping after the “grand style,” as reflected in -a deliberate avoidance of accidental and superficial -“particularities,” and in its insistence on generalized -or abstract forms, eighteenth century poetry, or at -least the “neo-classical” portion of it, reflected its -inability to achieve that intensity of imaginative conception -which is the supreme need of all art.</p> - -<p>The confusion between the two arts of poetry and -painting which Coleridge thus condemned did not, it -is needless to say, disappear with the eighteenth -century. The Romanticists themselves finally -borrowed that much-abused phrase “local colour” -from the technical vocabulary of the painter, and in -other respects the whole question became merged in -the symbolism of the nineteenth century where -literature is to be seen attempting to do the work of -both music and painting.<a id="FNanchor_25" href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a></p> - -<p>As regards the language of poetry then—its<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span> -vocabulary, the actual <i>words</i> in which it was to be -given expression—the early eighteenth century had -first this pseudo-classical doctrine of a treasury of -select words, phrases, and other “ornaments,” a -doctrine which was to receive splendid emphasis and -exemplification in Pope’s translation of Homer. But -alongside of this ideal of style there was another ideal -which Pope again, as we have seen, had insisted upon -in his “Essay on Criticism,” and which demanded -that the language of poetry should in general conform -to that of cultivated conversation and prose. These -two ideals of poetical language can be seen persisting -throughout the eighteenth century, though later -criticism, in its haste to condemn the <i>gradus</i> ideal, -has not often found time to do justice to the -other.</p> - -<p>But, apart from these general considerations, the -question of poetic diction is rarely treated as a thing -<i>per se</i> by the writers who, after Dryden or Pope, or -alongside of them, took up the question. There are -no attempts, in the manner of the Elizabethans,<a id="FNanchor_26" href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> to -conduct a critical inquiry into the actual present -resources of the vernacular, and its possibilities as a -vehicle of expression. Though the attention is more -than once directed to certain special problems, on the -whole the discussions are of a general nature, and -centre round such points as the language suitable for -an Heroic Poem, or for the “imitation” of aspects -of nature, or for Descriptive Poetry, questions which -had been discussed from the sixteenth century onwards, -and were not exhausted by the time of Dr. -Johnson.<a id="FNanchor_27" href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a></p> - -<p>Goldsmith’s remarks, reflecting as they do a sort of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span> -half-way attitude between the old order and the new, -are interesting. Poetry has a language of its own; -it is a species of painting with words, and hence he -will not condemn Pope for “deviating in some -instances from the simplicity of Homer,” whilst such -phrases as <i>the sighing reed</i>, <i>the warbling rivulet</i>, <i>the -gushing spring</i>, <i>the whispering breeze</i> are approvingly -quoted.<a id="FNanchor_28" href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> It is thus somewhat surprising to find that -in his “Life of Parnell” he had pilloried certain -“misguided innovators” to whose efforts he attributed -the gradual debasing of poetical language since -the happy days when Dryden, Addison, and Pope -had brought it to its highest pitch of refinement.<a id="FNanchor_29" href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> -These writers had forgotten that poetry is “the -language of life” and that the simplest expression -was the best: brief statements which, if we knew -what Goldsmith meant by “life,” would seem to -adumbrate the theories which Wordsworth was to -expound as the Romantic doctrine.</p> - -<p>Dr. Johnson has many things to say on the subject -of poetic language, including general remarks and -particular judgments on special points, or on the work -of the poets of whom he treated in his “Lives.” As -might be expected, he clings tenaciously to the accepted -standards of neo-classicism, and repeats the old -commonplaces which had done duty for so long, pays -the usual tribute to Waller and Denham, but ascribes -the actual birth of poetical diction to the practice of -Dryden. What Johnson meant by “poetical diction” -is clearly indicated; it was a “system of words at -once refined from the grossness of domestic use, and -free from the harshness of terms appropriated to -different arts,”<a id="FNanchor_30" href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> that is, the language of poetry must<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span> -shun popular and technical words, since language -is “the dress of thought” and “splendid ideas -lose their magnificence if they are conveyed by low -and vulgar words.”<a id="FNanchor_31" href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> From this standpoint, and -reinforced by his classical preference for regular -rhymes,<a id="FNanchor_32" href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> all his particular judgments of his predecessors -and contemporaries were made; and when -this is remembered it is easier to understand, for -instance, his praise of Akenside<a id="FNanchor_33" href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> and his criticism of -Collins.<a id="FNanchor_34" href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a></p> - -<p>Gray, however, perhaps the most scrupulous and -precise of all our poets with regard to the use of words -in poetry,<a id="FNanchor_35" href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> has some pertinent things to say on the -matter. There is his important letter to West, already -referred to, with its dogmatic assertion that “the -language of the age is never the language of poetry,” -and that “our poetry has a language to itself,” an -assertion which, with other remarks of Gray, helps -to emphasize the distinction to be made between the -two ideals of poetical diction to be seen persisting -through the eighteenth century. It was generally -agreed that there must be a special language for -poetry, with all its artificial “heightening,” “licenses,” -and variations from the language of prose, to serve -the purpose of the traditional “Kinds,” especially -the Epic and the Lyric. This is the view taken by -Gray, but with a difference. He does not accept the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span> -conventional diction which Pope’s “Homer” had -done so much to perpetuate, and hence he creates a -poetic language of his own, a glittering array of words -and phrases, blending material from varied sources, -and including echoes and reminiscences of Milton and -Dryden.</p> - -<p>The second ideal of style was that of which, as we -have seen, the canons had been definitely stated by -Pope, and which had been splendidly exemplified in -the satires, essays, and epistles. The aim was to -reproduce “the colloquial idiom of living society,”<a id="FNanchor_36" href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> -and the result was a plain, unaffected style, devoid -of the ornaments of the poetic language proper, and, -in its simplicity and directness, equally suitable for -either poetry or prose. Gray could make use of -this vehicle of expression, whenever, as in “The -Long Story,” or the fragmentary “Alliance of -Education and Government,” it was suitable and -adequate for his purpose; but in the main his -own practice stood distinct from both the eighteenth -century ideals of poetical language. Hence, as it -conformed to neither of the accepted standards, -Goldsmith and Johnson agreed in condemning his -diction, which was perhaps in itself sufficient proof -that Gray had struck out a new language for -himself.</p> - -<p>Among the special problems connected with the -diction of poetry to which the eighteenth century -critics directed their attention, that of the use of -archaic and obsolete words was prominent. It had -been one of the methods by which the Elizabethans -had hoped to enrich their language, but contemporary -critics had expressed their disapproval, and it -was left to Jonson, in this as in other similar matters, -to express the reasonable view that “the eldest of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span> -the present and the newest of the past language is -best.”<a id="FNanchor_37" href="#Footnote_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> Dryden, when about to turn the “Canterbury -Tales” “into our language as it is now refined,”<a id="FNanchor_38" href="#Footnote_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a> was -to express a similar common-sense view. “When -an ancient word,” he said, with his Horace no doubt -in his mind, “for its sound and significancy deserves -to be revived, I have that reasonable veneration for -antiquity to restore it. All beyond this is superstition.”</p> - -<p>A few years later the long series of Spenserian -imitations had begun, so that the question of the poetic -use of archaic and obsolete words naturally came into -prominence. Pope, as might be expected, is to be -found among the opposition, and in the “Dunciad” -he takes the opportunity of showing his contempt for -this kind of writing by a satiric gird, couched in -supposedly archaic language:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">But who is he in closet close y-pent</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of sober face with learned dust besprent?</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Right well mine eyes arede the myster wight</div> - <div class="verse indent0">On parchment scraps y-fed and Wormius hight—</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(Bk. III, ll. 185-8)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">an attack which is augmented by the ironic comment -passed by “Scriblerus” in a footnote.<a id="FNanchor_39" href="#Footnote_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a> Nevertheless, -when engaged on his translation of Homer he had an -inclination, like Cowper, towards a certain amount of -archaism, though it is evident that he is not altogether -satisfied on the point.<a id="FNanchor_40" href="#Footnote_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a></p> - -<p>In Gray’s well-known letter to West, mentioned -above, there is given a selection of epithets from -Dryden, which he notes as instances of archaic words<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span> -preserved in poetry. Gray, as we know, had a keen -sense of the value of words, and his list is therefore of -special importance, for it appears to show that words -like <i>mood</i>, <i>smouldering</i>, <i>beverage</i>, <i>array</i>, <i>wayward</i>, -<i>boon</i>, <i>foiled</i>, etc., seemed to readers of 1742 much more -old-fashioned than they do to us. Thirty years or -so later he practically retracts the views expressed -in this earlier letter, in which he had admirably -defended the use in poetry of words obsolete in the -current language of the day. “I think,” he wrote -to James Beattie, criticizing “The Minstrel,”<a id="FNanchor_41" href="#Footnote_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> “that -we should wholly adopt the language of Spenser or -wholly renounce it.” And he goes on to object to -such words as <i>fared</i>, <i>meed</i>, <i>sheen</i>, etc., objections -which were answered by Beattie, who showed that -all the words had the sanction of such illustrious -predecessors as Milton and Pope, and who added that -“the poetical style in every nation abounds in old -words”—exactly what Gray had written in his letter -of 1742.</p> - -<p>Johnson, it need hardly be said, was of Pope’s -opinion on this matter, and the emphatic protest -which he, alarmed by such tendencies in the direction -of Romanticism, apparent not only in the Spenserian -imitations, but still more in such signs of the times as -were to culminate in Percy’s “Reliques,” the Ossianic -“simplicities” of Macpherson, and the Rowley -“forgeries,” is evidence of the strength which the -Spenserian revival had by then gained. “To imitate -Spenser’s fiction and sentiments can incur no reproach,” -he wrote: “but I am very far from extending the same -respect to his diction and his stanza.”<a id="FNanchor_42" href="#Footnote_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> To the end -he continued to express his disapproval of those who -favoured the “obsolete style,” and, like Pope, he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span> -finally indulges in a metrical fling at the innovators:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Phrase that time has flung away</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Uncouth words in disarray;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Tricked in antique ruff and bonnet,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Ode and Elegy and Sonnet.<a id="FNanchor_43" href="#Footnote_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Goldsmith too had his misgivings. “I dislike the -imitations of our old English poets in general,” he wrote -with reference to “The Schoolmistress,” “yet, on -this minute subject, the antiquity of the style produces -a very ludicrous solemnity.”<a id="FNanchor_44" href="#Footnote_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a></p> - -<p>On this matter of poetic archaism, the point of view -of the average cultured reader, as distinct from the -writer, is probably accurately represented in one of -Chesterfield’s letters. Writing to his son,<a id="FNanchor_45" href="#Footnote_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a> he was -particularly urgent that those words only should be -employed which were found in the writers of the -Augustan age, or of the age immediately preceding. -To enforce his point he carefully explained to the -boy the distinction between the pedant and the -gentleman who is at the same time a scholar; the -former affected rare words found only in the pages -of obscure or antiquated authors rather than those -used by the great classical writers.</p> - -<p>This was the attitude adopted in the main by William -Cowper, who, after an early enthusiasm for the -“quaintness” of old words, when first engaged on -his translation of Homer, later repented and congratulated -himself on having, in his last revisal, pruned -away every “single expression of the obsolete kind.”<a id="FNanchor_46" href="#Footnote_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span> -But against these opinions we have to set the frankly -romantic attitude of Thomas Warton, who, in his -“Observations on the Faerie Queen” (1754), boldly -asserts that “if the critic is not satisfied, yet the -reader is transported,” whilst he is quite confident -that Spenser’s language is not so difficult and obsolete -as it is generally supposed to be.<a id="FNanchor_47" href="#Footnote_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a></p> - -<p>Here and there we also come across references to -other devices by which the poet is entitled to add to -his word-power. Thus Addison grants the right of -indulging in coinages, since this is a practice sanctioned -by example, especially by that of Homer and Milton.<a id="FNanchor_48" href="#Footnote_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a> -Pope considered that only such of Homer’s compound -epithets as could be “done literally into English -without destroying the purity of our language” or -those with good literary sanctions should be adopted.<a id="FNanchor_49" href="#Footnote_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a> -Gray, however, enters a caveat against coinages; in -the letter to Beattie, already quoted, he objects to the -word “infuriated,” and adds a warning not to “make -new words without great necessity; it is very hazardous -at best.”</p> - -<p>Finally, as a legacy or survival of that veneration -for the “heroic poem,” which had found its latest -expression in Davenant’s “Preface to Gondibert”<a id="FNanchor_50" href="#Footnote_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a> -(1650), the question of technical words is occasionally -touched upon. Dryden, who had begun by asserting -that general terms were often a mere excuse for ignorance, -could later give sufficient reasons for the avoidance -of technical terms,<a id="FNanchor_51" href="#Footnote_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a> and it is not surprising to -find that Gray was of a similar opinion. In his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span> -criticism of Beattie’s “Minstrel” he objects to the -terms <i>medium</i> and <i>incongruous</i> as being words of -art, which savour too much of prose. Gray, we may -presume, did not object to such words because they -were not “elegant,” or even mainly because they were -“technical” expressions. He would reject them -because, for him, with his keen sense of the value of -words, they were too little endowed with poetic colour -and imagination. When these protests are remembered, -the great and lasting popularity of “The Shipwreck” -(1762) of William Falconer, with its free -employment of nautical words and phrases, may be -considered to possess a certain significance in the -history of the Romantic reaction. The daring use of -technical terms in the poem must have given pleasure -to a generation of readers accustomed mainly to the -conventional words and phrases of the accepted -diction.</p> - -<p>When we review the “theory” of poetical language -in the eighteenth century, as revealed in the sayings, -direct and indirect, of poets and critics, we feel that -there is little freshness or originality in the views -expressed, very little to suggest the changes that were -going on underneath, and which were soon to find -their first great and reasoned expression. Nominally, -it would seem that the views of the eighteenth century -“classicists” were adequately represented and summed -up in those of Johnson, for whom the ideal of poetical -language was that which Dryden had “invented,” and -of which Pope had made such splendid use in his -translation of Homer. In reality, the practice of the -“neo-classical” poets was largely influenced by the -critical tenets of the school to which they belonged, -especially by that pseudo-Aristotelian doctrine according -to which poetry was to be an “imitation” of the -best models, whilst its words, phrases, and similes -were to be such as were generally accepted and consecrated<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span> -by poetic use. It was this conventionalism, -reinforced by, as well as reflecting, the neo-classical -outlook on external nature, that resulted in the -“poetic diction” which Wordsworth attacked, and it -is important to note that a similar stereotyped -language is to be found in most of the contemporary -poetry of Western Europe, and especially in that of -France.<a id="FNanchor_52" href="#Footnote_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a></p> - -<p>We need not be surprised, therefore, to find that -neither Johnson, nor any of his “classical” contemporaries, -appears to attach any importance to the -fact that Pope in his essays and epistles had set up a -standard of diction, of which it is not too much to -say that it was an ideal vehicle of expression for the -thoughts and feelings it had to convey. So enamoured -were they of the pomp and glitter of the “Homer” -that they apparently failed to see in this real “Pope -style” an admirable model for all writers aiming at -lucidity, simplicity, and directness of thought. We -may see this clearly by means of an instructive comparison -of Johnson’s judgments on the two “Pope -styles.” “It is remarked by Watts,” he writes, “that -there is scarcely a happy combination of words or a -phrase poetically elegant in the English language -which Pope has not inserted into his version of -Homer.”<a id="FNanchor_53" href="#Footnote_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a> On the other hand, he is perhaps more -than unjust to Pope’s plain didactic style when he -speaks of the “harshness of diction,” the “levity -without elegance” of the “Essay on Man.”<a id="FNanchor_54" href="#Footnote_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a></p> - -<p>It was not until the neo-classical poetry was in its -death-agony that we meet with adequate appreciation -of the admirable language which Pope brought to -perfection and bequeathed to his successors. “The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span> -familiar style,” wrote Cowper to Unwin,<a id="FNanchor_55" href="#Footnote_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a> “is of all -the styles the most difficult to succeed in. To make -verse speak the language of prose without being -prosaic—to marshal the words of it in such an order -as they might naturally take in falling from the lips -of an extemporary speaker, yet without meanness, -harmoniously, elegantly, and without seeming to displace -a syllable for the sake of the rhyme, is one of the -most arduous tasks a poet can undertake.” The -“familiar style,” which Cowper here definitely characterizes, -was in its own special province as good a model -as was the beautiful simplicity of Blake when “poetical -poetry” had once more come into its own; and it is -important to remember that this fact received due -recognition from both Wordsworth and Coleridge. -“The mischief,” wrote the former,<a id="FNanchor_56" href="#Footnote_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a> “was effected not -by Pope’s satirical and moral pieces, for these entitle -him to the highest place among the poets of his class; -it was by his ‘Homer.’... No other work in the -language so greatly vitiated the diction of English -poetry.” And Coleridge, too, called attention to the -“almost faultless position and choice of words” in -Pope’s original compositions, in comparison with the -absurd “pseudo-poetic diction” of his translations of -Homer.<a id="FNanchor_57" href="#Footnote_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a> The “Pope style” failed to produce real -poetry—poetry of infinite and universal appeal, -animated with personal feeling and emotion not -merely because of its preference for the generic rather -than the typical, but because its practitioners for the -most part lacked those qualities of intense imagination -in which alone the highest art can have its birth.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE “STOCK” DICTION OF EIGHTEENTH CENTURY POETRY</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>Since the time when Wordsworth launched his -manifestoes on the language fit and proper for -poetry, it may almost be said that whenever the -term “poetic diction” is found used as a more or less -generic term of critical disparagement, it has been -with reference, implied or explicit, to the so-called -classical poetry of the Augustan ages. But the condemnation -has perhaps been given too wide an application, -and hence there has arisen a tendency to place -in this category all the language of all the poets who -were supposed to have taken Pope as their model, so -that “the Pope style” and “eighteenth century -diction” have almost become synonymous terms, as -labels for a lifeless, imitative language in which poets -felt themselves constrained to express all their thoughts -and feelings. This criticism is both unjust and misleading. -For when this “false and gaudy splendour” -is unsparingly condemned, it is not always recognized -or remembered that it is mainly to be found in the -descriptive poetry of the period.</p> - -<p>It is sufficient to glance at the descriptive verse of -practically all the typical “classical” poets to discover -how generally true this statement is. We cannot say, -of course, that the varied sights and sounds of outdoor -life made no appeal at all to them; but what we do -feel is that whenever they were constrained to indulge<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span> -in descriptive verse they either could not, or would -not, try to convey their impressions in language of -their very own, but were content in large measure to -draw upon a common stock of dead and colourless -epithets. Local colour, in the sense of accurate and -particular observation of natural facts, is almost -entirely lacking; there is no writing with the eye on -the object, and it has been well remarked that their -highly generalized descriptions could be transferred -from poet to poet or from scene to scene, without any -injustice. Thus Shenstone<a id="FNanchor_58" href="#Footnote_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a> describes his birthplace:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Romantic scenes of pendent hills</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And verdant vales, and falling rills,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And mossy banks, the fields adorn</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Where Damon, simple swain, was born—</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">a quatrain which, with little or no change of epithet, -was the common property of the versifiers, and may -be met with almost everywhere in early eighteenth -century poetry. Every type of English scenery and -every phase of outdoor life finds its description in -lines of this sort, where the reader instinctively feels -that the poet has not been careful to record his individual -impressions or emotions, but has contented -himself with accepting epithets and phrases consecrated -to the use of natural description. A similar -inability or indifference is seen even in the attempts -to re-fashion Chaucer, or the Bible, or other old -material, where the vigour and freshness and colour of -the originals might have been expected to exercise a -salutary influence. But to no purpose: all must be -cast in the one mould, and clothed in the elegant diction -of the time. Thus in Dryden’s modernization of the -“Canterbury Tales” the beautiful simplicity of -Chaucer’s descriptions of the sights and sounds of -nature vanishes when garbed in the rapid and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span> -conventional phrases and locutions of the classicists. -Chaucer’s “briddes” becomes “the painted birds,” -a “goldfinch” is amplified into a “goldfinch with -gaudy pride of painted plumes,” whilst a plain and -simple mention of sunrise, “at the sun upriste,” has -to be paraphrased into</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Aurora had but newly chased the night</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And purpled o’er the sky with blushing light.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The old ballads and the Psalms suffered severely in the -same way.<a id="FNanchor_59" href="#Footnote_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a></p> - -<p>The fact that the words most frequently used in this -stock poetic diction have usually some sort of connexion -with dress or ornament has not escaped notice, -and it has its own significance. It is, as it were, a -reflex of the fact that the nature poetry of the period -is in large measure the work of writers to whom social -life is the central fact of existence, for whom meadow, -and woodland, and running water, mountain and sea, -the silent hills, and the starry sky brought no inspiration, -or at least no inspiration powerful enough to lead -them to break through the shackles of conventionality -imposed upon them by the taste of their age. Words -like “paint” and “painted,” “gaudy,” “adorn,” -“deck,” “gilds” and “gilded,” “damasked,” -“enamelled,” “embroidered,” and dozens similar -form the stock vocabulary of natural description; -apart from the best of Akenside, and the works of one -or two writers such as John Cunningham, it can safely -be said that but few new descriptive terms were added -to the “nature vocabulary” of English poetry during -this period. How far English poetry is yet distant -from a recognition of the sea as a source of poetic<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span> -inspiration may be perhaps seen from the fact that its -most frequent epithet is the feeble term “watery,” -whilst the magic of the sky by night or day evokes no -image other than one that can be expressed by changes -rung on such words as “azure,” “concave,” “serene,” -“ætherial.” Even in “Night Thoughts,” where the -subject might have led to something new and fresh in -the way of a “star-vocabulary,” the best that Young -can do is to take refuge in such periphrases as “tuneful -spheres,” “nocturnal sparks,” “lucid orbs,” “ethereal -armies,” “mathematic glories,” “radiant choirs,” -“midnight counsellors,” etc.</p> - -<p>And the same lack of direct observation and individual -expression is obvious whenever the classicists -have to mention birds or animals. Wild life had to -wait for White of Selborne, and for Blake and Burns -and Cowper and Wordsworth, to be observed with -accuracy and treated with sympathy; and it has been -well remarked that if we are to judge from their verse, -most of the poets of the first quarter of the eighteenth -century knew no bird except the goldfinch or nightingale, -and even these probably only by hearsay. For -the same generalized diction is usually called upon, and -birds are merely a “feathered,” “tuneful,” “plumy” -or “warbling” choir, whilst a periphrasis, allowing of -numerous and varied labels for the same animal, is -felt to be the correct thing. In Dryden sheep are -“the woolly breed” or “the woolly race”; bees are -the “industrious kind” or “the frugal kind”; pigs -are “the bristly care” or “the tusky kind”; frogs -are “the loquacious race”; crows, “the craven kind,” -and so on: “the guiding principle seems to be that -nothing must be mentioned by its own name.”<a id="FNanchor_60" href="#Footnote_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span></p> - -<p>Many of these stock epithets owed their appearance -of course to the requirements imposed upon poets by -their adherence to the heroic couplet. Pope himself -calls attention to the fact that the necessities of rhyme -led to the unceasing repetition of stereotyped phrases -and locutions:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Where’er you find the “cooling western breeze.”</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In the next line it “whispers through the trees”;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">If crystal streams “with pleasing murmur creep”</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The reader’s threaten’d, not in vain, with “sleep”—</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">adducing, with unconscious irony, the very rhymes prevalent -in much of his own practice.<a id="FNanchor_61" href="#Footnote_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a></p> - -<p>It was also recognized by the versifiers that the -indispensable polish and “correctness” of the decasyllabic -line could only be secured by a mechanical use -of epithets in certain positions. “There is a vast -beauty [to me],” wrote Shenstone, “in using a word of -a particular nature in the 8th and 9th syllable of an -English verse. I mean what is virtually a dactyl. -For instance,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">And pykes, the tyrants of the wat’ry plains.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Let any person of any ear substitute <i>liquid</i> for <i>wat’ry</i> -and he will find the disadvantage.”<a id="FNanchor_62" href="#Footnote_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a> Saintsbury has -pointed out<a id="FNanchor_63" href="#Footnote_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a> that the “drastic but dangerous device -of securing the undulating penetration of the line by -the use of the <i>gradus</i> epithet was one of the chief -causes of the intensely artificial character of the -versification and its attendant diction.... There -are passages in the ‘Dispensary’ and ‘The Rape of -the Lock,’ where you can convert the decasyllable -into the octosyllable for several lines together without<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span> -detriment to sense or poetry by simply taking out these -specious superfluities.”</p> - -<p>In the year of Dryden’s death (or perhaps in the -following year) there had appeared the “Art of -Poetry” by Edward Bysshe, whose metrical laws -were generally accepted, as authoritative, during the -eighteenth century. During the forty years of Dryden’s -literary career the supremacy of the stopped -regular decasyllabic couplet had gradually established -itself as the perfect form of verse. But Bysshe was -the first prosodist to formulate the “rules” of the -couplet, and in doing so he succeeded, probably -because his views reflected the general prosodic -tendencies of the time, in “codifying and mummifying” -a system which soon became erected into a creed. -“The foregoing rules (<i>of accent on the even places and -pause mainly at the 4th, 5th, or 6th syllable</i>) ought -indispensably to be followed in all our verses of 10 -syllables: and the observation of them will produce -Harmony, the neglect of them harshness and discord.”<a id="FNanchor_64" href="#Footnote_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a> -Into this rigid mechanical mould contemporary -and succeeding versifiers felt themselves constrained -to place their couplets. But to pad out their -lines they were nearly always beset with a temptation -to use the trochaic epithets, of which numerous -examples have been given above. As a natural result -such epithets soon became part and parcel of the -poetic stock of language, and hence most of them were -freely used by poets, not because of any intrinsic -poetic value, but because they were necessary to -comply with the absurd mechanics of their vehicle of -expression.</p> - -<p>Since the “Lives of the Poets” it has been customary -to regard this “poetic diction” as the peculiar invention -of the late seventeenth and early eighteenth<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span> -century, and especially of Dryden and Pope, a belief -largely due to Johnson’s eulogies of these poets. As -an ardent admirer of the school of Dryden and Pope, -it was only natural that Johnson should express an -exalted opinion of their influence on the poetic practice -of his contemporaries. But others—Gray amongst -them—did not view their innovations with much complacency, -and towards the end of the century Cowper -was already foreshadowing the attack to be made by -Wordsworth and Coleridge in the next generation. -To Pope’s influence, he says in effect, after paying his -predecessor a more or less formal compliment, was due -the stereotyped form both of the couplet and of much -of the language in which it was clothed. Pope had -made</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">poetry a mere mechanic art</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And every warbler had his tune by heart;</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">and in one of his letters he stigmatizes and pillories the -inflated and stilted phraseology of Pope, and especially -his translation of Homer.<a id="FNanchor_65" href="#Footnote_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a> Finally, Wordsworth and -Coleridge agreed in ascribing the “poetical diction,” -against which their manifestoes were directed, to that -source.</p> - -<p>It is to be admitted that Pope’s translation is to -some extent open to the charge brought against it of -corrupting the language with a meretricious standard -of poetic diction. In his Preface he expresses his misgivings -as to the language fit and proper for an English -rendering of Homer, and indeed it is usually recognized -that his diction was, to a certain extent, imposed upon -him both by the nature of his original, as well as by -the lack of elasticity in his closed couplet. To the -latter cause was doubtless due, not only the use of -stock epithets to fill out the line, but also the inevitable<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span> -repetition of certain words, due to the requirements of -rhyme, even at the expense of straining or distorting -their ordinary meaning. Thus <i>train</i>, for instance, on -account of its convenience as a rhyming word, is often -used to signify “a host,” or “body,” and similarly -<i>plain</i>, <i>main</i>, for the ocean. In this connexion it has -also been aptly pointed out that some of the defects -resulted from the fact that Pope had founded his own -epic style on that of the Latin poets, whose manner is -most opposed to Homer’s. Thus he often sought to -deck out or expand simple thoughts or commonplace -situations by using what he no doubt considered really -“poetical language,” and thus, for instance, where -Homer simply says, “And the people perished,” Pope -has to say, “And heaped the camp with mountains of -the dead.” The repeated use of periphrases: <i>feathered -fates</i>, for “arrows”; <i>fleecy breed</i> for “sheep”; <i>the -wandering nation of a summer’s day</i> for “insects”; <i>the -beauteous kind</i> for “women”; <i>the shining mischief</i> for -“a fascinating woman”; <i>rural care</i> for “the occupations -of the shepherd”; <i>the social shades</i> for “the -ghosts of two brothers,” may be traced to the same -influence.<a id="FNanchor_66" href="#Footnote_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a></p> - -<p>But apart from these defects the criticisms of -Coleridge and Wordsworth, and their ascribing of the -“poetical diction,” which they wished to abolish, to -the influence of Pope’s “Homer,” are to a large extent -unjust. Many of the characteristics of this “spurious -poetic language” were well established long before -Pope produced his translation. It is probable that -they are present to a much larger extent, for instance, -in Dryden; <i>painted</i>, <i>rural</i>, <i>finny</i>, <i>briny</i>, <i>shady</i>, <i>vocal</i>, -<i>mossy</i>, <i>fleecy</i>, come everywhere in his translations, and -not only there. Some of his adjectives in y are -more audacious than those of Pope: <i>spongy clouds</i>,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span> -<i>chinky hives</i>, <i>snary webs</i>, <i>roomy sea</i>, etc. Most of the -periphrases used by Pope and many more are already -to be found in Dryden: “summer” is <i>the sylvan -reign</i>; “bees,” <i>the frugal</i> or <i>industrious kind</i>; -“arrows,” <i>the feathered wood</i> or <i>feathered fates</i>; -“sheep,” <i>the woolly breed</i>; “frogs,” <i>the loquacious -race</i>! From all Pope’s immediate predecessors and -contemporaries similar examples may be quoted, -like Gay’s</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">When floating clouds their spongy fleeces drain</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Rural Sports”)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or Ambrose Philips:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Hark: how they warble in the brambly bush</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The gaudy goldfinch or the speckly thrush</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Fourth Pastoral”)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">and that “Epistle to a Friend,” in which he ridicules -the very jargon so much used in his own Pastorals.<a id="FNanchor_67" href="#Footnote_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a></p> - -<p>Pope then may justly be judged “not guilty,” at -least “in the first degree,” of having originated the -poetic diction which Johnson praised and Wordsworth -condemned; in using it, he was simply using the -stock language for descriptive poetry, whether original -or in translations, which had slowly come into being -during the last decade of the seventeenth century. -If it be traced to its origins, it will be found that most -of it originated with that poet who may fairly be -called the founder of the English “classical” school<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span> -of poetry—to Milton, to whom in large measure is due, -not merely the invention, but also, by the very potency -of the influence exercised by his great works, its vogue -in the eighteenth century.</p> - -<p>Before the time of Milton, it is not too much to say, -even when we remember the practice of Spenser and -Donne and their followers, that there was no special -language for poetry, little or nothing of the diction -consecrated solely to the purposes of poets. The -poets of the Elizabethan age and their immediate -successors had access to all diction, upon which they -freely drew. But it seems natural, indeed inevitable, -that for Milton, resolved to sing of things “unattempted -yet in prose or rhyme,” the ordinary language -of contemporary prose or poetry should be found -lacking. He was thus impelled, we may say, consciously -and deliberately to form for himself a special -poetical vocabulary, which, in his case, was abundantly -justified, because it was so essentially fitted to his -purpose, and bore the stamp of his lofty poetic genius.</p> - -<p>This poetical vocabulary was made up of diverse -elements. Besides the numerous “classical” words, -which brought with them all the added charm of -literary reminiscence, there were archaisms, and words -of Latin origin, as well as words deliberately coined -on Latin and Greek roots. But it included also most -of the epithets of which the eighteenth century versifiers -were so fond. Examples may be taken -from any of the descriptive portions of the “Paradise -Lost”:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">On the soft downy bank damasked with flowers</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(IV, 334)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">About me round I saw</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Hill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And liquid lapse of murmuring streams.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(VIII, 260-263)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span></p> - -<p>Other phrases, like “vernal bloom,” “lucid stream,” -“starry sphere,” “flowery vale,” “umbrageous -grots,” were to become the worn-out penny-pieces -of the eighteenth century poetical mint. Milton -indeed seems to have been one of the great inventors -of adjectives ending in y, though in this respect -he had been anticipated by Browne and others, and -especially by Chapman, who has large numbers of -them, and whose predilection for this method of -making adjectives out of nouns amounts almost to -an obsession.<a id="FNanchor_68" href="#Footnote_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a></p> - -<p>Milton was also perhaps the great innovator with -another kind of epithet, which called forth the censure -of Johnson, who described it as “the practice of giving -to adjectives derived from substantives the terminations -of participles,” though the great dictator is here -attacking a perfectly legitimate device freely used by -the Jacobeans and by most of the poets since their -time.<a id="FNanchor_69" href="#Footnote_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a> Nor are there wanting in Milton’s epic instances -of the idle periphrases banned by Wordsworth: <i>straw-built -citadel</i> for “bee-hive,” <i>vernal bloom</i> for “spring -flowers,” <i>smutty grain</i> for “gunpowder,” <i>humid train</i> -for the flowery waters of a river, etc.<a id="FNanchor_70" href="#Footnote_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a></p> - -<p>With Milton, then, may be said to have originated -the “poetic diction,” which drew forth Wordsworth’s -strictures, and which in the sequel proved a dangerous -model for the swarm of versifiers who essayed to -borrow or imitate it for the purpose of their dull and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span> -commonplace themes. How much the Miltonic language, -as aped and imitated by the “landscape -gardeners and travelling pedlars” of the eighteenth -century, lost in originality and freshness, may be felt, -rather than described, if we compare so well-known a -passage as the following with any of the quotations -given earlier:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent14">Yet not the more</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Clear Spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Smit with the love of sacred song; but chief</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Thee, Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That wash thy hallowed feet and warbling flow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(P.L. III, 26-30)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>But the minor poets of the eighteenth century, who, -by their mechanical imitations, succeeded in reducing -Milton’s diction to the level of an almost meaningless -jargon, had had every encouragement from their -greater predecessors and contemporaries. The process -of depreciation may be seen already in Dryden, and it -is probably by way of Pope that much of the Miltonic -language became part of the eighteenth century poetic -stock-in-trade. Pope was a frequent borrower from -Milton, and, in his “Homer” especially, very many -reminiscences are to be found, often used in an artificial, -and sometimes in an absurd, manner.<a id="FNanchor_71" href="#Footnote_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a> Moreover, -Pope’s free and cheapened use of many of Milton’s -descriptive epithets did much to reduce them to the -rank of merely conventional terms, and in this respect -the attack of Wordsworth and Coleridge was not -without justice. But on the whole the proper conclusion -would seem to be that what is usually labelled -as “the <i>Pope</i> style” could with more justice and -aptness be described as “the pseudo-Miltonic style.” -It is true that the versifiers freely pilfered the “Homer,” -and the vogue of much of the stock diction is thus<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span> -due to that source, but so far as Pope himself is concerned -there is justice in his plea that he left this -style behind him when he emerged from “Fancy’s -maze” and “moralized his song.”</p> - -<p>To what extent this catalogue of lifeless words and -phrases had established itself as the poetical thesaurus -is to be seen in the persistency with which it maintained -its position until the very end of the century, -when Erasmus Darwin with a fatal certainty evolved -from it all its worst features, and thus did much -unconsciously to crush it out of existence. James -Thomson is rightly regarded as one of the most -important figures in the early history of the Romantic -Revolt, and he has had merited praise for his attempts -to provide himself with a new language of his own. -In this respect, however, he had been anticipated by -John Philips, whose “Splendid Shilling” appeared in -1705, followed by “Cyder” a year later. Philips, -though not the first Miltonic imitator, was practically -the first to introduce the Miltonic diction and phrases, -whilst at the same time he acquired the knack of adding -phrases of his own to the common stock. He was -thus an innovator from whom Thomson himself -learned not a little.</p> - -<p>But though the “Seasons” is ample testimony to -a new and growing alertness to natural scenery, -Thomson found it hard to escape from the fetters of -the current poetic language. We feel that he is at -least trying to write with his eye steadily fixed upon -the object, but he could perhaps hardly be expected to -get things right from the very beginning. Thus a -stanza from his “Pastoral Entertainment” is purely -conventional:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The place appointed was a spacious vale</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Fanned always by a cooling western gale</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Which in soft breezes through the meadow stray</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And steal the ripened fragrances away—</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span></p> - -<p class="noindent">while he paraphrases a portion of the sixth chapter of -St. Matthew into:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Observe the rising lily’s snowy grace,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Observe the various vegetable race,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">They neither toil nor spin, but careless grow</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Yet see how warm they blush, how bright they glow,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">where the stock terms scarcely harmonize with the -simple Biblical diction. He was well aware of the -attendant dangers and difficulties, and in the first book -of “The Seasons” he gives expression to the need he -feels of a language fit to render adequately all that he -sees in Nature.<a id="FNanchor_72" href="#Footnote_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a> But though there is much that is -fresh and vivid in his descriptive diction, and much -that reveals him as a bold pioneer in poetic outlook -and treatment, the tastes and tendencies of his age -were too strong entirely to be escaped. Birds are the -<i>plumy</i>, or <i>feathered people</i>, or <i>the glossy kind</i>,<a id="FNanchor_73" href="#Footnote_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a> and a -flight of swallows is <i>a feathered eddy</i>; sheep are <i>the -bleating kind</i>, etc. In one passage (“Spring,” ll. 114-135) -he deals at length with the insects that attack the -crops without once mentioning them by name: they -are <i>the feeble race</i>, <i>the frosty tribe</i>, <i>the latent foe</i>, and -even <i>the sacred sons of vengeance</i>. He has in general -the traditional phraseology for the mountains and the -sea, though a few of his epithets for the mountains, as -<i>keen-air’d</i> and <i>forest-rustling</i>, are new. He speaks of -the Alps as <i>dreadful</i>, <i>horrid</i>, <i>vast</i>, <i>sublime</i>. <i>Shaggy</i> and -<i>nodding</i> are also applied to mountains as well as to -rocks and forests; winter is usually described in the -usual classical manner as <i>deformed</i> and <i>inverted</i>. -Leaves are the <i>honours</i> of trees, paths are <i>erroneous</i>,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span> -caverns <i>sweat</i>, etc., and he also makes large use of -Latinisms.<a id="FNanchor_74" href="#Footnote_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a></p> - -<p>John Dyer (1700-1758), though now and then conventional -in his diction, has a good deal to his credit, -and is a worthy contemporary of the author of “The -Seasons.” Thus in the “Country Walk” it is the old -stock diction he gives us:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Look upon that <i>flowery plain</i></div> - <div class="verse indent0">How the sheep surround their <i>swain</i>;</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And there behold a <i>bloomy mead</i>,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">A silver stream, a willow shade;</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">and much the same thing is to be found in “The -Fleece,” published in 1757:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The crystal dews, impearl’d upon the grass,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Are touched by Phœbus’ beams and mount aloft,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">With various clouds to paint the azure sky;</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">whilst he has almost as many adjectives in y as Ambrose -Philips. But these are more than redeemed by the -new descriptive touches which appear, sometimes -curiously combined with the stereotyped phrases, as -in “The Fleece” (Bk. III):</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The scatter’d mists reveal the dusky hills;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Grey dawn appears; the golden morn ascends,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And paints the glittering rocks and purple woods.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Nor must we forget “Grongar Hill,” which has justly -received high praise for its beauties and felicities of -description.</p> - -<p>It is scarcely necessary to illustrate further the vogue -of this sort of diction in the first half of the eighteenth -century; it is to be found everywhere in the poetry of -the period, and the conventional epithets and phrases<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span> -quoted from Dyer and Thomson may be taken as -typical of the majority of their contemporaries. But -this lifeless, stereotyped language has also invaded the -work of some of the best poets of the century, including -not only the later classicists, but also those who have -been “born free,” and are foremost among the -Romantic rebels. The poetic language of William -Collins shows a strange mixture of the old style and -the new. That it was new and individual is well seen -from Johnson’s condemnation, for Johnson recognized -very clearly that the language of the “Ode on -the Popular Superstitions of the Highlands” did not -conform to what was probably his own view that the -only language fit and proper for poetry was such as -might bear comparison with the polish and elegance -of Pope’s “Homer.” It is not difficult to make due -allowance for Johnson when he speaks of Collins’s -diction as “harsh, unskilfully laboured, and injudicially -selected”; we deplore the classical bias, and are -content enough to recognize and enjoy for ourselves -the matchless beauty and charm of Collins’s diction -at its best. Yet much of the language of his earlier -work betrays him as more or less a poetaster of the -eighteenth century. The early “Oriental Eclogues” -abound in the usual descriptive details, just as if the -poet had picked out his words and phrases from the -approved lists. Thus,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Yet midst the blaze of courts she fixed her love</div> - <div class="verse indent0">On the cool fountain or the shady grove</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Still, with the shepherd’s innocence her mind</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To the sweet vale and flowery mead inclined;</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">and even in the “Ode on the Popular Superstitions” -there were expressions like <i>watery surge</i>, <i>sheeny gold</i>, -though now and then the “new” diction is strikingly -exemplified in a magnificent phrase such as <i>gleamy -pageant</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span></p> - -<p>When Collins has nothing new to say his poetic -language is that of his time, but when his inspiration -is at its loftiest his diction is always equal to the task, -and it is then that he gives us the unrivalled felicities -of “The Ode to Evening.”</p> - -<p>Amongst all the English poets there has probably -never been one, even when we think of Tennyson, -more careful and meticulous (or “curiously elaborate,” -as Wordsworth styled it) about the diction of his -verses, the very words themselves, than Gray. This -fact, and not Matthew Arnold’s opinion that it was -because Gray had fallen on an “age of prose,” may -perhaps be regarded as sufficient to explain the comparative -scantiness of his literary production. He -himself, in a famous letter, has clearly stated his ideal -of literary expression: “Extreme conciseness of -expression, yet pure, perspicuous, and musical, is one -of the grand beauties of lyrical poetry.”<a id="FNanchor_75" href="#Footnote_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a> Hence all -his verses bear evidence of the most painstaking labour -and rigorous self-criticism, almost as if every word -had been weighed and assessed before being allowed -to appear. His correspondence with Mason and -Beattie, referred to in the previous chapter, shows the -same fastidiousness with regard to the work of others. -Gray indeed, drawing freely upon Milton and Dryden, -created for himself a special poetic language which -in its way can become almost as much an abuse as -the otiosities of many of his predecessors and contemporaries—the -“cumbrous splendour” of which -Johnson complained. Yet he is never entirely free -from the influence of the “classical” diction which, -for Johnson, represented the ideal. His earliest work -is almost entirely conventional in its descriptions, the -prevailing tone being exemplified in such phrases as -<i>the purple year</i>, <i>the Attic Warbler pours her throat</i><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span> -(Ode on “The Spring”), whilst in the “Progress of -Poesy,” lines like</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Through verdant vales and Ceres’ golden reign</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">are not uncommon, though of course the possibility -of the direct influence of the classics, bringing with it -the added flavour of reminiscence, is not to be ignored -in this sort of diction. Moreover, a couplet from the -fragmentary “Alliance of Education and Government”:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Scent the new fragrance of <i>the breathing rose</i></div> - <div class="verse indent0">And quaff <i>the pendent vintage</i> as it grows—</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">is almost typical, apart from the freshness of the -epithet <i>breathing</i>, of what Wordsworth wished to -abolish. Even the “Elegy” has not escaped -the contagion: <i>storied urn</i> or <i>animated bust</i> is -perilously akin to the pedantic periphrases of the -Augustans.</p> - -<p>Before passing to a consideration of the work -of Johnson and Goldsmith, who best represent -the later eighteenth century development of the -“classical” school of Pope, reference may be made -to two other writers. The first of these is Thomas -Chatterton. In that phase of the early Romantic -Movement which took the form of attempts to revive -the past, Chatterton of course played an important -part, and the pseudo-archaic language which he -fabricated for the purpose of his “Rowley” poems -is interesting, not only as an indication of the trend -of the times towards the poetic use of old and obsolete -words, but also as reflecting, it would seem, a genuine -endeavour to escape from the fetters of the conventional -and stereotyped diction of his day. On the -other hand, in his avowedly original work, Chatterton’s -diction is almost entirely imitative. He has scarcely<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span> -a single fresh image or description; his series of -“Elegies” and “Epistles” are clothed in the current -poetic language. He uses the stock expressions, -<i>purling streams</i>, <i>watery bed</i>, <i>verdant vesture of the -smiling fields</i>, along with the usual periphrases, -such as <i>the muddy nation</i> or <i>the speckled folk</i> -for “frogs.” One verse of an “Elegy” written -in 1768 contains in itself nearly all the conventional -images:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Ye variegated children of the Spring,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Ye blossoms blushing with the pearly dew;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Ye birds that sweetly in the hawthorn sing;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Ye flowery meads, lawns of verdant hue.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">It can be judged from these examples how a stereotyped -mode of expression may depreciate to a large -extent the value of much of the work of a poet of real -genius. Chatterton is content in most of his avowedly -“original” work to turn his poetic thoughts into the -accepted moulds, which is all the more surprising -when we remember his laborious methods of -manufacturing an archaic diction for his mediaeval -“discoveries,”<a id="FNanchor_76" href="#Footnote_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a> even if we may assume that -it reflected a strong desire for something fresh and -new.</p> - -<p>A poet of much less genius, but one who enjoyed -great contemporary fame, was William Falconer, -whose “Shipwreck,” published in 1762, was the most -popular sea-poem of the eighteenth century. The -most striking characteristic of the descriptive parts -of the poem is the daring and novel use of technical -sea-terms, but apart from this the language is purely -conventional. The sea is still the same <i>desert-waste</i>, -<i>faithless deep</i>, <i>watery way</i>, <i>world</i>, <i>plain</i>, <i>path</i>, or <i>the -fluid plain</i>, <i>the glassy plain</i>, whilst the landscape<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span> -catalogue is as lifeless as any of the descriptive passages -of the early eighteenth century:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent18">on every spray</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The warbling birds exalt their evening lay,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Blithe skipping o’er yon hill the fleecy train</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Join the deep chorus of the lowing plain.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">When he leaves this second-hand description, and -describes scenes actually experienced and strongly -felt, Falconer’s language is correspondingly fresh and -vivid, the catastrophe of the shipwreck itself, for -example, being painted with extraordinary power.<a id="FNanchor_77" href="#Footnote_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a></p> - -<p>When we come to Johnson and Goldsmith, here -again a distinction must be made between the didactic -or satiric portion of their work and that which is -descriptive. Johnson’s didactic verse, marked as it is -by a free use of inversion and ellipsis, rarely attains -the clearness and simplicity of Goldsmith’s, whilst he has -also much more of the stock descriptive terms and -phrases. His “Odes” are almost entirely cast in this -style. Thus in “Spring”:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Now o’er the rural Kingdom roves</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Soft Pleasure with her laughing train,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Love warbles in the vocal groves</div> - <div class="verse indent4">And vegetation plants the plains,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">whilst exactly the same stuff is turned out for a love -poem, “To Stella”:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Not the soft sighs of vernal gales</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The fragrance of the flowery vales</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The murmurs of the crystal rill</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The vocal grove, the verdant hill.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Though there is not so much of this kind of otiose<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span> -description in the poems of Goldsmith, yet Mr. Dobson’s -estimate of his language may be accepted as a -just one: “In spite of their beauty and humanity,” -he says, “the lasting quality of ‘The Traveller’ and -‘The Deserted Village’ is seriously prejudiced by his -half-way attitude between the poetry of convention -and the poetry of nature—between the <i>gradus</i> epithet -of Pope and the direct vocabulary of Wordsworth.”<a id="FNanchor_78" href="#Footnote_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a> -Thus when we read such lines as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The slow canal, the yellow-blossomed vale,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Traveller,” ll. 293-4)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">we feel that Goldsmith too has been writing with his -eye on the object, and even in such a line as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The breezy covert of the warbling grove</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(<i>Ibid.</i>, 360)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">there is a freshness of description that compensates -for the use of the hackneyed <i>warbling grove</i>. On the -other hand, there are in both pieces passages which it -is difficult not to regard as purely conventional in -their language. Thus in “The Traveller,” the diction, -if not entirely of the stock type, is not far from it:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Ye glittering towns, with wealth and splendour crowned</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Ye fields, where summer spreads profusion round</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Ye lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Ye bending swains, that dress the flowery vale,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">and so on for another dozen lines.<a id="FNanchor_79" href="#Footnote_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a></p> - -<p>Only the slightest traces, however, of this mechanical -word-painting appear in “The Deserted Village,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span> -almost the only example of the stereotyped phrase -being in the line</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">These simple blessings of <i>the lowly train</i></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(l. 252).</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Thus whilst Goldsmith in much of his work continues -the classical school of Pope, alike in his predilection -for didactic verse and his practice of the heroic couplet, -in his poetic language he is essentially individual. In -his descriptive passages he rarely uses the conventional -jargon, and the greater part of the didactic and moral -observations of his two most famous poems is written -in simple and unadorned language that would satisfy -the requirements of the Wordsworthian canon.</p> - -<p>That pure and unaffected diction could be employed -with supreme effect in other than moral and didactic -verse was soon to be shown in the lyric poetry of -William Blake, who, about thirty years before Wordsworth -launched his manifestoes, evolved for himself a -poetic language, wonderful alike in its beauty and -simplicity. In those of the “Songs of Innocence” and -“The Songs of Experience,” which are concerned with -natural description, the epithets and expressions that -had long been consecrated to this purpose find little -or no place. Here and there we seem to catch echoes -of the stock diction, as in the lines,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">the starry floor</div> - <div class="verse indent0">the watery shore</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">of the Introduction to the “Songs of Experience,” -or the</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">happy, silent, <i>moony</i> beams</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">of “The Cradle Song”; but in each case the expressions -are redeemed and revitalized by the pure and -joyous singing note of the lyrics of which they form -part. Only once is Blake to be found using the conventional<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span> -epithet, when in his “Laughing Song” he -writes</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">the <i>painted</i> birds laugh in the shade,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">whilst with his usual unerring instinct he marks down -the monotonous smoothness of so much contemporary -verse in that stanza of his ode “To the Muses” in -which, as has been well said, the eighteenth century -dies to music:<a id="FNanchor_80" href="#Footnote_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">How have you left the ancient love</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That bards of old enjoyed in you!</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The languid strings do scarcely move,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The sound is forced, the notes are few.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Not that he altogether escaped the blighting influence -of his time. In the early “Imitation of Spenser,” we -get such a couplet as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">To sit in council with his modern peers</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And judge of tinkling rhimes and elegances terse,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">whilst the “vicious diction” Wordsworth was to condemn -is also to be seen in this line from one of the early -“Songs”:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">and Phœbus fir’d my vocal rage.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Even as late as 1800 Blake was capable of writing</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Receive this tribute from a harp sincere.<a id="FNanchor_81" href="#Footnote_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">But these slight blemishes only seem to show up in -stronger light the essential beauty and nobility of his -poetical style.</p> - -<p>But the significance of Blake’s work in the purging -and purifying of poetic diction was not, as might -perhaps be expected, recognized by his contemporaries<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span> -and immediate successors. For Coleridge, writing -some thirty years later, it was Cowper, and his less -famous contemporary Bowles, who were the pioneers -in the rejecting of the old and faded style and the -beginning of the new, the first to combine “natural -thoughts with natural diction.”<a id="FNanchor_82" href="#Footnote_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a> Coleridge’s opinion -seems to us now to be an over-statement, but we -rather suspect that Cowper was not unwilling to -regard himself as an innovator in poetic language. In -his correspondence he reveals himself constantly pre-occupied -with the question of poetic expression, and -especially with the language fit and proper for his -translation of Homer. His opinion of Pope’s attempt -has already been referred to, but he himself was well -aware of the inherent difficulties.<a id="FNanchor_83" href="#Footnote_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a> He had, it would -seem, definite and decided opinions on the subject of -poetic language; he recognized the lifelessness of the -accepted diction, which, rightly or wrongly, he attributed -especially to the influence of Pope’s “Homer,” -and tried to escape from its bondage. His oft-quoted -thesis that in the hands of the eighteenth century poets -poetry had become a “mere mechanic art,” he -developed at length in his ode “Secundum Artem,” -which comprises almost a complete catalogue of the -ornaments which enabled the warblers to have their -tune by heart. What Cowper in that ode pillories—“the -trim epithets,” the “sweet alternate rhyme,” -the “flowers of light description”—were in the main -what were to be held up to ridicule in the <i>Lyrical -Ballads</i> prefaces; Wordsworth’s attack is here anticipated -by twenty years.</p> - -<p>But, as later in the case of Wordsworth, Cowper in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span> -his early work has not a little of the language which he -is at such pains to condemn. Thus Horace again -appears in the old familiar guise,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Now o’er the spangled hemisphere,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Diffused the starry train appear</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Fifth Satire”)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">whilst even in “Table Talk” we find occasional conventional -descriptions such as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Nature...</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Spreads the fresh verdure of the fields and leads</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The dancing Naiads through the dewy meads.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>But there is little of this kind of description in “The -Task.” Now and then we meet with examples of the -old periphrases, such as the <i>pert voracious kind</i> for -“sparrows,” or the description of kings as the <i>arbiters -of this terraqueous swamp</i>, though many of these -pseudo-Miltonic expressions are no doubt used for -playful effect. In those parts of the poem which deal -with the sights and sounds of outdoor life the images -are new and fresh, whilst in the moral and didactic -portions the language is, as a rule, uniformly simple -and direct. But for the classical purity of poetical -expression in which the poet is at times pre-eminent, -it is perhaps best to turn to his shorter poems, such -as “To Mary,” or to the last two stanzas of “The -Castaway,” and especially to some of the “Olney -Hymns,” of the language of which it may be said that -every word is rightly chosen and not one is superfluous. -Indeed, it may well be that these hymns, -together with those of Watts and Wesley,<a id="FNanchor_84" href="#Footnote_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a> which by -their very purpose demanded a mode of expression -severe in its simplicity, but upon which were stamped -the refinement and correct taste of the scholars and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span> -gentlemen who wrote them—it may well be that the -more natural mode of poetic diction which thus arose -gave to Wordsworth a starting point when he began -to expound and develop his theories concerning the -language of poetry.<a id="FNanchor_85" href="#Footnote_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a></p> - -<p>Whilst Cowper was thus at once heralding, and to a -not inconsiderable extent exemplifying, the Romantic -reaction in form, another poet, George Crabbe, had by -his realism given, even before Cowper, an important -indication of one characteristic aspect of the new -poetry.</p> - -<p>But though the force and fidelity of his descriptions -of the scenery of his native place, and the depth and -sincerity of his pathos, give him a leading place -among those who anticipated Wordsworth, other -characteristics stamp him as belonging to the old -order and not to the new. His language is still largely -that perfected by Dryden and Pope, and worked to -death by their degenerate followers. The recognized -“elegancies” and “flowers of speech” still linger on. -A peasant is still a <i>swain</i>, poets are <i>sons of verse</i>, fishes -<i>the finny tribe</i>, country folk <i>the rural tribe</i>. The word -<i>nymph</i> appears with a frequency that irritates the -reader, and how ludicrous an effect it could produce -by its sudden appearance in tales of the realistic type -that Crabbe loved may be judged from such examples -as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">It soon appeared that while this nymph divine</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Moved on, there met her rude uncivil kine.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Whilst he succeeds in depicting the life of the rustic -poor, not as it appears in the rosy tints of Goldsmith’s -pictures, but in all its reality—sordid, gloomy and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span> -stern, as it for the most part is—the old stereotyped -descriptions are to be found scattered throughout -his grimly realistic pictures of the countryside. Thus -when Crabbe writes of</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent16">tepid meads</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And lawns irriguous and the blooming field</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Midnight”)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The lark on quavering pinion woo’d the day</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Less towering linnets fill’d the vocal spray</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“The Candidate”)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">we feel that he has not had before his eyes the real -scenes of his Suffolk home, but that he has been content -to recall and imitate the descriptive stock-in-trade -that had passed current for so many years; -even the later “Tales,” published up to the years -when Shelley and Keats were beginning their activities, -are not free from this defect.</p> - -<p>About ten years before Wordsworth launched his -manifestoes, there were published the two works of -Erasmus Darwin, to which reference has already been -made, and in which this stock language was unconsciously -reduced to absurdity, not only because of the -themes on which it was employed, but also because -of the fatal ease and facility with which it was used. -It is strange to think that but a few years before the -famous sojourn of Coleridge and Wordsworth on the -Quantocks, “The Loves of the Plants,” and its fellow, -should have won instant and lasting popularity.<a id="FNanchor_86" href="#Footnote_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a></p> - -<p>That Darwin took himself very seriously is to be -seen from “The Interludes,” in which he airs his -views,<a id="FNanchor_87" href="#Footnote_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a> whilst in his two poems he gave full play to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span> -his “fancy” (“‘theory’ we cannot call it,” comments -De Quincey) that nothing was strictly poetic -except what is presented in visual image. This in -itself was not bad doctrine, as it at least implied that -poetry should be concrete, and thus reflected a desire -to escape from the abstract and highly generalized -diction of his day. But Darwin so works his dogma -to death that the reader is at first dazzled, and finally -bewildered by the multitude of images presented, in -couplets of monotonous smoothness, in innumerable -passages, such as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">On twinkling fins my pearly nations play</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Or wind with sinuous train their trackless way:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">My plumy pairs in gay embroidery dressed</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Form with ingenious bill the pensile nest.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Botanic Garden,” I)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Still there is something to be said for the readers who -enjoyed having the facts and theories of contemporary -science presented to them in so coloured and fantastic -a garb.</p> - -<p>Nor must it be forgotten that the youthful Wordsworth -was much influenced by these poems of Darwin, -so that his early work shows many traces of the very -pseudo-poetic language which he was soon to condemn. -Thus in “An Evening Walk”<a id="FNanchor_88" href="#Footnote_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a> there are such stock -phrases as “emerald meads,” “watery plains,” the -“forest train.”</p> - -<p>In “Descriptive Sketches” examples are still more -numerous. Thus:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Soft bosoms breathe around contagious sighs</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And amorous music on the water dies,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">which might have come direct from Pope, or</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Here all the seasons revel hand-in-hand</div> - <div class="verse indent0">’Mid lawns and shades by breezy rivulets fanned.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span></p> - -<p>The old epithet <i>purple</i> is frequently found (<i>purple</i> -lights and vernal plains, the <i>purple</i> morning, the -fragrant mountain’s <i>purple</i> side), and there are a few -awkward adjectives in y (“the <i>piny</i> waste”), whilst -a gun is described as the <i>thundering tube</i>.</p> - -<p>Few poems indeed are to be found in the eighteenth -century with so many fantastic conceits as these -1793 poems of Wordsworth. Probably, as has been -suggested, the poet was influenced to an extent -greater than he himself imagined by “The Botanic -Garden,” so that the poetical devices freely employed -in his early work may be the result of a determination -to conform to the “theory” of poetry which Darwin -in his precept and practice had exemplified. Later, -the devices which had satisfied him in his first youthful -productions must have appeared to him as more or -less vicious, and altogether undesirable, and in disgust -he resolved to exclude at one stroke all that he was -pleased to call “poetic diction.” But, little given -to self-criticism, when he penned his memorable -Prefaces, he fixed the responsibility for “the extravagant -and absurd diction” upon the whole body of -his predecessors, unable or unwilling to recognize -that he himself had begun his poetic career with a free -use of many of its worst faults.<a id="FNanchor_89" href="#Footnote_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a></p> - -<p>Of the stock diction of eighteenth century poetry -we may say, then, that in the first place it is in large -measure a reflection of the normal characteristic -attitude of the poets of the “neo-classical” period -towards Nature and all that the term implies. The -“neo-classical” poets were but little interested in -Nature; the countryside made no great appeal to -them, and it was the Town and its teeming life that -focused their interest and attention. Man, and his -life as a social being, was their “proper study”;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span> -and this concentration of interest finds its reflection -in the new and vivid language of the “essays,” satires, -and epistles, whilst in the “nature poetry” the -absence of genuine feeling is only too often betrayed -by the dead epithets of the stock diction each poet -felt himself at liberty to draw upon according to his -needs. It is scarcely necessary to remind ourselves -that it is in Pope’s “Pastorals” and the “Homer,” -not in the “Dunciad” or “The Essay on Man,” -that the stock words, phrases, and similes are to be -found, and the remark is equally true of most of the -poets of his period. But Pope has been unjustly -pilloried, for the stock diction did not originate with -him. It is true that the most masterly and finished -examples of what is usually styled “the eighteenth -century poetic diction” are to be found in his work -generally, and no doubt the splendour of his translation -of Homer did much to establish a vogue for many -of the set words and phrases. At the same time -the supremacy of the heroic couplet which he did so -much to establish played its part in perpetuating the -stock diction, the epithets of which were often technically -just what was required to give the decasyllabic -verse the desired “correctness” and “smoothness.” -But it is unjust to saddle him with the responsibility -for the lack of originality evident in many of -his successors and imitators.</p> - -<p>The fact that this stock language is not confined -to the neo-classical poets proper, but is found to a -large extent persisting to the very end of the eighteenth -century, and even invading the early work of the -writer who led the revolt against it, is indicative of -another general cause of its widespread prevalence. -Briefly, it may be said that not only did the conventional -poetic diction reflect in the main the average -neo-classical outlook on external nature; it reflected -also the average eighteenth century view as to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span> -nature of poetical language, which regarded its words -and phrases as satisfying the artistic canon, not in -virtue of the degree in which they reflected the individual -thought or emotion of the poet, but according -as they conformed to a standard of language based on -accepted models.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV<br /> -<span class="smaller">LATINISM IN EIGHTEENTH CENTURY POETRY</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>There is now to be noticed another type of -eighteenth century poetic diction which was -in its way as prevalent, and, it may be added, -as vicious, as the stock diction which has been discussed -in the previous chapter. This was the use of -a latinized vocabulary, from the early years of the -century down to the days when the work of Goldsmith, -Cowper, and Crabbe seemed to indicate a sort of -interregnum between the old order and the new.</p> - -<p>This fashion, or craze, for “latinity” was not of -course a sudden and special development which came -in with the eighteenth century: it was rather the -culmination of a tendency which was not altogether -unconnected with the historic development of the -language itself. As a factor in literary composition, -it had first begun to be discussed when the Elizabethan -critics and men of letters were busying themselves -with the special problem of diction. Latinism was -one of the excesses to which poets and critics alike -directed their attention, and their strictures and -warnings were such as were inevitable and salutary -in the then transitional confusion of the language.<a id="FNanchor_90" href="#Footnote_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a> -In the early years of the seventeenth century this -device for strengthening and ornamenting the language -was adopted more or less deliberately by such poets<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span> -as Phineas and Giles Fletcher, especially the latter, -who makes free use of such coinages as <i>elamping</i>, -<i>appetence</i>, <i>elonging</i>, etc.<a id="FNanchor_91" href="#Footnote_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a></p> - -<p>The example of the Fletchers in thus adding to their -means of literary expression was soon to be followed -by a greater poet. When Milton came to write his -epics, it is evident, as has been said, that he felt the -need for a diction in keeping with the exalted theme -he had chosen, and his own taste and temperament, -as well as the general tendencies of his age, naturally -led him to make use of numerous words of direct -or indirect “classical” origin. But his direct coinages -from Latin and Greek are much less than has often -been supposed.<a id="FNanchor_92" href="#Footnote_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a> What he seems to have done in many -cases was to take words the majority of which had -been recently formed, usually for scientific or philosophic -purposes, and incorporate them in his poetical -vocabulary. Thus <i>Atheous</i>, <i>attrite</i>, <i>conflagrant</i>, <i>jaculation</i>, -<i>myrrhine</i>, <i>paranymph</i>, <i>plenipotent</i>, etc., are -instances of classical formations which in most cases -seem, according to “The New English Dictionary,” -to have made their first literary appearance shortly -before the Restoration. In other instances Milton’s -latinisms are much older.<a id="FNanchor_93" href="#Footnote_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a> What is important is the -fact that Milton was able to infuse these and many -similar words with a real poetic power, and we may be -sure that the use of such words as <i>ethereal</i>, <i>adamantine</i>, -<i>refulgent</i>, <i>regal</i>, whose very essence, as has been -remarked, is suggestiveness, rather than close definition,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span> -was altogether deliberate.<a id="FNanchor_94" href="#Footnote_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a> In addition to this -use of a latinized vocabulary, there is a continuous -latinism of construction, which is to be found in the -early poems, but which, as might be expected, is -most prominent in the great epics, where idioms like -<i>after his charge received</i> (P.L., V 248), <i>since first her -salutation heard</i> (P.R., II, 107) are frequent.<a id="FNanchor_95" href="#Footnote_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</a></p> - -<p>Milton, we may say, of purpose prepense made or -culled for himself a special poetical vocabulary which -was bound to suffer severely at the hands of incompetent -and uninspired imitators. But though the -widespread use of latinized diction is no doubt largely -to be traced to the influence of Milton at a time when -“English verse went Milton mad,” it may perhaps -also be regarded as a practice that reflected to a certain -extent the general literary tendencies of the Augustan -age.</p> - -<p>When Milton was writing his great epics Dryden -was just beginning his literary career, but though -there are numerous examples of latinisms in the works -of the latter, they are not such as would suggest that -he had been influenced to any extent by the Miltonic -manner of creating a poetical vocabulary. There is -little or no coinage of the “magnificent” words which -Milton used so freely, though latinized forms like -<i>geniture</i>, <i>irremeable</i>, <i>praescious</i>, <i>tralineate</i>, are frequent. -Dryden, however, as might be expected, often uses -words in their original etymological sense. Thus -besides the common use of <i>prevent</i>, <i>secure</i>, etc., we find -in the translation of the “Metamorphoses”:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">He had either <i>led</i></div> - <div class="verse indent0">Thy mother then,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">where <i>led</i> is used in the sense of Latin <i>ducere</i> (marry)<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span> -and “<i>refers</i> the limbs,” where “refers” means -“restores.”<a id="FNanchor_96" href="#Footnote_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</a> Examples are few in Dryden’s original -works, but “Annus Mirabilis” furnishes instances -like the <i>ponderous ball expires</i>, where “expires” means -“is blown forth,” and “each wonted room <i>require</i>” -(“seek again”), whilst there is an occasional reminiscence -of such Latin phrases as “manifest of crimes” -for <i>manifestus sceleris</i> (“Ab. and Achit.”).</p> - -<p>What has been said of the latinisms of Dryden -applies also to those of Pope. Words like <i>prevent</i>, -<i>erring</i>, <i>succeed</i>, <i>devious</i>, <i>horrid</i>, <i>missive</i>, <i>vagrant</i>, are -used with their original signification, and there are -passages like</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">For this he bids the <i>nervous</i> artists vie.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Imitations of Latin constructions are occasionally -found:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Some god has told them, or themselves survey</div> - <div class="verse indent4"><i>The bark escaped</i>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Phrases like “<i>fulgid</i> weapons,” “roseate <i>unguents</i>,” -“<i>circumfusile</i> gold,” “<i>frustrate</i> triumphs,” etc., are -probably coinages imposed by the necessities of -translation. Other similar phrases, such as (tears) -“<i>conglobing</i> on the dust,” “with <i>unctuous</i> fir <i>foment</i> the -flame,” seem to anticipate something of the absurdity -into which this kind of diction was later to fall.<a id="FNanchor_97" href="#Footnote_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</a></p> - -<p>On the whole, the latinisms found in the works -of Dryden and Pope are not usually deliberate creations -for the purpose of poetic ornament. They are such -as would probably seem perfectly natural in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span> -seventeenth and early eighteenth century, when the -traditions of classical study still persisted strongly, -and when the language of prose itself was still receiving -additions from that source. Moreover, the large -amount of translation done by both poets from the -classics was bound to result in the use of numerous -classical terms and constructions.</p> - -<p>In 1705 there appeared the “Splendid Shilling” of -John Philips, followed by his “Cyder” and other poems -a year later. These poems are among the first of the -Miltonic parodies or imitations, and, being written in -blank verse, they may be regarded as heralding the -struggle against the tyranny of the heroic couplet. -Indeed, blank verse came to be distinctly associated -with the Romantic movement, probably because it -was considered that its structure was more encouraging -to the unfettered imagination than the closed couplets -of the classicists. It is thus interesting to note that -the reaction in form, which marks one distinct aspect -of Romanticism, was really responsible for some of the -excesses against which the manifestoes afterwards -protested; for it is in these blank verse poems -especially that there was developed a latinism both of -diction and construction that frequently borders on -the ludicrous, even when the poet’s object was not -deliberately humorous.</p> - -<p>In “Blenheim” terms and phrases such as <i>globous -iron</i>, <i>by chains connexed</i>, etc., are frequent, and the -attempts at Miltonic effects is seen in numerous -passages like</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent10">Upborne</div> - <div class="verse indent0">By frothy billows thousands float the stream</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In cumbrous mail, with love of farther shore;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Confiding in their hands, that sed’lous strive</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To cut th’ outrageous fluent.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">In “Cyder” latinisms are still more abundant: <i>the -nocent brood</i> (of snails), <i>treacle’s viscuous juice</i>, <i>with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span> -grain incentive stored</i>, <i>the defecated liquour</i>, <i>irriguous -sleep</i>, as well as passages like</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Nor from the sable ground expect success</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Nor from cretacious, stubborn or jejune,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Bards with volant touch</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Traverse loquacious strings.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">This kind of thing became extremely common and -persisted throughout the eighteenth century.</p> - -<p>Incidentally, it may here be remarked that the -publication of Philips’s poems probably gave to Lady -Winchilsea a hint for her poem “Fanscombe Barn.”<a id="FNanchor_98" href="#Footnote_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</a> -Philips, as has been noted, was one of the very first -to attempt to use Milton’s lofty diction, and his -latinized sentence structure for commonplace and -even trivial themes, and no doubt his experiment, -having attracted Lady Winchilsea’s attention, -inspired her own efforts at Miltonic parody, though -it is probably “Cyder” and “The Splendid Shilling,” -rather then “Paradise Lost,” that she takes as her -model. Thus the carousings of the tramps forgathered -in Fanscombe Barn are described:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent6">the swarthy bowl appears,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Replete with liquor, globulous to fight,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And threat’ning inundation o’er the brim;</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">and the whole poem shows traces of its second-hand -inspiration.</p> - -<p>Even those who are now remembered chiefly as -Spenserian imitators indulge freely in a latinized -style when they take to blank verse. Thus William -Thompson, who in his poem “Sickness” has many -phrases like “the arm <i>ignipotent</i>,” “<i>inundant</i> blaze” -(Bk. I), “terrestrial stores medicinal” (Bk. III),<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span> -with numerous passages, of which the following is -typical:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent26">the poet’s mind</div> - <div class="verse indent0">(Effluence essential of heat and light)</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Now mounts a loftier wing when Fancy leads</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The glittering track, and points him to the sky</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Excursive.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(Bk. IV)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">William Shenstone, the author of one of the most -successful of the Spenserian imitations, is more -sparing in this respect, but even in his case passages -such as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent10">Of words indeed profuse,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of gold tenacious, their torpescent soul</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Clenches their coin, and what electric fire</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Shall solve the frosty grip, and bid it flow?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Economy,” Part I)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">are not infrequent.</p> - -<p>But it is not only the mere versifiers who have -succumbed to this temptation. By far the most -important of the early blank verse poems was -Thomson’s “Seasons,” which, first appearing from -1726-1730, was subsequently greatly revised and -altered up to the edition of 1746, the last to be issued -in the author’s lifetime.<a id="FNanchor_99" href="#Footnote_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</a> The importance and success -of “The Seasons” as one of the earliest indications of -the “Return to Nature” has received adequate -recognition, but Thomson was an innovator in the -style, as well as in the matter, of his poem. As Dr. -Johnson remarked, he saw things always with the -eyes of a poet, and the quickened and revived interest -in external nature which he reflects inevitably impelled -him to search for a new diction to give it expression. -We can see him, as it were, at work trying to replace -the current coinage with a new mintage of his own, -or rather with a mixed currency, derived partly from -Milton, and partly from his own resources. His<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span> -diction is thus in some degrees as artificial as the -stock diction of his period, especially when his attempts -to emulate or imitate the magnificence of Milton -betray him into pomposity or even absurdity; but -his poetical language as a whole is leavened with so -much that is new and his very own as to make it clear -that the Romantic revival in the style, as well as in -the contents, of poetry has really begun. The resulting -peculiarities of style did not escape notice in his -own time. He was recognized as the creator of a new -poetical language, and was severely criticized even -by some of his friends. Thus Somerville urged with -unusual frankness a close revision of the style of “The -Seasons”:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Read Philips much, consider Milton more</div> - <div class="verse indent0">But from their dross extract the purer ore:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To coin new words or to restore the old</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In southern lands is dangerous and bold;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">But rarely, very rarely, will succeed</div> - <div class="verse indent0">When minted on the other side of Tweed.<a id="FNanchor_100" href="#Footnote_100" class="fnanchor">[100]</a></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Thomson’s comment on this criticism was emphatic: -“Should I alter my ways I should write poorly. I -must choose what appears to be the most significant -epithet or I cannot proceed.”<a id="FNanchor_101" href="#Footnote_101" class="fnanchor">[101]</a> Hence, though lines -and whole passages of “The Seasons” were revised, -and large additions made, the characteristics of the -style were on the whole preserved. And one of the -chief characteristics, due partly to the influence of -Milton, and partly to the obvious fact that for Thomson -with new thoughts and impressions to convey to his -readers, the current and conventional vocabulary -of poetry needed reinforcement, is an excessive use -of latinisms.<a id="FNanchor_102" href="#Footnote_102" class="fnanchor">[102]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span></p> - -<p>Thus in “Spring” we find, e.g., “<i>prelusive</i> drops,” -“the <i>amusive</i> arch” (the rainbow), “the torpid sap -<i>detruded</i> to the root,” etc., as well as numerous passages -such as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent10">Joined to these</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Innumerous songsters in the freshening shade</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of new-sprung leaves, their modulations mix</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Mellifluous.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Spring,” 607 foll.)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">In “Summer” the epithet <i>gelid</i> appears with almost -wearisome iteration, with other examples like <i>flexile</i> -wave, <i>the fond sequacious bird</i>, etc., while the cloud -that presages a storm is called “the small prognostic” -and trees are “the noble sons of potent heat -and floods.” Continuous passages betray similar -characteristics:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">From thee the sapphire, solid ether, takes</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Its hue cerulean and of evening tinct.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Summer,” 149 foll.)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent"><i>Autumn</i> furnishes even more surprising instances: -the stag “<i>adhesive</i> to the track,” the sands “strowed -<i>bibulous</i> above,” “forests huge <i>incult</i>,” etc., as well as -numerous passages of sustained latinism.<a id="FNanchor_103" href="#Footnote_103" class="fnanchor">[103]</a></p> - -<p>In “Winter,” which grew from an original 405 lines -in 1726 to 1,069 lines in 1746, latinism of vocabulary -is not prominent to the same extent as in the three -previous books, but the following is a typical sample:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Meantime in sable cincture shadows vast</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Deep-tinged, and damp and congregated clouds</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And all the vapoury turbulence of heaven</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Involves the face of things.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(ll. 54 foll.)<a id="FNanchor_104" href="#Footnote_104" class="fnanchor">[104]</a></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The revisions after 1730 do not show any great -pruning, or less indulgence in these characteristics; -rather the contrary, for many of them are additions<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span> -which did not appear until 1744. Now and then -Thomson has changed his terms and epithets. Thus -in the lines</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent12">the potent sun</div> - <div class="verse indent0"><i>Melts into</i> limpid air the high-raised clouds</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Summer,” 199)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">the expression “melts into” has replaced the earlier -“attenuates to.”<a id="FNanchor_105" href="#Footnote_105" class="fnanchor">[105]</a> One of the best of the emendations, -at least as regards the disappearance of a -latinism, is seen in “Summer” (48-9), where the -second verse of the couplet,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The meek-eyed morn appears, mother of dews,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">At first <i>faint-gleaming</i> in the dappled east</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">has replaced the</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"><i>Mildly elucent</i> in the streaky east</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">of the earlier version. Often Thomson’s latinisms -produce no other effect on the reader than that of mere -pedantry. Thus in passages such as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">See, where the winding vale its lavish stores</div> - <div class="verse indent0"><i>Irriguous</i> spreads. See, how the lily drinks</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The <i>latent</i> rill.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Spring,” 494)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent16">the canvas smooth</div> - <div class="verse indent0">With glowing life <i>protuberant</i>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Autumn,” 136)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The fallow ground laid open to the sun</div> - <div class="verse indent0"><i>Concoctive</i>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(<i>Ibid.</i>, 407)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or the description of the tempest</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Struggling through the <i>dissipated</i> grove</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Winter,” 185)<a id="FNanchor_106" href="#Footnote_106" class="fnanchor">[106]</a></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span></p> - -<p class="noindent">(where there is Latin <i>order</i> as well as diction), it is -certain that the terms in question have little or no -poetic value, and that simpler words in nearly every -case would have produced greater effects. Now and -then, as later in the case of Cowper, the pedantry is, -we may suppose, deliberately playful, as when he -speaks of the cattle that</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">ruminate in the contiguous shade</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Winter,” 86)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or indicates a partial thaw by the statement</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent6">Perhaps the vale</div> - <div class="verse indent0">relents awhile to the reflected ray.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(<i>Ibid.</i>, 784)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The words illustrated above are rarely, of course, -Thomson’s own coinage. Many of them (e.g. <i>detruded</i>, -<i>hyperborean</i>, <i>luculent</i>, <i>relucent</i>, <i>turgent</i>) date from the -sixteenth century or earlier, though from the earliest -references to them given in the “New English Dictionary” -it may be assumed that Thomson was not -always acquainted with the sources where they are -first found, and that to him their “poetic” use is -first due. In some cases Milton was doubtless the -immediate source from which Thomson took such -words, to use them with a characteristic looseness of -meaning.<a id="FNanchor_107" href="#Footnote_107" class="fnanchor">[107]</a></p> - -<p>It would be too much to say that Thomson’s use of -such terms arises merely out of a desire to emulate -the “grand style”; it reflects rather his general -predilection for florid and luxurious diction. Moreover, -it has been noted that an analysis of his latinisms -seems to point to a definite scheme of formation. -Thus there is a distinct preference for certain groups of -formations, such as adjectives in “-ive” (<i>affective</i>,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span> -<i>amusive</i>, <i>excursive</i>, etc.), or in “-ous” (<i>irriguous</i>, -<i>sequacious</i>), or Latin participle forms, such as <i>clamant</i>, -<i>turgent</i>, <i>incult</i>, etc. In additions Latin words are -frequently used in their original sense, common -instances being <i>sordid</i>, <i>generous</i>, <i>error</i>, <i>secure</i>, <i>horrid</i>, -<i>dome</i>, while his blank verse line was also characterized -by the free use of latinized constructions.<a id="FNanchor_108" href="#Footnote_108" class="fnanchor">[108]</a> -Thomson’s frequent use of the sandwiched noun, -“flowing rapture bright” (“Spring,” 1088), “gelid -caverns woodbine-wrought,” (“Summer,” 461), “joyless -rains obscure” (“Winter,” 712), often with the -second adjective used predicatively or adverbially,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">High seen the Seasons lead, <i>in sprightly dance</i></div> - <div class="verse indent2"><i>Harmonious knit</i>, the rosy-fingered hours</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Summer,” 1212)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">is also worthy of note.</p> - -<p>Yet it can hardly be denied that the language of -“The Seasons” is in many respects highly artificial, -and that Thomson was to all intents and purposes -the creator of a special poetic diction, perhaps even -more so than Gray, who had to bear the brunt of -Wordsworth’s fulminations. But on the whole his -balance is on the right side; at a time when the -majority of his contemporaries were either content -to draw drafts on the conventional and consecrated -words, phrases, and similes, or were sedulously -striving to ape the polished plainness of Pope, he -was able to show that new powers of expression -could well be won from the language. His nature -vocabulary alone is sufficient proof of the value of -his contributions to the poetic wealth of the language, -not a few of his new-formed compounds especially<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span> -being expressive and beautiful.<a id="FNanchor_109" href="#Footnote_109" class="fnanchor">[109]</a> His latinisms are -less successful because they can hardly be said to belong -to any diction, and for the most part they must be -classed among the “false ornaments” derided by -Wordsworth;<a id="FNanchor_110" href="#Footnote_110" class="fnanchor">[110]</a> not only do they possess none of that -mysterious power of suggestion which comes to words -in virtue of their employment through generations of -prose and song, but also not infrequently their meaning -is far from clear. They are never the spontaneous -reflection of the poet’s thought, but, on the contrary, -they appear only too often to have been dragged in -merely for effect.</p> - -<p>This last remark applies still more forcibly to -Somerville’s “Chase,” which appeared in 1735. Its -author was evidently following in the wake of -Thomson’s blank verse, and with this aim freely -allows himself the use of an artificial and inflated -diction, as in many passages like</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Cull each salubrious plant, with bitter juice</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Concoctive stored, and potent to allay</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Each vicious ferment.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>About the same time Edward Young was probably -writing his “Night Thoughts,” though the poem was -not published until 1742. Here again the influence -of Thomson is to be seen in the diction, though no -doubt in this case there is also not a little that derives -direct from Milton. Young has Latin formations like -<i>terraqueous</i>, <i>to defecate</i>, <i>feculence</i>, <i>manumit</i>, as well -as terms such as <i>avocation</i>, <i>eliminate</i>, and <i>unparadize</i>, -used in their original sense. In the second instalment -of the “Night Thoughts” there is a striking increase -in the number of Latin terms, either borrowed directly, -or at least formed on classical roots, some of which must<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span> -have been unintelligible to many readers. Thus -<i>indagators</i> for “seekers,” <i>fucus</i> for “false brilliance,” -<i>concertion</i> for “intimate agreement,” and <i>cutaneous</i> for -“external,” “skin deep”:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">All the distinctions of this little life</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Are quite cutaneous.<a id="FNanchor_111" href="#Footnote_111" class="fnanchor">[111]</a></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">It is difficult to understand the use of such terms when -simple native words were ready at hand, and the -explanation must be that they were thought to add -to the dignity of the poem, and to give it a -flavour of scholarship; for the same blemishes appear -in most of the works published at this time. Thus in -Akenside’s “Pleasures of the Imagination” (1744) -there is a similar use of latinized terms: <i>pensile -planets</i>, <i>passion’s fierce illapse</i>, <i>magnific praise</i>, though -the tendency is best illustrated in such passages as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent16">that trickling shower</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Piercing through every crystalline convex</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of clustering dewdrops to their flight opposed,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Recoil at length where, concave all behind</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The internal surface of each glassy orb</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Repels their forward passage into air.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In “The Poet” there is a striking example of -what can only be the pedantic, even if playful, -use of a cumbrous epithet:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">On shelves <i>pulverulent</i>, majestic stands</div> - <div class="verse indent0">His library.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Similar examples are to be found in “The Art of -Preserving Health” by John Armstrong, published<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span> -in the same year as Akenside’s “Pleasures.” The -unpoetical nature of this subject may perhaps be -Armstrong’s excuse for such passages as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Mournful eclipse or planets ill-combined</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Portend disastrous to the vital world;</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">but this latinizing tendency was perhaps never responsible -for a more absurd periphrasis than one to be -found in the second part of the poem, which treats of -“Diet”:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Nor does his gorge the luscious bacon rue,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Nor that which Cestria sends, tenacious paste</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of solid milk.<a id="FNanchor_112" href="#Footnote_112" class="fnanchor">[112]</a></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The high Miltonic manner was likewise attempted by -John Dyer in “The Fleece,” which appeared in 1757, -and by James Grainger in “The Sugar Cane” (1764), -to mention only the most important. Dyer, deservedly -praised for his new and fresh descriptive diction, has -not escaped this contagion of latinism: <i>the globe -terraqueous</i>, <i>the cerule stream</i>, <i>rich sapinaceous loam</i>, -<i>detersive bay salt</i>, etc., while elsewhere there are obvious -efforts to recapture the Miltonic cadence. In “The -Sugar Cane” the tendency is increased by the necessity -thrust upon the poet to introduce numerous -technical terms. Thus</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent12">though all thy mills</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Crackling, o’erflow with a redundant juice</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Poor tastes the liquor; coction long demands</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And highest temper, ere it saccharize.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Meanwhile Joseph Warton had written his one -blank verse poem “The Enthusiast” (1740), when -he was only eighteen years old. But though both he -and his brother Thomas are among the most important -of the poets who show the influence of Milton most -clearly, that influence reveals itself rather in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span> -matter of thought than of form, and there is in “The -Enthusiast” little of the diction that marred so many -of the blank verse poems. Only here and there may -traces be seen, as in the following passage:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent14">fairer she</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In innocence and homespun vestments dress’d</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Than if cerulean sapphires at her ears</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Shone pendent.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">There is still less in the poems of Thomas Warton, who -was even a more direct follower of Milton than his -elder brother. There is scarcely one example of a -Latinism in “The Pleasures of Melancholy,” which -is really a companion piece to “The Enthusiast.” -The truth is that it was Milton’s early work—and -especially “Il Penseroso”—that affected most deeply -these early Romanticists, and even their blank verse -is charged with the sentiments and phrases of Milton’s -octosyllabics. Thus the two poets, who were among -the first to catch something of the true spirit of Milton, -have little or nothing of the cumbersome and pedantic -diction found so frequently in the so-called “Miltonics” -of the eighteenth century, and this in itself is one -indication of their importance in the earlier stages of -the Romantic revival.</p> - -<p>This is also true in the case of Collins and Gray, who -are the real eighteenth century disciples of Milton. -Collins’s fondness for personified abstractions may -perhaps be attributed to Milton’s influence, but there -are few, if any, traces of latinism in his pure and simple -diction. Gray was probably influenced more than he -himself thought by Milton, and like Milton he made -for himself a special poetical language, which owes not -a little to the works of his great exemplar. But -Gray’s keen sense of the poetical value of words, and -his laborious precision and exactness in their use, -kept him from any indulgence in coinages. Only one<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span> -or two latinisms are to be found in the whole of his -work, and when these do occur they are such as would -come naturally to a scholar, or as were still current in -the language of his time. Thus in “The Progress of -Poesy” he has</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">this <i>pencil</i> take,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">where “pencil” stands for “brush” (Latin, <i>pensillum</i>); -whilst in a translation from Statius he gives -to <i>prevent</i> its latinized meaning</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">the champions, trembling at the sight</div> - <div class="verse indent0"><i>Prevent</i> disgrace.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">There is also a solitary example in the “Elegy” in -the line</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Can Honour’s voice <i>provoke</i> the silent dust.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The contemporary fondness for blank verse had -called forth the strictures of Goldsmith in his “Inquiry -into the Present State of Polite Learning,” and his -own smooth and flowing couplets have certainly none -of the pompous epithets which he there condemns. -His diction, if we except an occasional use of the stock -descriptive epithets, is admirable alike in its simplicity -and directness, and the two following lines from “The -Traveller” are, with one exception,<a id="FNanchor_113" href="#Footnote_113" class="fnanchor">[113]</a> the only examples -of latinisms to be found in his poems:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">While sea-born gales their <i>gelid</i> wings expand,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">and</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Fall blunted from each <i>indurated</i> heart.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Dr. Johnson, who represented the extreme classicist -position with regard to blank verse and other tendencies<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span> -of the Romantic reaction, had a good deal to say in -the aggregate about the poetical language of his -predecessors and contemporaries. But the latinism -of the time, which was widespread enough to have -attracted his attention, does not seem to have provoked -from him any critical comment. His own -poetical works, even when we remember the “Vanity -of Human Wishes,” where plenty of instances of -Latin idiom are to be found, are practically free from -this kind of diction, though this does not warrant the -inference that he disapproved of it. We know that -his prose was latinized to a remarkable extent, so that -his “sesquipedalian terminology” has been regarded -as the fountain-head of that variety of English which -delights in “big,” high-sounding words. But his -ideal, we may assume, was the polished and elegant -diction of Pope, and his own verse is as free from -pedantic formations as is “The Lives of the Poets,” -which perhaps represents his best prose.</p> - -<p>It is in the works of a poet who, though he continues -certain aspects of neo-classicism, yet announces -unmistakably the coming of the new age, that we find -a marked use of a deliberately latinized diction. -Cowper has always received just praise for the purity -of his language; he is, on the whole, singularly free -from the artificialities and inversions which had -marked the accepted poetic diction, but, on the other -hand, his language is latinized to an extent that has -perhaps not always been fully realized.</p> - -<p>This is, however, confined to “The Task” and to -the translation of the “Iliad.” In the former case -there is first a use of words freely formed on Latin -roots, for most of which Cowper had no doubt abundant -precedents,<a id="FNanchor_114" href="#Footnote_114" class="fnanchor">[114]</a> but which, in some cases, must have been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span> -coined by him, perhaps playfully in some instances; -<i>twisted form vermicular</i>, <i>the agglomerated pile</i>, <i>the -voluble and restless earth</i>, etc. Other characteristics -of this latinized style are perhaps best seen in continuous -passages such as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent14">he spares me yet</div> - <div class="verse indent0">These chestnuts ranged in corresponding lines;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And, though himself so polished, still reprieves</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The obsolete prolixity of shade</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(Bk. I, ll. 262 foll.)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or in such a mock-heroic fling as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The stable yields a stercoraceous heap</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Impregnated with quick fermenting salts</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And potent to resist the freezing blast.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(Bk. III, 463)<a id="FNanchor_115" href="#Footnote_115" class="fnanchor">[115]</a></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">On these and many similar occasions Cowper has -turned his predilection to playful account, as also -when he diagnoses the symptoms of gout as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">pangs arthritic that infest the toe</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of libertine excess,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or speaks of monarchs and Kings as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The arbiters of this terraqueous swamp.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">There is still freer use of latinisms in the “Homer”:<a id="FNanchor_116" href="#Footnote_116" class="fnanchor">[116]</a> -<i>her eyes caerulean</i>, <i>the point innocuous</i>, <i>piercing accents -stridulous</i>, <i>the triturated barley</i>, <i>candent lightnings</i>, -<i>the inherent barb</i>, <i>his stream vortiginous</i>, besides such -passages as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">nor did the Muses spare to add</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Responsive melody of vocal sweets.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span></p> - -<p>The instances given above fully illustrate on the -whole the use of a latinized diction in eighteenth -century poetry.<a id="FNanchor_117" href="#Footnote_117" class="fnanchor">[117]</a> It must not, however, be supposed -that the fashion was altogether confined to the blank -verse poems. Thus Matthew Prior in “Alma,” or -“The Progress of the Mind,” has passages like</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent8">the word obscene</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Or harsh which once elanced must ever fly</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Irrevocable,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">whilst Richard Savage in his “Wanderer” indulges -in such flights as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent24">his breath</div> - <div class="verse indent0">A nitrous damp that strikes petrific death.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">One short stanza by William Shenstone, from his -poem “Written in Spring, 1743,” contains an obvious -example in three out of its four lines:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">Again the labouring hind inverts the soil,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Again the merchant ploughs the tumid wave,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Another spring renews the soldier’s toil,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And finds me vacant in the rural cave.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>But it is in the blank verse poems that the fashion -is most prevalent, and it is there that it only too often -becomes ludicrous. The blind Milton, dying, lonely -and neglected, a stranger in a strange land, is hardly -likely to have looked upon himself as the founder of -a “school,” or to have suspected to what base uses his -lofty diction and style were to be put, within a few -decades of his death, by a swarm of poetasters who -fondly regarded themselves as his disciples.<a id="FNanchor_118" href="#Footnote_118" class="fnanchor">[118]</a> The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span> -early writers of blank verse, such as John Philips, -frankly avowed themselves imitators of Milton, and -there can be little doubt that in their efforts to catch -something of the dignity and majesty of their model -the crowd of versifiers who then appeared on the -scene had recourse to high-sounding words and phrases, -as well as to latinized constructions by which they -hoped to elevate their style. The grand style of -“Paradise Lost” was bound to suffer severely at the -hands of imitators, and there can be little doubt but -that much of the preposterous latinizing of the time -is to be traced to this cause. At the same time the -influence of the general literary tendencies of the -Augustan ages is not to be ignored in this connexion. -When a diction freely sprinkled with latinized terms -is found used by writers like Thomson in the first -quarter, and Cowper at the end of the century, it may -perhaps also be regarded as a mannerism of style due -in some degree to influences which were still powerful -enough to affect literary workmanship. For it must -be remembered that in the eighteenth century the -traditional supremacy of Latin had not yet altogether -died out: pulpit and forensic eloquence, as well as -the great prose works of the period, still bore abundant -traces of the persistency of this influence.<a id="FNanchor_119" href="#Footnote_119" class="fnanchor">[119]</a> Hence -it need not be at all surprising to find that it has -invaded poetry. The use of latinized words and -phrases gave, or was supposed to give, an air of culture -to verse, and contemporary readers did not always, -we may suppose, regard such language as a mere -display of pedantry.</p> - -<p>In this, as in other respects of the poetic output of -the period, we may see a further reflex of the general -literary atmosphere of the first half or so of the -eighteenth century. There was no poetry of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span> -highest rank, and not a great deal of <i>poetical</i> poetry; -the bulk of the output is “poetry without an atmosphere.” -The very qualities most admired in prose—lucidity, -correctness, absence of “enthusiasm”—were -such as were approved for poetry; even the -Romantic forerunners, with perhaps the single exception -of Blake, felt the pressure of the prosaic atmosphere -of their times. No doubt had a poet of the -highest order appeared he would have swept away -much of the accumulated rubbish and fashioned for -himself a new poetic language, as Thomson tried, and -Wordsworth later thought to do. But he did not -appear, and the vast majority of the practitioners -were content to ring the changes on the material they -found at hand, and were not likely to dream of anything -different.</p> - -<p>It is thus not sufficient to say that the “rapid and -almost simultaneous diffusion of this purely cutaneous -eruption,” to borrow an appropriate description from -Lowell, was due solely to the potent influence of -Milton. It reflects also the average conception of -poetry held throughout a good part of the eighteenth -century, a conception which led writers to seek in -mere words qualities which are to be found in them -only when they are the reflex of profound thought or -powerful emotion. In short, latinism in eighteenth -century poetry may be regarded as a literary fashion, -akin in nature to the stock epithets and phrases of the -“descriptive” poetry, which were later to be unsparingly -condemned as the typical eighteenth century -poetical diction.</p> - -<p>Of the poetic value of these latinized words little -need be said. Whether or no they reflect a conscious -effort to extend, enrich, or renew the vocabulary of -English poetry, they cannot be said to have added -much to the expressive resources of the language. -This is not, of course, merely because they are of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span> -direct Latin origin. We know that around the central -Teutonic core of English there have slowly been built -up two mighty strata of Latin and Romance formations, -which, in virtue of their long employment by -writers in prose and verse, as well as on the lips of the -people, have slowly acquired that force and picturesqueness -which the poet needs for his purpose. -But the latinized words of the eighteenth century are -on a different footing. To us, nowadays, there is -something pretentious and pedantic about them: -they are artificial formations or adoptions, and not -living words. English poets from time to time have -been able to give a poetical colouring to such words,<a id="FNanchor_120" href="#Footnote_120" class="fnanchor">[120]</a> -and the eighteenth century is not without happy -instances of this power. James Thomson here and -there wins real poetic effects from his latinized vocabulary, -as in such a passage as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Here lofty trees to ancient song unknown</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The noble sons of potent heat and floods</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Prone-rushing from the clouds, rear high to heaven</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Their thorny stems, and broad around them throw</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Meridian gloom.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Summer,” 653 foll.)<a id="FNanchor_121" href="#Footnote_121" class="fnanchor">[121]</a></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The “return to Nature,” of which Thomson was -perhaps the most noteworthy pioneer, brought back -all the sights and sounds of outdoor life as subjects -fit and meet for the poet’s song, and it is therefore of -some interest, in the present connexion, to note that -Wordsworth himself, who also knew how to make -excellent use of high-sounding Latin formations, -has perhaps nowhere illustrated this faculty better -than in the famous passage on the Yew Trees of -Borrowdale:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Those fraternal Four of Borrowdale</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Joined in one solemn and capacious grove:</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span> - <div class="verse indent0">Huge trunks! and each particular trunk a growth</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of intertwisted fibres serpentine</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Upcoiling, and inveterately convolved;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Nor uninformed with Phantasy, and looks</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That threaten the profane.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">But the bulk of eighteenth century latinisms fall -within a different category; rarely do they convey, -either in themselves or in virtue of their context, any -of that mysterious power of association which constitutes -the poetic value of words and enables the -writer, whether in prose or verse, to convey to his -reader delicate shades of meaning and suggestion -which are immediately recognized and appreciated.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V<br /> -<span class="smaller">ARCHAISM IN EIGHTEENTH CENTURY POETRY</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>One of the earliest and most significant of those -literary manifestations which were to culminate -in the triumph of Romanticism was a new -enkindled interest in the older English writers. The -attitude of the great body of the so-called “Classicists” -towards the earlier English poetry was not -altogether one of absolute contempt: it was rather -marked by that indifference which is the outcome -of ignorance. Readers and authors, with certain -illustrious exceptions, were totally unacquainted with -Chaucer, and though Spenser fared better, even those -who did know him did not at first consider him worthy -of serious study.<a id="FNanchor_122" href="#Footnote_122" class="fnanchor">[122]</a> Yet the Romantic rebels, by their -attempts to imitate Spenser, and to reveal his poetic -genius to a generation of unbelievers, did work of -immediate and lasting value.</p> - -<p>It is perhaps too much to claim that some dim -perception of the poetic value of old words contributed -in any marked degree to this Spenserian revival -in the eighteenth century. Yet it can hardly be -doubted that Spenser’s language, imperfectly understood -and at first considered “barbarous,” or -“Gothic,” or at best merely “quaint,” came ultimately -to be regarded as supplying something of that -atmosphere of “old romance” which was beginning<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span> -to captivate the hearts and minds of men. This is -not to say that there was any conscious or deliberate -intention of freshening or revivifying poetic language -by an infusion of old or “revived” words. But the -Spenserian and similar imitations naturally involved -the use of such words, and they thus made an important -contribution to the Romantic movement on its -purely formal side; they played their part in destroying -the pseudo-classical heresy that the best, indeed -the only, medium for poetic expression was the -polished idiom of Pope and his school.</p> - -<p>The poets and critics of Western Europe, who, as -we have seen, in the sixteenth and early seventeenth -centuries had busied themselves with the question -of refining and embellishing their mother tongue, -had advocated among other means the revival of -archaic and obsolete words. Spenser himself, we -know, had definitely adopted this means in the -“Shepherds Kalendar,” though the method of increasing -his poetical vocabulary had not been approved -by all of his contemporaries and successors. Milton, -when forming the special poetical language he needed -for his immense task, confined himself largely to -“classical” coinages, and his archaisms, such as <i>swinkt</i>, -<i>rathe</i>, <i>nathless</i>, <i>frore</i>, are comparatively few in number.<a id="FNanchor_123" href="#Footnote_123" class="fnanchor">[123]</a></p> - -<p>Dryden’s attitude towards old words was stated -with his customary good sense, and though his -modernization of Chaucer gave him endless opportunities -of experimenting with them, he never abused -the advantage, and indeed in all his work there is but -little trace of the deliberate revival of obsolete or -archaic words. In the “Fables” may be found a few -words such as <i>sounded</i><a id="FNanchor_124" href="#Footnote_124" class="fnanchor">[124]</a> (swounded) which had been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span> -used by Malory and Spenser, <i>laund</i> for (lawn), <i>rushed</i> -(cut-off), etc., and he has also Milton’s <i>rathe</i>. Dryden, -however, is found using a large number of terms -which were evidently obsolete in the literary language, -but which, it may be supposed, still lingered in the -spoken language, and especially in the provincial -dialects. He is fond of the word <i>ken</i> (to know), and -amongst other examples are <i>stead</i> (place), <i>to lease</i> -(glean), <i>shent</i> (rebuked), <i>hattered</i> (worn out), <i>dorp</i> (a -village), <i>buries</i> (burrows), etc. Dryden is also -apparently responsible for the poetic use of the term -“<i>doddered</i>,” a word of somewhat uncertain meaning, -which, after his time and following his practice, came -into common use as an epithet for old oaks, and, -rarely, for other trees.<a id="FNanchor_125" href="#Footnote_125" class="fnanchor">[125]</a></p> - -<p>As might be expected, there are few traces of the -use of obsolete or archaic words in the works of Pope. -The “correct” style did not favour innovations in -language, whether they consisted in the formation of -new words or in the revival of old forms. Pope -stated in a letter to Hughes, who edited Spenser’s -works (1715), that “Spenser has been ever a favourite -poet to me,”<a id="FNanchor_126" href="#Footnote_126" class="fnanchor">[126]</a> but among the imitations “done by -the Author in his Youth,” there is “The Alley,” a -very coarse parody of Spenser, which does not point -to any real appreciation or understanding on the part -of Pope. In the first book of the “Dunciad” as we -have seen, he indulged in a fling at the antiquaries, -especially Hearne and those who took pleasure in our -older literature, by means of a satiric stanza written -in a pseudo-archaic language.<a id="FNanchor_127" href="#Footnote_127" class="fnanchor">[127]</a> But his language -is much freer than that of Dryden from archaisms or -provincialisms. He has forms like <i>gotten</i>, <i>whelm</i> (overwhelm),<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span> -<i>rampires</i> (ramparts), <i>swarths</i>, <i>catched</i> (caught), -<i>thrice-ear’d</i> (ploughed), etc. Neither Dryden nor -Pope, it may be said, would ever have dreamed of -reviving an archaic word simply because it was an -old word, and therefore to be regarded as “poetical.” -To imagine this is to attribute to the seventeenth -and early eighteenth centuries a state of feeling which -is essentially modern, and which lends a glamour to -old and almost forgotten words. Dryden would accept -any word which he considered suitable for his purpose, -but he always insisted that old words had to prove -their utility, and that they had otherwise no claim -to admission to the current vocabulary. Pope, however, -we may suspect, would not admit any words -not immediately intelligible to his readers, or requiring -a footnote to explain them.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, in the year 1715, there had appeared the -first attempt to give a critical text of Spenser, when -John Hughes published his edition of the poet’s works -in six volumes, together with a biography, a glossary, -and some critical remarks.<a id="FNanchor_128" href="#Footnote_128" class="fnanchor">[128]</a> The obsolete terms which -Hughes felt himself obliged to explain<a id="FNanchor_129" href="#Footnote_129" class="fnanchor">[129]</a> include many, -such as <i>aghast</i>, <i>baleful</i>, <i>behest</i>, <i>bootless</i>, <i>carol</i>, <i>craven</i>, -<i>dreary</i>, <i>forlorn</i>, <i>foray</i>, <i>guerdon</i>, <i>plight</i>, <i>welkin</i>, <i>yore</i>, -which are now for the most part familiar words, -though forty years later Thomas Warton in his -“Observations on The Faerie Queene” (1754) is found -annotating many similar terms. The well-known -“Muses’ Library,” published thirteen years previously, -had described itself as “A General Collection -of almost all the old and valuable poetry extant, now -so industriously inquir’d after”; it begins with -Langland and reflects the renewed interest that was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span> -arising in the older poets. But there is as yet little -evidence of any general and genuine appreciation of -either the spirit or the form of the best of the -earlier English poetry. The Spenserian imitators -undoubtedly felt that their diction must look so obsolete -and archaic as to call for a glossary of explanation, -and these glossaries were often more than necessary, -not only to explain the genuine old words, but also -because of the fact that in many cases the supposedly -“Spenserian” terms were spurious coinages devoid -of any real meaning at all.</p> - -<p>Before considering these Spenserian imitations it -must not be forgotten that there were, prior to these -attempts and alongside of them, kindred efforts to -catch the manner and style of Chaucer. This practice -received its first great impulse from Dryden’s famous -essay in praise of Chaucer, and the various periodicals -and miscellanies of the first half of the eighteenth -century bear witness to the fact that many eminent -poets, not to mention a crowd of poetasters, thought -it their duty to publish a poetical tribute couched in -the supposed language and manner of Chaucer.</p> - -<p>These attempts were nearly all avowedly humorous,<a id="FNanchor_130" href="#Footnote_130" class="fnanchor">[130]</a> -and seemed based on a belief that the very language -of Chaucer was in some respects suitable comic material -for a would-be humorous writer. Such an attitude -was obviously the outcome of a not unnatural ignorance -of the historical development of the language. -Chaucer’s language had long been regarded as almost -a dead language, and this attitude had persisted even -to the eighteenth century, so that it was felt that a -mastery of the language of the “Canterbury Tales” -required prolonged study. Even Thomas Warton, -speaking of Chaucer, was of the opinion that “his -uncouth and unfamiliar language disgusts and deters<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span> -many readers.”<a id="FNanchor_131" href="#Footnote_131" class="fnanchor">[131]</a> Hence it is not surprising that there -was a complete failure to catch, not only anything of -the real spirit of Chaucer, but also anything that -could be described as even a distant approach to his -language. The imitators seemed to think that fourteenth -century English could be imitated by the use -of common words written in an uncommon way, or -of strange terms with equally strange meanings. The -result was an artificial language that could never have -been spoken by anybody, often including words to -which it is impossible to give any definite sense. It -would seem that only two genuine Chaucerian terms -had really been properly grasped, and this pair, ne -and eke, is in consequence worked to death. Ignorance -of the earlier language naturally led to spurious grammatical -forms, of which the most favoured was a -singular verb form ending in -<i>en</i>. Gay, for instance, -has, in a poem of seventeen lines, such phrases as “It -maken doleful song,” “There <i>spreaden</i> a rumour,”<a id="FNanchor_132" href="#Footnote_132" class="fnanchor">[132]</a> -whilst Fenton writes,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">If in mine quest thou <i>falsen</i> me.<a id="FNanchor_133" href="#Footnote_133" class="fnanchor">[133]</a></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The general style and manner of these imitations, with -their “humorous” tinge, their halting verse, bad -grammar, and impossible inflections are well illustrated -in William Thompson’s “Garden Inscription—Written -in Chaucer’s Bowre,” though more serious efforts were -not any more successful.</p> - -<p>The death of Pope, strangely enough, called forth -more than one attempt, among them being Thomas -Warton’s imitation of the characterization of the birds<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span> -from the “Parliament of Fowles.”<a id="FNanchor_134" href="#Footnote_134" class="fnanchor">[134]</a> Better known at -the time was the monody “Musæus,” written by -William Mason, “To the memory of Mr. Pope.” -Chaucer, Spenser, and Milton are represented as -coming to mourn the inevitable loss of him who was -about to die, and Mason endeavoured to reproduce -their respective styles, “Tityrus” (Chaucer) holding -forth in this strain:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Mickle of wele betide thy houres last</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For mich gode wirke to me don and past.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For syn the days whereas my lyre ben strongen,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And deftly many a mery laie I songen,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Old Time which alle things don maliciously,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Gnawen with rusty tooth continually,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Grattrid my lines, that they all cancrid ben</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Till at the last thou smoothen hem hast again.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">It is astonishing to think that this mechanical imitation, -with its harsh and forced rhythm, and its almost -doggerel language, was regarded at the time as a -successful reproduction of Chaucer’s manner and -style. But probably before 1775, when Tyrwhitt -announced his rediscovery of the secret of Chaucer’s -rhythm, few eighteenth century readers suspected its -presence at all.</p> - -<p>But the Chaucerian imitations were merely a literary -fashion predoomed to failure. It was not in any way -the result of a genuine influence of the early English -poetry on contemporary taste, and thus it was not -even vitalized, as was the Spenserian revival, by a -certain vague and undefined desire to catch something -at least of the spirit of the “Faerie Queene.” -The Spenserian imitations had a firmer foundation, -and because the best of them did not confine their -ambition altogether to the mechanical imitation of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span> -Spenser’s style in the narrower sense they achieved -a greater measure of success.</p> - -<p>It is significant to note that among the first attempts -at a Spenserian imitation was that made by one of the -foremost of the Augustans. This was Matthew Prior, -who in 1706 published his “Ode, Humbly Inscribed -to the Queen on the Glorious success of Her Majesty’s -Arms, Written in Imitation of Spenser’s Style.”<a id="FNanchor_135" href="#Footnote_135" class="fnanchor">[135]</a> -We are surprised, however, to find when we have read -his Preface, that Prior’s aim was in reality to write a -poem on the model of Horace and of Spenser. The -attitude in which he approached Spenser’s language is -made quite clear by his explanation. He has “avoided -such of his words as I found too obsolete. I have -however retained some few of them to make the -colouring look more like Spenser’s.” Follows then a -list of such words, including “<i>behest</i>, command; <i>band</i>, -army; <i>prowess</i>, strength; <i>I weet</i>, I know; <i>I ween</i>, -I think; <i>whilom</i>, heretofore; and two or three more -of that kind.” Though later in his Preface Prior -speaks of the <i>curiosa felicitas</i> of Spenser’s diction, it -is evident that there is little or no real understanding -or appreciation.</p> - -<p>Now began a continuous series of Spenserian imitations,<a id="FNanchor_136" href="#Footnote_136" class="fnanchor">[136]</a> -of which, with a few exceptions, the only -distinguishing characteristic was a small vocabulary -of obsolete words, upon which the poetasters could -draw for the “local colour” considered necessary. -In the majority of cases the result was a purely artificial -language, probably picked haphazard from the -“Faerie Queene,” and often used without any definite<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span> -idea of its meaning or appropriateness.<a id="FNanchor_137" href="#Footnote_137" class="fnanchor">[137]</a> Fortunately, -one or two real poets were attracted by the idea, and -in due course produced their “imitations.”</p> - -<p>William Shenstone (1714-1763) is perhaps worthy -of being ranked amongst these, in virtue at least of -“The Schoolmistress,” which appeared in its final -shape in 1742. Shenstone himself confesses that the -poem was not at first intended to be a serious imitation, -but his study of Spenser led him gradually to something -like a real appreciation of the earlier poet.<a id="FNanchor_138" href="#Footnote_138" class="fnanchor">[138]</a></p> - -<p>“The Schoolmistress” draws upon the usual -common stock of old words: <i>whilom</i>, <i>mickle</i>, <i>perdie</i>, -<i>eke</i>, <i>thik</i>, etc., but often, as in the case of Spenser -himself, the obsolete terms have a playful and -humorous effect:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">For they in gaping wonderment abound</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And think, no doubt, she been the greatest wight on ground.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Nor is there lacking a quaint, wistful tenderness, as -in the description of the refractory schoolboy, who, -after being flogged,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Behind some door, in melancholy thought,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Mindless of food, he, dreary caitiff, pines,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Ne for his fellows joyaunce careth aught,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">But to the wind all merriment resigns.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Hence “The Schoolmistress” is no mere parody or -imitation: there is a real and tender humanity in the -description of the village school (adumbrating, it -would seem, Goldsmith’s efforts with a similar theme), -whilst the judicious use of Spenser’s stanza and the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span> -sprinkling of his old words help to invest the whole -poem with an atmosphere of genuine and unaffected -humour.</p> - -<p>The next Spenserian whose work merits attention -is William Thompson, who, it would seem, had delved -not a little into the Earlier English poetry, and who was -one of the first to capture something of the real atmosphere -of the “Faerie Queene.” His “Epithalamium”<a id="FNanchor_139" href="#Footnote_139" class="fnanchor">[139]</a> -and “The Nativity,”<a id="FNanchor_140" href="#Footnote_140" class="fnanchor">[140]</a> which appeared in 1736, are -certainly among the best of the imitations. It is -important to note that, while there is a free use of -supposedly archaic words, with the usual list of <i>certes</i>, -<i>perdie</i>, <i>sikerly</i>, <i>hight</i>, as well as others less common, -such as <i>belgards</i> (“beautiful looks”), <i>bonnibel</i> (“beautiful -virgin”), there is no abuse of the practice. Not a -little of the genuine spirit of Spenser’s poetry, with its -love of nature and outdoor life, has been caught and -rendered without any lavish recourse to an artificial -and mechanical diction, as a stanza from “The -Nativity,” despite its false rhymes, will perhaps show:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Eftsoons he spied a grove, the Season’s pride,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">All in the centre of a pleasant glade,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Where Nature flourished like a virgin bride,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Mantled with green, with hyacinths inlaid,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And crystal-rills o’er beds of lilies stray’d:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The blue-ey’d violet and King-cup gay,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And new blown roses, smiling sweetly red,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Out-glow’d the blushing infancy of Day</div> - <div class="verse indent0">While amorous west-winds kist their fragrant souls away.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>This cannot altogether be said of the “Hymn to -May” published over twenty years later,<a id="FNanchor_141" href="#Footnote_141" class="fnanchor">[141]</a> despite<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span> -the fact that Thompson himself draws attention to -the fact that he does not consider that a genuine -Spenserian imitation may be produced by scattering -a certain number of obsolete words through the poem. -Nevertheless, we find that he has sprinkled his -“Hymn” plentifully with “obsolete” terms, though -they include a few, such as <i>purfled</i>, <i>dispredden</i>, <i>goodlihead</i>, -that were not the common property of the -poetasters. His explanations of the words so used -show that not a few of them were used with little -knowledge of their original meaning, as when he -defines <i>glen</i><a id="FNanchor_142" href="#Footnote_142" class="fnanchor">[142]</a> as “a country hamlet,” or explains -<i>perdie</i> as “an old word for saying anything.” It is -obvious also that many obsolete terms are often simply -stuck in the lines when their more modern equivalents -would have served equally well, as for instance,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Full suddenly the seeds of joy <i>recure</i> (“recover”),</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Myrtles to Venus <i>algates</i> sacred been.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">With these reservations the diction of Thompson’s -poems is pure and unaffected, and the occasional -happy use of archaism is well illustrated in more than -one stanza of “The Nativity.”</p> - -<p>It is generally agreed that the best of all the -Spenserian imitations is “The Castle of Indolence,” -which James Thomson published two months before -his death in 1748.<a id="FNanchor_143" href="#Footnote_143" class="fnanchor">[143]</a> Yet even in this case there is -evident a sort of quiet condescension, as if it were in -Thompson’s mind that he was about to draw the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span> -attention of his eighteenth century audience to something -quaint and old-fashioned, but which had yet -a charm of its own. “The obsolete words,” he writes -in his “advertisement” to the poem, “and a simplicity -of diction in some of the lines, which borders -on the ludicrous, were necessary to make the imitation -more perfect.” Hence he makes use of a number of -words intended to give an archaic air to his poem, -including the usual <i>certes</i>, <i>withouten</i>, <i>sheen</i>, <i>perdie,</i> -<i>weet</i>, <i>pleasaunce</i>, <i>ycleped</i>, etc. To the first edition -was appended a page of explanation of these and -other “obsolete words used in this poem”: altogether -between seventy and eighty such words are thus -glossed, the large majority of which are familiar -enough nowadays, either as part of the ordinary -vocabulary, or as belonging especially to the diction -of poetry.</p> - -<p>Though the archaisms are sometimes scattered in a -haphazard manner, they are not used with such -mechanical monotony as is obvious in the bulk of the -Spenserian imitations. In both cantos there are -long stretches without a single real or pseudo-archaism, -and indeed, when Thomson is indulging in one of the -moral or the didactic surveys characteristic of his -age, as, for instance, when the bard, invoked by -Sir Industry, breaks into a long tirade on the Supreme -Perfection (Canto II, 47-61) his diction is the plain -and unadorned idiom perfected by Pope.<a id="FNanchor_144" href="#Footnote_144" class="fnanchor">[144]</a> Yet -Thompson occasionally yields to the fascination of -the spurious form in <i>-en</i>,<a id="FNanchor_145" href="#Footnote_145" class="fnanchor">[145]</a> as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">But these I <i>passen</i> by with nameless numbers moe</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(Canto I., 56)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span></p> - -<p class="noindent">or</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">And taunts he <i>casten</i> forth most bitterly.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(Canto II, 78)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Sometimes it would seem that his archaisms owe their -appearance to the necessities of rhyme, as in</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">So worked the wizard wintry storms to swell</div> - <div class="verse indent0">As heaven and earth they would together <i>mell</i></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(Canto I, 43)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">and</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Or the brown fruit with which the woodlands teem:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The same to him glad summer, or the winter <i>breme</i>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(Canto II, 7)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">There are lines too where we feel that the archaisms -have been dragged in; for example,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">As <i>soot</i> this man could sing as morning lark</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(Canto I, 57)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">(though there is here perhaps the added charm of a -Chaucerian reminiscence); or</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20"><i>replevy</i> cannot be</div> - <div class="verse indent0">From the strong, iron grasp of vengeful destiny.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(Canto II, 32)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">But, on the whole, he has been successful in his efforts, -half-hearted as they sometimes seem, to give an old-world -atmosphere to his poem by a sprinkling of -archaisms, and it is then that we feel in <i>The Castle of -Indolence</i> something at least of the beauty and charm -of “the poet’s poet,” as in the well-known stanza -describing the valley of Idlesse with its</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent34">waters sheen</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That, as they bickered<a id="FNanchor_146" href="#Footnote_146" class="fnanchor">[146]</a> through the sunny glade,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Though restless still, themselves a lulling murmur made.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(Canto I, 3)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span></p> - -<p>Though the Spenserian imitations continued beyond -the year which saw the birth of Wordsworth,<a id="FNanchor_147" href="#Footnote_147" class="fnanchor">[147]</a> it is -not necessary to mention further examples, except -perhaps that of William Mickle, who, in 1767, published -“The Concubine,” a Spenserian imitation of two -cantos, which afterwards appeared in a later edition -(1777) under the title “Sir Martyn.” Like his predecessors, -Mickle made free use of obsolete spellings -and words, while he added the usual glossary, which -is significant as showing at the end of the eighteenth -century, about the time when Tyrwhitt was completing -his edition of Chaucer, not only the artificial -character of this “Spenserian diction,” but also the -small acquaintance of the average man of letters with -our earlier language.<a id="FNanchor_148" href="#Footnote_148" class="fnanchor">[148]</a></p> - -<p>It must not be assumed, of course, that all the -“obsolete” words used by the imitators were taken -directly from Spenser. Words like <i>nathless</i>, <i>rathe</i>, -<i>hight</i>, <i>sicker</i>, <i>areeds</i>, <i>cleeped</i>, <i>hardiment</i>, <i>felly</i>, etc., had -continued in fairly common use until the seventeenth -century, though actually some of them were regarded -even then as archaisms. Thus <i>cleoped</i>, though never -really obsolete, is marked by Blount in 1656 as -“Saxon”; <i>sicker</i>, extensively employed in Middle -English, is rarely found used after 1500 except by -Scotch writers, though it still remains current in -northern dialects. On the other hand, not a few words -were undoubtedly brought directly back into literature -from the pages of Spenser, among them being <i>meed</i>, -<i>sheen</i> (boasting an illustrious descent from <i>Beowulf</i><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span> -through Chaucer), <i>erst</i>, <i>elfin</i>, <i>paramour</i>. Others, like -<i>scrannel</i>, and apparently also <i>ledded</i>, were made -familiar by Milton’s use the former either being the -poet’s own coinage or his borrowing from some dialect -or other. On the other hand, very many of the -“revived” words failed to take root at all, such as -<i>faitours</i>, which Spenser himself had apparently revived, -and also his coinage <i>singult</i>, though Scott is found -using the latter form.</p> - -<p>As has been said, the crowd of poetasters who -attempted to reproduce Spenser’s spirit and style -thought to do so by merely mechanical imitation of -what they regarded as his “quaint” or “ludicrous” -diction. Between them and any possibility of grasping -the perennial beauty and charm of the “poet’s poet” -there was a great gulf fixed, whilst, altogether apart -from this fatal limitation, then parodies were little -likely to have even ephemeral success, for parody -presupposes in its readers at least a little knowledge -and appreciation of the thing parodied. But there -were amongst the imitators one or two at least who, -we may imagine, were able to find in the melody and -romance of “The Faerie Queene” an avenue of -escape from the prosaic pressure of their times. In -the case of William Thompson, Shenstone, and the -author of the “Castle of Indolence,” the influence of -Spenser revealed itself as in integral and vital part of -the Romantic reaction, for these, being real poets, -had been able to recapture something at least of the -colour, music, and fragrance of their original. And -not only did these, helped by others whose names have -all but been forgotten restore a noble stanza form to -English verse. Even their mechanical imitation of -Spenser’s language was not without its influence, for -it cannot be doubted that these attempts to write in -an archaic or pseudo-archaic style did not a little to free -poetry from the shackles of a conventional language.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span></p> - -<p>This process was greatly helped by that other -aspect of the eighteenth century revival of the past -which was exemplified in the publication of numerous -collections of old ballads and songs.<a id="FNanchor_149" href="#Footnote_149" class="fnanchor">[149]</a> There is, of -course, as Macaulay long ago noted, a series of conventional -epithets that is one mark of the genuine -ballad manner, but the true ballad language was not -a lifeless stereotyped diction. It consisted of “plain -English without any trimmings.” The ballads had -certain popular mannerisms (<i>the good greenwood</i>, <i>the -wan water</i>, etc.), but they were free from the conventional -figures of speech, or such rhetorical artifices -as personification and periphrasis.</p> - -<p>Hence it is not surprising that at first their fresh -and spontaneous language was regarded, when contrasted -with the artificial and refined diction of the -time, as “barbarous” or “rude.” Thus Prior -thought it necessary to paraphrase the old ballad of -the “Nut Brown Maid” into his insipid “Henry and -Emma” (1718), but a comparison of only a few lines -of the original with the banality of the modernized -version is sufficient testimony to the refreshing -and vivifying influence of such collections as the -“Reliques.”</p> - -<p>The tendency to present the old ballads in an -eighteenth century dress had soon revealed itself; -at least, the editors of the early collections often felt -themselves obliged to apologize for the obsolete style -of their material.<a id="FNanchor_150" href="#Footnote_150" class="fnanchor">[150]</a> But in 1760 the first attempt -at a critical text appeared when Edward Capell, -the famous Shakespearian editor, published his -“Prolusions”; or “Select Pieces of Antient Poetry—compil’d<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span> -with great Care from their several Originals, -and offer’d to the Publick as specimens of the Integrity -that should be found in the Editions of worthy -Authors.” Capell’s care was almost entirely directed -to ensuring textual accuracy, but the “Nut-Browne -Maid,” the only ballad included, receives sympathetic -mention in his brief <i>Preface</i>.<a id="FNanchor_151" href="#Footnote_151" class="fnanchor">[151]</a></p> - -<p>Five years later, the most famous of all the ballad -collections appeared, Thomas Percy’s “Reliques of -Ancient English Poetry” (1765). The nucleus of -Percy’s collection was a certain manuscript in a -handwriting of Charles I’s time, containing 191 songs -and ballads, but he had also had access to various -other manuscript collections, whilst he was quite -ready to acknowledge that he had filled gaps in his -originals with stanzas and, in some cases, with nearly -entire poems of his own composition. Much censure -has been heaped upon Percy for his apparent lax -ideas on the functions of an editor, but in decking out -his “parcel of old ballads” in the false and affected -style of his age, he was only doing his best to meet -the taste of his readers. He himself passes judgment -on his own labours, when, alongside of the genuine -old ballads, with their freshness and simplicity of -diction, he places his own “pruned” or “refined” -versions, or additions, garbed in a sham and sickly -idiom.</p> - -<p>It was not until over a century later, when Percy’s -folio manuscript was copied and printed,<a id="FNanchor_152" href="#Footnote_152" class="fnanchor">[152]</a> that the -extent of his additions, alterations, and omissions -were fully realized, though at the same time it was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span> -admitted that the pruning and refining was not -unskilfully done.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless the influence of the “Reliques,” as -a vital part of the Romantic revival, was considerable:<a id="FNanchor_153" href="#Footnote_153" class="fnanchor">[153]</a> -it was as if a breath of “the wind on the heath” had -swept across literature and its writers, bringing with -it an invigorating fragrance and freshness, whilst, on -the purely formal side, the genuine old ballads, which -Percy had culled and printed untouched, no doubt -played their part in directing the attention of Wordsworth -to the whole question of the language of poetry. -And when the great Romantic manifestoes on the -subject of “the language of metrical composition” -were at length launched, their author was not slow to -bear witness to the revivifying influence of the old -ballads on poetic form. “Our poetry,” he wrote, -“has been absolutely redeemed by it. I do not -think that there is an able writer in verse of the -present day who would not be proud to acknowledge -his obligations to the “Reliques.”<a id="FNanchor_154" href="#Footnote_154" class="fnanchor">[154]</a></p> - -<p>The year before the appearance of the “Reliques,” -Thomas Chatterton had published his “Rowley -Poems,” and this attempt of a poet of genius to pass -off his poems as the work of a mediaeval English -writer is another striking indication of the new -Romantic spirit then asserting itself. As for the -pseudo-archaic language in which Chatterton with -great labour clothed his “revivals,” there is no need -to say much. It was a thoroughly artificial language, -compiled, as Skeat has shown, from various sources, -such as John Kersey’s “Dictionarium Anglo-Brittanicum,” -three editions of which had appeared before -1721. In this work there are included a considerable -number of obsolete words, chiefly from Spenser and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span> -his contemporaries, marked “O,” and in some cases -erroneously explained. This dictionary was the chief -source of Chatterton’s vocabulary, many words of -which the young poet took apparently without any -definite idea of their meaning.<a id="FNanchor_155" href="#Footnote_155" class="fnanchor">[155]</a></p> - -<p>Yet in the Rowley poems there are passages where -the pseudo-archaic language is quite in keeping with -the poet’s theme and treatment, whilst here and there -we come across epithets and lines which, even in their -strange dress, are of a wild and artless sweetness, -such as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Where thou mayst here the sweete night-lark chant,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Or with some mocking brooklet sweetly glide,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or the whole of the first stanza of the famous “An -Excelente Balade of Charitie,” where the old words -help to transport us at once into the fictitious world -which Chatterton had made for himself. Perhaps, -as has been suggested, the “Rowley dialect” was not, -as we nowadays, with Skeat’s analysis in our minds, -are a little too apt to believe, a deliberate attempt to -deceive, but rather reflected an attempt to escape -from the dead abstract diction of the period.<a id="FNanchor_156" href="#Footnote_156" class="fnanchor">[156]</a></p> - -<p>Apart from this special aspect of the Romantic -revival marked by a tendency to look back lovingly -to the earlier English poetry, there are few traces of -the use of archaic and obsolete words, at least of such -words used consciously, in eighteenth century poetry. -The great poets of the century make little or no use -of them. Collins has no examples, but Gray, who -began by advocating the poet’s right to use obsolete<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span> -words, and later seemed to recant, now and then uses -an old term, as when in his translation from Dante -he writes:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The anguish that unuttered <i>nathless</i> wrings</div> - <div class="verse indent0">My inmost heart.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Blake, however, it is interesting to note, often used -archaic forms, or at least archaic spellings,<a id="FNanchor_157" href="#Footnote_157" class="fnanchor">[157]</a> as <i>Tyger</i>, -<i>antient</i> (“To the Muses”), “the <i>desart</i> wild” (“The -Little Girl Lost”), as well as such lines as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">In lucent words my darkling verses dight</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Imitation of Spenser”)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">So I piped with merry <i>chear</i>.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(Introduction to “Songs of Innocence”)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Perhaps by these means the poet wished to give a -quaint or old-fashioned look to his verses, though it -is to be remembered that most of them occur in the -“Poetical Sketches,” which are avowedly Elizabethan.</p> - -<p>The use of archaic and obsolete words in the -eighteenth century was then chiefly an outcome of -that revival of the past which was one of the characteristics -of the new Romantic movement, and which -was later to find its culmination in the works of Scott. -The old words used by the eighteenth century -imitators of Spenser were not often used, we may -imagine, because poets saw in them poetical beauty -and value; most often they were the result of a desire -to catch, as it were, something of the “local colour” -of the “Faerie Queene,” just as modern writers nowadays, -poets and novelists alike, often draw upon local -dialects for new means of expression. The Spenserian -imitations recovered not a few words, such as <i>meed</i>,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span> -<i>sheen</i>, <i>dight</i>, <i>glen</i>,<a id="FNanchor_158" href="#Footnote_158" class="fnanchor">[158]</a> which have since been regarded as -belonging especially to the diction of poetry, and -when the Romantic revival had burst into life the -impulse, which had thus been unconsciously given, -was continued by some of its great leaders. Scott, as -is well known, was an enthusiastic lover of our older -literature, especially the ballads, from which he -gleaned many words full of a beauty and charm -which won for them immediate admission into the -language of poetry; at the same time he was able to -find many similar words in the local dialects of the -lowlands and the border. Perhaps in this work he -had been inspired by his famous countryman, Robert -Burns, who by his genius had raised his native language, -with its stores of old and vivid words and expressions, -to classical rank.<a id="FNanchor_159" href="#Footnote_159" class="fnanchor">[159]</a></p> - -<p>Nevertheless it is undoubted that the main factor -in the new Romantic attitude towards old words had -been the eighteenth century imitations and collections -of our older English literature. Coleridge, it is to be -remembered, made free use of archaisms; in the -“Ancient Mariner,” there are many obsolete forms: -<i>loon</i>, <i>eftsoons</i>, <i>uprist</i>, <i>gramercy</i>, <i>gossameres</i>, <i>corse</i>, etc., -besides those which appeared in the first edition, and -were altered or omitted when the poem reappeared in -1800. Wordsworth, it is true, made no use of archaic -diction, whether in the form of deliberate revivals, or -by drafts on the dialects, which, following the great -example of Burns, and in virtue of his own “theories,” -he might have been expected to explore. Nevertheless -the “theories” concerning poetical language -which he propounded and maintained are not without<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span> -their bearing on the present question. Reduced to -their simplest terms, the manifestoes, while passing -judgment on the conventional poetical diction, conceded -to the poet the right of a style in keeping with his -subject and inspiration, and Wordsworth’s successors -for the most part, so far as style in the narrower sense -of <i>vocabulary</i> is concerned, did not fail to reap the -benefits of the emancipation won for them. And -among the varied sources upon which they began to -draw for fresh reserves of diction were the abundant -stores of old words, full of colour and energy, to be -gleaned from the pages of their great predecessors.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI<br /> -<span class="smaller">COMPOUND EPITHETS IN EIGHTEENTH CENTURY POETRY</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>It is proposed in this chapter to examine in some -detail the use of compound epithets in the poetry -of the eighteenth century. For this purpose the -following grammatical scheme of classification has -been adopted from various sources:<a id="FNanchor_160" href="#Footnote_160" class="fnanchor">[160]</a> <i>First Type</i>, -noun <i>plus</i> noun; <i>Second Type</i>, noun <i>plus</i> adjective; -<i>Third Type</i>, noun <i>plus</i> present participle; <i>Fourth -Type</i>, noun <i>plus</i> past participle; <i>Fifth Type</i>, adjective, -or adjective used adverbially, <i>plus</i> another part of -speech, usually a participle; <i>Sixth Type</i>, true adverb -<i>plus</i> a participle; <i>Seventh Type</i>, adjective <i>plus</i> noun -plus -<i>ed</i>. Of these types it will be evident in many -cases that the first (noun <i>plus</i> noun) and the sixth -(true adverb <i>plus</i> participle) are not compounds at all, -for the hyphen could often be removed without any -change or loss of meaning. Occasionally the compounds -will be regarded from the point of view of the -logical relation between the two elements, when a -formal classification may usually be made as follows: -(<i>a</i>) <i>Attributive</i>, as in “anger-glow”; (<i>b</i>) <i>Objective</i>, as -in “anger-kindling”; (<i>c</i>) <i>Instrumental</i>, as in “anger-boiling.” -This scheme of classification permits of an -examination of the compounds from the formal point<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span> -of view, whilst at the same time it does not preclude -an estimate of the æsthetic value of the new words -thus added to the language of poetry.<a id="FNanchor_161" href="#Footnote_161" class="fnanchor">[161]</a></p> - -<p>It may be said, to begin with, that the formation -and use of compound epithets has always been one -of the distinguishing marks of the special language -of poetry in English, as distinct from that of prose. -The very ease with which they can be formed out of -the almost inexhaustible resources of the English -vocabulary has been a constant source of temptation -to poets with new things to say, or new impressions -to describe. Moreover, the partial disappearance of -inflections in modern English has permitted of a -vagueness in the formation of compound words, -which in itself is of value to the word-maker. Though, -of course, it is possible in most cases accurately to -analyse the logical relation between the elements of a -compound, yet it sometimes happens, especially with -the compound epithets of poetry, that this cannot -be done with certainty, because the new formation -may have been the result of a hasty but happy inspiration, -with no regard to the regular rules of composition.<a id="FNanchor_162" href="#Footnote_162" class="fnanchor">[162]</a> -Hence, from one point of view, the free formation of -compounds is a legitimate device allowed to the -poets, of which the more severe atmosphere of prose is -expected to take less advantage; from another point -of view, the greater prevalence of the compound in -poetry may not be unconnected with the rhythm of -verse. Viewed in this light, the use of compound<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span> -epithets in our poetry at any period may well have -been conditioned, in part at least, by the metrical -form in which that poetry received expression; and -thus in the poetry of the eighteenth century it connects -itself in some degree—first, with the supremacy of -the heroic couplet, and later with the blank -verse that proved to be the chief rival of the -decasyllabic.</p> - -<p>The freedom of construction which facilitates the -formation of compounds had already in the earliest -English period contributed to that special poetic -diction which is a distinguishing mark of Anglo-Saxon -verse, as indeed of all the old Germanic poetry; -of the large number of words not used in Anglo-Saxon -prose, very many are synonymous compounds -meaning the same thing.<a id="FNanchor_163" href="#Footnote_163" class="fnanchor">[163]</a> During the Middle English -period, and especially before the triumph of the East -Midland dialect definitely prepared the way for -Modern English, it would seem that the language lost -much of its old power of forming compounds, one -explanation being that the large number of French -words, which then came into the language, drove out -many of the Old English compounds, whilst at the -same time these in-comers, so easily acquired, tended -to discourage the formation of new compounds.<a id="FNanchor_164" href="#Footnote_164" class="fnanchor">[164]</a> -It was not until the great outburst of literary activity -in the second half of the sixteenth century that a -fresh impetus was given to the formation of compound -nouns and epithets. The large number of classical -translations especially exercised an important influence -in this respect: each new translation had its quota -of fresh compounds, but Chapman’s “Homer” may<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>[105]</span> -be mentioned as especially noteworthy.<a id="FNanchor_165" href="#Footnote_165" class="fnanchor">[165]</a> At the same -time the plastic state of Elizabethan English led to -the making of expressive new compounds of native -growth, and from this period date some of the happiest -compound epithets to be found in the language.<a id="FNanchor_166" href="#Footnote_166" class="fnanchor">[166]</a> -From the Elizabethans this gift of forming imaginative -compounds was inherited, with even greater felicity -by Milton, many of whose epithets, especially those -of Type VII such as “<i>grey-hooded even</i>,” “<i>coral-paven -floor</i>,” “<i>flowery-kirtled</i> Naiades” reveal him -as a consummate master of word-craft.</p> - -<p>With Dryden begins the period with which we are -especially concerned, for it is generally agreed that -from nearly every point of view the advent of what is -called eighteenth century literature dates from the -Restoration. During the forty years dominated by -Dryden in practically every department of literature, -the changes in the language, both of prose and poetry, -which had been slowly evolving themselves, became -apparent, and, as the sequel will show, this new ideal -of style, with its passion for “correctness,” and its -impatience of innovation, was not one likely to -encourage or inspire the formation of expressive -compounds; the happy audacities of the Elizabethans, -of whose tribe it is customary to seal Milton, are no -longer possible.</p> - -<p>The compounds in the poems of Dryden show this; -of his examples of Type I—the substantive compounds—the -majority are merely the juxtaposition -of two appositional nouns, as <i>brother-angels</i> (“Killigrew,” -4); or, more rarely, where the first element -has a descriptive or adjectival force, as <i>traitor-friend</i><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span> -(“Palamon,” II, 568). Not much more imaginative -power is reflected in Dryden’s compound epithets; -his instances of Types III and IV include “<i>cloud-dispelling</i> -winds” (“Ovid,” Met. I, 356), “<i>sun-begotten</i> -tribe” (<i>ibid.</i>, III, 462), with more original -examples like “<i>sleep-procuring</i> wand.” Next comes -a large number of instances of Types V and VI: -“<i>thick-spread</i> forest” (“Palamon,” II, 123), “<i>hoarse-resounding</i> -shore” (“Iliad” I, 54), as well as many -compounded with <i>long</i>-, <i>well</i>-, <i>high</i>-, etc. Most of -these examples of Types V and VI are scarcely compounds -at all, for after such elements as “long,” -“well,” “much,” the hyphen could in most cases -be omitted without any loss of power. Of Dryden’s -compound epithets it may be said in general that they -reflect admirably his poetic theory and practice; -they are never the product of a “fine frenzy.” At the -same time not a few of them seem to have something -of that genius for satirical expression with which he -was amply endowed. Compounds like <i>court-informer</i> -(“Absalom,” 719), “the rebels’ <i>pension-purse</i>” (<i>ibid.</i>, -Pt. II, 321),</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Og, from a <i>treason-tavern</i> rolling home</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(<i>Ibid.</i>, 480)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">play their part in the delivery of those “smacks in -the face” of which Professor Saintsbury speaks -in his discussion of Dryden’s satiric manipulation of -the heroic couplet.<a id="FNanchor_167" href="#Footnote_167" class="fnanchor">[167]</a></p> - -<p>In the verse of Pope, compound formations are to be -found in large numbers. This may partly be attributed, -no doubt, to the amount of translation included -in it, but even in his original poetry there are many -more instances than in the work of his great predecessor. -When engaged on his translation of Homer<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>[107]</span> -the prevalence of compounds naturally attracted his -attention, and he refers to the matter more than once -in his Preface.<a id="FNanchor_168" href="#Footnote_168" class="fnanchor">[168]</a> As might be expected from the -apostle of “correctness,” he lays down cautious and -conservative “rules” of procedure. Such should be -retained “as slide easily of themselves into an English -compound, without violence to the ear, or to the -received rules of composition, as well as those which -have received the sanction from the authority of our -best poets, and are become familiar through their -use of them.”<a id="FNanchor_169" href="#Footnote_169" class="fnanchor">[169]</a></p> - -<p>An examination of Pope’s compounds in the light -of “the received rules of composition,” shows his -examples to be of the usual types. Of noun <i>plus</i> -noun combinations he has such forms as “<i>monarch-savage</i>,” -(“Odyss.” IV), whilst he is credited with -the first use of “the <i>fury-passions</i>” (Epistle III). -More originality and imagination is reflected in his -compound epithets; of those formed from a noun -and a present participle, with the first element usually -in an objective relation to the second, his instances -include “<i>love-darting</i>-eyes” (“Unfortunate Lady”), -as well as others found before his time, like the -Elizabethan “<i>heart-piercing</i> anguish” (<i>ibid.</i>, XII) -and “<i>laughter-loving</i> dame” (<i>ibid.</i>, III). He has -large numbers of compounded nouns and past-participles, -many of which—“<i>moss-grown</i> domes” -(“Eloisa”), “<i>cloud-topped</i> hills” (“Essay on Man,” -I, 100), “<i>Sea-girt</i> isles” (“Iliad,” III)—were common -in the seventeenth century, as well as “borrowed” -examples, such as “<i>home-felt</i> joys” (Epistle II) or -“<i>air-bred</i> people” (“Odyss.,” LX, 330), presumably -from Milton and Drayton respectively. But he has -a few original formations of this type, such as “<i>heaven-directed</i><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span> -spire” (Epistle III), “<i>osier-fringed</i> bank,” -(“Odyss.,” XIII), the latter perhaps a reminiscence of -Sabrina’s song in “Comus,” as well as happier combinations, -of which the best examples are “<i>love-born</i> -confidence” (“Odyss.,” X) and “<i>love-dittied</i> airs” -(“Odyss.,” II).</p> - -<p>Pope, however, makes his largest use of that type -of compound which can be formed with the greatest -freedom—an adjective, or an adjective used adverbially, -joined to a present or past participle. He -has dozens of examples with the adverbial <i>long</i>, -<i>wide</i>, <i>far</i>, <i>loud</i>, <i>deep</i>, <i>high</i>, etc., as the first element, -most of the examples occurring in the Homer translations, -and being attempts to reproduce the Greek -compounds.<a id="FNanchor_170" href="#Footnote_170" class="fnanchor">[170]</a> Other instances have a higher æsthetic -value: “<i>fresh-blooming</i> hope” (“Eloisa”), “<i>silver-quivering</i> -rills” (Epistle IV), “<i>soft-trickling</i> waters” -“Iliad,” IX), “sweet airs <i>soft-circling</i>” (<i>ibid.</i>, XVII), -etc. Of the formations beginning with a true adverb, -the most numerous are the quasi-compounds beginning -with “<i>ever</i>”—“<i>ever-during</i> nights,” “<i>ever-fragrant</i> -bowers” (“Odyss.,” XII), etc.; or “<i>well</i>”—“<i>well-sung</i> -woes” (“Eloisa”) or “<i>yet</i>”—“<i>yet-untasted</i> -food” (“Iliad,” XV), etc. These instances do not -reveal any great originality, for the very ease with -which they can be formed naturally discounts largely -their poetic value. Occasionally, however, Pope has -been more successful; perhaps his best examples -of this type are “<i>inly-pining</i> hate” (“Odyss.,” VI—where -the condensation involved in the epithet does -at least convey some impression of power—and “the -<i>softly-stealing</i> space of time,” (“Odyss.,” XV), where -the compound almost produces a happy effect of -personification.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>[109]</span></p> - -<p>Of the irregular type of compound, already mentioned -in connexion with Dryden, Pope has a few -instances—“<i>white-robed</i> innocence” (“Eloisa”), etc. -But perhaps Pope’s happiest effort in this respect is -to be seen in that quatrain from the fourth book of -the “Dunciad,” containing three instances of compound -epithets, which help to remind us that at times -he had at his command a diction of higher suggestive -and evocative power than the plain idiom of his -satiric and didactic verse:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">To isles of fragrance, <i>lily-silver’d</i> vales</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Diffusing languor in the panting gales;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To lands of singing or of dancing slaves</div> - <div class="verse indent0"><i>Love-whisp’ring</i> woods and <i>lute-resounding</i> waves.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Of the poets contemporary with Pope only brief -mention need be made from our present point of view. -The poems of Anne, Countess of Winchilsea contain -few instances and those of the ordinary type, a remark -which is equally applicable to the poems of Parnell -and John Phillips. John Gay (1685-1732), however, -though he has many formations found in previous -writers, has also some apparently original compound -epithets which have a certain charm: “<i>health-breathing</i> -breezes” (“A Devonshire Hill,” 10), “<i>dew-besprinkled</i> -lawn” (“Fables,” 50), and “the lark -<i>high-poised</i> in the air” (“Sweet William’s Farewell,” -13). More noteworthy is John Dyer; “Grongar -Hill” has no very striking examples, but his blank -verse poems have one or two not devoid of imaginative -value: “<i>soft-whispering</i> waters” (“Ruins of Rome”) -and “<i>plaintive-echoing</i> ruins” (<i>ibid.</i>); he has been -able to dispense with the “classical” descriptive -terms for hills and mountains (“shaggy,” “horrid,” -“terrible,” etc.), and his new epithets reflect something -at least of that changing attitude towards -natural scenery, of which he was a foremost pioneer:<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span> -“<i>slow-climbing</i> wilds” (“Fleece,” I), “<i>cloud-dividing</i> -hill” (<i>ibid.</i>), and his irregular “<i>snow-nodding</i> crags” -(<i>ibid.</i>, IV).</p> - -<p>Neglecting for the moment the more famous of the -blank verse poems, we may notice Robert Blair’s -“Grave” (published 1743), with a few examples, -which mainly allow him to indulge in “classical” -periphrases, such as the “<i>sight-invigorating</i> tube” for -“a telescope.” David Mallet, who imitated his -greater countryman James Thomson, has one or -two noteworthy instances: “pines <i>high-plumed</i>” -(“Amyntor,” II), “<i>sweetly-pensive</i> silence” (“Fragment”), -“spring’s <i>flower-embroidered</i> mantle” (“Excursion,” -I)—suggested, no doubt, by Milton’s “violet-embroidered”—“the -morn <i>sun-tinctured</i>” (<i>ibid.</i>), -compound epithets which betray the influence of the -“Seasons.” Of the other minor blank verse poems -their only aspect noteworthy from our present point -of view is their comparative freedom from compounds -of any description. John Armstrong’s “Art of -Preserving Health” (1744) has only a few commonplace -examples, and the same may be said of the -earlier “The Chase” (1735) by William Somerville, -though he finds a new epithet in his expression “the -strand <i>sea-lav’d</i>” (Bk. III, 431). James Grainger’s -“The Sugar Cane” (1764) shows a similar poverty, -but the “<i>green-stol’d</i> Naiad, of the tinkling rill” -(Canto I), “<i>soft-stealing</i> dews” (Canto III), “<i>wild-careering</i> -clouds” (Canto II), and “<i>cane-crowned</i> -vale” (Canto IV) are not without merit. These -blank verse poems, avowedly modelled on Milton, -might have been expected to attempt the “grandeur” -of their original by high-sounding compounds; but -it was rather by means of latinized words and constructions -that the Miltonic imitators sought to -emulate the grand style; and moreover, as Coleridge -pointed out, Milton’s great epics are almost free from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span> -compound epithets, it being in the early poems that -“a superfluity” is to be found.<a id="FNanchor_171" href="#Footnote_171" class="fnanchor">[171]</a></p> - -<p>Before turning to the more famous blank verse -poems of the first half of the eighteenth century it -will be convenient at this point to notice one or two -poets whose work represents, on its formal side at -least, a continuation or development of the school -of Pope. The first of these is Richard Savage, whose -only poem of any real merit, “The Wanderer” (apart -perhaps from “The Bastard”), appeared in 1729. -He has only one or two new compounds of noun and -part-participle, such as “the robe <i>snow-wrought</i>” -(“The Wanderer,” I, 55), his favourite combination -being that of an adjective or adverb with a participle, -where, amidst numerous examples of obvious formations, -he occasionally strikes out something new: -“eyes <i>dim-gleaming</i>” (Canto I), “<i>soft-creeping</i> -murmurs” (Canto V), etc. Of his other types the -only other noteworthy compound is the “past-participle” -epithet in his phrase “the <i>amber-hued</i> -cascade” (Canto III), though a refreshing simplicity -of expression is found in such lines as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The bull-finch whistles soft his <i>flute-like</i> note.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The poetical work of Dr. Johnson contains scarcely -any instances of compounds, and none either newly -invented or applied. “London” and “The Vanity -of Human Wishes” have each not more than two or -three instances, and even the four poems, in which he -successively treats of the seasons, are almost destitute -of compound epithets, “<i>snow-topped</i> cot” (“Winter”) -being almost the only example.</p> - -<p>There are many more instances of compound formations -in the works of Oliver Goldsmith, most of which, -like “<i>nut-brown</i> draughts” (“Deserted Village,” II),<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span> -“<i>sea-borne</i> gales” (“Traveller,” 121), “<i>grass-grown</i> -footway” (“Deserted Village,” 127), had either been -long in the language, or had been used by earlier -eighteenth century poets. There are, however, instances -which testify to a desire to add to the descriptive -power of the vocabulary; in “The Traveller” -we find mention of “the <i>hollow-sounding</i> bittern” -(l. 44), “the <i>rocky-crested</i> summits” (l. 85), “the -<i>yellow-blossomed</i> vale” (l. 293), and the “<i>willow-tufted</i> -bank” (l. 294). For the rest, Goldsmith’s -original compounds are, like so many of this type, -mere efforts at verbal condensation, as “<i>shelter-seeking</i> -peasant” (“Traveller,” 162), “<i>joy-pronouncing</i> eye” -(<i>ibid.</i>, 10), etc.</p> - -<p>Of the more famous blank verse poems of the -eighteenth century the first and most important was -“The Seasons” of James Thomson, which appeared -in their original form between 1726 and 1730. The -originality of style, for which Johnson praised him,<a id="FNanchor_172" href="#Footnote_172" class="fnanchor">[172]</a> -is perhaps to be seen especially in his use of compound -formations; probably no other poet has ever used -them so freely.</p> - -<p>As a general rule, Thomson’s compounds fall into -the well-defined groups already mentioned. He has -a number of noun <i>plus</i> noun formations (Type I), -where the first element has usually a purely adjectival -value; “<i>patriot-council</i>” (“Autumn,” 98), “<i>harvest-treasures</i>” -(<i>ibid.</i>, 1217), as well as a few which allow -him to indulge in grandiose periphrasis, as in the -“<i>monarch-swain</i>” (“Summer,” 495) for a shepherd -with his “<i>sceptre-crook</i>” (<i>ibid.</i>, 497). These are all -commonplace formations, but much more originality -is found in his compound epithets. He frequently -uses the noun <i>plus</i> present participle combinations -(Type III), “<i>secret-winding</i>, <i>flower-enwoven</i> bowers” -(“Spring,” 1058) or “<i>forest-rustling</i> mountains”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span> -(“Winter,” 151), etc. Moreover, the majority of -his compounds are original, though now and then he -has taken a “classical” compound and given it a -somewhat curious application, as in “<i>cloud-compelling</i> -cliffs” (“Autumn,” 801). A few of this class are -difficult to justify logically, striking examples being -“<i>world-rejoicing</i> state” (“Summer,” 116) for “the -state of one in whom the world rejoices,” and “<i>life-sufficing</i> -trees” (<i>ibid.</i>, 836) for “trees that give sustenance.”</p> - -<p>Thomson has also numerous instances of the juxtaposition -of nouns and past-participles (Type IV): -“<i>love-enlivened</i> cheeks” (“Spring,” 1080), “<i>leaf-strewn</i> -walks” (“Autumn,” 955), “<i>frost-concocted</i> -glebe” (“Winter,” 706); others of this type -are somewhat obscure in meaning, as “<i>mind-illumined</i> -face” (“Spring,” 1042), and especially -“<i>art imagination-flushed</i>” (“Autumn,” 140), where -economy of expression is perhaps carried to its very -limit.</p> - -<p>Thomson’s favourite method of forming compounds -however is that of Type V, each book of “The Seasons” -containing large numbers, the first element (<i>full</i>, -<i>prone</i>, <i>quick</i>, etc.) often repeated with a variant second -element. Sometimes constant repetition in this way -produces the impression of a tiresome mannerism. -Thus “many” joined to present and past-participles -is used irregularly with quasi-adverbial force, -apparently meaning “in many ways,” “many times,” -or even “much,” as “<i>many-twinkling</i> leaves” -(“Spring,” 158), “<i>many-bleating</i> flock” (<i>ibid.</i>, 835), -etc. In the same way the word “mazy” seems to -have had a fascination for Thomson. Thus he has -“the <i>mazy-running</i> soul of melody” (“Spring,” 577), -“the <i>mazy-running</i> brook” (“Summer,” 373), “and -<i>mazy-running</i> clefts” (“Autumn,” 816), etc. Not -all of this type, however, are mere mechanical formations;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>[114]</span> -some have real poetic value and bear witness -to Thomson’s undoubted gift for achieving happy -expressive effects. Thus the “<i>close-embowering</i> wood” -(“Autumn,” 208), “the lonesome muse <i>low-whispering</i>” -(<i>ibid.</i>, 955), “the <i>deep-tangled</i> copse” (“Spring,” -594), “the <i>hollow-whispering</i> breeze” (<i>ibid.</i>, 919), -“the <i>grey-grown</i> oaks” (“Summer,” 225), “<i>flowery-tempting</i> -paths” (“Spring,” 1109), “the morn <i>faint-gleaming</i>” -(“Summer,” 48), “<i>dark-embowered</i> firs” -(“Winter,” 813), “the winds <i>hollow-blustering</i>” -(<i>ibid.</i>, 988), “the <i>mossy-tinctured</i> streams” (“Spring,” -380), as well as such passages as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent6">the long-forgotten strain</div> - <div class="verse indent0">At first <i>faint-warbled</i></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Spring,” 585)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">and</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Ships <i>dim-discovered</i> dropping from the clouds.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Summer,” 946)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Thomson’s compound epithets with a true adverb -as the first element (Sixth Type), such as “<i>north-inflated</i> -tempest” (“Autumn,” 892), are not particularly -striking, and some of them are awkward and result -in giving a harsh effect to the verse, as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent8">goodness and wit</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In <i>seldom-meeting</i> harmony combined.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Summer,” 25-6)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Finally, in “The Seasons” there are to be found -many examples of the type of compound epithet, -already referred to, modelled on the form of a past-participle; -here Thomson has achieved some of his -happiest expressions, charged with real suggestive -power.<a id="FNanchor_173" href="#Footnote_173" class="fnanchor">[173]</a> Among his instances are such little “word-pictures” -as “<i>rocky-channelled</i> maze” (“Spring,” -401), “the <i>light-footed</i> dews” (“Summer,” 123);<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span> -“the <i>keen-aired</i> mountain” (“Autumn,” 434) “the -<i>dusky-mantled</i> lawn” (<i>ibid.</i>, 1088), “the <i>dewy-skirted</i> -clouds” (<i>ibid.</i>, 961) Even when he borrows a -felicitous epithet he is able to apply it without loss of -power, as when he gives a new setting to Milton’s -“meek-eyed” applied to “Peace” as an epithet for the -quiet in-coming of the dawn; the “<i>meek-eyed</i> Morn” -(“Summer,” 47).</p> - -<p>Thomson makes good and abundant use of compound -epithets, and in this respect, as in others he was -undoubtedly a bold pioneer. His language itself, -from our present point of view, apart from the thought -and outlook on external nature it reflects, entitles -him to that honourable position as a forerunner in -the Romantic reaction with which he is usually -credited. He was not content to accept the stereotyped -diction of his day, and asserted the right of the -poet to make a vocabulary for himself. There is thus -justice in the plea that it is Thomson, rather than -Gray, whom Wordsworth should have marked down -for widening the breach between the language of -poetry and that of prose.</p> - -<p>No doubt the prevalence of the compound epithets -in “The Seasons” is due, to some extent at least, -to the requirement of his blank verse line; they helped -him, so to speak, to secure the maximum of effect with -the minimum of word-power; and at times we can -almost see him trying to give to his unrhymed decasyllabics -something of the conciseness and polish to -which Pope’s couplet had accustomed his generation. -But they owe their appearance, of course, to other -causes than the mere mechanism of verse. Thompson’s -fondness for “swelling sound and phrase” has -often been touched upon, and this predilection -finds full scope in the compound epithets; they -play their part in giving colour and atmosphere -to “The Seasons,” and they announce unmistakably<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>[116]</span> -that the old dead, descriptive diction is -doomed.</p> - -<p>Of the blank verse poems of the period only “The -Seasons” has any real claim to be regarded as announcing -the Romantic revolt that was soon to declare -itself unmistakably. But three years after the -appearance of Thomson’s final revision of his poem -the first odes of William Collins were published, at -the same time as those of Joseph Warton, whilst the -work of Thomas Gray had already begun.</p> - -<p>There are some two score of compound formations -in the poems of Collins, but many of these—as “<i>love-darting</i>” -(“Poetic Character,” 8), “<i>soul-subduing</i>” -(“Liberty,” 92)—date from the seventeenth century. -One felicitous compound Collins has borrowed from -James Thomson, but in doing so he has invested it -with a new and beautiful suggestiveness. Thomson -had written of</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Ships <i>dim-discovered</i> dropping from the clouds.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Summer,” 946)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The compound is taken by Collins and given a new -beauty in his description of the landscape as the -evening shadows gently settle upon it:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Hamlets brown and <i>dim-discovered</i> spires</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Evening,” 37)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">where the poetic and pictorial force of the epithet is -perhaps at its maximum.<a id="FNanchor_174" href="#Footnote_174" class="fnanchor">[174]</a></p> - -<p>Collins, however, has not contented himself with -compounds already in the language; he has formed -himself, apparently, almost half of the examples to -be found in his poems. His instances of Types I,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>[117]</span> -as of Types V and VI, are commonplace, and he -has but few examples of Type II, the most noteworthy -being “<i>scene-full</i> world” (“Manners,” 78), where the -epithet, irregularly formed, seems to have the meaning -of “abounding in scenery.” Most of his instances of -Type III are either to be found in previous writers, -or are obvious formations like “<i>war-denouncing</i> -trumpets” (“Passions,” 43).</p> - -<p>Much more originality is evident in his examples -of Type IV, which is apparently a favourite method -with him. He has “<i>moss-crowned</i> fountain” -(“Oriental Ecl.,” II, 24), “<i>sky-worn</i> robes” (“Pity,” -II), “<i>sedge-crowned</i> sisters” (“Ode on Thomson,” -30), “<i>elf-shot</i> arrows” (“Popular Superstitions,” -27), etc. Some instances here are, strictly speaking, -irregular formations, for the participles, as in “<i>sphere-descended</i>,” -are from intransitive verbs; in other -instances the logical relation must be expressed by a -preposition such, as “<i>with</i>” in “<i>moss-crowned</i>,” -“<i>sedge-crowned</i>”; or “<i>by</i>” in “<i>fancy-blest</i>,” “<i>elf-shot</i>”; -or “<i>in</i>” in “<i>sphere-found</i>,” “<i>sky-worn</i>.” -He has some half-dozen examples of Type VII, three -at least of which—“<i>gay-motleyed</i> pinks” (“Oriental -Eclogues,” III, 17), “<i>chaste-eyed</i> Queen” (“Passions,” -75), and “<i>fiery-tressed</i> Dane” (“Liberty,” 97)—are -apparently his own coinage, whilst others, such as -“<i>rosy-lipp’d</i> health” (“Evening,” 50) and “<i>young-eyed</i> -wit,” have been happily used in the service of -the personifications that play so great a part in his -Odes.</p> - -<p>There is some evidence that the use of compounds -by certain writers was already being noticed in the -eighteenth century as something of an innovation -in poetical language. Thus Goldsmith, it would seem, -was under the impression that their increasing employment, -even by Gray, was connected in some way -with the revived study of the older poets, especially<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>[118]</span> -Spenser.<a id="FNanchor_175" href="#Footnote_175" class="fnanchor">[175]</a> This supposition is unfounded. Gray, it is -true, uses a large number of compounds, found in -previous writers, but it is chiefly from Milton—e.g. -“<i>solemn-breathing</i> airs” (“Progress of Poesy,” 14; -cp. “Comus,” 555), “rosy-bosomed hours” (“Spring,” -I), or from Pope—e.g. “<i>cloud-topped</i> head” (“Bard,” -34) that he borrows. Moreover, he has many compounds -which presumably he made for himself. Of -Type I he has such instances as “the <i>seraph-wings</i> -of Ecstasy” (“Progress,” 96), “the <i>sapphire-blaze</i>” -(<i>ibid.</i>, 99), etc.; he has one original example of -Type II in his “<i>silver-bright</i> Cynthia” (“Music,” 32), -and two of Type III, when he speaks of the valley of -Thames as a “<i>silver-winding</i> way” (“Eton Ode,” -10), and he finds a new epithet for the dawn in his -beautiful phrase “the <i>incense-breathing</i> Morn” (Elegy -XVII). Of Type IV, he has some half-dozen examples, -only two of which, however, owe their first appearance -to him—the irregularly formed “<i>feather-cinctured</i> -chiefs” (“Progress,” 62) and “the <i>dew-bespangled</i> -wing” (“Vicissitude,” 2). The largest number of -Gray’s compound epithets belong to Type V, where -an adjective is used adverbially with a participle: -“<i>rosy-crowned</i> loves” (“Progress,” 28) and “<i>deep-toned</i> -shell” (“Music,” 23). One of Gray’s examples -of this class of compound, evidently formed on a -model furnished by Thomson, came in for a good deal -of censure. He speaks of “<i>many-twinkling</i> feet” -(“Progress,” 35), and the compound, which indeed is<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span> -somewhat difficult to defend, aroused disapproval in -certain quarters. Lyttleton was one of the first to -object to its use, and he communicated his disapproval -to Walpole, who, however, at once took sides -for the defence. “In answer to your objection,” he -wrote,<a id="FNanchor_176" href="#Footnote_176" class="fnanchor">[176]</a> “I will quote authority to which you will -yield. As Greek as the expression is, it struck Mrs. -Garrick; and she says that Mr. Gray is the only poet -who ever understood dancing.” Later, the objection -was revived in a general form by Dr. Johnson. “Gray,” -he says,<a id="FNanchor_177" href="#Footnote_177" class="fnanchor">[177]</a> “is too fond of words arbitrarily compounded. -‘Many-twinkling’ was formerly censured as not -analogical: we may say ‘<i>many-spotted</i>’ but scarcely -‘<i>many</i>-spotting.’” The incident is not without its -significance; from the strictly grammatical point of -view the epithet is altogether irregular, unless the first -element is admitted to be an adverb meaning “very -much” or “many times.” But Gray’s fastidiousness -of expression is a commonplace of criticism, and -we may be sure that even when he uses compounds of -this kind he has not forgotten his own clearly expressed -views on the language fit and proper for poetry.</p> - -<p>Johnson also objected to another device by which -Gray had sought to enrich the vocabulary of poetry, -as reflected in his use of the “participal” epithet in --<i>ed</i>.<a id="FNanchor_178" href="#Footnote_178" class="fnanchor">[178]</a> If this device for forming new epithets cannot -be grammatically justified, the practice of the best -English poets at least has always been against -Johnson’s dictum, and, as we have seen, it has been -a prolific source of original and valuable compound -epithets. Of this type Gray has some six or seven -examples, the majority of which, however, had long -been in the language, though in the new epithet of -“the <i>ivy-mantled</i> tower” (Elegy IX) we may perhaps<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>[120]</span> -see an indication of the increasing Romantic sensibility -towards old ruins.</p> - -<p>Though not admitted to the same high rank of -poets as Collins and Gray, two of their contemporaries, -the brothers Warton, are at least of as great importance -in the history of the Romantic revival.<a id="FNanchor_179" href="#Footnote_179" class="fnanchor">[179]</a> From our -present point of view it is not too fanciful to see a -reflection of this fact in the compound epithets freely -used by both of the Wartons. Thomas Warton is -especially noteworthy; probably no other eighteenth -century poet, with the exception of James Thomson, -has so many instances of new compound formations, -and these are all the more striking in that few of -them are of the mechanical type, readily formed by -means of a commonplace adjective or adverb. -Instances of compound substantives (Type I) are -almost entirely lacking, and the same may be said of -the noun <i>plus</i> adjective epithets (Type II). There -are, however, a few examples of Type III (noun -<i>plus</i> present participle), some of which, as “<i>beauty-blooming</i> -isle” (“Pleasures of Melancholy”), “<i>twilight-loving</i> -bat” (<i>ibid.</i>), and “the woodbines <i>elm-encircling</i> -spray” (“On a New Plantation”), no -doubt owe something to the influence of Thomson. -Instances of Type IV are plentiful, and here again -there is a welcome freshness in Warton’s epithets: -“Fancy’s <i>fairy-circled</i> shrine” (“Monody Written -near Stratford-on-Avon”), “morning’s <i>twilight-tinctured</i> -beam” (“The Hamlet”), “<i>daisy-dappled</i> dale” -(“Sonnet on Bathing”). One instance of this class -of compound epithet, “the <i>furze-clad</i> dale,” is certainly -significant as indicative of the changes that were going -on from the “classical” to the Romantic outlook -towards natural scenery.<a id="FNanchor_180" href="#Footnote_180" class="fnanchor">[180]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span></p> - -<p>Of the other class of compound epithets, Warton -has only a few instances, but his odes gave plenty of -scope for the use of the “participial epithet” (Type -VII), and he has formed them freely: “Pale -Cynthia’s <i>silver-axled</i> car” (“Pleasures of Melancholy”), -“the <i>coral-cinctured</i> stole” (“Complaint of -Cherwell”), “Sport, the <i>yellow-tressed</i> boy” (<i>ibid.</i>). -No doubt many of Thomas Warton’s compound -formations were the result of a conscious effort to find -“high-sounding” terms, and they have sometimes -an air of being merely rhetorical, as in such instances -as “<i>beauty-blooming</i>,” “<i>gladsome-glistering</i> green,” -“<i>azure-arched</i>,” “<i>twilight-tinctured</i>,” “<i>coral-cinctured</i>,” -“<i>cliff-encircled</i>,” “<i>daisy-dappled</i>,” where alliterative -effects have obviously been sought. Yet he deserves -great credit for his attempts to find new words at a -time when the stock epithets and phrases were still -the common treasury of the majority of his contemporaries.</p> - -<p>His brother, Joseph Warton, is less of a pioneer, -but there is evident in his work also an effort to -search out new epithets. His compounds include -(Type II) “<i>marble-mimic</i> gods” (“The Enthusiast”); -(Type III) “<i>courage-breathing</i> songs” (“Verses, -1750”), with many instances of Type IV, some -commonplace, as “<i>merchant-crowded</i> towns” (“Ode -to Health”), others more original, as “mirth and -youth nodding <i>lily-crowned</i> heads” (“Ode to Fancy”), -joy, “the <i>rose-crowned, ever-smiling</i> boy” (“Ode -Against Despair”), “the <i>beech-embowered</i> cottage” -(“On The Spring”). Moreover, there are a number in -“The Enthusiast,” which reflect a genuine love of -Nature (“<i>thousand-coloured</i> tulips,” “<i>pine-topp’d</i> -precipice”) and a keen observation of its sights and -sounds.</p> - -<p>It is not forcing the evidence of language too much -to say that a similar increasing interest in external<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span> -nature finds expression in some of the compound -epithets to be found in much of the minor poetry of -the period. Thus Moses Mendez (<i>d.</i> 1758)<a id="FNanchor_181" href="#Footnote_181" class="fnanchor">[181]</a> has in -his poem on the various seasons (1751) such conventional -epithets as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">On every hill the <i>purple-blushing</i> vine,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">but others testify to first hand observation as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The <i>pool-sprung</i> gnat on sounding wings doth pass.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Richard Jago (1715-1781)<a id="FNanchor_182" href="#Footnote_182" class="fnanchor">[182]</a>, in his “Edgehill” (1767), -has such instances as “the <i>woodland-shade</i>,” “the -<i>wave-worn</i> face,” and “the tillag’d plain <i>wide-waving</i>.” -The Rev. R. Potter,<a id="FNanchor_183" href="#Footnote_183" class="fnanchor">[183]</a> who imitated Spenser in his -“Farewell Hymn to the Country” (1749), has happy -examples like “<i>mavis-haunted</i> grove” and “this -<i>flowre-perfumed</i> aire.” In William Whitehead’s -poems<a id="FNanchor_184" href="#Footnote_184" class="fnanchor">[184]</a> there are numerous formations like “<i>cloud-enveloped</i> -towers” (“A Hymn”) and “<i>rock-invested</i> -shades” (“Elegy,” IV). A few new descriptive terms -appear in the work of John Langhorne (1735-1779),<a id="FNanchor_185" href="#Footnote_185" class="fnanchor">[185]</a> -“<i>flower-feeding</i> rills” (“Visions of Fancy,” I), “<i>long-winding</i> -vales” (“Genius and Valour”), etc. Michael -Bruce (1746-1767) in his “Lochleven”<a id="FNanchor_186" href="#Footnote_186" class="fnanchor">[186]</a> has, e.g., -“<i>cowslip-covered</i> banks,” and fresh observation of -bird life is seen in such phrases as “<i>wild-shrieking</i> -gull” and “<i>slow-wing’d</i> crane.” James Graeme -(1749-1772)<a id="FNanchor_187" href="#Footnote_187" class="fnanchor">[187]</a> has at least one new and happy compound -in his line</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The <i>blue-gray</i> mist that hovers o’er the hill.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Elegy written in Spring”)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>[123]</span></p> - -<p class="noindent">John Scott (1730-1783)<a id="FNanchor_188" href="#Footnote_188" class="fnanchor">[188]</a> makes more use of compound -formations than most of his minor contemporaries. -He has many instances of Type IV (noun <i>plus</i> participle), -including “<i>rivulet-water’d</i> glade” (Eclogue I), -“<i>corn-clad</i> plain,” “<i>elder-shaded</i> cot” (“Amwell”). -His few instances of Type VI (e.g. “<i>wildly-warbled</i> -strain,” (“Ode” IV)), and of Type VII (e.g. “<i>trefoil-purpled</i> -field” (“Elegy,” III)); “<i>may-flower’d</i> -hedges” (“Elegy,” IV); and “<i>golden-clouded</i> sky,” -(“Ode,” II), are also worthy of notice.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile another aspect of the rising Romantic -movement was revealing itself in the work of Chatterton. -With the “antiquarianism” of the Rowley poems -we are not here concerned, but the language of both -the “original” work and of the “discovered” poems -contains plenty of material relevant to our special -topic. Chatterton, indeed, seems to have had a -predilection for compound formations, though he has -but few instances of compound substantives (e.g. -“<i>coppice-valley</i>” (“Elegy”), and instances of Type II -(noun <i>plus</i> adjective) are also rare. The other types -of epithets are, however, well represented: “<i>echo-giving</i> -bells” (“To Miss Hoyland”), “<i>rapture-speaking</i> -lyre” (“Song”), etc. (Type III), though -it is perhaps in Type IV that Chatterton’s word-forming -power is best shown: “<i>flower-bespangled</i> -hills” (“Complaint”), “<i>rose-hedged</i> vale” (“Elegy -at Stanton-Drew”), etc., where the first compound -epithet is a new and suggestive descriptive term. His -examples of Type V are also worth noting: “<i>verdant-vested</i> -trees” (“Elegy,” V), “<i>red-blushing</i> blossom” -“Song”), whilst one of the best of them is to be found -in those lines, amongst the most beautiful written by -Chatterton, which reflect something of the new charm -that men were beginning to find in old historic churches -and buildings:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>[124]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">To view the cross-aisles and the arches fair</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Through the half-hidden <i>silver-twinkling</i> glare</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of yon bright moon in foggy mantle dress’d.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Parliament of Sprites,” Canto XXI)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The remaining examples of Chatterton’s compound -formations do not call for much attention, though -“<i>gently-plaintive</i> rill” (“Elegy on Phillips”) and -“<i>loudly-dinning</i> stream” (“Ælla,” 84) are new and -fresh. Chatterton has much of the conventional -poetical language and devices of his time throughout -his work, and his compound epithets do not in the mass -vary much from contemporary usage in this respect. -But some of them at least are significant of the position -which he occupies in the history of the Romantic -revival.</p> - -<p>The greatest figure in this revival, as it appears to -us now, was William Blake, but from our present -point of view he is almost negligible. It may safely -be said that few poets of such high rank have made -less use of compound formations: in his entire -poetical work scarcely half a dozen instances are to -be found. Yet the majority of these, such as “<i>angel-guarded -bed</i>” (“A Dream,” 2), “<i>mind-forg’d</i> -manacles” (“London,” 8), “Winter’s <i>deep-founded</i> -habitation” (“Winter,” 3), “<i>softly-breathing</i> song” -(“Song,” 2: “Poetical Sketches”) are a sufficiently -striking tribute to his ability to form expressive -compounds had he felt the need. But in the beautiful -purity and simplicity of his diction, for which he has -in our own time at least received adequate praise, -there was no place for long compound formations, -which, moreover, are more valuable and more appropriate -for descriptive poetry, and likely to mar the -pure singing note of the lyric.</p> - -<p>It is curious to find a similar paucity of compound -formations in the poems of George Crabbe, the whole -number being well represented by such examples as<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span> -“<i>dew-press’d</i> vale” (“Epistle to a Friend,” 48), -“<i>violet-wing’d</i> Zephyrs” (“The Candidate,” 268), -and “<i>wind-perfuming</i> flowers” (“The Choice”). -No doubt the narrative character of much of Crabbe’s -verse is the explanation of this comparative lack of -compounds, but the descriptions of wild nature that -form the background for many of “The Tales” might -have been expected to result in new descriptive terms.</p> - -<p>Two lesser poets of the time are more noteworthy -as regards our especial topic. William Mickle (1735-1788), -in his “Almada Hill” (1781) and his “May -Day,” as well as in his shorter poems, has new epithets -for hills and heights, as in such phrases as “<i>thyme-clad</i> -mountains” and “<i>fir-crown’d</i> hill” (“Sorcerers,” -4). His Spenserian imitation “Syr Martyn,” contains -a few happy epithets:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">How bright emerging o’er yon <i>broom-clad</i> height</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The silver empress of the night appears</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(Canto II, 31)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">and “<i>daisie-whitened</i> plain,” “<i>crystal-streamed</i> Esk” -are among his new formations in “Eskdale Braes.”</p> - -<p>James Beattie has a large number of compounds -in his poems, and though many of these are mechanical -formations, he has a few new “nature” epithets -which are real additions to the vocabulary of poetical -description, as “<i>sky-mixed</i> mountain” (“Ode to -Peace,” 38), the lake “<i>dim-gleaming</i>” (“Minstrel,” -176), “the <i>wide-weltering</i> waves” (<i>ibid.</i>, 481), the -wave “<i>loose-glimmering</i>” (“Judgment of Paris,” -458). He has also a few instances of Type VII -chiefly utilized, as often with compounds of this type, -as personifying epithets: “the frolic moments <i>purple</i>-pinioned” -(“Judgment of Paris,” 465) and “<i>loose-robed</i> -Quiet” (“Triumph of Melancholy,” 64).</p> - -<p>The “Pleasures of Memory” (1792) by Samuel<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span> -Rogers has one or two compound formations: “<i>moonlight-chequered</i> -shade” (Part II). Hope’s “<i>summer-visions</i>” -(<i>ibid.</i>) and “the <i>fairy-haunts</i> of long-lost -hours” (<i>ibid.)</i>, have a trace at least of that suggestive -power with which Keats and Shelley were soon to -endow their epithets. Brief reference only need be -made to the works of Erasmus Darwin, which have -already been mentioned as the great example of -eighteenth century stock diction used to the utmost -possible extent. He has plenty of instances of compound -epithets of every type, but his favourite formation -appears to be that of a noun <i>plus</i> part-participle, -as “<i>sun-illumined</i> fane” (“Botanic Garden,” I, 157), -“<i>wave-worn</i> channels” (<i>ibid.</i>, I, 362), and as seen in -such lines as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Her <i>shell-wrack</i> gardens and her <i>sea-fan</i> bowers.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Economy of Vegetation,” VI, 82)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Many of Darwin’s compounds have a certain charm -of their own; in the mass they contribute towards -that dazzling splendour with which eighteenth century -diction here blazed out before it finally disappeared.</p> - -<p>Cowper, like Blake and Crabbe, is not especially -distinguished for his compound epithets. Though -he has a large number of such formations, very few -of them are either new or striking, a remark which -applies equally to his original work and his translations. -Many instances of all the types are to be found in the -“Homer,” but scarcely one that calls for special -mention, though here and there we come across good -epithets well applied: “accents <i>ardour-winged</i>” (IV, -239) or “<i>silver-eddied</i> Peneus” (II, 294).</p> - -<p>Before attempting to sum up the use of compound -epithets in eighteenth century poetry, brief reference -may be made to their use in the early work of the two -poets who announced the definite advent of the new -age. Wordsworth in his early poems has many<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>[127]</span> -instance of compound words, most of which are either -his own formations, or are rare before his time. The -original and final drafts both of the “Evening Walk” -and the “Descriptive Sketches” show some divergence -in this respect, compounds found in the 1793 -version being omitted later, whilst on the other new -formations appear in the revised poems. Besides -imitative instances such as “<i>cloud-piercing</i> pine trees” -(D.S., 63), there are more original and beautiful -compounds, such as the “<i>Lip-dewing</i> song and the -<i>ringlet-tossing</i> dance” (<i>ibid.</i>, 132), which does not -appear until the final draft.</p> - -<p>Examples of Type IV are “<i>holly-sprinkled</i> steeps” -(E.W., 10), “The sylvan cabin’s <i>lute-enlivened</i> gloom” -(D.S., 134, final); and of Types V and VI, “<i>green-tinged</i> -margin” (D.S., 122), “<i>clear-blue</i> sky” (D.S., -113), “<i>dim-lit</i> Alps” (D.S., 1793 only, 217), and -“the <i>low-warbled</i> breath of twilight lute” (D.S., 1793, -749). Wordsworth’s early poems, it has been noted, -are almost an epitome of the various eighteenth century -devices for producing what was thought to be a distinctively -poetical style,<a id="FNanchor_189" href="#Footnote_189" class="fnanchor">[189]</a> but he soon shakes off this -bondage, and “Guilt and Sorrow,” perhaps the first -poem in which his simplicity and directness of expression -are fully revealed, is practically without instances -of compound epithets.</p> - -<p>The critics, it would appear, had already marked -down as a fault a “profusion of new coined double -epithets”<a id="FNanchor_190" href="#Footnote_190" class="fnanchor">[190]</a> in a “small volume of juvenile poems” -published by Coleridge in 1794. In replying to, or rather -commenting on, the charge, Coleridge makes an -interesting digression on the use of such formations, -defending them on “the authority of Milton and -Shakespeare,” and suggesting that compound epithets -should only be admitted if they are already “denizens”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>[128]</span> -of the language, or if the new formation is a genuine -compound, and not merely two words made one by -virtue of the hyphen. “A Language,” he adds, “which -like the English is almost without cases, is indeed in -its very genius unfitted for compounds. If a writer, -every time a compounded word suggests itself to him, -would seek for some other mode of expressing the -same sense, the chances are always greatly in favour -of his finding a better word.” Though there is a -good deal of sound sense in these remarks, we have -only to recall the wealth of beautiful compound -epithets with which Keats, to take only one example, -was soon to enrich the language, to realize that -English poetry would be very much the poorer if the -rule Coleridge lays down had been strictly observed. -It would perhaps be truer to say that the imaginative -quality of the compound epithets coined by a poet -is a good test of his advance in power of expression.<a id="FNanchor_191" href="#Footnote_191" class="fnanchor">[191]</a></p> - -<p>As regards his own practice, Coleridge goes on to -say<a id="FNanchor_192" href="#Footnote_192" class="fnanchor">[192]</a> that he “pruned the double epithets with no -sparing hand”; but the pruning was not very severe, -judging from a comparison of the two volumes. Yet -these early poems are not without examples of good -compound epithets: “<i>zephyr-haunted</i> brink,” (“Lines -to a Beautiful Spring”), “<i>distant-tinkling</i> stream” -(“Song of the Pixies,” 16), “<i>sunny-tinctured</i> hue” -(<i>ibid.</i>, 43), “<i>passion-warbled</i> strain,” (“To the Rev. -W. J. H.”), etc.</p> - -<p>When we review the use of compound epithets in -the poetry of the eighteenth century we are bound to -admit that in this, as in other aspects of the “purely -poetical,” the eighteenth century stands apart from -other periods in our literary history. Most readers<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>[129]</span> -could probably at will call to their mind half a dozen -compound epithets of Shakespeare and the Elizabethan -period, of Milton, or of more modern writers, such -as Keats, that are, as it were, little poems in themselves, -Shakespeare’s “<i>young-eyed cherubim</i>,” or -Milton’s “<i>grey-hooded even</i>,” or Keats’s “<i>soft-conched -shell</i>.” It is safe to say that few eighteenth century -words or phrases of this nature have captured the -imagination to a similar degree; Collins’s “<i>dim-discovered -spires</i>” is perhaps the only instance that -comes readily to the mind.</p> - -<p>There are, of course, as our study has shown, plenty -of instances of good compound epithets, but in the -typical eighteenth century poetry these are rarely -the product of a genuine creative force that endows -the phrase with imaginative life. Even the great -forerunners of the Romantic revolt are not especially -remarkable in this respect; one of the greatest of -them, William Blake, gave scarcely a single new -compound epithet to the language, and whilst this -fact, of course, cannot be brought as a reproach -against him, yet it is, in some respects at least, significant -of the poetical atmosphere into which he was -born. It has often been remarked that when Latin -influence was in the ascendant the formation of new -and striking compound epithets has been very rare in -English poetry, whilst it has been always stimulated, -as we know from the concrete examples of Chapman -and Keats, by the influence of a revived -Hellenism.</p> - -<p>Another fact is worthy of attention. Many of the -most beautiful compound epithets in the English -language are nature phrases descriptive of outdoor -sights and sounds. The arrested development, or -the atrophy of the sense of the beauty of the external -world, which is a characteristic of the neo-classical -school, was an unconscious but effective bar to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>[130]</span> -formation of new words and phrases descriptive of -outdoor life. The neo-classical poet, with his eye fixed -on the town and on life as lived there, felt no necessity -for adding to the descriptive resources of his vocabulary, -especially when there was to his hand a whole <i>gradus</i> -of accepted and consecrated words and phrases. It -is in the apostles of “the return to Nature” that we -find, however inadequately, to begin with, a new -diction that came into being because these poets had -recovered the use of their eyes and could sense the -beauty of the world around them.</p> - -<p>And this fact leads to a further consideration of -the use of compound epithets from the formal viewpoint -of their technical value. It has already been -suggested that their use may not be unconnected with -the mechanism of verse, and the æsthetic poverty of -eighteenth century poetry in this respect may therefore -be not unjustly regarded as an outcome of the two -great prevailing vehicles of expression. In the first -place, there was the heroic couplet as brought to -perfection by Pope. “The uniformity and maximum -swiftness that marked his manipulation of the stopped -couplet was achieved,” says Saintsbury, “not only -by means of a large proportion of monosyllabic final -words, but also by an evident avoidance of long and -heavy vocables in the interior of the lines themselves.”<a id="FNanchor_193" href="#Footnote_193" class="fnanchor">[193]</a> -Moreover, perhaps the commonest device to secure -the uniform smoothness of the line was that use of -the “<i>gradus</i> epithet” which has earlier been treated; -these epithets were for the most part stock descriptive -adjectives—<i>verdant</i>, <i>purling</i>, <i>fleecy</i>, <i>painted</i>, and the -like—which were generally regarded by the versifiers -as the only attendant diction of the couplet. If we -compare a typical Pope verse such as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Let <i>vernal</i> airs through trembling osiers play</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>[131]</span></p> - -<p class="noindent">with the line already quoted,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Love-whisp’ring woods and lute-resounding waves</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">we may perhaps see that the free use of compound -epithets was not compatible with the mechanism of -the couplet as illustrated in the greater part of Pope’s -practice; they would tend to weaken the balanced -antithesis, and thus spoil the swing of the line.</p> - -<p>The most formidable rival of the heroic couplet -in the eighteenth century was blank verse, the -advent of which marked the beginning of the Romantic -reaction in form. Here Thomson may be regarded -as the chief representative, and it is significant that -the large number of compound epithets in his work -are terms of natural description, which, in addition -to their being a reflex of the revived attitude to -natural scenery, were probably more or less consciously -used to compensate readers for the absence of “the -rhyme-stroke and flash” they were accustomed to -look for in the contemporary couplet. “He utilizes -periodically,” to quote Saintsbury again,<a id="FNanchor_194" href="#Footnote_194" class="fnanchor">[194]</a> “the -exacter nature-painting, which in general poetic -history is his glory, by putting the distinctive words -for colour and shape in notable places of the verse, -so as to give it character and quality.” These “distinctive -words for colour and shape” were, with -Thomson, for the most part, compound epithets; -almost by the time of “Yardley Oak,” and certainly -by the time of “Tintern Abbey,” blank verse had -been fully restored to its kingdom, and no longer -needed such aid.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>[132]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII<br /> -<span class="smaller">PERSONIFICATION AND ABSTRACTION IN EIGHTEENTH CENTURY POETRY</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>In the Preface of 1798, when Wordsworth formulated -his theories with regard to poetical language, -the first “mechanical device of style” against -which he directed his preliminary attack was the use -of “personifications of abstract ideas.”<a id="FNanchor_195" href="#Footnote_195" class="fnanchor">[195]</a> Such personifications, -he urged, do not make any natural or -regular part of “the very language of men,” and as -he wished “to keep the reader in the company of -flesh and blood,” he had endeavoured “utterly to -reject them.” He was ready to admit that they were -occasionally “prompted by passion,” but his predecessors -had come to regard them as a sort of family -language, upon which they had every right to draw. -In short, in Wordsworth’s opinion, abstractions and -personifications had become a conventional method -of ornamenting verse, akin to the “vicious diction,” -from the tyranny of which he wished to emancipate -poetry. The specific point on which he thus challenged -the practice of his predecessors could hardly -be gainsaid, for he had indicted a literary device, or -artifice, which was not only worked to death by the -mere poetasters of the period, but which disfigures -not a little the work of even the great poets of the -century.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span></p> - -<p>The literary use of abstraction and personification -was not, it is needless to say, the invention of the -eighteenth century. It is as old as literature itself, -which has always reflected a tendency to interpret or -explain natural phenomena or man’s relations with -the invisible powers that direct or influence human -conduct, by means of allegory, English poetry in the -Middle Ages, especially that of Chaucer, Langland, and -their immediate successors, fitly illustrates the great -world of abstraction which had slowly come into being, -a world peopled by personified states or qualities—the -Seven Deadly Sins, the Virtues, Love, etc.—typifying -or symbolizing the forces which help man, or -beset and ensnare him as he makes his pilgrim’s -progress through this world.</p> - -<p>Already the original motive power of allegory was -considerably diminished, even if it had not altogether -disappeared, and, by the time of the “Faerie Queene,” -the literary form which it had moulded for itself had -become merely imitative and conventional, so that -even the music and melody of Spenser’s verse could -not altogether vitalize the shadowy abstractions of his -didactic allegory. With “Paradise Lost” we come to -the last great work in which personified abstractions -reflect to any real extent the original allegorical -motive in which they had their origin. Milton -achieves his supreme effects in personification in that -his figures are merely suggestive, strongly imagined -impressions rather than clean-cut figures. For nothing -can be more dangerous, from the poetic point of -view, than the precise figures which attempt to -depict every possible point of similarity between -the abstract notion and the material representation -imagined.<a id="FNanchor_196" href="#Footnote_196" class="fnanchor">[196]</a></p> - -<p>It is sometimes considered that the mania for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>[134]</span> -abstraction was due largely to the influence of the two -poets who are claimed, or regarded, as the founders or -leaders of the new classical school—Dryden and Pope. -As a matter of fact, neither makes any great use of -personification. Dryden has a few abstractions in -his original works, such as,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Far from her sight flew Faction, Strife and Pride</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And Envy did but look on</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“First Epistle”)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">but his examples are mainly to be found in his -modernizations or translations, where of necessity -he takes them from his originals.<a id="FNanchor_197" href="#Footnote_197" class="fnanchor">[197]</a></p> - -<p>Pope makes a greater use of the figure, but even -here there is no excess. There is not a single personification -in the four pastorals of “The Seasons,” a -subject peculiarly adapted to such treatment. In -“Eloisa to Abelard” there are two instances where -some attempt at characterization is made.<a id="FNanchor_198" href="#Footnote_198" class="fnanchor">[198]</a> More -instances, though none very striking, are to be found -in “Windsor Forest,” but the poem ends with a massed -group, forming a veritable catalogue of the personified -vices which had done so much service in poetry since -the days of the Seven Deadly Sins.</p> - -<p>In other poems Pope uses the device for humorous -or satiric effect, as in the “Pain,” “Megrim,” and -“Ill nature like an ancient maid” (l. 24) of “The Rape -of the Lock;” or the “Science,” “Will,” “Logic,” -etc., of “The Dunciad,” where all are invested with -capital letters, but with little attempt to work up a -definite picture, except, as was perhaps to be expected, -in the case of “Dullness,” which is provided with a -bodyguard (Bk. I, 45-52).</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>[135]</span></p> - -<p>Though, as we have already said, there is no great -use of such figures in the works of Pope, they are -present in such numbers in his satiric and didactic -works as to indicate one great reason for their prevalence -in his contemporaries and successors. After -the Restoration, when English literature entered on a -new era, the changed and changing conditions of -English life and thought soon impressed themselves -on poetry. The keynote to the understanding of -much that is characteristic of this new “classical” -literature has been well summed up in the formula -that “the saving process of human thought was -forced for generations to beggar the sense of beauty.”<a id="FNanchor_199" href="#Footnote_199" class="fnanchor">[199]</a> -The result was an invasion of poetry by ideas, arguments, -and abstractions which were regarded both as -expressing admirably the new spirit of rationalism, as -well as constituting in themselves dignified subjects -and ornaments of poetry.</p> - -<p>This is well illustrated in the case of several of -Pope’s contemporaries. In the works of Thomas -Parnell (1679-1718) abstractions of the conventional -type are plentiful, usually accompanied by a qualifying -epithet: “Fortune fair-array’d” (“An Imitation”), -“Impetuous Discord,” “Blind Mischief,” (“On Queen -Anne’s Peace”), “the soft Pathetic” (“On the -Different Styles of Poetry”). These are only a few -of the examples of the types favoured by Parnell, -where only here and there are human traits added by -means of qualifying epithets or phrases. In one or -two instances, however, there are more detailed -personifications. Thus, in the “Epistle to Dr. Swift,” -which abounds in shadowy abstractions, Eloquence is -fully described for us:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Upon her cheek sits Beauty ever young</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The soul of music warbles on her tongue.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>[136]</span></p> - -<p>Moreover, already in Parnell it is evident that -the influence of Milton is responsible for some of -his personifications. In the same poem we get the -invocation:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Come! country Goddess come, nor thou suffice</div> - <div class="verse indent0">But bring thy mountain-sister Exercise,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">figures which derive obviously from “L’Allegro.”</p> - -<p>In the case of Richard Savage (1696-1743) there is -still greater freedom in the use of personified abstractions, -which, as here the creative instinct is everywhere -subjected to the didactic purpose, become very -wearisome. The “Wanderer” contains long catalogues -of them, in some instances pursued for over -fifty lines.<a id="FNanchor_200" href="#Footnote_200" class="fnanchor">[200]</a></p> - -<p>The device continued to be very popular throughout -the eighteenth century, especially by those who -continue or represent the “Ethical” school of Pope. -First amongst these may be mentioned Edward Young -(1681-1765), whose “Night Thoughts” was first -published between 1742-1744. Young, like his contemporaries, -has recourse to personifications, both for -didactic purposes and apparently to add dignity to -his style. It is probable, too, that in this respect he -owes something to “Paradise Lost”; from Milton no -doubt he borrowed his figure of Death, which, though -poetically not very impressive, seems to have captured -the imagination of Blake and other artists who -have tried to depict it. The figure is at first only -casually referred to in the Fourth Book (l. 96), where -there is a brief and commonplace reference to “Death, -that mighty hunter”; but it is not until the fifth book -that the figure is developed. Yet, though the characterization -is carried to great length, there is no very -striking personification: we are given, instead, a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>[137]</span> -long-drawn-out series of abstractions, with an attempt -now and then to portray a definite human figure. -Thus</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Like princes unconfessed in foreign courts</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Who travel under cover, Death assumes</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The name and look of life, and dwells among us.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">And then the poet describes Death as being present -always and everywhere, and especially</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">Gaily carousing, to his gay compeers</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Inly he laughs to see them laugh at him</div> - <div class="verse indent0">As absent far.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>But Young has not, like Milton, been able to conjure -up a definite and convincing vision, and thus he never -achieves anything approaching the overwhelming -effect produced by the phantom of Death in “Paradise -Lost,” called before us in a single verse:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">So spake the grisly Terror.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(P.L., II. 704)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>For the rest, Young’s personifications, considering -the nature of his subject, are fewer than might be -expected. Where they occur they often seem to owe -their presence to a desire to vary the monotony of his -moral reflections; as a result we get a number of -abstractions, which may be called personifications -only because they are sometimes accompanied by -human attributes.</p> - -<p>Young has also certain other evocations which can -scarcely be called abstractions, but which are really -indistinct, shadowy beings, like the figures of a dream, -as when he describes the phantom of the past:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The spirit walks of every day deceased</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And smiles an angel, or a fury frowns</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(ll. 180-181)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span></p> - -<p class="noindent">or the grief of the poet as he ever meets the shades of -joys gone for ever:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent18">The ghosts</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of my departed joys: a numerous train.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Here the poet has come near to achieving that effect -which in the hands of the greatest poets justifies the -use of personification as a poetic figure. The more -delicate process just illustrated is distinct both from -the lifeless abstraction and the detailed personification, -for in these cases there is a tinge of personal emotion -which invests these shadowy figures with something -of a true lyrical effect.</p> - -<p>The tendency, illustrated in the “Night Thoughts,” -to make a purely didactic use of personification and -abstraction is found to a much greater extent in -Akenside’s “Pleasures of the Imagination,” first -published in 1744, to be considerably enlarged in 1767. -The nature of Akenside’s subject freely admitted of -the use of these devices, and he has not been slow to -avail himself of them.</p> - -<p>Large portions of the “Pleasures of the Imagination” -resolve themselves into one long procession of abstract -figures. Very often Akenside contents himself with -the usual type of abstraction, accompanied by a conventional -epithet: “Wisdom’s form celestial” (I, 69), -“sullen Pomp” (III, 216), etc., though sometimes by -means of human attributes or characteristics we are -given partial personifications such as:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Power’s purple robes nor Pleasure’s flowery lap.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(l. 216)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">And occasionally there are traces of a little more -imagination:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent8">thy lonely whispering voice</div> - <div class="verse indent0">O faithful Nature!<a id="FNanchor_201" href="#Footnote_201" class="fnanchor">[201]</a></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>[139]</span></p> - -<p>But on the whole it is clear that with Akenside -abstraction and personification are used simply and -solely for moral and didactic purposes, and not because -of any perception of their potential artistic value. -Incidentally, an interesting side-light on this point is -revealed by one of the changes introduced by the poet -into his revision of his chief work. In the original -edition of 1740 there is an invocation to Harmony -(Bk. I, ll. 20 foll.), with her companion,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Majestic Truth; and where Truth deigns to come</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Her sister Liberty will not be far.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Before the publication of the revised edition, Akenside, -who at one time had espoused the cause of liberty with -such ardour as to lead to his being suspected of republicanism, -received a Court appointment. In the -revised edition the concluding lines of the invocation -became</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent16">for with thee comes</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The guide, the guardian of their majestic rites</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Wise Order and where Order deigns to come</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Her sister Liberty will not be far.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(138 foll.)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The same lavish use of abstractions is seen, not -only in the philosophic poetry proper, but also in -other works, which might perhaps have been expected -to escape the contagion. Charles Churchill (1731-1764), -if we set aside Johnson and Canning, may be -regarded as representing eighteenth century satire in -its decline, after the great figures of Pope and Swift -have disappeared from the scene, and among the -causes which prevent his verse from having but little -of the fiery force and sting of the great masters of -satire is that, instead of the strongly depicted, individual -types of Pope, for example, we are given a heterogeneous -collection of human virtues, vices, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span> -characteristics, most often in the form of mere abstractions, -sometimes personified into stiff, mechanical -figures.<a id="FNanchor_202" href="#Footnote_202" class="fnanchor">[202]</a> Only once has Churchill attempted anything -novel in the way of personification, and this in -humorous vein, when he describes the social virtues:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">With belly round and full fat face,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Which on the house reflected grace,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Full of good fare and honest glee,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The steward Hospitality.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Churchill had no doubt a genuine passion for poetry -and independence, but the <i>saeva indignatio</i> of the -professed censor of public morals and manners cannot -be conveyed to the reader through the medium of -mechanical abstractions which, compared with the -flesh-and-blood creations of Dryden and Pope, show -clearly that for the time being the great line of English -satire has all but come to an end.</p> - -<p>Eighteenth century ethical poetry was represented -at this stage by Johnson and Goldsmith, at whose -work it will now be convenient to glance. The -universal truths which Johnson as a stern, unbending -moralist wished to illustrate in “London” (1738) -and “The Vanity of Human Wishes” (1749), might -easily have resulted in a swarm of the abstractions -and personifications fashionable at the time.<a id="FNanchor_203" href="#Footnote_203" class="fnanchor">[203]</a> From -this danger Johnson was saved by the depth of feeling -with which he unfolds the individual examples chosen -to enforce his moral lessons. Not that he escapes -entirely; “London” has a few faint abstractions -(“Malice,” “Rapine,” “Oppression”); but though<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>[141]</span> -occasionally they are accompanied by epithets suggesting -human attributes (“surly Virtue,” “persecuting -Fate,” etc.), as a rule there is no attempt at definite -personification, a remark which also applies to the -“Vanity of Human Wishes.” In his odes to the -different seasons he has not given, however, any -elaborate personifications, but has contented himself -with slight human touches, such as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Now Autumn bends a cloudy brow.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Of Johnson’s poetical style, regarded from our -present point of view, it may be said to be well -represented in the famous line from “London”:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Slow rises Worth by Poverty depressed,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">where there is probably no intention or desire to -personify at all, but which is a result of that tendency -towards Latin condensation which the great Doctor -and his contemporaries had introduced into English -prose.</p> - -<p>Goldsmith’s poetry has much in common with that -of Johnson, in that both deal to some extent with -what would now be called social problems. But -it is significant of Goldsmith’s historical position -in eighteenth century poetry as representing a sort -of “half-way attitude,” in the matter of poetical -style, between the classical conventional language and -the free and unfettered diction advocated by Wordsworth, -that there are few examples of personified -abstractions in his works, and these confined mainly -to one passage in “The Traveller”:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Hence Ostentation here with tawdry Art</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Pants for the vulgar praise which fools impart, etc.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>[142]</span></p> - -<p>At this point it is necessary to hark back for the -purpose of considering other works which had been -appearing alongside of the works just discussed. It -has already been remarked that in this matter of the -use of abstraction and personification the influence -of Milton early asserted itself, and there can be no -doubt that a good deal of it may be traced to the -influence more especially of the early poems. Indeed, -the blank verse poems, which attempted to imitate or -parody the “grand style” of the great epics, furnish -few examples of the personified abstraction. The -first of these, the “Splendid Shilling” and “Cyder” -of John Philips (1705-1706) contains but few instances. -In Somerville’s “Chase” there is occasionally a -commonplace example, such as “brazen-fisted Time,” -though in his ode “To Marlborough” he falls into -the conventional style quickly enough. In the -rest of the blank verse poems Mallet’s “Excursion” -(1738), and his “Amyntor and Theodora” (1744), -comparatively little use is made of the device, -a remark also applicable to Dyer’s “Ruins of -Rome” (1740), and to Grainger’s “Sugar Cane” -(1764).</p> - -<p>The fashion for all these blank verse poems had -been started largely by the success of “The Seasons,” -which appeared in its original form from 1726 to 1730, -to undergo more than one revision and augmentation -until the final edition of 1744. Though Thomson’s -work shows very many traces of the influence of -Milton, there is no direct external evidence that his -adoption of blank verse was a result of that influence. -Perhaps, as has been suggested,<a id="FNanchor_204" href="#Footnote_204" class="fnanchor">[204]</a> he was weary of -the monotony of the couplet, or at least considered its -correct and polished form incapable of any further -development. At the same time it is clear that having -adopted “rhyme-unfettered verse,” he chose to regard<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>[143]</span> -Milton as a model of diction and style, though he was -by no means a slavish imitator.</p> - -<p>With regard to the special problems with which we -are here concerned, it must be noted that when -Thomson was first writing “The Seasons,” the device -of personified abstraction had not become quite so -conventional and forced in its use as at a later date. -Nevertheless examples of the typical abstraction are -not infrequent; thus, in an enumeration of the -passions which, since the end of the “first fresh dawn,” -have invaded the hearts and minds of men, we are -given “Base Envy,” withering at another’s joy; -“Convulsive Anger,” storming at large; and “Desponding -Fear,” full of feeble fancies, etc. (“Spring,” -280-306). Other examples are somewhat redeemed -by the use of a felicitous compound epithet, “Art -imagination-flushed” (“Autumn,” 140), “the lonesome -Muse, low-whispering” (<i>ibid.</i>, 955), etc. In -“Summer” (ll. 1605 foll.) the poet presents one of the -usual lists of abstract qualities (“White Peace, -Social Love,” etc.), but there are imaginative touches -present that help to vitalize some at least of the -company into living beings:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The tender-looking Charity intent</div> - <div class="verse indent0">On gentle deeds, and shedding tears through smiles—</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">and the passage is thus a curious mixture of mechanical -abstractions with more vivid and inspired conceptions.</p> - -<p>Occasionally Thomson employs the figure with -ironical or humorous intention, and sometimes not -ineffectively, as in the couplet,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Then sated Hunger bids his brother Thirst</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Produce the mighty bowl.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Autumn,” 512)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">He is also fond of the apostrophic personification,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>[144]</span> -often feebly, as when, acting upon a suggestion from -Mallet,<a id="FNanchor_205" href="#Footnote_205" class="fnanchor">[205]</a> he writes:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Comes, Inspiration, from thy hermit seat,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">By mortal seldom found, etc.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Summer,” l. 15)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>As for the seasons themselves, we do not find any -very successful attempts at personification. Thomson -gives descriptive impressions rather than abstractions: -“gentle Spring, ethereal mildness” (“Spring,” 1), -“various-blossomed Spring” (“Autumn,” 5); or -borrowing, as often, an epithet from Milton, “refulgent -Summer” (“Summer,” 2); or “surly Winter” -(“Spring,” 11).</p> - -<p>But in these, and similar passages, the seasons can -hardly be said to be distinctly pictured or personified. -In “Winter,” however, there is perhaps a more -successful attempt at vague but suggestive personification:<a id="FNanchor_206" href="#Footnote_206" class="fnanchor">[206]</a></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">See Winter comes, to rule the varied year,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Sullen and sad, with all his rising train</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Vapours, and clouds and storms.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">But on the whole Thomson’s personifications of the -seasons are not, poetically, very impressive. There -is little or no approach to the triumphant evocation -with which Keats conjures up Autumn for us, with all -its varied sights and sounds, and its human activities -vividly personified in the gleaner and the winnower</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">sitting careless on a granary floor</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or the couplet in which Coleridge brings before us a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>[145]</span> -subtle suggestion of the spring beauty, to which the -storms and snows are but a prelude:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">And winter, slumbering in the open air</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Work without Hope”)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Yet Thomson, as might be expected in a forerunner of -the Romantic school, is not altogether without a gift -for these embryonic personifications, as they have -been called, when by means of a felicitous term or -epithet the whole conception which the poet has in -mind is suddenly galvanized into life and endowed -with human feelings and emotions. Such evocations -are of the very stuff of which poetry is made, and at -their highest they possess the supreme power of -stirring or awakening in the mind of the reader other -pictures or visions than those suggested by the mere -personification.<a id="FNanchor_207" href="#Footnote_207" class="fnanchor">[207]</a></p> - -<p>Though some of Thomson’s instances are conventional -or commonplace, as in the description of</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent12">the grey grown oaks</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That the calm village in their verdant arms</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Sheltering, embrace,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Summer,” 225-227)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">and others merely imitative, as,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent14">the rosy-footed May</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Steals blushing on,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Spring,” 489-490)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">yet there are many which call up by a single word a -vivid and picturesque expression, such as the “hollow-whispering -breeze” (“Summer,” 919) or the poet’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>[146]</span> -description of the dismal solitude of a winter landscape</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent14">It freezes on</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Till Morn, late rising o’er the drooping world</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Lifts her pale eyes unjoyous</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Winter,” 744)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or the beautiful description of a spring dawn:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The meek-eyed Morn appears, mother of dews</div> - <div class="verse indent0">At first faint-gleaming in the dappled east.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Summer,” 48-49)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Adverting to the question of Milton’s influence -on the prevalent mania for personification, it is undoubted -that the early poems may be held largely -responsible. Their influence first began noticeably -to make itself felt in the fifth decade of the century, -when their inspiration is to be traced in a great -deal of the poetic output of the period, including -that of Joseph and Thomas Warton, as well as -of Collins and Gray. Neglecting for the moment -the greater poets who drew inspiration from this -source, it will be as well briefly to consider first -the influence of Milton’s minor poems on the obscure -versifiers, for it is very often the case that the minor -poetry of an age reflects most distinctly the peculiarities -of a passing literary fashion. As early as 1739 -William Hamilton of Bangour<a id="FNanchor_208" href="#Footnote_208" class="fnanchor">[208]</a> imitated Milton in his -octosyllabic poem “Contemplation,” and by his -predilection for abstraction foreshadowed one of the -main characteristics of the Miltonic revival among -the lesser lights. A single passage shows this clearly -enough:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Anger with wild disordered pace</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And malice pale of famish’d face:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Loud-tongued Clamour get thee far</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Hence, to wrangle at the bar:</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">and so on.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>[147]</span></p> - -<p>Five or six years later Mason’s Miltonic imitations -appeared—“Il Bellicoso” and “Il Pacifico”—which -follow even more slavishly the style of “L’Allegro” -and “Il Penseroso,” so that there is no need for -Mason’s footnote to “Il Bellicoso” describing the -poem with its companion piece as this “very, very -juvenile imitation.”<a id="FNanchor_209" href="#Footnote_209" class="fnanchor">[209]</a> “Il Bellicoso” begins with the -usual dismissal:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Hence, dull lethargic Peace</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Born in some hoary beadsman’s cell obscure,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">and subsequently we are introduced to Pleasure, -Courage, Victory, Fancy, etc. There is a similar -exorcism in “Il Pacifico,” followed by a faint personification -of the subject of the ode, attended by a -“social smiling train” of lifeless abstractions.</p> - -<p>The pages of Dodsley<a id="FNanchor_210" href="#Footnote_210" class="fnanchor">[210]</a> furnish abundant testimony -to the prevalence of this kind of thing. Thus “Penshurst”<a id="FNanchor_211" href="#Footnote_211" class="fnanchor">[211]</a> -by F. Coventry is another close imitation of -Milton’s companion poems, with the usual crowd of -abstractions. The same thing is met with in the -anonymous “Vacation,”<a id="FNanchor_212" href="#Footnote_212" class="fnanchor">[212]</a> and in the “Valetudinarian,” -said to be written by Dr. Marriott.<a id="FNanchor_213" href="#Footnote_213" class="fnanchor">[213]</a></p> - -<p>It is unnecessary to illustrate further the Milton -vogue, which thus produced so large a crop of imitations,<a id="FNanchor_214" href="#Footnote_214" class="fnanchor">[214]</a> -except to say that there is significant testimony -to the widespread prevalence of the fashion in the fact -that a parody written “in the Allegoric, Descriptive, -Alliterative, Epithetical, Fantastic, Hyperbolical, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>[148]</span> -Diabolical Style of our modern Ode writers and -monody-mongers”<a id="FNanchor_215" href="#Footnote_215" class="fnanchor">[215]</a> soon appeared. This was the -anonymous “Ode to Horror,” a humorous burlesque, -especially of the “Pleasures of Melancholy.” The -Wartons stand high above the versifiers at whose -productions we have just looked, but nevertheless -there was some justification for the good-humoured -parody called forth by their works.</p> - -<p>In 1746 there appeared a small volume entitled -“Odes on Various Subjects,” a collection of fourteen -odes by Joseph Warton.<a id="FNanchor_216" href="#Footnote_216" class="fnanchor">[216]</a> The influence of Milton is -especially seen in the odes “To Fancy,” “To Health,” -and to “The Nightingale,” but all betray definitely -the source of their inspiration. Thus in the first -named:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Me, Goddess, by the right hand lead</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Sometimes thro’ the yellow mead</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Where Joy and White-robed Peace resort</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And Venus keeps her festive court.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">All the odes of Warton betray an abundant use of -abstractions, in the midst of which he rarely displays -anything suggestive of spontaneous inspiration. His -few personifications of natural powers are clearly -imitative. “Evening” is “the meek-eyed Maiden -clad in sober gray” and Spring comes</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">array’d in primrose colour’d robe.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">We feel all the time that the poet drags in his stock<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>[149]</span> -of personified abstractions only because he is writing -odes, and considers that such devices add dignity to -his subject.</p> - -<p>At the same time it is worth noting that almost -the same lavish use of these lay figures occurs in his -blank verse poem, “The Enthusiast,” or “The Lover -of Nature” (1740), likewise written in imitation of -Milton, and yet in its prophetic insight so important -a poem in the history of the Romantic revival.<a id="FNanchor_217" href="#Footnote_217" class="fnanchor">[217]</a> -Lines such as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent8">Famine, Want and Pain</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Sunk to their graves their fainting limbs</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">are frequent, while there is a regular procession of -qualities, more or less sharply defined, but not -poetically suggestive enough to be effective.</p> - -<p>The younger of the two brothers, Thomas Warton, -who by his critical appreciation of Spenser did much -in that manner to help forward the Romantic movement, -was perhaps still more influenced by Milton. -His ode on “The Approach of Summer” shows to -what extent he had taken possession of the verse, -language, and imagery of Milton:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">Haste thee, nymph, and hand in hand</div> - <div class="verse indent0">With thee lead a buxom band</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Bring fantastic-footed Joy</div> - <div class="verse indent0">With Sport, that yellow-tressed boy;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Leisure, that through the balmy sky,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Chases a crimson butterfly.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">But nearly all his poems provide numerous instances -of personified abstraction, especially the lines “Written -at Vale Abbey,” which seems to exhaust, and present -as thin abstractions, the whole gamut of human -virtues and vices, emotions and desires.<a id="FNanchor_218" href="#Footnote_218" class="fnanchor">[218]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span></p> - -<p>There is a certain irony in the fact that the two men -who, crudely, perhaps, but nevertheless unmistakably, -adumbrated the Romantic doctrine, should have been -among the foremost to indulge in an excess against -which later the avowed champion of Romanticism -was to inveigh with all his power. This defect was -perhaps the inevitable result of the fact that the -Wartons had apparently been content in this respect -to follow a contemporary fashion as revealed in -the swarm of merely mechanical imitations of -Milton’s early poems. But their subjects were on -the whole distinctly romantic, and this fact, added -to their critical utterances, gives them real historical -importance. Above all, it is to be remembered that -they have for contemporaries the two great poets -in whom the Romantic movement was for the first -time adequately exemplified—William Collins and -Thomas Gray.</p> - -<p>The first published collection of Collins’s work, -“Odes on Several Descriptive and Allegorical Subjects” -(1746), was, as we have seen, if not neglected or -ignored by the public, at least received with marked -indifference, owing largely no doubt to the abstract -nature of his subjects, and the chiselled severity of his -treatment.<a id="FNanchor_219" href="#Footnote_219" class="fnanchor">[219]</a> In other words, Collins was pure classical -and not neo-classical; he had gone direct back to the -“gods of Hellas” for his inspiration, and his verse -had a Hellenic austerity and beauty which could make -little or no appeal to his own age. At the same time -it was permeated through and through with new and -striking qualities of feeling and emotion that at once -aroused the suspicions of the neo-classicists, with -Johnson as their mentor and spokesman. The “Odes” -were then, we may say, classical in form and romantic -in essence, and it is scarcely a matter for surprise<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>[151]</span> -that a lukewarm reception should have been their -lot.<a id="FNanchor_220" href="#Footnote_220" class="fnanchor">[220]</a></p> - -<p>Collins has received merited praise for the charm -and precision of his diction generally, and the fondness -for inverting the common order of his words—Johnson’s -chief criticism of his poetical style<a id="FNanchor_221" href="#Footnote_221" class="fnanchor">[221]</a>—is to the modern -mind a venial offence compared with his use of personified -abstractions. On this point Johnson has -nothing to say, an omission which may be regarded -as significant of the extent to which personification -had invaded poetry, for the critic, if we may -judge from his silence, seems to have considered -it natural and legitimate for Collins also to have -made abundant use of this stock and conventional -device.</p> - -<p>It is probable, however, that the extensive use -which Collins makes of the figure is the result in a -large measure of his predilection for the ode—a form -of verse very fashionable towards the middle of the -century. As has already been noted, odes were being -turned out in large numbers by the poetasters of the -time, in which virtues and vices, emotions and passions -were invoked, apostrophized, and dismissed with -appropriate gestures, and it is probable that the -majority of these turgid and ineffective compositions -owed their appearance to the prevalent mania for -personification. Young remarked with truth<a id="FNanchor_222" href="#Footnote_222" class="fnanchor">[222]</a> that -an ode is, or ought to be, “more spontaneous and more -remote from prose” than any other kind of poetry; -and doubtless it was some vague recognition of this -fact, and in the hope of “elevating” their style, that -led the mere versifiers to adopt the trick. But as they -worked the mechanical personification to death, they<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>[152]</span> -quickly robbed it of any impressiveness it may ever -have had.</p> - -<p>This might quite fairly be described as the state of -affairs with regard to the use of personified abstraction -when Collins was writing his “odes,” but while it is -true that he indulges freely in personification, it is -scarcely necessary to add that he does so with a -difference; his Hellenic training and temperament -naturally saved him from the inanities and otiosities -of so much contemporary verse. To begin with, -there are but few examples of the lifeless abstraction, -and even in such cases there is usually present a happy -epithet, or brief description that sets them on a higher -level than those that swarm even in the odes of the -Wartons. Thus in the “Ode on the Poetical -Character,” “the shadowy tribes of mind,” which -had been sadly overworked by Collins’s predecessors -and contemporaries, are brought before us with a new -and fresh beauty that wins instant acceptance for -them:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">But near it sat ecstatic Wonder</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Listening the deep applauding thunder</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And truth in sunny vest arrayed</div> - <div class="verse indent0">By whom the tassel’s eyes were made</div> - <div class="verse indent0">All the shadowy tribes of mind</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In braided dance their murmurs joined.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Instances of the mechanical type so much in favour -are, however, not lacking, as in this stanza from the -“Verses” written about bride-cake:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Ambiguous looks that scorn and yet relent,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Denial mild and firm unaltered truth,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Reluctant pride and amorous faint consent</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And melting ardours and exulting youth.<a id="FNanchor_223" href="#Footnote_223" class="fnanchor">[223]</a></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The majority of Collins’s personified abstractions<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span> -are, however, vague in outline, that is to say, they -suggest, but do not define, and are therefore the more -effective in that the resulting images are almost -evanescent in their delicacy. Thus in the “Ode to -Pity” the subject is presented to us in magic words:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Long pity, let the nations view</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Thy sky-worn robes of tender blue</div> - <div class="verse indent4">And eyes of dewy light,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">whilst still another imaginative conception is that of -“Mercy”:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">who sitt’st a smiling bride</div> - <div class="verse indent0">By Valour’s armed and awful side</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Gentlest of sky-born forms and best adorned.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The “Ode to the Passions” is in itself almost an -epitome of the various ways in which Collins makes -use of personification. It is first to be noted that he -rarely attempts to clothe his personifications in long -and elaborate descriptions; most often they are given -life and reality by being depicted, so to speak, moving -and acting:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Revenge impatient rose,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">He threw his blood-stained sword in thunder down,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And with a withering look</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The war-denouncing trumpet took;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Yet still he kept his wild unaltered mien</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Whilst his strained ball of sight seemed bursting from his head.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Even the figures, seen as it were but for a moment, -are flashed before us in this manner:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">With woful measures wan Despair</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Low sullen sounds his grief beguiled</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">and</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Dejected Pity at his side</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Her soul-subduing voice applied</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>[154]</span></p> - -<p class="noindent">and the vision of hope with “eyes so fair” who</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">smiled and waved her golden hair.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">In this ode Collins gives us also imaginative cameos, -we might call them, vividly delineated and presented -like the figures on the Grecian urn that inspired -Keats. Thus:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">While as his flying fingers kissed the strings,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Love framed with mirth a gay fantastic round.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">and, with its tinge of probably unconscious humour—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">Brown exercise rejoiced to hear,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And Sport leapt up and seized his beechen spear.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>From these and similar instances, we receive a -definite impression of that motion, which is at the -same time repose, so characteristic of classical -sculptuary.</p> - -<p>Most of the odes considered above are addressed to -abstractions. In the few instances where Collins -invokes the orders or powers of nature even greater -felicity is shown in the art with which he calls up and -clothes in perfect expression his abstract images. The -first of the seasons is vaguely but subtly suggested to -us in the beautiful ode beginning “How sleep the -brave”:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent6">When Spring with dewy fingers cold</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Returns to deck their hallowed mould,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">She there shall dress a sweeter sod</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Than fancy’s feet have ever trod.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">This is rather a simile than a personification, but yet -there is conveyed to us a definite impression of a -shadowy figure that comes to deck the earth with -beauty, like a young girl scattering flowers as she walks -along.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>[155]</span></p> - -<p>But the workmanship of Collins in this respect is -seen in its perfection in the “Ode to Evening.” There -is no attempt to draw a portrait or chisel a statue; the -calm, restful influence of evening, its sights and sounds -that radiate peace and contentment, even the very -soul of the landscape as the shades of night gather -around, are suggested by master touches, whilst the -slow infiltration of the twilight is beautifully suggested:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Thy dewy fingers draw</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The gradual dusky veil.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The central figure is still the same evanescent being, -the vision of a maiden, endowed with all the grace of -beauty and dignity, into whose lap “sallow Autumn” -is pouring his falling leaves, or who now goes her way -slowly through the tempest, while</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Winter, yelling through the troublous air</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Affrights thy shrinking train,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And rudely rends thy robe.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>If we had no other evidence before us, Collins’s use -of personified abstraction would be sufficient in itself -to announce that the new poetry had begun. He -makes use of the device as freely, and even now and -then as mechanically, as the inferior versifiers of his -period, but instead of the bloodless abstractions, -his genius enabled him to present human qualities -and states in almost ethereal form. Into them he has -breathed such poetic life and inspiration that in their -suggestive beauty and felicity of expression they stand -as supreme examples of personification used as a -legitimate poetical device, as distinct from a mere -rhetorical figure or embellishment.</p> - -<p>This cannot be said of Gray, in whose verse mechanical -personifications crowd so thickly that, as Coleridge<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>[156]</span> -observed in his remarks on the lines from “The -Bard,”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Youth at the prow and Pleasure at the helm</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">it depends “wholly on the compositors putting or not -putting a small Capital, both in this and in many -other passages of the same poet, whether the words -should be personifications or mere abstractions.”<a id="FNanchor_224" href="#Footnote_224" class="fnanchor">[224]</a></p> - -<p>It is difficult to account for this devotion of Gray to -the “new Olympus,” thickly crowded with “moral -deities” that his age had brought into being, except -on the assumption that contemporary usage in this -respect was too strong for him to resist. For it cannot -be denied that very many of the beings that swarm in -his odes do not differ in their essential character from -the mechanical figures worked to death by the ode-makers -of his days; even his genius was not able to -clothe them all in flesh and blood. In the “Eton -College” ode there is a whole stanza given over to a -conventional catalogue of the “fury passions,” the -“vultures of the mind”; and similar thin abstractions -people all the other odes. Nothing is visualized: we -see no real image before us.<a id="FNanchor_225" href="#Footnote_225" class="fnanchor">[225]</a> Even the famous -“Elegy” is not without its examples of stiff personification, -though they are not present in anything -like the excess found elsewhere. The best that can -be said for abstractions of this kind is that in their -condensation they represent an economy of expression<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>[157]</span> -that is not without dignity and effectiveness, and -they thus sometimes give an added emphasis to the -sentiment, as in the oft-quoted</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Their homely joys and destiny secure,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The short and simple annals of the poor.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Gray rarely attempts to characterize his figures -other than by the occasional use of a conventional -epithet, and only here and there has the personification -been to any extent filled in so as to form at least -an outline picture. In the “Hymn to Adversity,” -Wisdom is depicted</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent6">in sable garb arrayed</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Immersed in rapturous thought profound,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">whilst other slight human touches are to be found here -and there: as in “Moody Madness, laughing wild” -(“Ode on a Distant Prospect”). His personifications, -however, have seldom the clear-cut outlines we find -in Collins, nor do they possess more than a tinge of the -vividness and vitality the latter could breathe into -his abstractions. Yet now and then we come across -instances of the friezes in which Collins excels, moving -figures depicted as in Greek plastic art</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent6">Antic sports and blue-eyed Pleasures,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Frisking light in frolic measures</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Progress of Poesy”)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or the beautiful vision in the “Bard,”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">Bright Rapture calls and soaring as she sings,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Waves in the eyes of heaven her many-coloured wings.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">And in the “Ode on Vicissitude” Gray has one -supreme example of the embryonic personification,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>[158]</span> -when the powers or orders of nature are invested with -human attributes, and thus brought before us as living -beings, in the form of vague but suggestive impressions -that leave to the imagination the task of filling in the -details:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">Now the golden Morn aloft</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Waves her dew-bespangled wing</div> - <div class="verse indent0">With vernal cheek and whisper soft</div> - <div class="verse indent4">She woos the tardy spring.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>But in the main, and much more than the poet -with whom his name is generally coupled, it is perhaps -not too much to say that Gray was content to handle -the device in the same manner as the uninspired -imitators of the “L’Allegro” and “Il Penseroso.” -Not that he was unaware of the danger of such a tendency -in himself and others. “I had rather,” he -wrote to Mason<a id="FNanchor_226" href="#Footnote_226" class="fnanchor">[226]</a> when criticizing the latter’s “Caractacus,” -“some of the personages—‘Resignation,’ -‘Peace,’ ‘Revenge,’ ‘Slaughter,’ ‘Ambition’—were -stripped of their allegorical garb. A little simplicity -here and there in the expression would better -prepare the high and fantastic harpings that follow.” -In the light of this most salutary remark, Gray’s own -procedure is only the more astonishing. His innumerable -personifications may not have been regarded by -Johnson as contributory to “the kind of cumbrous -splendour” he wished away from the odes, but the -fact that they are scarce in the “Elegy” is not without -significance. The romantic feeling which asserts -itself clearly in the odes, the new imaginative conceptions -which these stock figures were called upon to -convey, the perfection of the workmanship—these -qualities were more than sufficient to counterweigh -Gray’s licence of indulgence in a mere rhetorical -device. Yet Coleridge was right in calling attention<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>[159]</span> -to this defect of Gray’s style, especially as his censure -is no mere diatribe against the use of personified -abstraction: it is firmly and justly based on the -undeniable fact that Gray’s personifications are for -the most part cold and lifeless, that they are mere -verbal abstractions, utterly devoid of the redeeming -vitality, which Collins gives to his figures.<a id="FNanchor_227" href="#Footnote_227" class="fnanchor">[227]</a> It is for -this reason perhaps that his poetry in the mass has -never been really popular, and that the average -reader, with his impatience of abstractions, has -been content, with Dr. Johnson, to pronounce boldly -for “The Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard.”</p> - -<p>Before proceeding to examine the works of the -other great poets who announce or exemplify the -Romantic revival, it will be convenient at this point -to look at some of the Spenserian imitations, which -helped to inspire and vitalize the revival.</p> - -<p>Spenser was the poet of mediaeval allegory. In -the “Faerie Queene,” for the first time a real poet, -endowed with the highest powers of imagination and -expression, was able to present the old traditional -abstractions wonderfully decked up in a new and -captivating guise. The personages that move like -dream figures through the cantos of the poem are -thus no mere personified abstractions: they are -rather pictorial emblems, many of which are limned -for us with such grandeur of conception and beauty -of execution as to secure for the allegorical picture a -“willing suspension of disbelief,” whilst the essentially -romantic atmosphere more than atones for the -cumbrous and obsolete machinery adopted by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>[160]</span> -Spenser to inculcate the lessons of “virtuous and -gentle discipline.”</p> - -<p>Though the eighteenth century Spenserians make a -plentiful use of personified abstraction, on the whole -their employment of this device differs widely from its -mechanical use by most of their contemporaries: in -the best of the imitations there are few examples of -the lifeless abstraction. Faint traces at least of the -music and melody of the “Faerie Queene” have been -caught and utilized to give a poetic charm even to -the personified virtues and vices that naturally appear -in the work of Spenser’s imitators. Thus in William -Thompson’s “Epithalamium” (1736), while many -of the old figures appear before us, they have something -of the new charm with which Collins was soon to -invest them. Thus,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Liberty, the fairest nymph on ground</div> - <div class="verse indent2">The flowing plenty of her growing hair</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Diffusing lavishly ambrosia round</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Earth smil’d, and Gladness danc’d along the sky.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The epithets which accompany the abstractions are -no longer conventional (“Chastity meek-ey’d,” -“Modesty sweet-blushing”) and help to give touches -of animation to otherwise inanimate figures. In the -“Nativity” (1757) there is a freer use of the mere -abstraction that calls up no distinct picture, but even -here there are happy touches that give relief:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">Faith led the van, her mantle dipt in blue,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Steady her ken, and gaining on the skies.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">In the “Hymn to May” (1787) Thompson personified -the month whose charms he is singing, the result being -a radiant figure, having much in common with the -classical personifications of the orders or powers of -nature:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">A silken camus, em’rald green</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Gracefully loose, adown her shoulder flow.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>[161]</span></p> - -<p>In Shenstone’s “Schoolmistress” (1737-1742) -instances of personification are rare, and, where they -do occur, are merely faint abstractions like “Learning -near her little dome.” It is noteworthy that one of -the most successful of the Spenserian imitations should -have dispensed with the cumbrous machinery of -abstract beings that, on the model of the “Faerie -Queene,” might naturally have been drawn upon. -The homely atmosphere of the “Schoolmistress,” -with its idyllic pictures and its gentle pathos, would, -indeed, have been fatally marred by their introduction.</p> - -<p>The same sparing use of personification is evident -in the greatest of the imitations, James Thomson’s -“Castle of Indolence” (1748). A theme of this -nature afforded plenty of opportunity to indulge in -the device, and Thomson, judging from its use of the -figure in some of his blank verse poems, might have -been expected to take full advantage. But there are -less than a score of examples in the whole of the poem. -Only vague references are made to the eponymous -hero: he is simply “Indolence” or “tender -Indolence” or “the demon Indolence.” For the -rest Thomson’s few abstractions are of the stock -type, though occasionally more realistic touches -result, we may suppose, from the poet’s sense of -humour as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The sleepless Gout here counts the crowing cock.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Only here and there has Thomson attempted full-length -portraits in the Spenserian manner, as when -Lethargy, Hydropsy, and Hypochondria are described -with drastic realism.<a id="FNanchor_228" href="#Footnote_228" class="fnanchor">[228]</a></p> - -<p>The works of the minor Spenserians show a greater -use of personified abstraction, but even with them there -is no great excess. Moreover, where instances do<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>[162]</span> -occur, they show imaginative touches foreign to the -prevalent types. Thus in the “Vision of Patience” -by Samuel Boyce (d. 1778),</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Silence sits on her untroubled throne</div> - <div class="verse indent0">As if she left the world to live and reign alone,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">while Patience stands</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">In robes of morning grey.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Occasionally the personified abstractions, though -occurring in avowedly Spenserian imitations, obviously -owe more to the influence of “L’Allegro”; as in -William Whitehead’s “Vision of Solomon” (1730), -where the embroidered personifications are much -more frequent than the detailed images given by -Spenser.<a id="FNanchor_229" href="#Footnote_229" class="fnanchor">[229]</a></p> - -<p>The work of Chatterton represents another aspect -of this revival of the past, but it is curious to find -that, in his acknowledged “original” verse there are -not many instances of the personified abstraction, -whilst they are freely used in the Rowley poems. -Where they do occur in his avowedly original work -they are of the usual type, though more imaginative -power is revealed in his personification of Winter:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Pale rugged Winter bending o’er his tread,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">His grizzled hair bedropt with icy dew:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">His eyes a dusky light congealed and dead,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">His robe a tinge of bright ethereal blue.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>From our special point of view the “antiquarianism” -of the Rowley poems might almost be disproved by -the prevalence of abstractions and personifications, -which in most instances are either unmistakably -of the eighteenth century or which testify to the new -Romantic atmosphere now manifesting itself. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>[163]</span> -stock types of frigid abstraction are all brought on -the stage in the manner of the old Moralities, and each -is given an ample speaking part in order to describe -his own characteristics.</p> - -<p>But in addition to these lifeless abstractions, there -are to be found in the Rowley poems a large number -of detailed and elaborate personifications. Some of -these are full length portraits in the Spenserian -manner, and now and then the resulting personification -is striking and beautiful, as when, in “Ælla” -(59), Celmond apostrophizes Hope, or the evocation -of Truth in “The Storie of William Canynge.”</p> - -<p>Chatterton has also in these poems a few personifications -of natural powers, but these are mainly -imitative as in the lines (“Ælla,” 94) reminiscent of -Milton and Pope<a id="FNanchor_230" href="#Footnote_230" class="fnanchor">[230]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Bright sun had in his ruddy robes been dight</div> - <div class="verse indent0">From the red east he flitted with his train,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The hours drew away the robe of night,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Her subtle tapestry was rent in twain.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">But the evocation of the seasons themselves, as in -“Ælla” (32),</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">When Autumn sere and sunburnt doth appear</div> - <div class="verse indent2">With his gold hand gilding the falling leaf</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Bringing up Winter to fulfil the year</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Bearing upon his back the ripened sheaf,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">conveys a fresh and distinct picture that belongs to -the new poetry, and has in it a faint forecast of Keats.</p> - -<p>It remains to look at the work of the later eighteenth -century poets, who announce that if the Romantic -outburst is not yet, it is close at hand. The first and -greatest of these is William Blake. His use of personification -in the narrower sense which is our topic, is,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>[164]</span> -of course, formally connected with the large and -vital question of his symbolism, to treat of which here -in any detail is not part of our scheme.</p> - -<p>In its widest sense, however, Blake’s mysticism -may be connected with the great mediaeval world of -allegory: it is “an eddy of that flood-tide of symbolism -which attained its tide-mark in the magic of the -Middle Ages.”<a id="FNanchor_231" href="#Footnote_231" class="fnanchor">[231]</a> But the poet himself unconsciously -indicates the vital distinction between the new -symbolism, which he inaugurates, and the old, of -which the personified abstractions of his eighteenth -century predecessors may be regarded as faint and -faded relics. “Allegory addressed to the intellectual -powers,” he wrote to Thomas Butts,<a id="FNanchor_232" href="#Footnote_232" class="fnanchor">[232]</a> “while it is -altogether hidden from the corporeal understanding, -is my definition of the most surprising poetry.”</p> - -<p>On its formal side, and reduced to its simplest -expression, we may narrow down for our present -purpose the whole system to the further distinction -drawn by Blake between Allegory and Vision. -Allegory is “formed by the daughters of Memory” -or the deliberate reason; Vision “is surrounded by -the daughters of Inspiration.” Here we have a key -to the classification of personified abstractions in the -eighteenth century, and, for that matter, at any and -every period. Abstractions formed by the deliberate -reason are usually more or less rhetorical embellishments -of poetry, and to this category belong the great -majority of the personifications of eighteenth century -verse. They are “things that relate to moral virtues” -or vices, but they cannot truly be called allegorical, -for allegory is a living thing only so long as the ideas -it embodies are real forces that control our conduct. -The inspired personification, which embodies or brings -with it a real vision, is the truly poetical figure.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>[165]</span></p> - -<p>In Blake’s own practice we find only a few instances -of the typical eighteenth century abstraction. In the -early “Imitation of Spenser” there are one or two -examples:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">Such is sweet Eloquence that does dispel</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Envy and Hate that thirst for human gore,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">whilst others are clearly Elizabethan reminiscences, -like</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Mournful lean Despair</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Brings me yew to deck my grave,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Memory, hither come</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And tune your merry notes.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">“The Island in the Moon” furnishes grotesque -instances, such as that of old Corruption dressed in -yellow vest. In “The Divine Image,” from the -“Songs of Innocence,” while commonplace virtues -are personified, the simple direct manner of the -process distinguishes them from their prototypes -in the earlier moral and didactic poetry of the century:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">For Mercy has a human heart</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Pity a human face</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And Love, the human form divine</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And Peace the human dress.<a id="FNanchor_233" href="#Footnote_233" class="fnanchor">[233]</a></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">An instance of personification raised to a higher power -is found in Blake’s letter to Butts<a id="FNanchor_234" href="#Footnote_234" class="fnanchor">[234]</a> beginning</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">With Happiness stretch’d across the hills,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In a cloud that dewy sweetness distils,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">whilst elsewhere personified abstractions appear with -new epithets, the most striking example being in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>[166]</span> -“Earth’s Answer,” from the “Songs of Experience”:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Prison’d on watry shore</div> - <div class="verse indent0"><i>Starry</i> Jealousy does keep my den.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Moreover, Blake’s figures are often presented in an -imaginative guise that helps to emphasize the gulf -fixed between him and the majority of his contemporaries -and predecessors. Thus “Joy” is twice -depicted as a bird:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Joys upon our branches sit</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Chirping loud and singing sweet</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Song”—“Poetical Sketches”)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">and</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Welcome, stranger, to this place</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Where Joy doth sit on every bough.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Song by a Shepherd”)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In Blake’s youthful work the personifications of -natural powers, though in most cases clearly imitative -are yet striking in their beauty and power of suggestion. -The influence of “Ossian” is seen in such “prose” -personifications as “The Veiled Evening walked -solitary down the Western hills and Silence reposed -in the valley” (“The Couch of Death”), and “Who -is this that with unerring step dares to tempt the wild -where only Nature’s foot has trod, ’Tis Contemplation, -daughter of the Grey Morning” (“Contemplation”). -Here also are evocations of the seasons which, whatever -they may owe to Thomson or Collins, are new in that -we actually get a picture of Spring with “dewy locks” -as she looks down</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Thro’ the clear windows of the morning</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">of summer with</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">ruddy limbs and flourishing hair,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">of the “jolly autumn,”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">laden with fruits and stained</div> - <div class="verse indent0">With the blood of the grape;</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>[167]</span></p> - -<p class="noindent">and of winter,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">a dreadful monster whose skin clings</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To her strong bones.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Thomson, we have seen, had not been altogether -successful in his personification of the seasons: here -they are brought vividly and fittingly before us. -When we think of the hosts of puppets that in the -guise of personified abstractions move mechanically -through so much of eighteenth century verse, and -compare them with the beautiful visions evoked by -Blake, we know from this evidence alone that the -reign of one of the chief excesses of the poetical -language of the time is near its end. It is not that -Blake’s conceptions are all flesh and blood creations: -often they are rather ethereal beings, having something -in common with the evanescent images of -Collins. But the rich and lofty imagination that has -given them birth is more than sufficient to secure their -acceptance as realities capable of living and moving -before us; the classical abstraction, cold and lifeless, -has now become the Romantic personification clothed -in beauty and animated with life and inner meaning.</p> - -<p>In the year of the “Poetical Sketches” (1783) -George Crabbe published “The Village,” his first -work to meet with any success. But whilst Blake -gloriously announces the emancipation of English -poetry, Crabbe for the most part is still writing on in -the old dead style. The heroic couplets of his earliest -works have all the rhetorical devices of his predecessors -in that measure, and amongst these the prevalence of -personified abstractions is not the least noteworthy. -The subject of his first poem of any length, “Inebriety” -(1775), afforded him plenty of scope in this direction, -and he availed himself fully of the opportunity.<a id="FNanchor_235" href="#Footnote_235" class="fnanchor">[235]</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>[168]</span> -The absence of capital letters from some of the instances -in this poem may perhaps be taken to reflect a confusion -in the poet’s mind as to whether he was indulging in -personification or in mere abstraction, to adopt -Coleridge’s remark anent Gray’s use of this figure.<a id="FNanchor_236" href="#Footnote_236" class="fnanchor">[236]</a></p> - -<p>In “The Village,” Crabbe’s first poem of any real -merit, there is a more sparing use, yet instances are -even here plentiful, whilst his employment of the -device had not died out when in the early years of the -nineteenth century he resumed his literary activities. -Among the poems published in the 1807 volume there -is a stiff and cumbrous allegory entitled “The Birth -of Flattery,” which, introduced by three Spenserian -stanzas, depicts Flattery as the child of Poverty and -Cunning, attended by guardian satellites, “Care,” -“Torture,” “Misery,” <i>et hoc omne genus</i>. They -linger on to the time of the “Posthumous Tales,” -where there is a sad, slow procession of them, almost, -we might imagine, as if they were conscious of the -doom pronounced years before, and of the fact that -they were strangers in a strange land:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Yet Resignation in the house is seen</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Subdued Affliction, Piety serene,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And Hope, for ever striving to instil</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The balm for grief, “It is the heavenly will.”</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(XVIII, 299 foll.)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">It is not perhaps too fanciful to see in this lament a -palinode of the personifications themselves, sadly -resigning themselves to an inevitable fate.</p> - -<p>Towards the ultimate triumph of the new poetry -the work of William Cowper represents perhaps the -most important contribution, judging at least from -the viewpoint both of its significance as indicating new -tendencies in literature, and of its immediate influence -on readers and writers. In the narrow sense of style<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>[169]</span> -the “simplicity” which was Cowper’s ideal was only -occasionally marred by the conventional phraseology -and bombastic diction which he himself laid to the -charge of the “classical” school, and his gradual -emancipation from the tenets and practices of that -school is reflected in his steady advance towards the -purity of expression for which he craved. And in -this advance it is to be noted that the gradual disappearance -of personified abstractions is one of the -minor landmarks.</p> - -<p>The earlier work furnishes instances of the common -type of mere abstraction where there is no attempt -to give any real personification. Even in the “Olney -Hymns” (1779) such verses as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">But unbelief, self-will</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Self-righteousness and pride,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">How often do they steal</div> - <div class="verse indent2">My weapon from my side</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">only seem to present the old mechanical figures in a -new setting.<a id="FNanchor_237" href="#Footnote_237" class="fnanchor">[237]</a> The long series of satiric poems that -followed draw freely upon the same “mythology,” and -indeed the satires that appear in this 1782 volume -recall to some extent the style of Churchill.<a id="FNanchor_238" href="#Footnote_238" class="fnanchor">[238]</a> There<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>[170]</span> -is a somewhat similar, though more restricted, use of -personified abstraction, and, as in Churchill’s satires, -virtues and vices are invested with slight human -qualities and utilized to enforce moral and didactic -truths. Thus,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">Peace follows Virtue as its sure reward</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And Pleasure brings as surely in her train</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Remorse and Sorrow and Vindictive Pain.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Progress of Error”)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Among the short pieces in this volume are the -famous lines put into the mouth of Alexander Selkirk, -which contain a fine example of the apostrophic -personification, the oft-quoted</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">O Solitude! where are thy charms</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That sages have seen in thy face,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">where the passion and sincerity of the appeal give -dignity and animation to an otherwise lifeless abstraction, -and, despite the absence of detail, really call up -a definite picture.</p> - -<p>From the blank verse of his most famous work -nearly every trace of the mechanical abstraction has -disappeared—a great advance when we remember -that “The Task” is in the direct line of the moral -and didactic verse that had occupied so many of -Cowper’s predecessors.</p> - -<p>The first Books (“The Sofa”) contain but one -instance and that in a playful manner:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Ingenious Fancy, never better pleased</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Than when employed to accommodate the fair.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(ll. 72 foll.)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The Fourth Book (“The Winter Evening”) is -entirely free from instances of the mechanical abstraction, -but the vision of Oriental Empire, and the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>[171]</span> -fascination of the East, is effectively evoked in the -personification of the land of the Moguls:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Is India free? and does she wear her plumed</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And jewelled turban with a smile of peace.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(ll. 28-9)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“The Task,” however, has two examples of the -detailed personification. The first is an attempt, in -the manner of Spenser, to give a full length portrait -of “a sage called Discipline”:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">His eye was meek and gentle and a smile</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Played on his lips, and in his speech was heard</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Paternal sweetness</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(Bk. II, l. 702 foll.)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">where there is a depth of feeling, as well as a gentle -satiric touch in the delineation, that animate it into -something more than a mere stock image; it embodies -perhaps a reminiscence of one who at some time or -other had guided the destinies of the youthful Cowper.</p> - -<p>The second instance is of a more imaginative kind. -It is the presentation, in the Fourth Book, of Winter, -with</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent6">forehead wrapt in cloud</div> - <div class="verse indent0">A leafless branch thy sceptre,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">almost the only occasion on which Cowper, despite -the nature of his subject, has personified the powers -and orders of nature.<a id="FNanchor_239" href="#Footnote_239" class="fnanchor">[239]</a> Cowper has also invested the -Evening with human attributes, and despite the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>[172]</span> -imitative ring of the lines,<a id="FNanchor_240" href="#Footnote_240" class="fnanchor">[240]</a> and the “quaintness” of -the images employed, there is a new beauty in the -evocation:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Come, Evening, once again, season of peace;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Return, sweet Evening, and continue long!</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Methinks I see thee in the streaky west</div> - <div class="verse indent0">With matron step slow-moving, while the night</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Treads on thy sweeping train.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The darkness soon to fall over the landscape is suggested -in the added appeal to Evening to come</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">Not sumptuously adorned, nor needing aid</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Like homely-featured Night, of clustering gems,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">where the compound epithet emphasizes the contrast -between the quiet beauty of the twilight skyscape -and the star-sprinkled gloom of the night.</p> - -<p>Finally, one of the last instances of the personified -abstraction to be found in the work of Cowper may -perhaps be taken to reflect something of the changes -that have been silently working underneath. This -is in the lines that suddenly bring “Yardley Oak” -to an end:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent6">History not wanted yet</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Leaned on her elbow watching Time whose course</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Eventful should supply her with a theme.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>At first glance we seem to have here but the old -conventional figures, but there is an imaginative -touch that helps to suggest a new world of romance. -“History leaning on her elbow” has something at -least of that mysterious power of suggestion that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>[173]</span> -Wordsworth himself was to convey by means of the -romantic personification, such as those shadowy -figures—Fear and Trembling Hope, and Death the -Skeleton, and Time the Shadow—which gathered round -and hallowed the shade of the yew trees in Borrowdale.</p> - -<p>But even while the old poetry was in its death -agony a champion was at hand, daring to maintain a -lost cause both by precept and example. This was -Erasmus Darwin, whose once-famous work “The -Botanic Garden,” with its two parts, “The Loves of -the Plants” (1789), and “The Economy of Vegetation” -(1791), has earlier been mentioned.</p> - -<p>It met with immediate success. Darwin seems to -have fascinated his contemporaries, so that even -Coleridge was constrained in 1802 to call him “the -first literary character in Europe.”<a id="FNanchor_241" href="#Footnote_241" class="fnanchor">[241]</a> He had, however, -little real admiration for “The Botanic Garden,” -and later expressed his opinion unmistakably.<a id="FNanchor_242" href="#Footnote_242" class="fnanchor">[242]</a> “The -Botanic Garden” soon died a natural death, hastened -no doubt by the ridicule it excited, but inevitably -because of the fact that the poem is an unconscious -<i>reductio ad absurdum</i> of a style already doomed.<a id="FNanchor_243" href="#Footnote_243" class="fnanchor">[243]</a> -The special matter with which we are concerned in -this chapter had for Darwin a marked significance, -since it fitted in admirably with his general doctrine or -dogma that nothing is strictly poetic except what is -presented in visual image. His “theory” was that, -just as the old mythologies had created a whole world -of personified abstractions to explain or interpret -natural phenomena of every description, exactly by -the same method the scientific thought and developments<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>[174]</span> -of his own age could be poetically expounded so -as to captivate both the hearts and minds of his -readers. It was his ambition, he said, “to enlist -imagination under the banner of science.” This -“theory” is expounded in one of the interludes placed -between the different cantos. “The poet writes -principally to the eye,” and allegory and personifications -are to be commended because they give visible -form to abstract conceptions.<a id="FNanchor_244" href="#Footnote_244" class="fnanchor">[244]</a> Putting his theory -into practice, Darwin then proceeds with great zeal -to personify the varied and various scientific facts -or hypotheses of physics, botany, etc., metamorphosing -the forces of the air and other elements into sylphs -and gnomes and so on. Thus,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Soon shall thy arm, Unconquered</div> - <div class="verse indent8">Steam afar</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Drag the slow barge or drive the</div> - <div class="verse indent8">Rapid car.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(E.V., Canto I, 289, 290)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In the same way all the plants, as classified by -Linnæus, are personified as “swains” or “belles” -who “love” and quarrel, and finally make it up -just as ordinary mortals do:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">All wan and shivering in the leafless glade</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The sad Anemone reclin’d her head</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(L.P., Canto I, 315-6)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Retiring Lichen climbs the topmost stone</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And drinks the aerial solitude alone.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(<i>Ibid.</i>, 347-8)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The whole poem is thus one long series of mechanical -personifications which baffle and bewilder and finally<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>[175]</span> -wear out the reader. It is strange now to think that -“The Botanic Garden” was at the height of its vogue -when the “Lyrical Ballads” were being planned and -written, but the easy-flowing couplets of Darwin, -and the “tinsel and glitter” of his diction, together -with most of the “science” he was at such pains to -expound (though he was a shrewd and even prophetic -inquirer in certain branches, such as medicine and -biology), have now little more than a faint historical -interest. Yet his theory and practice of poetry—the -“painted mists that occasionally rise from the -marshes at the foot of Parnassus,” Coleridge called -them—so dominated the literature of the last decade -of the eighteenth century as to be capable of captivating -the mind of the poet who was about to sound -their death-knell.</p> - -<p>While Wordsworth inveighed against “personification” -in the great manifesto, his earliest poetry -shows clearly, as has been noted, that in this as in -other respects he had fallen under the spell and -influence of “The Botanic Garden.” The “Evening -Walk” and the “Descriptive Sketches” swarm with -instances of personifications of the type that had -flourished apace for a hundred years, “Impatience,” -“Pain,” “Independence,” “Hope,” “Oppression,” -and dozens similar.<a id="FNanchor_245" href="#Footnote_245" class="fnanchor">[245]</a> There is thus a certain comic -irony in the fact that the poet, who was the first to -sound the revolt against “personifications” and -similar “heightenings” of style, should have embarked -on his literary career with the theft of a good deal of the -thunder of the enemy. Later, when Wordsworth’s -true ideal of style had evolved itself, this feature of -the two poems was in great measure discarded. The -first (1793) draft of the “Descriptive Sketches” contains -over seventy examples of more or less frigid<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>[176]</span> -abstractions; in the final draft of the poem these -have dwindled down to about a score.<a id="FNanchor_246" href="#Footnote_246" class="fnanchor">[246]</a></p> - -<p>In our detailed examination of personification in -eighteenth century poetry we have seen that in -general it includes three main types. There is first -the mere abstraction, whose distinctive sign is the -presence of a capital letter; it may be, and often is, -qualified by epithets suggestive of human attributes, -but there is little or no attempt to give a definite -picture or evoke a distinctive image. This is the -prevalent type, and it is against these invertebrates -that the criticism of Wordsworth and Coleridge was -really directed.</p> - -<p>Their widespread use in the eighteenth century is -due to various causes. In the first place they represent -a survival, however artificial and lifeless, of the great -mediaeval world of allegory, with its symbolic representation -derived from the pagan and classical -mythologies, of the attributes of the divine nature, -and of the qualities of the human mind, as living -entities. But by now the life had departed from -them; they were hopelessly effete and had become -consciously conventional and fictitious.<a id="FNanchor_247" href="#Footnote_247" class="fnanchor">[247]</a></p> - -<p>They also owed their appearance, as indicated -above, to more definite literary causes and “fashions”; -they swarm especially, for instance, in the odes of -the mid-century, the appearance of which was mainly -due to the influence of “L’Allegro” and “Il Penseroso.” -The virtues and vices, the “shadowy tribes -of the mind,” which are there unceasingly invoked -and dismissed are mechanical imitations of the figures<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>[177]</span> -that the genius of Milton had been able to inspire -with real poetic value and life. They play -their part similarly and just as mechanically in -the didactic and satirical verse characteristic of the -period.</p> - -<p>But whether regarded as a sort of literary flotsam -and jetsam, or as one of the symptoms of “Milton-mad” -verse, these personifications are nearly all -enfeebled by weaknesses inherent in their very genesis. -Only a deep and intense conception of a mental -abstraction can justify any attempt to personify -it poetically; otherwise the inevitable result is a -mere rhetorical ornament, which fails because it -conveys neither the “vast vagueness” of the abstract, -nor any clear-cut pictorial conception of the person. -Even with Gray, as with the mere poetasters who -used this figure to excess, it has the effect of a dull -and wearisome mannerism; only here and there, as -in the sonorous lines in which Johnson personified -Worth held down by Poverty, does the display of -personal emotion give any dignity and depth to the -image.</p> - -<p>Again, the very freedom with which the conventional -abstractions are employed, allowing them to be -introduced on every possible occasion, tends to render -the device absurd, if not ludicrous. For the versifiers -seemed to have at their beck and call a whole phantom -army upon which they could draw whenever they -chose; for them they are veritable gods from the -machines. But so mechanical are their entrances and -exits that the reader rarely suspects them to be -intended for “flesh and blood creations,” though, it -may be added, the poetaster himself would be slow -to make any such claim. To him they are merely -part of his stock-in-trade, like the old extravagances, -the “conceits,” and far-fetched similes of the Metaphysical -school.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>[178]</span></p> - -<p>The second type of personification found in -eighteenth century verse needs but brief mention -here. It is the detailed personification where a full-length -portrait is attempted. Like the mere abstraction -it, too, is a survival of mediaeval allegory, and it -is also most often a merely mechanical literary process, -reflecting no real image in the poet’s mind. It is not -found to any large extent, and in a certain measure -owes its presence to the renewed interest in Spenser. -The Spenserian imitations themselves are comparatively -free from this type, a sort of negative -indication of the part played by the revival in the new -Romantic movement.</p> - -<p>The third type is perhaps best described as the -embryonic personification. It consists in the attributing -of an individual and living existence to the -visible forms and invisible powers of nature, a disposition, -deeply implanted in the human mind from -the very dawn of existence, which has left in the -mythologies and creeds of the world a permanent -impress of its power. In eighteenth century literature -this type received its first true expression in the work -of Thompson and Collins, whilst its progress, until it -becomes merged and fused in the pantheism of Wordsworth -and Shelley, may be taken as a measure of -the advance of the Romantic movement in one of its -most vital aspects.</p> - -<p>Regarded on its purely formal side, that is, as part -and parcel of the <i>language</i> of poetry, the use of personification -may then be naturally linked up with the -generally literary development of the period. In -the “classical” verse proper the figure employed is, -as it were, a mere word and no more; it is the reflex -of precisely as much individual imagination as the -stock phrases of descriptive verse, <i>the flowery meads</i>, -<i>painted birds</i>, and so on. There was no writing with -the inner eye on the object, and the abstraction as a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>[179]</span> -result was a mere rhetorical label, corresponding to -no real vision of things.</p> - -<p>The broad line of advance in this, as in other aspects -of eighteenth century literature, passes through the -work of those who are now looked upon as the forerunners -of the Romantic revolt. The frigid abstraction, -a mere word distinguished by a capital letter, -is to be found in “The Seasons,” but alongside there -is also an approach to definite pictorial representation -of the object personified. In the odes of Collins the -advent of the pictorial image is definitely and triumphantly -announced, and though the mechanical -abstractions linger on even until the new poetry has -well established itself, they are only to be found in -the work of those who either, like Johnson and Crabbe, -belong definitely as regards style to the old order, or -like Goldsmith and, to a less extent, Cowper, reflect -as it were sort of half-way attitude towards the old -and the new.</p> - -<p>With Blake the supremacy of the artistic personification -is assured. His mystical philosophy in its -widest aspect leads him to an identification of the -divine nature with the human, but sometimes this -signification is to be seen merging into a more conscious -symbolism, or even sinking into that “totally -distinct and inferior kind of poetry” known as -allegory. Yet with Blake the poet, as well as Blake -the artist, the use of personified abstraction is an -integral part of the symbolism he desired to perpetuate. -His imagination ran strongly in that -direction, and it has been aptly pointed out that his -most intense mental and emotional experiences -became for him spiritual persons. But even where -the presence of a capital letter is still the only distinguishing -mark of the personification, he is -able, either by the mere context or by the addition -of a suggestive epithet, to transform and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>[180]</span> -transfigure the abstraction into a poetical emblem -of the doctrine whose apostle he believed himself -to be.</p> - -<p>It is hardly necessary to say that the use of personification -and abstraction, even in their narrower -applications as rhetorical ornaments or artifices of -verse, were not banished from English poetry as a -result of Wordsworth’s criticism. Ruskin has drawn -a penetrating distinction between personification and -symbolism,<a id="FNanchor_248" href="#Footnote_248" class="fnanchor">[248]</a> and it was in this direction perhaps that -Wordsworth’s protest may be said to have been of the -highest value. His successors, for the most part, -distrustful of mere abstractions, and impatient of -allegory, with its attendant dangers of lifeless and -mechanical personification, were not slow to recognize -the inherent possibilities of symbolism as an artistic -medium for the expression of individual moods and -emotions, and it is not too much to say that in its -successful employment English poetry has since won -some of its greatest triumphs.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>[181]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE DICTION OF POETRY</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>After years of comparative neglect, and, it -must be admitted, a good deal of uncritical -disparagement, the “age of prose and reason” -would seem at last to have come into its own. Or at -any rate during recent years there has become evident -a disposition to look more kindly on a period which -has but seldom had justice done to it. The label -which Matthew Arnold’s dictum attached to a good -portion, if not the whole, of the eighteenth century -seems to imply a period of arid and prosaic rationalism -in which “the shaping spirit of imagination” had no -abiding place, and this has no doubt been partly -responsible for the persistency of an unjust conception. -But it is now more generally recognized that, -in prose and even in poetry, the seventy or eighty -years, which begin when Dryden died, and end when -William Blake was probably writing down the first -drafts of his “Poetical Sketches,” had some definite -and far from despicable legacies to pass on to its -successors, to the writers in whom the Romantic -revival was soon to be triumphantly manifested. -The standards in all branches of literature were to be -different, but between “classical” and “romantic” -there was not to be, and indeed could not be, any great -gulf fixed. There was continuity and much was -handed on. What had to be transformed (and of -course the process is to be seen at work in the very<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>[182]</span> -height of the Augustan supremacy) were the aims and -methods of literature, both its matter in large measure, -and its style.<a id="FNanchor_249" href="#Footnote_249" class="fnanchor">[249]</a></p> - -<p>It is the poetry of the period with which we are -specially concerned, and it is in poetry that the -distinction between the old order and the new was -to be sharpest; for the leaders of the revolt had been -gradually winning new fields, or re-discovering old -ones, for poetry, and thus in more than one sense the -way had been prepared for both the theory and -practice of Wordsworth. Then came the great -manifestoes, beginning with the Preface of 1798, followed -by an expansion in 1800 and again in 1802; -fifteen years later, Coleridge, with his penetrating -analysis of the theories advanced by his friend and -fellow-worker, began a controversy, which still to-day -forms a fruitful theme of discussion.</p> - -<p>Wordsworth, in launching his famous declaration -of principle on the language fit and proper for metrical -composition, had no doubt especially in mind the -practice of his eighteenth century predecessors. But -it has to be remembered that the <i>Prefaces</i> deal in -reality with the whole genesis of “what is usually -called poetic diction,” and that the avowed aim and -object was to sweep away “a large portion of phrases -and figures of speech, which from father to son have -long been regarded as the common inheritance of -poets.” The circumstances of the time, and perhaps -the examples chosen by Wordsworth to illustrate -his thesis, have too often led to his attack being -considered as concerned almost entirely with the -poetical language of the eighteenth century. Hence, -whenever the phrase “poetic diction” is mentioned -as a term of English literary history, more often than -not it is to the eighteenth century that the attention<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>[183]</span> -is directed, and the phrase itself has taken on a -derogatory tinge, expressive of a stereotyped language, -imitative, mechanical, lifeless. For in the reaction -against eighteenth century styles, and especially -against the polished heroic couplet, there arose a -tendency to make the diction of the period an object -of undistinguishing depreciation, to class it all in one -category, as a collection of conventional words and -phrases of which all poets and versifiers felt themselves -at liberty to make use.</p> - -<p>An actual analysis of eighteenth century poetry -shows us that this criticism is both deficient and misleading; -it is misleading because it neglects to take -any account of that eighteenth century poetical -language which Pope, inheriting it from Dryden, -brought to perfection, and which was so admirable -a vehicle for the satiric or didactic thought it had to -convey; it is deficient in that it concentrates attention -mainly on one type or variety of the language, -used both by poets and poetasters, and persists in -labelling this type either as the “eighteenth century -style proper,” or, as if the phrases were synonymous, -“the Pope style.”</p> - -<p>One formula could no more suffice in itself for the -poetic styles of the eighteenth century than for those -of the nineteenth century; we may say, rather, that -there are then to be distinguished at least four distinct -varieties or elements of poetical diction, in the narrow -sense of the term, though of course it is scarcely -necessary to add that none of them is found in complete -isolation from the others. There is first the -stock descriptive language, the usual vehicle of expression -for that large amount of eighteenth century -verse where, in the words of Taine, we can usually -find “the same diction, the same apostrophes, the -same manner of placing the epithet and rounding the -period,” and “regarding which we know beforehand<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>[184]</span> -with what poetic ornaments it will be adorned.”<a id="FNanchor_250" href="#Footnote_250" class="fnanchor">[250]</a> In -reading this verse, with its lifeless, abstract diction, -we seldom or never feel that we have been brought -into contact with the real thoughts or feelings of -living men. Its epithets are artificial, imitative, -conventional; though their glare and glitter may -occasionally give us a certain pleasure, they rarely -or never make any appeal to our sensibility. As -someone has said, it is like wandering about in a land -of empty phrases. Only here and there, as, for -instance, in Dyer’s “Grongar Hill,” have the <i>gradus</i> -epithets taken on a real charm and beauty in virtue -of the spontaneity and sincerity with which the poet -has been inspired.</p> - -<p>The received doctrine that it was due in the main -to Pope’s “Homer” is unjust; many of the characteristics -of this conventional poetical language were -established long before Pope produced his translation. -They are found to an equal, if not greater, extent in -Dryden, and if it is necessary to establish a fountain-head, -“Paradise Lost” will be found to contain most -of the words and phrases which the eighteenth century -versifiers worked to death. If Pope is guilty in any -degree it is only because in his work the heroic couplet -was brought to a high pitch of perfection; no doubt -too the immense popularity of the “Homer” translation -led to servile imitation of many of its words, -phrases, and similes. Yet it is unjust to saddle Pope -with the lack of original genius of so many of his -successors and imitators.</p> - -<p>But the underlying cause of this conventional -language must be sought elsewhere than in the mere -imitation of any poet or poets. A passage from the -“Prelude” supplies perhaps a clue to one of the -fundamental conditions that had enslaved poetry in -the shackles of a stereotyped language. It takes the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>[185]</span> -form of a sort of literary confession by Wordsworth -as to the method of composing his first poems, which, -we have seen, are almost an epitome of the poetical -vices against which his manifestoes rebelled. He -speaks of</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20">the trade in classic niceties</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The dangerous craft of culling term and phrase</div> - <div class="verse indent0">From languages that want the living voice</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To carry meaning to the natural heart.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“Prelude,” Bk. VI, ll. 109-112)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">In these lines we have summed up one of the main -Romantic indictments against the practice of the -“classical” poets, who were too wont to regard the -language of poetry as a mere collection or accepted -aggregate of words, phrases, and similes, empty of all -personal feeling and emotion.<a id="FNanchor_251" href="#Footnote_251" class="fnanchor">[251]</a></p> - -<p>Wordsworth, too, in this passage not unfairly describes -the sort of atmosphere in which diction of the stock -eighteenth century type flourished. The neo-classical -interpretation of the Aristotelian doctrine of poetry -as an imitation had by the time of Pope and his school -resulted in a real critical confusion, which saw the -essence of poetry in a slavish adherence to accepted -models, and regarded its ideal language as choice -flowers and figures of speech consecrated to poetry -by traditional use, and used by the poet very much -as the painter uses his colours, that is, as pigments -laid on from the outside. That this doctrine of -imitation and parallelism directly encourages the -growth of a set poetic diction is obvious; the poet’s -language need not be the reflection of a genuine -emotion felt in the mind: he could always find his -words, phrases, and figures of speech in accepted and -consecrated models.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>[186]</span></p> - -<p>The reaction against this artificial diction is fundamental -in the Romantic revolt from another cause -than that of poetic form. The stock poetic language, -we have seen, occurs mainly in what may be called -the “nature” poetry of the period, and its set words -and phrases are for the most part descriptive terms of -outdoor sights and sounds. Among the many descriptions -or explanations of the Romantic movement is -that it was in its essence a “return to Nature,” which -is sometimes taken to imply that “Nature,” as we in -the twentieth century think of it, was a sudden new -vision, of which glimpses were first caught by James -Thomson, and which finally culminated in Wordsworth’s -“confession of faith.” Yet there was, of -course, plenty of “nature poetry” in the neo-classical -period; but it was for the most part nature from the -point of view of the Town, or as seen from the study -window with a poetical “Thesaurus” at the writer’s -side, or stored in his memory as a result of his reading. -It was not written with “the eye on the object.” -More fatal still, if the neo-classical poets did look, -they could see little beauty in the external world; -they “had lost the best of the senses; they had -ceased to perceive with joy and interpret with insight -the colour and outline of things, the cadence of sound -and motion, the life of creatures.”<a id="FNanchor_252" href="#Footnote_252" class="fnanchor">[252]</a></p> - -<p>This sterility or atrophy of the senses had thus a -real connexion with the question of a conventional -poetical language, for the descriptive diction with its -stock words for the sea, the rivers, the mountains, the -sky, the stars, the birds of the air and their music, -for all the varied sights and sounds of outdoor -life—all this is simply a reflex of the lack of -genuine feeling towards external nature. Keats, with -his ecstatic delight in Nature, quickly and aptly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>[187]</span> -pilloried this fatal weakness in the eighteenth century -versifiers:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The winds of heaven blew, the ocean roll’d</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Its gathering waves—ye felt it not. The blue</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Bared its eternal bosom, and the dew</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of summer nights collected still to make</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The morning precious: beauty was awake!</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Why were ye not awake! But ye were dead</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To things ye knew not of—were closely wed</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To musty laws lined out with wretched rule</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And compass vile: so that ye taught a school</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of dolts to smooth, inlay, and clip and fit</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Till, like the certain wands of Jacob’s wit,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Their verses tallied; Easy was the task</div> - <div class="verse indent0">A thousand handicraftsmen wore the mask</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of Poesy.<a id="FNanchor_253" href="#Footnote_253" class="fnanchor">[253]</a></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It is obvious that two great changes or advances -were necessary, if poetry was to be freed from the -bondage of this conventional diction. In the first -place, the poet must reject root and branch the traditional -stock of words and phrases that may once have -been inspiring, but had become lifeless and mechanical -long before they fell into disuse; he must write with -his eye on the object, and translate his impressions -into fresh terms endowed with real, imaginative power. -And this first condition would naturally lead to a -second, requiring every word and phrase to be a -spontaneous reflection of genuine feeling felt in the -presence of Nature and her vast powers.</p> - -<p>The neo-classical poetry proper was not without -verse which partly satisfied these conditions; direct -contact with nature was never entirely lost. Wordsworth, -as we know, gave honourable mention<a id="FNanchor_254" href="#Footnote_254" class="fnanchor">[254]</a> to -“The Nocturnal Reverie” of Anne, Countess -Winchilsea, written at the very height of the neo-classical -supremacy, in which external nature is<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>[188]</span> -described with simplicity and fidelity, though there -is little trace of any emotion roused in the writer’s -mind by the sights and sounds of outdoor life. And -every now and then, amid the arid and monotonous -stretches of so much eighteenth century verse, we are -startled into lively interest by stumbling across, often -in the most obscure and unexpected corners, a phrase -or a verse to remind us that Nature, and all that the -term implies, was still making its powerful appeal -to the hearts and minds of men, that its beauty and -mystery was still being expressed in simple and heartfelt -language. Thomas Dyer’s “Grongar Hill” has -already been mentioned; it was written in 1726, -the year of the publication of Thompson’s “Winter.” -Dyer, for all we know, may have the priority, but in -any case we see him here leading back poetry to the -sights and sounds and scents of external nature, which -he describes, not merely as a painter with a good eye -for landscape, but as a lover who feels the thrill and -call of the countryside, and can give exquisite expression -to his thoughts and emotions. We have only -to recall such passages as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Who, the purple evening lie,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">On the mountain’s lonely van;</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or even his tree catalogue,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The gloomy pine, the poplar blue,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The yellow beech, the sable yew,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The slender fir, that taper grows,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The sturdy oak with broad-spread boughs;</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">How close and small the hedges lie;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">What streaks of meadow cross the eye!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">A little rule, a little sway,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">A sun-beam on a winter’s day,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Is all the proud and mighty have</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Between the cradle and the grave—</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>[189]</span></p> - -<p class="noindent">to recognize that already the supremacy of Pope and -his school of town poets is seriously threatened.</p> - -<p>Here too is a short passage which might not unfairly -be assigned to Wordsworth himself.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Would I again were with you, O ye dales</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of Tyne, and ye most ancient woodlands, where,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Oft as the giant flood obliquely strides</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And his banks open, and his lawns extend,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Stops short the pleased traveller to view,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Presiding o’er the scene, some rustic tower</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Founded by Norman or by Saxon hands:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">O ye Northumbrian shades, which overlook</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The rocky pavement and the mossy falls</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of solitary Wensbeck’s limpid stream,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">How gladly I recall your well-known seats</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Beloved of old, and that delightful time</div> - <div class="verse indent0">When all alone, for many a summer’s day,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I wandered through your calm recesses, led</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In silence by some powerful hand unseen.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">It is from Mark Akenside’s “Pleasures of the -Imagination” (Bk IV, ll. 31 foll.). And so, too, is this:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent8">the meadow’s fragrant hedge,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In spring time when the woodlands first are green</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(Book II, 175-6)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">which takes us far away from the formal conventional -landscapes of the Augustans.</p> - -<p>These two are among the more famous of their time, -but a close search amongst the minor poetry of the -mid-eighteenth century will bring to light many a -surprising instance of poetry written with an eye on -the object, as in John Cunningham’s (1729-1773) -“Day,”<a id="FNanchor_255" href="#Footnote_255" class="fnanchor">[255]</a> where the sights and sounds of the countryside -are simply and freshly brought before us:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Swiftly from the mountain’s brow,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Shadows, nurs’d by night, retire:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And the peeping sun-beam, now,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Paints with gold the village spire.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>[190]</span> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Philomel forsakes the thorn,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Plaintive where she prates at night;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And the Lark, to meet the morn,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Soars beyond the shepherd’s sight.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">From the low-roof’d cottage ridge,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">See the chatt’ring Swallow spring;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Darting through the one-arch’d bridge,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Quick she dips her dappled wing.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">But the great bulk of neo-classical verse is unaffected -by the regained and quickened outlook on the external -world. It is in the forerunners of the Romantic -revolt that this latter development is to be most -plainly noted: when, as the result of many and varied -causes English poets were inspired to use their eyes -again, they were able, slowly and in a somewhat -shallow manner at first, afterwards quickly and -profoundly, to “sense” the beauty of the external -world, its mysterious emanations of power and beauty. -This quickening and final triumph of the artistic -sense naturally revealed itself in expression; the -conventional words and epithets were really doomed -from the time of “Grongar Hill” and “The Seasons,” -and a new language was gradually forged to express -the fresh, vivid perceptions peculiar to each poet, -according as his senses interpreted for him the face of -the world.</p> - -<p>A second variety of eighteenth century diction, or, -more strictly speaking, another conventional embellishment -of the poetry of the period, is found in that -widespread use of personified abstraction which is -undoubtedly one of the greatest, perhaps <i>the</i> greatest, -of its faults. Not only the mere versifiers, but also -many of its greatest poets, make abundant use of -cut and dried personifications, whose sole claim to -vitality rests most often on the presence of a capital -letter. It is a favourite indulgence of the writers,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>[191]</span> -not only of the old order, but also of those who, like -Collins and Gray, announce the advent of the new, and -not even the presence of genius could prevent its -becoming a poetical abuse of the worst kind. Whether -it be regarded as a survival of a symbolic system from -which the life had long since departed, or as a conventional -device arising from the theory of poetical -ornament handed down by the neo-classicists, its -main effect was to turn a large proportion of eighteenth -century poetry into mere rhetorical verse. It is this -variety of poetical language that might with justice -be labelled as the eighteenth century style in the -derogatory sense of the term. In its cumulative -effect on the poetry of the period it is perhaps more -vicious than the stock diction which is the usual target -of criticism.</p> - -<p>Two other varieties of eighteenth century diction -represent an endeavour to replace, or rather reinforce -the stereotyped words, phrases, and similes by new -forms. The first of these is the widespread use of -latinized words and constructions, chiefly in the -blank verse poems written in imitation of Milton, but -not only there. The second is the use of archaic and -pseudo-archaic words by the writers whose ambition -it was to catch something of the music and melody of -the Spenserian stanza. Both these movements thus -reflected the desire for a change, and though the -tendencies, which they reflect, are in a certain sense -conventional and imitative in that they simply seek -to replace the accepted diction by new forms derived -respectively from Milton and Spenser, one of them at -least had in the sequel a real and revivifying influence -on the language of poetry.</p> - -<p>The pedantic and cumbrous terms, which swarm -in the majority of the Miltonic imitations, were -artificial creations, rarely imbued with any trace of -poetic power. Where they do not actually arise from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>[192]</span> -deliberate attempts to imitate the high Miltonic manner, -they probably owe their appearance to more or less -conscious efforts to make the new blank verse as -attractive as possible to a generation of readers -accustomed to the polished smoothness of the couplet. -Though such terms linger on until the time of Cowper, -and even invade the works of Wordsworth himself, -romanticism utterly rejected them, not only because -of a prejudice in favour of “Saxon simplicity,” but -also because such artificial formations lacked almost -completely that mysterious power of suggestion and -association in which lies the poetical appeal of words. -Wordsworth, it is true, could win from them real -poetic effects, and so occasionally could Thomson, -but in the main they are even more dead and dreary -than the old abstract diction of the neo-classicals.</p> - -<p>The tendency towards archaism was much more -successful in this respect, because it was based on a -firmer foundation. In harking back to “the poet’s -poet,” the eighteenth century versifiers were at least -on a right track, and though it was hardly possible, -even with the best of them, that more than a faint -simulacrum of the music and melody of the “Faerie -Queene” could be captured merely by drawing drafts -on Spenser’s diction, yet they at least helped to blaze -a way for the great men who were to come later. -The old unknown writers of the ballads and Spenser -and the Elizabethans generally were to be looked -upon as treasure trove to which Keats and Scott and -Beddoes and many another were constantly to turn -in their efforts to revivify the language of poetry, to -restore to it what it had lost of freshness and vigour -and colour.</p> - -<p>The varieties or embellishments of poetical diction, -which have just been characterized, represent the -special language of eighteenth century poetry, as -distinct from that large portion of language which is<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>[193]</span> -common alike to prose and poetry. For it is scarcely -necessary to remind ourselves that by far the largest -portion of the poetry of the eighteenth century (as -indeed of any century) is written in the latter sort of -language, which depends for its effects mainly upon the -arrangement of the words, rather than for any unique -power in the words themselves. In this kind of -poetical diction, it is not too much to say that the -eighteenth century is pre-eminent, though the effect -of the Wordsworthian criticism has led to a certain -failure or indisposition to recognize the fact. Just as -Johnson and his contemporaries do not give direct -expression to any approval of the admirable language, -of which Pope and some of his predecessors had such -perfect command, so modern criticism has not always -been willing to grant it even bare justice, though -Coleridge’s penetrating insight had enabled him, as -we have seen, to pay his tribute to “the almost faultless -position and choice of words, in Mr. Pope’s <i>original</i> -compositions, particularly in his Satires and Moral -Essays.” It was, we may imagine, the ordinary -everyday language, heightened by brilliance and -point, in which Pope and his coterie carried on their -dallyings and bickerings at Twickenham and elsewhere, -and it was an ideal vehicle, lucid and precise -for the argument and declamation it had to sustain. -But it was more than that, as will be readily recognized -if we care to recall some of the oft-quoted lines -which amply prove with what consummate skill Pope, -despite the economy and condensation imposed by -the requirements of the closed couplet, could evoke -from this plain and unadorned diction effects of -imagination and sometimes even of passion. Such -lines as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">He stooped to Truth and moralised his song,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>[194]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">In lazy apathy let stoics boast</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Their virtue fixed: ’tis fixed as in a frost,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">In Folly’s cup still laughs the bubble joy,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">and dozens similar, show the lucidity, energy, and -imaginative picturesqueness with which Pope could -endow his diction when the occasion required it.<a id="FNanchor_256" href="#Footnote_256" class="fnanchor">[256]</a> -Such language is the “real language of men”; nearly -every word would satisfy the Wordsworthian canon.</p> - -<p>And the same thing is true to a large extent of the -poets, who are usually considered as having taken -Pope for their model. Whenever there is a real -concentration of interest, whenever they are dealing -with the didactic and moral questions characteristic -of the “age of prose and reason,” whenever they are -writing of man and of his doings, his thoughts and -moods as a social member of civilized society, their -language is, as a rule, adequate, vivid, fresh, because -the aim then is to present a general thought in the -language best adapted to bring it forcibly before the -mind of the reader. Here, as has been justly said,<a id="FNanchor_257" href="#Footnote_257" class="fnanchor">[257]</a> -rhetoric has passed under the influence and received -the transforming force of poetry. “The best rhetorical -poetry of the eighteenth century is not the best poetry, -but it is poetry in its own way, exhibiting the glow, -the rush, the passion which strict prose cannot, and -which poetry can, give.” Judged on the basis of this -kind of poetical diction, the distinctions usually drawn -between the neo-classical “kind” of language in the -eighteenth century and the romantic “kind” all tend -to disappear; at the head (though perhaps we should -go back to the Dryden of the “Religio Laici” and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>[195]</span> -“The Hind and the Panther”) is the “Essay on -Criticism”; in the direct line of descent are Akenside’s -“Epistle to Curio,” large portions of “The Seasons,” -“The Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard,” -“The Vanity of Human Wishes,” the “Deserted -Village,” and at the end of the century, the “Village” -of Crabbe. And in another <i>genre</i>, but just as good in -its own way, is that light verse, as it may perhaps best -be called, successfully ushered in, at the very beginning -of the century, by John Pomfret’s “The Choice,” -and brought to perfection by Matthew Prior in his -lines “To a Child of Quality,” and many another -piece.</p> - -<p>Nor must it be forgotten that there is a large amount -of eighteenth century minor poetry which, whilst -reflecting in the main the literary tendency of the age -in its fondness for didactic verse, presented in the guise -of interminably long and dull epics and epistles, yet -reveals to us, if we care to make the pilgrimage through -the arid stretches of Anderson’s “British Poets,” or -Dodsley’s “Collection of Poets by Several Hands,” -or Bell’s “Fugitive Poetry,” or similar collections, -the simple, unambitious works of poets more or less -unknown when they wrote and now for the most part -forgotten, who, unconscious or ignorant of the accepted -rules and regulations of their time, wrote because -they felt they must, and thus had no care to fetter -themselves with the bondage of the “classical” -diction.<a id="FNanchor_258" href="#Footnote_258" class="fnanchor">[258]</a> Their range was limited, but they were -able to express their thoughts and fancies, their little -idylls and landscapes in plain English without any<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>[196]</span> -trimmings, akin in its unaffected diction and simplicity -of syntax to the language of the genuine old ballads, -which were so largely and, for the most part, ineffectively, -if not ludicrously, imitated throughout the -eighteenth century.</p> - -<p>The Augustan age, then, was not without honour, -even in poetry, where, looking back after Romanticism -had won and consolidated its greatest triumphs, it -would seem everything had gone wrong, there was not -a little from which the rebels themselves might well -have profited. Nowadays we are accustomed, perhaps -too often, to think of the Romantic forerunners, the -poet of “The Seasons,” and Gray, and Collins, and -Goldsmith, and the rest, as lonely isolated outposts -in hostile territory. So they were to a large extent, -but they could not, of course, altogether escape the -form and pressure of their age; and what we now -admire in them, and for which we salute them as the -heralds of the Romantic dawn, is that which shows -them struggling to set themselves free from the -“classical” toils, and striving to give expression to -the new ideas and ideals that were ultimately to surge -and sing themselves to victory. It is scarcely necessary -to recall many a well-known passage, in which, -within a decade of the death of Pope, or even before -the mid-century, these new ideas and ideals had found -expression in language which really sounded the death-knell -of the old diction. Fine sounds, Keats within -a few decades was to proclaim exultantly, were then -to be heard “floating wild about the earth,” but -already as early as Collins and Gray, and even now -and then in “The Seasons,” words of infinite appeal -and suggestiveness were stealing back into English -poetry.</p> - -<p>And this leads us to a consideration of the poetic -diction of the eighteenth century from a more general -standpoint. For no discussion of poetical language<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>[197]</span> -can be complete unless an attempt is made to consider -the question in its entirety with a view to the question -of what really constitutes poetic diction, what it is -that gives to words and phrases, used by certain poets -in certain contexts, a magic force and meaning. The -history of poetic diction from the very beginning of -English literature down to present times has yet to be -written, and it would be a formidable task. Perhaps -a syndicate of acknowledged poets would be the only -fit tribunal to pass judgment on so vital an aspect of -the craft, but even then we suspect there would be a -good deal of dissension, and probably more than one -minority report. But the general aspects of the -question have formed a fruitful field of discussion since -Wordsworth launched his theories<a id="FNanchor_259" href="#Footnote_259" class="fnanchor">[259]</a> and thus began -a controversy as to the exact nature of poetic language, -the echoes of which, it would seem, have not yet died -away. For the Prefaces were, it may be truly said, -the first great and definite declaration of principle concerning -a question which has been well described as -“the central one in the philosophy of literature, What -is, or rather what is not, poetic diction?”<a id="FNanchor_260" href="#Footnote_260" class="fnanchor">[260]</a></p> - -<p>Judged from this wider standpoint, the diction of -the “classical” poetry of the eighteenth century, -and even of a large portion of the verse that announces -the ultimate Romantic triumph, seems to have marked -limitations. The widespread poverty and sterility -of this diction was not, of course, merely the result of -an inability to draw inspiration from Nature, or of a -failure to realize the imaginative possibilities of words<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>[198]</span> -and phrases: it was, it would almost seem, the -inevitable outcome and reflex of an age that, despite -great and varied achievements, now appears to us -narrow and restricted in many vital aspects. If -poetry is a criticism of life, in the sense in which -Matthew Arnold doubtless meant his dictum to be -taken, the age of Pope and his successors is not -“poetic”; in many respects it is a petty and tawdry -age—the age of the coffee-house and the new press, of -the club and the coterie. There are great thinkers like -Hume, great historians like Gibbon, great teachers -and reformers like John Wesley; but these names and -a few others seem only to throw into stronger light the -fact that it was on its average level an age of talk -rather than of thought, of “fickle fancy” rather than -of imaginative flights, of society as a unit highly -organized for the pursuit of its own pastimes, pleasures, -and preoccupations, in which poetry, and literature -generally, played a social part. Poetry seems to skim -gracefully over the surface of life, lightly touching -many things in its flight, but never soaring; philosophy -and science and satire all come within its -purview, but when the eternally recurring themes of -poetry<a id="FNanchor_261" href="#Footnote_261" class="fnanchor">[261]</a>—love and nature and the like—are handled, -there is rarely or never poignancy or depth.</p> - -<p>The great elemental facts and thoughts and feelings -of life seldom confront us in the literature of the -century as we make our way down the decades; even -in the forerunners of the Romantic revolt we are never -really stirred. “The Seasons,” and “The Elegy -Written in a Country Churchyard,” touch responsive -chords, but are far from moving us to thoughts beyond -the reaches of our souls. Not until Blake and Burns -is the veneer of convention and artificiality, in both -matter and manner, definitely cast aside, and there is -to be caught in English verse again, not only the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>[199]</span> -authentic singing note, but, what is more, the recognition -and exemplification of the great truth that the -finest poetry most often has its “roots deep in the -common stuff,” and it is not to be looked for in an age -and environment when, with rationality apparently -triumphant, men seemed careless of the eternal -verities, of the thoughts and feelings that lie too deep -for tears, or sadly recognized their impotence, or -their frustrated desires, to image them forth in -poetry.</p> - -<p>“What is it,” asks Gilbert Murray,<a id="FNanchor_262" href="#Footnote_262" class="fnanchor">[262]</a> “that gives -words their character and makes a style high or low? -Obviously, their associations: the company they -habitually keep in the minds of those who use them. -A word which belongs to the language of bars and -billiard-saloons will become permeated by the normal -standard of mind prevalent in such places; a word -which suggests Milton or Carlyle will have the flavour -of those men’s minds about it. I therefore cannot -resist the conclusion that if the language of Greek -poetry has, to those who know it intimately, this -special quality of keen austere beauty, it is because -the minds of the poets who used that language were -habitually toned to a higher level both of intensity -and of nobility than ours. It is a finer language -because it expresses the mind of finer men. By -‘finer men’ I do not necessarily mean men who -behaved better, either by our standards or by their -own: I mean the men to whom the fine things of the -world, sunrise and sea and stars, and the love of man -for man, and strife and the facing of evil for the sake -of good, and even common things like meat and drink, -and evil things like hate and terror had, as it were, a -keener edge than they have for us, and roused a -swifter and nobler reaction.” This passage has been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>[200]</span> -quoted in full because it may be said to have a direct -and definite bearing on the question of the average -level of poetic language during the greater part of the -eighteenth century: there were few or no <i>trouvailles</i>, -no great discoveries, no sudden releasings of the -magic power often lurking unsuspectedly in the most -ordinary words, because the poets and versifiers for -the most part had all gone wrong in their conception -of the medium they essayed to mould. “The substance -of poetry,” writes Professor Lowes,<a id="FNanchor_263" href="#Footnote_263" class="fnanchor">[263]</a> “is also -the very stuff of words. And in its larger sense as -well the language of poetry is made up inevitably of -symbols—of symbols for things in terms of other -things, for things in terms of feelings, for feelings in -terms of things. It is the language not of objects, but -of the complex relations of objects. And the agency -that moulds it is the ceaselessly active power that is -special to poetry only in degree—<i>imagination</i>—that -fuses the familiar and the strange, the thing I feel and -the thing I see, the world within and the world without, -into a <i>tertium quid</i>, that interprets both.” The -eighteenth century was not perhaps so emphatically -and entirely the “age of prose and reason” as is sometimes -thought, but it could scarcely be called the “age -of imagination,” and poetry, in its highest sense -(“high poetry,” as Maeterlinck would call it), being -of imagination all compact, found no abiding place -there.</p> - -<p>Most words, we may say, potentially possess at least -two or more significations, their connotative scope -varying according to the knowledge or culture of the -speaker or reader. First of all, there is the logical, -their plain workaday use, we might call it; and next, -and above and beyond all this, they have, so to speak, -an exciting force, a power of stimulating and reviving -in the mind and memory all the associations that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>[201]</span> -cluster around them. Nearly all words carry with -them, in vastly varying degrees, of course, this power -of evocation, so that even commonplace terms, words, -and phrases hackneyed and worn thin by unceasing -usage, may suddenly be invested with a strange and -beautiful suggestiveness when they are pressed into -the service of the highest poetic imagination. -And in the same way the æsthetic appeal of words of -great potential value is reinforced and strengthened, -when in virtue of their context, or even merely of the -word or words to which they are attached, they are -afforded a unique opportunity of flashing forth and -bringing into play all the mysterious powers and -associations gathered to themselves during a long -employment in prose and verse, or on the lips of the -people:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">All the charm of all the muses</div> - <div class="verse indent4">often flowering in a lonely word.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Poetry of the highest value and appeal may be, -and often is, as we know from concrete examples that -flash into the mind, written in commonplace, everyday -terms, and we ask ourselves how it is done.<a id="FNanchor_264" href="#Footnote_264" class="fnanchor">[264]</a> -There are the mysterious words of the dying Hamlet:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The rest is silence,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or the line quoted by Matthew Arnold<a id="FNanchor_265" href="#Footnote_265" class="fnanchor">[265]</a> as an instance<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>[202]</span> -when Wordsworth’s practice is to be found illustrating -his theories:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">And never lifted up a single stone,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">or the wonderful lines which seem to bring with them -a waking vision of the beauty of the English countryside, -radiant with the promise of Spring:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent22">daffodils,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That come before the swallow dares, and take</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The winds of March with beauty.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">In these and many similar passages, which the reader -will recall for himself, it would seem that the mere -juxtaposition of more or less plain and ordinary words -has led to such action and reaction between them as -to charge each with vastly increased powers of evocation -and suggestion, to which the mind of the reader, -roused and stimulated, instinctively responds.</p> - -<p>Similarly, the satisfaction thus afforded to our -æsthetic sense, or our emotional appreciation, is often -evoked by a happy conjunction of epithet and noun -placed together in a new relation, instantly recognized -as adding an unsuspected beauty to an otherwise colourless -word. The poets and versifiers of the eighteenth -century were not particularly noteworthy for their -skill or inspiration in the matter of the choice of -epithet, but the genius of Blake, in this as in other -respects of poetic achievement, raised him “above the -age” and led him to such felicities of expression as in -the last stanza of “The Piper”:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">And I made a <i>rural pen</i></div> - <div class="verse indent0">And I stained the water clear,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">where, as has been aptly remarked,<a id="FNanchor_266" href="#Footnote_266" class="fnanchor">[266]</a> a commonplace<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>[203]</span> -epithet is strangely and, apparently discordantly, -joined to an equally commonplace noun, and -yet the discord, in virtue of the fact that it sets -the mind and memory working to recover or recall -the faint ultimate associations of the two terms, -endows the phrase with infinite suggestiveness. In -the same way a subtle and magic effect is often -produced by inversion of epithet, when the adjective -is placed after instead of before the noun, and this -again is a practice or device little favoured in the -eighteenth century; the supremacy of the stopped -couplet and its mechanical requirements were all -against it.</p> - -<p>But the eighteenth century had little of this magic -power of evocation; the secret had departed with the -blind Milton, and it was not till the Romantic ascendancy -had firmly established itself, not until Keats -and Shelley and their great successors, that English -poetry was once more able so to handle and fashion -and rearrange words as to win from them their total -and most intense associations. Yet contemporary -criticism, especially in France, had not failed -altogether to appreciate this potential magic of -words. Diderot, for instance, speaks of the magic -power that Homer and other great poets have -given to many of their words; such words are, in his -phrase, “hieroglyphic paintings,” that is, paintings -not to the eye, but to the imagination.<a id="FNanchor_267" href="#Footnote_267" class="fnanchor">[267]</a> What we -feel about all the so-called classical verse of the -eighteenth century, as well as of a good deal of the -earlier Romantic poetry, is that writers have not been -able to devise these subtle hieroglyphics; lack of real -poetical inspiration, or the pressure of the prosaic and -unimaginative atmosphere of their times, has led to a -general poverty in the words or phrases that evoke<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>[204]</span> -some object before the inner eye, or charm the ear by -an unheard melody, terms that, like the magic words -of Keats, or the evanescent imagery of Shelley, stir -us both emotionally and æsthetically. The verse of -Pope and his followers is not without something of -this power, but here the effect is achieved by the skill -and polish with which the words are selected and -grouped within the limits of the heroic couplet. Crabbe -had marked down, accurately enough, this lack of -word-power in his description of Dryden’s verse as -“poetry in which the force of expression and accuracy -of description have neither needed nor obtained -assistance from the fancy of the writer,” and again, -more briefly, as “poetry without an atmosphere.”<a id="FNanchor_268" href="#Footnote_268" class="fnanchor">[268]</a> -One negative indication of this “nudity” is the comparative -poverty of eighteenth century poetry in new -compound epithets, those felicitous terms which have -added to the language some of its most poetical and -pictorial phrases.</p> - -<p>The Prefaces of Wordsworth and the kindred comments -and remarks of Coleridge were not, it is hardly -necessary to say, in themselves powerful enough to -effect an instant and complete revolution in poetical -theory and practice. But it was all to the good that -inspired craftsmen were at last beginning to worry -themselves about the nature and quality of the -material which they had to mould and fashion and -combine into poetry; still more important was it that -they were soon to have the powerful aid of fellow-workers -like Shelley and Keats, whose practice was -to reveal the magic lurking in words and phrases, so -arranged and combined as to set them reverberating -in the depths of our sensibility. And, on the side of -form at least, this is the distinctively Romantic -achievement; the æsthetic possibilities and potentialities<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>[205]</span> -of the whole of our language, past and present, -were entrancingly revealed and magnificently exemplified; -new and inexhaustible mines of poetical word-power -were thus opened up, and the narrow and -conventional limits of the diction within which the -majority of the eighteenth century poets had “tallied” -their verses were transcended and swept away.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>[206]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="FOOTNOTES">FOOTNOTES</h2> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> A brief summary, which is here utilized, is given by Spingarn, -“Critical Essays of the Seventeenth Century,” I, Intro. xxxvi, -foll. (Oxford, 1908).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> <i>Vide</i> Spingarn, <i>op. cit.</i>, <i>Intro.</i> XXXVI-XLVIII; and also -Robertson, “Studies in the Genesis of Romantic Theory in the -XVIIIth Century” (Cambridge, 1924), an attempt “to show that -the Movement which led to the dethronement of Reason, in favour -of the Imagination, chief arbiter in poetic creation, and which -culminated with Goethe and Schiller in Germany and the Romantic -Revival in England, is to be put to the credit not of ourselves, but -of Italy, who thus played again that pioneer rôle which she had -already played in the sixteenth century.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> Spingarn, <i>op. cit.</i>, II, p. 118.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> <i>Ibid.</i>, II, p. 310.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> <i>Ibid.</i>, II, p. 273.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> “Apology for Heroic Poetry”: “Essays of John Dryden,” -ed. W. P. Ker (1909), Vol. I, p. 190.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> “There appears in every part of his [Horace’s] diction, or (to -speak English) in all his expressions, a kind of noble and bold -purity.”—<i>Ibid.</i>, p. 266.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[8]</a> “Lives”: Dryden, ed. G. B. Hill (1905), Vol. I, p. 420; and -cp. Goldsmith, “Poetry Distinguished from other Writing” (Miscellaneous -Works), 1821, Vol. IV, p. 381 foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[9]</a> “Letters” (To R. West), 1742, ed. Tovey (1900); Vol. II, -pp. 97-8.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[10]</a> Ker, <i>op. cit.</i>, Vol. I, pp. 17-8.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">[11]</a> <i>Ibid.</i>, pp. 188 foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">[12]</a> Ker, <i>op. cit.</i>, Vol. II, p. 234.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">[13]</a> Edward Young, the author of “Night Thoughts,” was later to -express this tersely enough: “Words tarnished, by passing through -the mouths of the vulgar, are laid aside as inelegant and obsolete”—”Conjectures -on Original Composition,” 1759 (“English Critical -Essays,” Oxford, 1922, p. 320).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">[14]</a> Pope’s Works, ed. Courthope and Elwin: “Life,” Vol. V, p. 69.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">[15]</a> That is to say, as Mr. John Drinkwater has recently put it, it was -“the common language, but raised above the common pitch, of the -coffee-houses and boudoirs.”—“Victorian Poetry,” 1923, pp. 30-32.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="label">[16]</a> <i>Vide</i> Elton, “The Augustan Ages,” 1889, pp. 419 foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="label">[17]</a> Cp. “Essay on Criticism,” I, ll. 130-140.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="label">[18]</a> John Dennis, of course, at the beginning of the century, is to -be found pleading that “passion is the chief thing in poetry,” -(“The Advancement and Reformation of Modern Poetry,” 1701); -but it is to be feared that he is only, so to speak, ringing the changes -on the Rules.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="label">[19]</a> “A Parallel of Poetry and Painting,” ed. Ker, <i>op. cit.</i>, Vol. II, -p. 147.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="label">[20]</a> “A Parallel of Poetry and Painting,” Ker, <i>op cit.</i>, Vol. II, -p. 148. “<i>Operum Colores</i> is the very word which Horace uses to -signify words and elegant expressions.” etc.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21" class="label">[21]</a> Lessing’s “Laokoon,” which appeared in 1766, may in this, as -in other connexions, be regarded as the first great Romantic -manifesto. The limitations of poetry and the plastic arts were -analysed, and the fundamental conditions to which each art must -adhere, if it is to accomplish its utmost, were definitely and clearly -laid down.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_22" href="#FNanchor_22" class="label">[22]</a> “Polymetis” (1747), p. 311.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_23" href="#FNanchor_23" class="label">[23]</a> “Biographia Literaria,” Chap. XXII.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_24" href="#FNanchor_24" class="label">[24]</a> <i>Ibid.</i>, Chap. IV.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_25" href="#FNanchor_25" class="label">[25]</a> <i>Vide</i> especially Babbitt, “The New Laocoon, An Essay on -the Confusion of the Arts” (1910), to which these paragraphs are -indebted; and for a valuable survey of the relations of -English poetry with painting and with music, see “English -Poetry in Its Relation to Painting and the other Arts,” by -Laurence Binyon (London, 1919), especially pp. 15-19.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_26" href="#FNanchor_26" class="label">[26]</a> <i>Vide</i> “Elizabethan Critical Essays,” ed. Gregory Smith, Vol. I, -Intro. (Oxford, 1904).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_27" href="#FNanchor_27" class="label">[27]</a> <i>Vide</i>, e.g., Addison, “Spectator” papers on “Paradise Lost” -(No. 285, January 26, 1712).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_28" href="#FNanchor_28" class="label">[28]</a> Essay, “Poetry Distinguished from other Writing” (Miscellaneous -Works, 1820, Vol. IV, pp. 408-14).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_29" href="#FNanchor_29" class="label">[29]</a> <i>Ibid.</i>, p. 22.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_30" href="#FNanchor_30" class="label">[30]</a> “Lives,” Hill, <i>op. cit.</i>, Vol. I, p. 420.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_31" href="#FNanchor_31" class="label">[31]</a> “Lives”: Cowley; cp. “The Rambler,” No. 158.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_32" href="#FNanchor_32" class="label">[32]</a> Cp. Boswell’s “Life” (1851 edition), Vol. I, p. 277: “He -enlarged very convincingly upon the excellence of rhyme over -blank verse in English poetry”; also <i>ibid.</i>, Vol. II, p. 84.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_33" href="#FNanchor_33" class="label">[33]</a> “Lives,” ed. Hill, <i>op. cit.</i>, Vol. III, pp. 416 foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_34" href="#FNanchor_34" class="label">[34]</a> <i>Ibid.</i>, p. 341.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_35" href="#FNanchor_35" class="label">[35]</a> This is of course exemplified in his own poetic practice, and it -has been held sufficient to explain the oft-debated scantiness of his -literary production. But for remarkable examples of his minuteness -and scrupulosity in the matter of poetic diction see the letter -to West referred to above; to Mason, January 13, 1758 (Tovey, -<i>op. cit.</i>, II, p. 12), and to Beattie, March 8, 1771 (<i>ibid.</i>, II, p. 305).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_36" href="#FNanchor_36" class="label">[36]</a> Cp. Courthope, “History of English Poetry,” Vol. V, pp. 218 -foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_37" href="#FNanchor_37" class="label">[37]</a> <i>Vide</i> “Elizabethan Critical Essays,” <i>op. cit.</i>, Intro., pp. LV-LX.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_38" href="#FNanchor_38" class="label">[38]</a> Preface to the “Fables,” Ker, <i>op. cit.</i>, Vol. II, pp. 266-67.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_39" href="#FNanchor_39" class="label">[39]</a> <i>Vide</i> Works, ed. Elwin and Courthope, Vol. II.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_40" href="#FNanchor_40" class="label">[40]</a> <i>Vide</i> “Translation of Homer,” ed. Buckley, Intro., p. 47; -and cp. “The Guardian,” No. 78, “A Receipt to make an Epic -Poem.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_41" href="#FNanchor_41" class="label">[41]</a> Tovey, <i>op. cit.</i>, March 8, 1771 (Vol. II, pp. 305 foll.); Beattie’s -comments are given by Tovey, <i>ibid.</i>, footnotes.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_42" href="#FNanchor_42" class="label">[42]</a> “Rambler,” No. 121, May 14, 1751.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_43" href="#FNanchor_43" class="label">[43]</a> “Lines written in Imitation of Certain Poems Published in -1777”; and cp. William Whitehead’s “Charge to the Poets” -(1762), which may be taken to reflect the various attitudes of the -reading public towards the “revivals.”—(“Poets of Great Britain,” -1794, Vol. XI, pp. 935-7.)</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_44" href="#FNanchor_44" class="label">[44]</a> Works (1820), <i>op. cit.</i>, Vol. IV, p. 124.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_45" href="#FNanchor_45" class="label">[45]</a> September 27, 1788 (“Letters,” 4 vols, 1806, Vol. II, p. 106).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_46" href="#FNanchor_46" class="label">[46]</a> Letter to Lady Hesketh, March 22, 1790 (“Correspondence of -William Cowper—Arranged in Chronological Order by T. Wright,” -4 vols., 1904).—Vol. III, pp. 446, foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_47" href="#FNanchor_47" class="label">[47]</a> 1807 ed., Vol. I, pp. 21 and 24; cp. also Campbell, “The Philosophy -of Rhetoric” (London, 1776), Vol. I, pp. 410-411.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_48" href="#FNanchor_48" class="label">[48]</a> “Spectator,” 285, January 26, 1712.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_49" href="#FNanchor_49" class="label">[49]</a> “Homer”; ed. Buckley, Intro., 49.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_50" href="#FNanchor_50" class="label">[50]</a> Spingarn, <i>op. cit.</i>, II, pp. 1-51; for Hobbes “Answer,” and -Cowley’s “Preface to Poems,” see <i>ibid.</i>, pp. 54-90.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_51" href="#FNanchor_51" class="label">[51]</a> “Dedication of the Æneis,” Ker, <i>op. cit.</i>, Vol. II, pp. 154, -foll.; cp. Addison, “Spectator,” 297, January 9, 1712.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_52" href="#FNanchor_52" class="label">[52]</a> <i>Vide</i>, e.g., E. Barat, “Le Style poétique et la Révolution -Romantique” (Paris, 1904), pp. 5-35.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_53" href="#FNanchor_53" class="label">[53]</a> “Lives of the Poets. Pope,” ed. Birbeck Hill, Vol. III, p. 251.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_54" href="#FNanchor_54" class="label">[54]</a> <i>Ibid.</i>, p. 244.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_55" href="#FNanchor_55" class="label">[55]</a> January 17, 1782 (Wright, <i>op. cit.</i>, Vol. II, pp. 429-30).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_56" href="#FNanchor_56" class="label">[56]</a> Prose Works, ed. Grosart, Vol. II, pp. 101 foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_57" href="#FNanchor_57" class="label">[57]</a> “Biographia Literaria,” ed. Shawcross (1907), p. 26, Note; -cp. also Southey, “Works of Cowper” (1884 edition), Vol. I, p. 313.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_58" href="#FNanchor_58" class="label">[58]</a> “The Progress of Taste,” III, ll. 7-10.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_59" href="#FNanchor_59" class="label">[59]</a> Wordsworth himself of course stigmatized the “hubbub of -words” which was often the only result of these eighteenth century -attempts to paraphrase passages from the Old and the New Testament -“as they exist in our common translation.”—<i>Vide</i> Prefaces, -etc., “Poetical Works,” ed. Hutchinson (Oxford, 1916). p. 943.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_60" href="#FNanchor_60" class="label">[60]</a> For a detailed description of the stock diction of English -“Classical” poetry, see especially Myra Reynolds, “Nature in -English Poetry from Pope to Wordsworth” (Chicago, 1912), to -which the foregoing remarks are indebted.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_61" href="#FNanchor_61" class="label">[61]</a> “Essay on Criticism,” I, l. 350 foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_62" href="#FNanchor_62" class="label">[62]</a> “Essay on Men and Manners” (Works, 1764), Vol. II.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_63" href="#FNanchor_63" class="label">[63]</a> “History of English Prosody” (1908), Vol. II, p. 449.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_64" href="#FNanchor_64" class="label">[64]</a> Bysshe, “Art of Poetry,” Third Edition (1708), Chap. I, par. 1 -(quoted by Saintsbury, “Loci Critici,” 1903, p. 174).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_65" href="#FNanchor_65" class="label">[65]</a> To the Rev. John Newton, December 10, 1785 (Wright, <i>op. cit.</i>, -Vol. II, pp. 404-406).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_66" href="#FNanchor_66" class="label">[66]</a> <i>Vide</i> Pope’s Works, ed. Courthope and Elwin (1889), Vol. V., -p. 166.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_67" href="#FNanchor_67" class="label">[67]</a> Philips has large supplies of the poetical stock-in-trade. He -speaks of “honeysuckles of a <i>purple</i> dye,” and anticipates Gray in -his couplet,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Like woodland Flowers which paint the desert glades</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And waste their sweets in unfrequented shades.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">(“The Fable of Thule”)</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>(<i>Vide</i> “Poets of Great Britain,” 1794, Vol. IX, 384-407.)</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_68" href="#FNanchor_68" class="label">[68]</a> But, as de Selincourt points out in “Poems of John Keats” -(1905, Appendix C, p. 580), it is only the excessive and unnatural -use of these adjectives that calls for censure.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_69" href="#FNanchor_69" class="label">[69]</a> Especially in the case of compound epithets. Cf. Earle, -“Philology of the English Tongue,” p. 601, for examples from the -works of the poets from Shakespeare to Tennyson. For Shakespeare’s -use of this form, see Schmidt, “Shakespeare Lexicon,” -Vol. II, pp. 147 foll. (2nd Ed., London and Berlin, 1886).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_70" href="#FNanchor_70" class="label">[70]</a> But compare “Milton,” by Walter Raleigh (p. 249), where it is -justly pointed out that not a few of these circuitous phrases are -justified by “considerations of dramatic propriety.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_71" href="#FNanchor_71" class="label">[71]</a> Cf. Raleigh, “Milton,” <i>op. cit.</i>, pp. 252-3.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_72" href="#FNanchor_72" class="label">[72]</a> “Spring,” ll. 478 foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_73" href="#FNanchor_73" class="label">[73]</a> In “Summer,” Thomson had first used <i>feathery race</i> which was -later amended into <i>tuneful race</i>—apparently the best improvement -he could think of!</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_74" href="#FNanchor_74" class="label">[74]</a> For a detailed study of Thomson’s diction, see especially Leon -Morel, “James Thomson. Sa Vie et Ses Œuvres” (Paris, 1895), -Chap. IV, pp. 412 foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_75" href="#FNanchor_75" class="label">[75]</a> To Mason, January 13, 1758 (“Letters of Gray,” ed. Tovey, -Vol. II, pp. 13-14).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_76" href="#FNanchor_76" class="label">[76]</a> <i>Vide</i> “The Poems of Chatterton, with an Essay on the Rowley -Poems,” by W. W. Skeat (1871).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_77" href="#FNanchor_77" class="label">[77]</a> Canto III, 652 foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_78" href="#FNanchor_78" class="label">[78]</a> “A Paladin of Philanthropy” (1899), p. 59 (quoted by Courthope, -“History English Poetry,” V, 216).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_79" href="#FNanchor_79" class="label">[79]</a> But cf. Courthope, “History English Poetry” (1910), Vol. V, -p. 218.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_80" href="#FNanchor_80" class="label">[80]</a> Arthur Symons, “William Blake” (1907), p. 39.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_81" href="#FNanchor_81" class="label">[81]</a> To Mrs. Butts: “Poetical Works,” ed. Sampson (Oxford, -1914), p. 187.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_82" href="#FNanchor_82" class="label">[82]</a> “Biographia Literaria,” ed. Shawcross, p. 16. (Oxford, -1907.)</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_83" href="#FNanchor_83" class="label">[83]</a> Cf. “Letters,” to Samuel Rose, December 13, 1787: “Correspondence” -arranged by W. Wright (1904), Vol. III, p. 190. -To C. Rowley, February 21, 1788, <i>ibid.</i>, pp. 231 foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_84" href="#FNanchor_84" class="label">[84]</a> E.g. Charles Wesley’s “Wrestling Jacob,” or Watts’s “When -I Survey the Wondrous Cross.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_85" href="#FNanchor_85" class="label">[85]</a> <i>Vide</i> Courthope, <i>op. cit.</i>, Book V, Ch. XI; and cp. the confident -and just claims put forward by John Wesley himself on -behalf of the language of the hymns, in his “Preface to the Collection -of Hymns for the Use of the People called Methodists,” -1780.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_86" href="#FNanchor_86" class="label">[86]</a> Cf. Coleridge “Biographia Literaria,” ed. Shawcross, <i>op. cit.</i>, -p. 11.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_87" href="#FNanchor_87" class="label">[87]</a> <i>Vide</i> especially the dialogue with a Bookseller on the language -of poetry.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_88" href="#FNanchor_88" class="label">[88]</a> In both the first and the final forms “Poetical Works,” -ed. Hutchinson (Oxford, 1916) Appendix, pp. 592 foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_89" href="#FNanchor_89" class="label">[89]</a> For a detailed account see E. Legouis, “La Jeunesse de Wordsworth” -(English translation, 1897; Revised edition, 1921).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_90" href="#FNanchor_90" class="label">[90]</a> <i>Vide</i> “Elizabethan Critical Essays,” ed. Smith, Vol. I, Intro., -pp. lv foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_91" href="#FNanchor_91" class="label">[91]</a> Both the Fletchers also used many other latinized forms -found before their time, and which in some cases they probably -took direct from Spenser.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_92" href="#FNanchor_92" class="label">[92]</a> E.g. by Courthope, “History of English Poetry” (1910), Vol. III, -p. 339, where a list is given (“only a few of the examples”) of -Milton’s “coinages” and “creations.” Of this list only some -half dozen (according to the N.E.D.) owe their first literary appearance -to Milton.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_93" href="#FNanchor_93" class="label">[93]</a> E.g. <i>debel</i>, <i>disglorified</i>, <i>conglobe</i>, <i>illaudable</i>, etc., date from the -sixteenth century; <i>Battailous</i> goes back to Wycliff (N.E.D.).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_94" href="#FNanchor_94" class="label">[94]</a> Cf.“Milton,” by Walter Raleigh (1915), pp. 247 foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_95" href="#FNanchor_95" class="label">[95]</a> <i>Vide</i> Masson, “Milton’s Poetical Works,” Vol. III, pp. 77-78 -(1890-).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_96" href="#FNanchor_96" class="label">[96]</a> Similarly the “Virgil” translation has, e.g., <i>in a round error</i> for -“wandering round and round,” etc.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_97" href="#FNanchor_97" class="label">[97]</a> That it could easily become absurd was not unperceived in -the eighteenth century. Vide Leonard Welsted: “Epistle to -Mr. Pope,” May, 1730 (“Works in Verse and Prose,” London, -1787, p. 141).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_98" href="#FNanchor_98" class="label">[98]</a> <i>Vide</i> “Poems of Anne, Countess of Winchilsea,” ed. Myra -Reynolds, pp. 210-213 (Chicago, 1903).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_99" href="#FNanchor_99" class="label">[99]</a> <i>Vide</i> “Complete Poetical Works,” edited J. L. Robertson -(Oxford, 1908), which includes a variorum edition of “The Seasons.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_100" href="#FNanchor_100" class="label">[100]</a> “Poetical Epistle to Mr. Thomson on the First Edition of his -‘Seasons’” (P.G.B., Vol. VIII, p. 504).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_101" href="#FNanchor_101" class="label">[101]</a> “Letter to Mallett,” August 11, 1726.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_102" href="#FNanchor_102" class="label">[102]</a> Cp. Morel, <i>op. cit.</i>, pp. 419-424.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_103" href="#FNanchor_103" class="label">[103]</a> E.g. ll. 766 foll., 828 foll., 881 foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_104" href="#FNanchor_104" class="label">[104]</a> Cp. also ll. 126 foll.; 711 foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_105" href="#FNanchor_105" class="label">[105]</a> Cp. also the respective versions of “Autumn,” ll. 748 and 962.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_106" href="#FNanchor_106" class="label">[106]</a> Cp. also “Summer,” ll. 353, 376, 648; “Autumn,” ll. 349, -894-895.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_107" href="#FNanchor_107" class="label">[107]</a> Cp. “Milton,” Raleigh, <i>op. cit.</i>, pp. 252-3.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_108" href="#FNanchor_108" class="label">[108]</a> One of the most noteworthy is the constant employment of -adjectives as adverbs in opposition (e.g., “the grand etherial bow, -Shoots up <i>immense</i>”) a device used both by Milton and Pope, -but by neither with anything like the freedom seen in “The -Seasons.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_109" href="#FNanchor_109" class="label">[109]</a> Cf. <a href="#CHAPTER_VI">Chapter VI, <i>infra.</i></a></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_110" href="#FNanchor_110" class="label">[110]</a> In the “Essay Supplementary to the Preface,” Hutchinson, -<i>op. cit.</i>, p. 949.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_111" href="#FNanchor_111" class="label">[111]</a> That Young’s readers and even his editors were occasionally -puzzled is seen by the history of the term “concertion.” This was -the spelling of the first and most of the subsequent editions, including -that of 1787, where the Glossary explains it as meaning -“contrivance.” But some editions (e.g. 1751) have “consertion,” -and some, according to Richardson (“New Dictionary,” 1836), -have “conception.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_112" href="#FNanchor_112" class="label">[112]</a> Armstrong’s “gelid cistern” for “cold bath” has perhaps -gained the honour of an unidentified quotation.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_113" href="#FNanchor_113" class="label">[113]</a> <i>Vacant</i> in the oft-quoted line from “The Deserted Village” -(“The loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind”), where the word is -used in its Latin sense of “free from care.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_114" href="#FNanchor_114" class="label">[114]</a> As in the case of Milton, Cowper’s latinized words appear to -have been floating about for a considerable period, though in most -cases their first poetic use is apparently due to him.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_115" href="#FNanchor_115" class="label">[115]</a> Cp. also III, 229, 414; IV, 494.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_116" href="#FNanchor_116" class="label">[116]</a> Apparently after he had done some pruning amongst them -(<i>vide</i> “Letter” to Joseph Hill, March 29, 1793, Wright, <i>op. cit.</i>, -Vol. IV, p. 390), and compare his footnote to the “Iliad,” VII, -359, where he apologizes for his coinage <i>purpureal</i>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_117" href="#FNanchor_117" class="label">[117]</a> For an account of the parallelism between certain of the -eighteenth century stock epithets and various words and phrases -from the Latin poets, especially Virgil (e.g. “hollow” and “<i>cavus</i>”: -“liquid fountain” and <i>liquidi fontes</i>), see Myra Reynolds, “Nature -in English Poetry from Pope to Wordsworth” (Chicago, 1909), -pp. 46-49.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_118" href="#FNanchor_118" class="label">[118]</a> Cf. Some apt remarks by Raleigh, “Milton,” <i>op. cit.</i>, pp. 247 -and 255.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_119" href="#FNanchor_119" class="label">[119]</a> Cp. Saintsbury, “History of Literary Criticism” (1900-1904), -Vol. II, p. 479, note 1.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_120" href="#FNanchor_120" class="label">[120]</a> Cp. Elton, “Survey of English Literature,” 1830-1880 (1920), -Vol. II, p. 17, remarks on Rossetti’s diction.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_121" href="#FNanchor_121" class="label">[121]</a> Cp. also Morel, <i>op. cit.</i>, pp. 423-424.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_122" href="#FNanchor_122" class="label">[122]</a> <i>Vide</i> Lounsbury, “Studies in Chaucer” (1892), Vol. III.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_123" href="#FNanchor_123" class="label">[123]</a> “Scrannel” is either Milton’s coinage or a borrowing from some -dialect (N.E.D.).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_124" href="#FNanchor_124" class="label">[124]</a> This of course is used by many later writers, and was perhaps -not regarded in Dryden’s time as an archaism.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_125" href="#FNanchor_125" class="label">[125]</a> “New English Dictionary.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_126" href="#FNanchor_126" class="label">[126]</a> “Works,” ed. Courthope and Elwin, Vol. X, p. 120.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_127" href="#FNanchor_127" class="label">[127]</a> The prevailing ignorance of earlier English is illustrated in -that stanza by Pope’s explanation of the expression “mister -wight,” which he had taken from Spenser, as “uncouth mortal.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_128" href="#FNanchor_128" class="label">[128]</a> “The Works of Mr. Edmund Spenser, in 6 Vols. with a glossary -explaining the old and obscure words. Published by Mr. Hughes, -London.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_129" href="#FNanchor_129" class="label">[129]</a> <i>Ibid.</i>, Vol. I, pp. 115-140.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_130" href="#FNanchor_130" class="label">[130]</a> As in Prior’s “Susanna and the Two Elders” and “Erle -Robert’s Mice” (1712).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_131" href="#FNanchor_131" class="label">[131]</a> “Observations on the Faerie Queene of Spenser,” 1754.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_132" href="#FNanchor_132" class="label">[132]</a> “An Answer to the Sompner’s Prologue in Chaucer,” printed -anon, in “Lintott’s Miscellany,” entitled “Poems on Several -Occasions” (1717), p. 147.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_133" href="#FNanchor_133" class="label">[133]</a> “A Tale Devised in the Plesaunt manere of Gentil Maister -Jeoffrey Chaucer” (“Poets of Great Britain,” 1794, Vol. VII, p. 674).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_134" href="#FNanchor_134" class="label">[134]</a> “Poems on Several Occasions,” by the Rev. Thomas Warton, -1748, p. 30.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_135" href="#FNanchor_135" class="label">[135]</a> “Poems on Several Occasions,” London, 1711, pp. 203-223.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_136" href="#FNanchor_136" class="label">[136]</a> <i>Vide</i> List given by Phelps, “The Beginnings of the English -Romantic Movement” (1899), Appendix I, p. 175; and cf. an exhaustive -list, including complete glossaries, given in “Das -Altertümliche im Wortschatz der Spenser-Nachahmungen des 18 -Jahrhunderts,” by Karl Reining (Strassburg, 1912).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_137" href="#FNanchor_137" class="label">[137]</a> E.g. Robert Lloyd, 1733-1764, in his “Progress of Envy” -(Anderson, Vol. V), defines <i>wimpled</i> as “hung down”; “The -Squire of Dames,” by Moses Mendez (1700-1738) has many old -words (“benty,” etc.), which are often open to the suspicion of -being manufactured archaisms.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_138" href="#FNanchor_138" class="label">[138]</a> <i>Vide</i> his letter to Graves, June, 1742.—“Works,” Vol. III, -p. 63 (1769).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_139" href="#FNanchor_139" class="label">[139]</a> “Poems on Several Occasions,” by William Thompson, M.A., -etc., Oxford, 1757, pp. 1-13.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_140" href="#FNanchor_140" class="label">[140]</a> <i>Ibid.</i>, pp. 58-68.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_141" href="#FNanchor_141" class="label">[141]</a> “The Works of the English Poets, from Chaucer to Cowper,” -by Dr. Samuel Johnson, 21 Vols. (London, 1810), Vol. XV, p. 32.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_142" href="#FNanchor_142" class="label">[142]</a> Thompson has taken this wrong meaning direct with the word -itself from Spenser, “Shepherds Kalendar,” April, l. 26, where -<i>glen</i> is glossed by E.K. as “a country hamlet or borough.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_143" href="#FNanchor_143" class="label">[143]</a> Cp. Joseph Warton’s “Essay on Pope,” Vol. I, p. 366 (4th -edition, 1782). Wordsworth, too, as we know, called it a “fine -poem” and praised it for its harmonious verse and pure diction, -but we may imagine that he was praising it for its own sake without -regard to its merits as a Spenserian imitation (<i>vide</i> Hutchinson, -<i>op. cit.</i>, p. 949).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_144" href="#FNanchor_144" class="label">[144]</a> There are at least forty stanzas in the First Canto, without a -single archaic form, and an equal proportion in Canto Two: Cf. -Morel, <i>op. cit.</i>, pp. 629-630.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_145" href="#FNanchor_145" class="label">[145]</a> “The letter <i>y</i>,” he naïvely says in his “Glossary,” “is frequently -placed at the beginning of a word by Spenser, to lengthen it a -syllable, and <i>en</i> at the end of a word, for the same reason.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_146" href="#FNanchor_146" class="label">[146]</a> Thompson seems to have been the first to use the word <i>bicker</i> -as applied to running water, an application which was later to -receive the sanction of Scott and Tennyson (N.E.D.).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_147" href="#FNanchor_147" class="label">[147]</a> Among the last examples was Beattie’s “Minstrel” (1771-74), -which occasioned some of Gray’s dicta on the use of archaic and -obsolete words.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_148" href="#FNanchor_148" class="label">[148]</a> Spenserian “forgeries” had also made their appearance as -early as in 1713, when Samuel Croxall had attempted to pass off -two Cantos as the original work of “England’s Arch-Poet, Spenser” -(2nd edition, London, 1714). In 1747, John Upton made a similar -attempt, though probably in neither case were the discoveries -intended to be taken seriously.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_149" href="#FNanchor_149" class="label">[149]</a> See Phelps, <i>op. cit.</i>, Chap. VIII, and Grace R. Trenery, -“Ballad Collections of the Eighteenth Century,” “Modern -Language Review,” July, 1915, pp. 283 foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_150" href="#FNanchor_150" class="label">[150]</a> <i>Vide</i> “Preface to A Collection of Old Ballads,” 3 vols. (1723-52), -and cf. Benjamin Wakefield’s “Warbling Muses” (1749), -Preface.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_151" href="#FNanchor_151" class="label">[151]</a> Yet thirty years later the collections of Joseph Ritson, the last -and best of the eighteenth century editors, failed to win acceptance. -His strictly accurate versions of the old songs and ballads were -contemptuously dismissed by the “Gentleman’s Magazine” -(August, 1790) as “the compilation of a peevish antiquary.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_152" href="#FNanchor_152" class="label">[152]</a> “Bishop Percy’s Folio Manuscript,” edited Furnivall and Hales, -4 vols. (1867-68).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_153" href="#FNanchor_153" class="label">[153]</a> <i>Vide</i> Henry A. Beers, “A History of English Romanticism in -the Eighteenth Century,” 1899, Chap. VIII, pp. 298-302.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_154" href="#FNanchor_154" class="label">[154]</a> Hutchinson, <i>op. cit.</i>, p. 950.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_155" href="#FNanchor_155" class="label">[155]</a> “Chatterton—Poetical Works,” with an Essay on the Rowley -Poems, by W. W. Skeat, and a memoir by Bell (2 vols., 1871-1875); -and <i>vide</i> Tyrwhitt, “Poems supposed to have been written at -Bristol by Thomas Rowley and others in the fifteenth century” -(London, 1777).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_156" href="#FNanchor_156" class="label">[156]</a> <i>Vide</i> Oswald Doughty, “English Lyric in the Age of Reason” -(1922), p. 251.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_157" href="#FNanchor_157" class="label">[157]</a> <i>Vide</i> John Sampson, “The Poetical Works of William Blake” -(Oxford, 1905), Preface, viii.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_158" href="#FNanchor_158" class="label">[158]</a> Until the middle of the eighteenth century the form <i>glen</i> occurs -in English writers only as an echo of Spenser (N.E.D.).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_159" href="#FNanchor_159" class="label">[159]</a> <i>Vide</i> “The Dialect of Robert Burns,” by Sir James Wilson -(Oxford Press, 1923), and for happy instances of beautiful words -still lingering on in the Scots dialects, <i>vide</i> especially “The Roxburghshire -Word-Book,” by George Watson (Cambridge, 1923).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_160" href="#FNanchor_160" class="label">[160]</a> Sweet, “New English Grammar” (1892), Part II, pp. 208-212, -and Skeat, “Principles of English Etymology” (1887), Part I, -pp. 418-420.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_161" href="#FNanchor_161" class="label">[161]</a> The first literary appearance of each compound has been -checked as far as possible by reference to the “New English -Dictionary.” It is hardly necessary to say that the fact of a compound -being assigned, as regards its first appearance, to any -individual writer, is not in itself evidence that he himself invented -the new formation, or even introduced it into literature. But in -many cases, either from the nature of the compound itself, or from -some other internal or external evidence, the assumption may be -made.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_162" href="#FNanchor_162" class="label">[162]</a> Cp. Sweet, <i>op. cit.</i>, p. 449.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_163" href="#FNanchor_163" class="label">[163]</a> In the “Beowulf” there are twenty-three compounds meaning -“Ocean,” twelve meaning “Ship,” and eighteen meaning “Sword” -(<i>vide</i> Emerson, “Outline History of the English Language,” 1906, -p. 121).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_164" href="#FNanchor_164" class="label">[164]</a> Cp. Champney’s “History of English” (1893), p. 192 and Note; -and Lounsbury, “History of the English Language” (1909), p. 109.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_165" href="#FNanchor_165" class="label">[165]</a> Cp. Sidney’s remarks in the “Defence of Poesie—Elizabethan -Critical Essays,” ed. Smith, Vol. I, p. 204.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_166" href="#FNanchor_166" class="label">[166]</a> E.g. Spenser’s “<i>sea-shouldering</i> whales” (an epithet that -especially pleased Keats), Nashe’s “<i>sky-bred</i> chirpers,” Marlowe’s -“<i>gold-fingered</i> Ind,” Shakespeare’s “<i>fancy-free</i>,” “<i>forest-born</i>,” -“<i>cloud-capt</i>,” etc.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_167" href="#FNanchor_167" class="label">[167]</a> Dryden, “English Men of Letters” (1906), p. 76.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_168" href="#FNanchor_168" class="label">[168]</a> Pope’s “Homer,” ed. Buckley, Preface, p. xli.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_169" href="#FNanchor_169" class="label">[169]</a> <i>Ibid.</i>, p. 47; and cp. Coleridge, “Biographia Literaria,” ed. -Shawcross (Oxford, 1907), Vol. I, p. 2, Footnote.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_170" href="#FNanchor_170" class="label">[170]</a> Here it may be noted that many of Pope’s compounds in his -“Homer” have no warrant in the original; they are in most cases -supplied by Pope himself, to “pad out” his verses, or, more -rarely, as paraphrases of Greek words or phrases.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_171" href="#FNanchor_171" class="label">[171]</a> Shawcross, <i>op. cit.</i>, p. 2, Footnote.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_172" href="#FNanchor_172" class="label">[172]</a> “Lives” ed. Hill, <i>op. cit.</i>, Vol. III, p. 298.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_173" href="#FNanchor_173" class="label">[173]</a> <i>Vide</i> Leon Morel, <i>op. cit.</i>, Ch. IV, pp. 412 foll., for a detailed -examination of Thomson’s compound formations.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_174" href="#FNanchor_174" class="label">[174]</a> It would appear that this epithet had particularly caught the -fancy of Collins. He uses it also in the “Ode on the Manners,” -this time figuratively, when he writes of “<i>dim-discovered</i> tracts of -mind.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_175" href="#FNanchor_175" class="label">[175]</a> “Works,” <i>op. cit.</i>, Vol. IV, p. 203. In point of fact, there is -little or no evidence in favour of it. Even the Spenserian imitations -that flourished exceedingly at this time have little interest in this -respect. Shenstone has very few instances of compounds, but the -poems of William Thompson furnish a few examples: “<i>honey-trickling</i> -streams” (“Sickness,” Bk. I), “<i>Lily-mantled</i> meads” -(<i>ibid.</i>), etc. Gilbert West’s Spenserian poems have no instances -of any special merit; but a verse of his Pindar shows that he was -not without a gift for happy composition: “The <i>billow-beaten</i> side -of the <i>foam-besilvered</i> main.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_176" href="#FNanchor_176" class="label">[176]</a> “Letters,” Vol. III, p. 97.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_177" href="#FNanchor_177" class="label">[177]</a> Hill, <i>op. cit.</i>, Vol. III, p. 437.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_178" href="#FNanchor_178" class="label">[178]</a> <i>Ibid.</i>, p. 434.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_179" href="#FNanchor_179" class="label">[179]</a> <i>Vide</i> Edmund Gosse, “Two Pioneers of Romanticism” (Warton -Lecture), 1915.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_180" href="#FNanchor_180" class="label">[180]</a> It is a coincidence to find that the N.E.D. assigns the first use -of the compound <i>furze-clad</i> to Wordsworth.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_181" href="#FNanchor_181" class="label">[181]</a> Bell’s “Fugitive Poets” (London, 1789), Vol. VI.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_182" href="#FNanchor_182" class="label">[182]</a> Anderson’s “British Poets,” Vol. XI.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_183" href="#FNanchor_183" class="label">[183]</a> Bell, <i>op. cit.</i></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_184" href="#FNanchor_184" class="label">[184]</a> Anderson, <i>op. cit.</i></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_185" href="#FNanchor_185" class="label">[185]</a> “British Poets,” Vol. X.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_186" href="#FNanchor_186" class="label">[186]</a> <i>Ibid.</i>, Vol. XI, Pt. I.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_187" href="#FNanchor_187" class="label">[187]</a> <i>Ibid.</i>, Pt. II.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_188" href="#FNanchor_188" class="label">[188]</a> “British Poets,” Vol. XI, Pt. II.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_189" href="#FNanchor_189" class="label">[189]</a> <i>Vide</i> Legouis, <i>op. cit.</i> (English translation, 1897), pp. 133 foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_190" href="#FNanchor_190" class="label">[190]</a> Shawcross, <i>op. cit.</i>, Vol. I, p. 2, Note.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_191" href="#FNanchor_191" class="label">[191]</a> See, e.g., de Selincourt’s remarks on Keats’ compound epithets; -“Poems” (1904), Appendix C, p. 581.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_192" href="#FNanchor_192" class="label">[192]</a> “Biog. Lit.,” <i>op. cit.</i>, and cp. “Poetical Works,” ed. Dykes -Campbell, Appendix K, p. 540.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_193" href="#FNanchor_193" class="label">[193]</a> “History of English Prosody” (1908), Vol. II, p. 449.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_194" href="#FNanchor_194" class="label">[194]</a> “History of English Prosody,” <i>op. cit.</i>, Vol. II, p. 480; and cp. -<i>ibid.</i>, p. 496.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_195" href="#FNanchor_195" class="label">[195]</a> Prefaces, “Poetical Works,” ed. Hutchinson (Oxford, 1916), -p. 936.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_196" href="#FNanchor_196" class="label">[196]</a> <i>Vide</i> Courthope, “History of English Poetry” (1910), Vol. I, -Chap. IX, for an account of mediaeval allegory and personification.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_197" href="#FNanchor_197" class="label">[197]</a> E.g. “Palamon,” II, 480, 564, 565; Æneas XII, 505-506.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_198" href="#FNanchor_198" class="label">[198]</a> “Black Melancholy” (ll. 163-168) and “Hope” (l. 278), the -former of which especially pleased Joseph Warton (“Essay on -Pope”: Works, Vol. I, p. 314).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_199" href="#FNanchor_199" class="label">[199]</a> Elton, “The Augustan Ages” (1895), p. 209.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_200" href="#FNanchor_200" class="label">[200]</a> Cf. “Suicide” (Canto II, 194-250).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_201" href="#FNanchor_201" class="label">[201]</a> Cf. also Bk. I, ll. 10, 11; 548, etc.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_202" href="#FNanchor_202" class="label">[202]</a> Especially in Book III of “The Duellist,” where the reader is -baffled and wearied by the unending array of bloodless abstractions.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_203" href="#FNanchor_203" class="label">[203]</a> It may be noted incidentally that, according to the “New -English Dictionary,” the term <i>personification</i> owes its first literary -appearance to the famous “Dictionary” of 1755, where it is thus -defined, and (appropriately enough) illustrated: “<i>Prosopopeia</i>, -the change of things to persons, as ‘Confusion heard his voice.’”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_204" href="#FNanchor_204" class="label">[204]</a> Phelps, <i>op. cit.</i>, pp. 37-38.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_205" href="#FNanchor_205" class="label">[205]</a> “Letter” to Mallet, August 11, 1726: “I thank you heartily -for your hint about personizing of Inspiration: it strikes me.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_206" href="#FNanchor_206" class="label">[206]</a> Cf. also “Winter,” 794 and “Autumn,” 143.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_207" href="#FNanchor_207" class="label">[207]</a> For some happy instances of its use in English poetry, as well -as for a detailed account of Thomson’s use of personification, see -especially Morel, <i>op. cit.</i>, pp. 444-455.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_208" href="#FNanchor_208" class="label">[208]</a> Poets of Great Britain (1793), Vol. IX, p. 414.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_209" href="#FNanchor_209" class="label">[209]</a> “British Poets,” Vol. XXII (1822), p. 117.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_210" href="#FNanchor_210" class="label">[210]</a> “A Collection of Poems by several hands,” 3 vols., 1748; -2nd edition, with Vol. IV, 1749; Vol. V and VI, 1758; Pearch’s -continuations, Vol. VII and VIII, 1768, and Vol. IX and X, 1770.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_211" href="#FNanchor_211" class="label">[211]</a> “Dodsley” (1770 ed.), Vol. IV, p. 50.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_212" href="#FNanchor_212" class="label">[212]</a> <i>Ibid.</i>, VI, 148.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_213" href="#FNanchor_213" class="label">[213]</a> “Dodsley-Pearch,” X, p. 5.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_214" href="#FNanchor_214" class="label">[214]</a> <i>Vide</i> also Bell’s “Fugitive Poetry” (1791). Vol. XI, where -there is a section devoted to “Poems in the manner of Milton.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_215" href="#FNanchor_215" class="label">[215]</a> “Dodsley-Pearch,” X, p. 269.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_216" href="#FNanchor_216" class="label">[216]</a> At the same time there appeared a similar volume of the Odes -of William Collins, “Odes on Several Descriptive and Allegoric -Subjects,” the original intention having been to publish in one -volume. Collins’s collection had a lukewarm reception, so that the -author soon burned the unsold copies. But see Articles in “The -Times Literary Supplement,” January 5th (p. 5) and January 12, -1922 (p. 28), by Mr. H. O. White, on “William Collins and his -Contemporary Critics,” from which it would appear that the Odes -were not received with such indifference as is commonly believed.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_217" href="#FNanchor_217" class="label">[217]</a> Cf. “Pope’s Works,” ed. Courthope and Elwin, Vol. V, p. 365.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_218" href="#FNanchor_218" class="label">[218]</a> <i>Vide</i> also “The Triumph of Isis” (1749), and “The Monody -written near Stratford-on-Avon.” (“Poets of Great Britain,” 1794, -Vol. XI, pp. 1061-4.)</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_219" href="#FNanchor_219" class="label">[219]</a> Cf. Gosse, “A History of Eighteenth Century Literature” -(1889), p. 233.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_220" href="#FNanchor_220" class="label">[220]</a> Cf. Courthope, “Hist. Engl. Poetry,” Vol. V, pp. 397-8.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_221" href="#FNanchor_221" class="label">[221]</a> “Lives,” ed. G. Birkbeck Hill, Vol. III, p. 341.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_222" href="#FNanchor_222" class="label">[222]</a> “On Lyric Poetry—Poetical Works,” ed. Mitford (Aldine, -ed. 1896), Vol. II, p. 147.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_223" href="#FNanchor_223" class="label">[223]</a> In the Aldine edition, ed. Thomas (1901) these personified -abstractions are not invested with a capital letter.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_224" href="#FNanchor_224" class="label">[224]</a> “Biographia Literaria” (ed. Shawcross, 1907), p. 12; cf. also -“Table Talk” (October 23, 1833), ed. H. N. Coleridge (1858), -p. 340. “Gray’s personifications,” he said, “were mere printer’s -devil’s personifications,” etc.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_225" href="#FNanchor_225" class="label">[225]</a> Two of Gray’s mechanical figures were marked down for special -censure by Dr. Johnson (“Lives,” Gray, ed. Birbeck Hill, Vol. III, -p. 440), whose criticism was endorsed by Walpole (“Letters,” -Vol. III, p. 98), who likened “Fell Thirst and Famine” to the -devils in “The Tempest” who whisk away the banquets from the -shipwrecked Dukes.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_226" href="#FNanchor_226" class="label">[226]</a> “Letters” (December 19, 1786), Tovey, <i>op. cit.</i>, Vol. I, p. 322.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_227" href="#FNanchor_227" class="label">[227]</a> In this connexion mention may be made of “William Blake’s -Designs for Gray’s Poems,” recently published for the first time with -a valuable introduction by H. J. C. Grierson (Oxford, 1922). -“Blake’s imagination,” says Professor Grierson, “communicates -an intenser life to Gray’s half-conventional personifications” -(Intro., p. 17).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_228" href="#FNanchor_228" class="label">[228]</a> Canto I: LXXIV-LXXV.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_229" href="#FNanchor_229" class="label">[229]</a> Cp. also the detailed personification of “Thrift,” given by -Mickle in his “Syr Martyn” (1787).—“Poets of Great Britain” (1794), -Vol. XI, p. 645.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_230" href="#FNanchor_230" class="label">[230]</a> Cf. “Paradise Lost,” VI, 3; and Pope’s “Iliad,” V, 297.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_231" href="#FNanchor_231" class="label">[231]</a> “Works” ed. Ellis and Yeats, Vol. I, Pref., x.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_232" href="#FNanchor_232" class="label">[232]</a> July 6, 1803, “Letters,” ed. A. G. B. Russell (1906), p. 121.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_233" href="#FNanchor_233" class="label">[233]</a> In the parallel verses of “The Songs of Experience” the human -attributes are attributed respectively to <i>Cruelty</i>, <i>Jealousy</i>, <i>Terror</i>, -and <i>Secrecy</i>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_234" href="#FNanchor_234" class="label">[234]</a> “Poetical Works,” ed. John Sampson (Oxford), 1914, p. 187.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_235" href="#FNanchor_235" class="label">[235]</a> <i>Vide</i>, e.g., ll. 18-26.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_236" href="#FNanchor_236" class="label">[236]</a> See also, e.g., “Midnight,” l. 272 foll, and l. 410 foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_237" href="#FNanchor_237" class="label">[237]</a> A similar type of abstraction is found here and there in the -stanzas of the “Song to David” (1763), e.g.:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">’Twas then his thoughts self-conquest pruned</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And heavenly melancholy tuned</div> - <div class="verse indent4">To bless and bear the rest.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">But on the whole Smart’s famous poem is singularly free from the -bane, though the “Hymn to the Supreme Being” (<i>vide</i> “A Song -to David,” edited Tutin (1904), Appendix, p. 32), has not escaped -the contagion. But better instances are to be found in the Odes -(“Works,” 1761-1762), e.g., “Strong Labour ... with his pipe -in his mouth,” “Health from his Cottage of thatch,” etc. <i>Vide</i> -also article on “Christopher Smart,” “Times Literary Supplement,” -April 6, 1922, p. 224.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_238" href="#FNanchor_238" class="label">[238]</a> Cf. “Poems of William Cowper,” ed. J. C. Bailey (1905), -Intro., p. xl.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_239" href="#FNanchor_239" class="label">[239]</a> There are faint personifications of the other seasons in Book III, -ll. 427 foll., but none perhaps as effective as William Mickle had -already given in his ode, “Vicissitude,” where he depicts Winter -staying:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent6">his creeping steps to pause</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And wishful turns his icy eyes</div> - <div class="verse indent0">On April meads.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_240" href="#FNanchor_240" class="label">[240]</a> <i>Streaky</i>, for instance, is due to Thomson who, in the first draft -of “Summer” (ll. 47-48) had written:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Mildly elucent in the streaky east,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">later changed to</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">At first faint-gleaming in the dappled east.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_241" href="#FNanchor_241" class="label">[241]</a> “Letters,” edited E. Coleridge, 1895, p. 215.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_242" href="#FNanchor_242" class="label">[242]</a> “Biographia Literaria,” Chap. I.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_243" href="#FNanchor_243" class="label">[243]</a> The ridicule was crystallized in Canning’s famous parody, -“The Loves of the Triangles,” which appeared in “The Anti-Jacobin,” -Nos. 23, 24 and 26, April to May, 1798. (<i>Vide</i> “The -Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin,” edited C. Edmonds, 1854, 3rd edition, -1890.)</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_244" href="#FNanchor_244" class="label">[244]</a> “The Botanic Garden” (4th edition, 1799), Interlude I, Vol. II, -p. 64. Cp. also <i>ibid.</i>, Interlude III, p. 182 foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_245" href="#FNanchor_245" class="label">[245]</a> For details see Legouis, <i>op. cit.</i></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_246" href="#FNanchor_246" class="label">[246]</a> Both the original and the final versions of the “Evening Walk” -and the “Descriptive Sketches” are given by Hutchinson, <i>op. cit.</i>, -Appendix, pp. 592, 601.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_247" href="#FNanchor_247" class="label">[247]</a> But the artistic possibilities of Personification were not unrecognized -by writers and critics in the eighteenth century. <i>Vide</i> -Blair’s lecture on “Personification” (“Lectures on Rhetoric”) 9th -edition, 1803; Lec. XVI, p. 375.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_248" href="#FNanchor_248" class="label">[248]</a> “The Stones of Venice” (1851), Vol. II, Chap. VIII, pp. 312 foll.—The -Ducal Palace, “Personification is, in some sort, the reverse of -symbolism, and is far less noble. Symbolism is the setting forth of -a great truth by an imperfect and inferior sign ... and it is -almost always employed by men in their most serious moods -of faith, rarely in recreation.... But Personification is the -bestowing of a human or living form upon an abstract idea; it is -in most cases, a mere recreation of the fancy, and is apt to disturb -the belief in the reality of the thing personified.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_249" href="#FNanchor_249" class="label">[249]</a> For an illuminating analysis, see Elton, “A Survey of English -Literature,” 1780-1830 (1912), pp. 1-29.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_250" href="#FNanchor_250" class="label">[250]</a> “Histoire de la Littérature Anglaise,” Vol. IV, pp. 175-178.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_251" href="#FNanchor_251" class="label">[251]</a> Cf. Coleridge’s remarks in “Biographia Literaria,” ed. Shawcross, -Chap. I (Oxford, 1907).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_252" href="#FNanchor_252" class="label">[252]</a> Elton, “The Augustan Ages” (1895), p. 211.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_253" href="#FNanchor_253" class="label">[253]</a> “Sleep and Poetry,” ll. 188-201.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_254" href="#FNanchor_254" class="label">[254]</a> Hutchinson, <i>op. cit.</i>, p. 948.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_255" href="#FNanchor_255" class="label">[255]</a> “Poets of Great Britain” (1794), Vol. X, p. 709.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_256" href="#FNanchor_256" class="label">[256]</a> Cf. “Works” (1889), ed. Courthope and Elwin, Vol. V., p. 360-364.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_257" href="#FNanchor_257" class="label">[257]</a> George Saintsbury, “Eighteenth Century Poetry” (“The -London Mercury,” December, 1919, pp. 155-163); an article in -which a great authority once again tilts an effective lance on -behalf of the despised Augustans.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_258" href="#FNanchor_258" class="label">[258]</a> The best of them have been garnered by Mr. Iola A. Williams -into a little volume, “By-ways Round Helicon” (London, 1922), -where the interested reader may browse with much pleasure and -profit, and where he will no doubt find not a little to surprise and -delight him. For a still more complete anthology, <i>vide</i> “The -Shorter Poems of the Eighteenth Century” (1923) by the same -editor. But for the devil’s advocacy see Doughty, “English Lyric -in the Age of Reason” (London, 1922)</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_259" href="#FNanchor_259" class="label">[259]</a> The fountain head of all such studies is, of course, the “Biographia -Literaria,” for which see especially Shawcross’s edition, -1907, Vol. II, pp. 287-297. Of recent general treatises, Lascelles -Abercrombie, “Poetry and Contemporary Speech” (1914); -Vernon Lee, “The Handling of Words” (1923); Ogden and -Richards, “The Meaning of Meaning”(1923), may be mentioned.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_260" href="#FNanchor_260" class="label">[260]</a> Elton, “Survey of English Literature” (1780-1830), Vol. II, -pp. 88 foll.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_261" href="#FNanchor_261" class="label">[261]</a> Cf. Elton, “The Augustan Ages” (1899), p. 209.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_262" href="#FNanchor_262" class="label">[262]</a> “The Legacy of Greece” (Oxford, 1921), p. 11.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_263" href="#FNanchor_263" class="label">[263]</a> “Convention and Revolt in Poetry” (London, 1921), p. 13.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_264" href="#FNanchor_264" class="label">[264]</a> Just as this book was about to go to press, there appeared “The -Theory of Poetry,” by Professor Lascelles Abercrombie, in which -a poet and critic of great distinction has embodied his thoughts -on his own art. Chaps. III and IV especially should be consulted -for a most valuable account and analysis of how the poetical -“magic” of words is achieved.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_265" href="#FNanchor_265" class="label">[265]</a> “Essays in Criticism,” Second Series (1888): “Wordsworth” -(1913 ed.), p. 157.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_266" href="#FNanchor_266" class="label">[266]</a> O. Barfield, “Form in Poetry” (“New Statesman” August 7, -1920, pp. 501-2).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_267" href="#FNanchor_267" class="label">[267]</a> “Œuvres” (ed. Assézat), I, p. 377 (quoted by Babbitt), <i>op. cit.</i>, -p. 121.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_268" href="#FNanchor_268" class="label">[268]</a> Preface to “The Tales” (Poems), ed. A. W. Ward, (Cambridge, -1906), Vol. II, p. 10.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>[207]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="INDEX">INDEX</h2> - -</div> - -<ul> - -<li class="ifrst">Abercrombie, Lascelles, <a href="#Footnote_259">197 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_264">201 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Addison, Joseph, <a href="#Page_21">21</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Ælla” (T. Chatterton’s), <a href="#Page_163">163</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Akenside, Mark, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69-70</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138-9</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Dr. Johnson’s criticism, <a href="#Page_16">16</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Epistle to Curio,” <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Latinism, <a href="#Page_69">69-70</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Personification, <a href="#Page_138">138-9</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Pleasures of the Imagination,” <a href="#Page_69">69</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Alma” (M. Prior’s), <a href="#Page_75">75</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Amyntor and Theodora,” <a href="#Page_142">142</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Anti-Jacobin, The,” <a href="#Footnote_243">173 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Approach of Summer, The,” <a href="#Page_179">179</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Archaism,” <a href="#Page_17">17-21</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80-101</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Aristotle, <a href="#Page_10">10-12</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Armstrong, John, <a href="#Page_69">69-70</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Arnold, Matthew, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Art of Preserving Health,” <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Babbitt, I., <a href="#Footnote_25">13 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_267">203 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Bailey, J. C., <a href="#Footnote_238">169 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ballads, <a href="#Page_95">95-7</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Barfield, Owen, <a href="#Footnote_266">202 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Bastard, The,” <a href="#Page_111">111</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Beattie, James, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Footnote_147">93 n.</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Beers, H. A., <a href="#Footnote_153">97 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Beowulf, The,” <a href="#Footnote_163">104 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Binyon, Laurence, <a href="#Footnote_25">13 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx" id="Biographia">“Biographia Literaria,” <a href="#Footnote_23">13 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_57">24 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_82">48 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_86">51 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_190">127 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_224">156 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_242">173 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_251">185 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Birth of Flattery, The” (G. Crabbe’s), <a href="#Page_168">168</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Blair, Robert, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Footnote_247">176 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Blake, William, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46-7</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136-59</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163-7</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179-80</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Footnote_254">187 n.</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Allegory and Vision, remarks on, <a href="#Page_165">165</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Artist, as, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Footnote_227">159 n.</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Compounds, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Felicity of diction, <a href="#Page_46">46-7</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Imitation of Spenser,” <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Letters,” <a href="#Footnote_80">47 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_232">164 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_254">187 n.</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Muses, To the,” <a href="#Page_47">47</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Mysticism, <a href="#Page_164">164</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Personifications, <a href="#Page_163">163-7</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179-80</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Piper, The,” <a href="#Page_202">202</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Songs of Experience,” <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Footnote_233">165 n.</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Songs of Innocence,” <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Stock diction, <a href="#Page_46">46-7</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Blount, T., <a href="#Page_93">93</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Boswell’s “Life of Johnson,” <a href="#Footnote_32">16 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Botanic Garden” (E. Darwin’s), <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51-2</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173-5</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Bowles, William Lisle, <a href="#Page_48">48</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Boyce, S., <a href="#Page_162">162</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Bruce, Michael, <a href="#Page_122">122</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Burns, Robert, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Bysshe, Edward, <a href="#Page_30">30</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“By-ways Round Helicon”, <a href="#Footnote_258">195 n.</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Campbell, Dykes, <a href="#Footnote_192">128 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Canning, George, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Footnote_243">173 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Capell, Edward, <a href="#Page_95">95-6</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Castaway, The,” <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Castle of Indolence,” <a href="#Page_90">90-2</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Chapman, George, <a href="#Page_105">105</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>[208]</span>“Charge to the Poets” (W. Whitehead’s), <a href="#Footnote_43">20 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Chase, The” (W. Somerville’s), <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Chatterton, Thomas, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_42">42-3</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97-8</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123-4</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162-3</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Compounds, <a href="#Page_123">123-4</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Personifications, <a href="#Page_162">162-3</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Rowley Poems,” <a href="#Page_97">97-8</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Stock diction, <a href="#Page_42">42-3</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Chaucer, Geoffrey, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84-6</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Chaucerian imitations, <a href="#Page_84">84-6</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Chesterfield, Lord, <a href="#Page_20">20</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Child of Quality, Lines to” (M. Prior’s), <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Choice, The” (J. Pomfret’s), <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Churchill, John, <a href="#Page_139">139-40</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169-70</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Classical literature (connexion with romantic), <a href="#Page_181">181-2</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Coleridge, H. N., <a href="#Footnote_224">156 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Coleridge, S. T., <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127-8</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Archaisms, <a href="#Page_100">100</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Compounds, <a href="#Page_127">127-8</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Darwin, E., remarks, on, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Gray’s personifications, on, <a href="#Page_156">156</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Imagination, on, <a href="#Page_13">13</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Letters,” <a href="#Footnote_241">173 n.</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Pope’s style, on, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Collins, William, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40-1</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116-7</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150-5</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Archaisms, <a href="#Page_98">98</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Compounds, <a href="#Page_116">116-7</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Dr. Johnson’s criticisms of, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Odes,” <a href="#Footnote_218">149 n.</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150-5</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Personifications, <a href="#Page_150">150-5</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Romantic forerunner, a, <a href="#Page_196">196</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Stock diction, <a href="#Page_40">40-1</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Compound epithets, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102-31</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Convention and Revolt in Poetry,” <a href="#Footnote_263">200 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Courthope, W. J., <a href="#Footnote_14">9 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_36">17 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_78">45 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_85">50 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_92">57 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_196">133 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_217">149 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_256">194 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Coventry, F., <a href="#Page_147">147</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Cowper, William, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48-50</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73-4</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168-73</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Archaism, on, <a href="#Page_20">20</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Compounds, <a href="#Page_126">126</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Familiar style, on the, <a href="#Page_24">24</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Homer” translation, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Latinism, <a href="#Page_73">73-5</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Letters,” <a href="#Footnote_46">20 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_83">48 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_116">74 n.</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Olney Hymns,” <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Personifications, <a href="#Page_169">169-73</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Stock diction, <a href="#Page_48">48-9</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Table Talk,” <a href="#Page_49">49</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Task, The,” <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73-4</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170-1</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Crabbe, George, <a href="#Page_50">50-1</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124-5</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167-8</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Compounds, <a href="#Page_124">124-5</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Dryden’s style, on, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Personifications, <a href="#Page_167">167-8</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Stock diction, <a href="#Page_50">50-1</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Croxall, Samuel, <a href="#Footnote_148">93 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Cunningham, John, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Darwin, Erasmus, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51-2</a>, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173-5</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Davenant, Sir William, <a href="#Page_21">21</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Denham, Sir John, <a href="#Page_15">15</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Dennis, John, <a href="#Footnote_18">11 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">De Quincey, Thomas, <a href="#Page_52">52</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Descriptive Sketches,” <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Footnote_246">176 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Deserted Village, The,” <a href="#Page_45">45-6</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111-2</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Diderot, Denis, <a href="#Page_203">203</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Dodsley, Robert, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Doughty, Oswald, <a href="#Footnote_156">98 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_258">195 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Drayton, Michael, <a href="#Page_107">107</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Drinkwater, John, <a href="#Footnote_15">9 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Dryden, John, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26-7</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58-9</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81-2</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105-6</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Annus Mirabilis,” <a href="#Page_8">8</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Archaisms, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81-2</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Chaucer “translations,” <a href="#Page_26">26-7</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Compounds, <a href="#Page_105">105-6</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Essays” and “Prefaces,” <a href="#Page_7">7-11</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Hind and Panther,” <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> -<li class="isub1"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>[209]</span>Language of poetry, on, <a href="#Page_8">8-9</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Latinism, <a href="#Page_58">58-9</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Periphrasis, use of, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Personifications, <a href="#Page_134">134</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Religio Laici,” <a href="#Page_194">194</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Royal Society, <a href="#Page_7">7</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Satire, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Technical terms, on, <a href="#Page_21">21</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Duellist, The” (Charles Churchill’s), <a href="#Footnote_202">140 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Dyer, John, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188-9</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Earle, J., <a href="#Footnote_69">35 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Economy of Vegetation,” <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173-4</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Edmonds, C., <a href="#Footnote_243">173 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard,” <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Eloisa to Abelard,” <a href="#Page_134">134</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Elton, Oliver, <a href="#Footnote_16">10 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_199">135 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_249">182 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_252">186 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_260">197 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Emerson, O., <a href="#Footnote_163">104 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“English Lyric in the Age of Reason,” <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Enthusiast, The,” <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Epistle to Curio” (M. Akenside’s), <a href="#Footnote_258">195 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Epithalamium (W. Thompson’s), <a href="#Page_160">160</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Essay on Criticism,” <a href="#Page_9">9-10</a>, <a href="#Footnote_61">29 n.</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Eton College, Ode on a Distant View of,” <a href="#Page_156">156</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Evelyn, John, <a href="#Page_7">7</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Evening, Ode to,” <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Evening Walk, The,” <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175-6</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Excursion, The” (David Mallet’s), <a href="#Page_142">142</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">“Faerie Queene,” <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159-60</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Falconer, William, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43-4</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Fleece, The,” (J. Dyer’s), <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Fletcher, Giles, <a href="#Page_57">57</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Fletcher, Phineas, <a href="#Page_57">57</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Fugitive Poets” (Bell’s), <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Footnote_214">147 n.</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Furetière, Antoine, <a href="#Page_5">5</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Gay, John, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Gibbon, Edward, <a href="#Page_198">198</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Glanvill, Joseph, <a href="#Page_7">7</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Goldsmith, Oliver, <a href="#Page_14">14-15</a>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44-6</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111-2</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140-1</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Archaism, on, <a href="#Page_20">20</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Compounds, in, <a href="#Page_117">117-8</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Diction of poetry, on, <a href="#Page_15">15</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Latinism, <a href="#Page_72">72-3</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Personifications, <a href="#Page_141">141-2</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Stock diction, <a href="#Page_44">44-6</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Graeme, James, <a href="#Page_122">122</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Grainger, James, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Grave,” the (Robert Blair’s), <a href="#Page_110">110</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Gray, Thomas, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16-17</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18-19</a>, <a href="#Page_21">21-2</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41-2</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71-2</a>, <a href="#Footnote_147">93 n.</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98-9</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117-20</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155-9</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Archaisms, on, <a href="#Page_18">18-19</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98-9</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Coinages, on, <a href="#Page_21">21</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Compounds, <a href="#Page_117">117-20</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Diction of poetry, on, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16-17</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard,” <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Latinism, <a href="#Page_71">71-2</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Letters, <a href="#Footnote_9">8 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_35">16 n.</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Personifications, <a href="#Page_155">155-9</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Plain colloquial style, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Romantic forerunner, A, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Stock diction, <a href="#Page_41">41-2</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Technical terms, on, <a href="#Page_22">22</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Grierson, H. J. C., <a href="#Footnote_227">159 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Grongar Hill,” <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Hamilton, William (of Bangor), <a href="#Page_146">146</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hill, G. B., <a href="#Footnote_8">8 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_30">15 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_33">16 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_53">23 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_172">112 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_221">151 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Hind and Panther, The,” <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Horror, Ode to,” <a href="#Page_148">148</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hughes, John, <a href="#Page_83">83</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hume, David, <a href="#Page_198">198</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hutchinson, T., <a href="#Footnote_88">52 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_110">68 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_154">97 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_195">132 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_246">176 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>[210]</span>“Hymn to May” (W. Thompson’s), <a href="#Page_160">160</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">“Il Bellicoso,” <a href="#Page_147">147</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Il Pacifico,” <a href="#Page_147">147</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Il Penseroso,” <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Inebriety,” <a href="#Page_167">167</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Jago, R., <a href="#Page_122">122</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Johnson, Dr., <a href="#Page_15">15-16</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19-20</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40-2</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72-3</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140-1</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Archaism, <a href="#Page_19">19-20</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Collins, on, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Compounds, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119-20</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Diction, on, <a href="#Page_15">15-16</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Dictionary,” <a href="#Footnote_203">140 n.</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Dryden, on, <a href="#Page_8">8</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Gray’s personifications, on, <a href="#Footnote_224">156 n.</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Latinism, <a href="#Page_73">73</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Personifications, <a href="#Page_140">140-1</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Pope’s style, on, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Satire, <a href="#Page_139">139</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Stock diction, <a href="#Page_45">45</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Jonson, Ben, <a href="#Page_17">17-18</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Keats, John, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ker, W. P., <a href="#Footnote_6">7 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_10">8 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_12">9 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_19">11 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_38">18 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_51">21 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Kersey, John, <a href="#Page_97">97</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">“L’Allegro,” <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Langhorne, J., <a href="#Page_122">122</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Langland, William, <a href="#Page_133">133</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Latinism, <a href="#Page_56">56-79</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191-2</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lee, Vernon, <a href="#Footnote_259">197 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Legacy of Greece, The,” <a href="#Page_199">199</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Legouis, E., <a href="#Footnote_89">53 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_189">127 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_245">175 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lessing’s “Laokoon,” <a href="#Footnote_21">12 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lloyd, Robert, <a href="#Footnote_137">88 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“London” (Dr. Johnson’s), <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140-1</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Loves of the Plants” (E. Darwin’s), <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Loves of the Triangles” (G. Canning’s), <a href="#Footnote_243">173 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lowes, Professor J. L., <a href="#Page_200">200</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Lyrical Ballads,” <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lyttleton, G., <a href="#Page_119">119</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Maeterlinck, M., <a href="#Page_200">200</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mallet, D., <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Footnote_205">144 n.</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Marlowe, Christopher, <a href="#Footnote_166">105 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Marriott, Dr., <a href="#Page_147">147</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mason, William, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146-7</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Masson, David, <a href="#Footnote_95">58 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mendez, Moses, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mickle, William, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Footnote_229">162 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_239">171 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Milton, John, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33-6</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57-8</a>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146-7</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176-7</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191-2</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Archaism, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Compound epithets, <a href="#Page_105">105</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Diction, <a href="#Page_34">34-6</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57-8</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Imitated in eighteenth century, <a href="#Page_60">60-70</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76-7</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146-50</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191-2</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Latinism, <a href="#Page_57">57-8</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Personification, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146-7</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176-7</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Monody written near Stratford-on-Avon,” <a href="#Footnote_218">149 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Morel, Leon, <a href="#Footnote_74">39 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_102">63 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_121">78 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_144">91 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_173">114 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_207">145 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Murray, Gilbert, <a href="#Page_199">199</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Nashe, Thomas, <a href="#Footnote_166">105 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Neo-classicism, <a href="#Page_9">9-13</a>, <a href="#Page_53">53-4</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Night Thoughts” (E. Young’s), <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68-9</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136-8</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Nocturnal Reverie” (Countess of Winchilsea’s), <a href="#Page_187">187</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Old English Compounds, <a href="#Page_104">104</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Ossian” poems, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">“Paradise Lost,” <a href="#Page_34">34-6</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57-8</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Parnell, Thomas, <a href="#Page_135">135-6</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Passions, Ode to the,” <a href="#Page_153">153</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Penshurst” (F. Coventry’s), <a href="#Page_147">147</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Percy, Bishop, <a href="#Page_96">96-7</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Personification and abstraction, <a href="#Page_133">133-80</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190-1</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Phelps, W. L., <a href="#Footnote_204">142 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Philips, John, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_60">60-1</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>[211]</span>“Pity, Ode to” (W. Collins’), <a href="#Page_153">153</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Pleasures of the Imagination” (M. Akenside’s), <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138-9</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Pleasures of Melancholy, The” (T. Warton’s), <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Poetical Character, Ode on the” (W. Collins’s), <a href="#Page_152">152</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Poetical Sketches” (W. Blake’s), <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Pomfret, John, <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Pope, Alexander, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_21">21-2</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23-4</a>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31-4</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36-7</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_59">59-60</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82-3</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106-9</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193-4</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Archaism, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82-3</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Compounds, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106-9</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Diction, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36-7</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Dunciad,” <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Essay on Criticism,” <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Footnote_61">29 n.</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Heroic couplet, <a href="#Page_29">29-30</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31-2</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Homer,” <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31-2</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Language of poetry, <a href="#Page_9">9-10</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Latinism, <a href="#Page_59">59-60</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Personifications, <a href="#Page_134">134</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Satire, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Potter, R., <a href="#Page_122">122</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Prior, Matthew, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Progress of Error” (W. Cowper’s), <a href="#Page_170">170</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Progress of Poetry” (Thomas Gray’s), <a href="#Page_72">72</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Prolusions” (E. Capell’s), <a href="#Page_95">95-6</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Raleigh, Sir Walter, <a href="#Footnote_70">35 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_94">58 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_107">66 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Rape of the Lock,” <a href="#Page_134">134</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Religio Laici,” <a href="#Page_194">194</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Reliques of Ancient English Poetry,” <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96-7</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Reynolds, Myra, <a href="#Footnote_60">28 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_98">61 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_117">75 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ritson, Joseph, <a href="#Footnote_151">96 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Robertson, J. L., <a href="#Footnote_2">6 n.</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Rogers, Samuel, <a href="#Page_125">125-6</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Romanticism, connexion with classicism, <a href="#Page_181">181-2</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Rowley poems, <a href="#Page_42">42-4</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97-8</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162-3</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Ruins of Rome” (J. Dyer’s), <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ruskin, John, <a href="#Page_180">180</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Russell, A. J. B., <a href="#Footnote_232">164 n.</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Saintsbury, George, <a href="#Page_29">29-30</a>, <a href="#Footnote_119">76 n.</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Footnote_257">194 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sampson, John, <a href="#Footnote_81">47 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_157">99 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_234">165 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Savage, Richard, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Schmidt’s “Shakespeare Lexicon,” <a href="#Page_35">35</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Schoolmistress, The,” <a href="#Page_88">88-9</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Scott, John, <a href="#Page_123">123</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Scott, Sir Walter, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Seasons, The” (J. Thomson’s), <a href="#Page_37">37-9</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62-8</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112-6</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142-6</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Selincourt, B. de, <a href="#Footnote_68">35 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_191">128 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Shakespeare, William, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Footnote_166">105 n.</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Shawcross, T. (<i>see</i> “<a href="#Biographia">Biographia Literaria</a>”).</li> - -<li class="indx">Shelley, P. B., <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Shenstone, W., <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88-9</a>, <a href="#Footnote_175">118 n.</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Shorter Poems of the Eighteenth Century,” <a href="#Footnote_258">195 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sidney, Sir Philip, <a href="#Footnote_165">105 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Skeat, W. W., <a href="#Footnote_76">43 n.</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Footnote_155">98 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_160">102 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Smart, Christopher, <a href="#Footnote_237">169 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Smith, Gregory, <a href="#Footnote_26">14 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_37">18 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_90">56 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Somerville, William, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Song to David,” <a href="#Footnote_237">169 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Spence, Joseph, <a href="#Page_12">12</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Spenser, Edmund, <a href="#Page_80">80-1</a>, <a href="#Footnote_166">105 n.</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159-60</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Spenserian imitations, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86-94</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160-2</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Spingarn, J. E., <a href="#Footnote_1">5 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_2">6 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_3">7 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sprat, Thomas, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_7">7</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Stock diction, The, <a href="#Page_25">25-55</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183-7</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Stones of Venice, The” (J. Ruskin’s), <a href="#Footnote_248">180 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Storie of William Canynge,” <a href="#Page_163">163</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Sugar Cane, The,” <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sweet, Henry, <a href="#Footnote_160">102 n.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_162">103 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Swift, Jonathan, <a href="#Page_139">139</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>[212]</span>Symbolism, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Symons, Arthur, <a href="#Footnote_80">47 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Syr Martin,” <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Footnote_229">162 n.</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">“Table Talk” (S. T. Coleridge’s), <a href="#Footnote_224">156 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Table Talk” (W. Cowper’s), <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Taine, H., <a href="#Page_183">183</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Task, The” (W. Cowper’s), <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73-4</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170-1</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Theory of diction, <a href="#Page_5">5-24</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Thomson, James, <a href="#Page_37">37-9</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62-8</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90-2</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112-6</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142-6</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Castle of Indolence,” <a href="#Page_90">90-2</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Compounds, <a href="#Page_112">112-6</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Diction generally, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Latinism, <a href="#Page_62">62-8</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Miltonic borrowings, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Nature poet, a, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Personifications, <a href="#Page_142">142-6</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178-9</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Romantic forerunner, a, <a href="#Page_196">196</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Seasons, The,” <a href="#Page_37">37-9</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62-8</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112-6</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142-6</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Stock diction, <a href="#Page_37">37-8</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Thompson, W., <a href="#Page_61">61-2</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89-90</a>, <a href="#Footnote_175">118 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Tintern Abbey, Lines written above,” <a href="#Page_131">131</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Traveller, The” (O. Goldsmith’s), <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Trenery, Grace R., <a href="#Footnote_149">95 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Triumph of Isis,” <a href="#Footnote_218">149 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Tyrwhitt, Thomas, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Footnote_155">98 n.</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Upton, John, <a href="#Footnote_148">93 n.</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">“Vacation, The,” <a href="#Page_147">147</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Vale Abbey, Lines written at” (T. Warton’s), <a href="#Page_149">149</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Valetudinarian, The,” <a href="#Page_147">147</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Vanity of Human Wishes,” <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140-1</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Village, The” (G. Crabbe’s), <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Vision of Patience” (S. Boyce’s), <a href="#Page_162">162</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Vision of Solomon” (W. Whitehead’s), <a href="#Page_162">162</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Wakefield, Benjamin, <a href="#Footnote_150">95 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Waller, Edmund, <a href="#Page_15">15</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Walpole, Horace, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Footnote_225">156 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Wanderer, The” (R. Savage’s), <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ward, A. W., <a href="#Footnote_268">204 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Warton, Joseph, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70-1</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148-9</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Warton, Thomas, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120-1</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Watson, George, <a href="#Footnote_159">100 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Watts, Isaac, <a href="#Page_49">49</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Welsted, Leonard, <a href="#Footnote_97">59 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Wesley, John, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Wesley, Charles, <a href="#Page_49">49</a></li> - -<li class="indx">West, Gilbert, <a href="#Footnote_175">118 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">White, Gilbert (of Selborne), <a href="#Page_28">28</a></li> - -<li class="indx">White, H. O., <a href="#Footnote_216">148 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Whitehead, W., <a href="#Footnote_43">20 n.</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Williams, I. O., <a href="#Footnote_258">195 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Wilson, Sir James, <a href="#Footnote_159">100 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Winchilsea, Anne, Countess of, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187-8</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Windsor Forest,” <a href="#Page_134">134</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Wordsworth, William, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Footnote_59">27 n.</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51-3</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Archaism, <a href="#Page_100">100</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Compounds, <a href="#Page_127">127</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Darwin’s (Erasmus) influence, <a href="#Page_52">52-4</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Latinism, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Percy’s “Reliques,” on, <a href="#Page_97">97</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Personifications, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175-6</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a></li> -<li class="isub1">Pope’s style, on, <a href="#Page_24">24</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Prefaces,” <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></li> -<li class="isub1">“Prelude, The,” <a href="#Page_184">184-5</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Wyche, Sir Peter, <a href="#Page_7">7</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">“Yardley Oak” (W. Cowper’s), <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Yeats, W. B., <a href="#Footnote_231">164 n.</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Young, Edward, <a href="#Footnote_13">9 n.</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68-9</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136-8</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a></li> - -</ul> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETIC DICTION ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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